Bitter Creek: The Loner Part 13

"You made your choice, Billy," Emma said. "Now you can live with it."

Billy grabbed Emma's arm as she tried to cross past him. "Emma, wait. Where are you going?"

"Away from here."

"This is ridiculous."

"Not to me," Emma said stubbornly.

Billy let go of her with a sigh. "All right. Go spend the night with one of your friends, if that's what you think you have to do."

"I'm not coming back till she's gone, Billy," Emma said. "I mean it."

Summer had to admire Emma's regal exit. She reminded Summer of herself when she'd had to confront her older brothers. Too bad Emma was leaving. They might have ended up becoming fast friends.

On the other hand, it was nice to know she wouldn't have to face Emma's animosity every morning at breakfast.

"That was badly done," Dora said once Emma was gone.

"There was nothing else I could do," Billy said.

Will began to whine and Billy lifted him up and said, "You're not used to all this fuss and bother, are you, buddy? And I'll bet you're hungry. I sure am. I could eat a bear. How about you?"

Will pointed to his high chair. "Chair, Daddy."

"You bet, kiddo. As soon as we wash our hands." He carried Will over to the sink and washed Will's hands along with his own, then set his son in the high chair.

"Supper won't be ready for a while yet," Dora said.

"He'll be happy with a few Cheerios until the beans and mashed potatoes are done," Billy said.

Dora set her palms on the table and pushed herself up out of her chair. "I'll tend to those pork chops, if you'll put these potatoes in the pot," she said to Billy.

"I'll get the potatoes and put the beans on the stove," Summer volunteered.

Dora shrugged, winced, and said, "If you insist."

Summer was surprised to see Billy pitching in to help with supper. He threw some bacon and diced onions into the beans, and once the potatoes boiled, he got out the mixer, added some milk and b.u.t.ter, and whipped them up. She made herself useful setting the table and pouring everyone a gla.s.s of iced tea.

Emma came through the kitchen with a cloth overnight bag just as they put the food on the table.

"Why don't you stop and eat before you go," Billy suggested.

"Not with her here," Emma said.

"I don't want us to be at odds because of Summer," Billy said. "Please, Emma. I'm asking you for a truce. We can work this out somehow. I know we can."

"Not when you choose a Blackthorne over family," Emma said.

"Summer is my family now," Billy said.

Emma turned to her mother and said, "I'll call and let you know where I am, Mom." She crossed to Will and kissed him on the forehead. "Good-bye, Will. Be a good boy."

"Good boy," Will parroted.

She stopped in front of Billy and said, "Your new wife won't last a week without all the luxuries she's used to having. Let me know when she takes off, and I'll come home."

With that p.r.o.nouncement, Emma shoved her way out the screen door and let it slam behind her.

Summer felt sick to her stomach. She glanced at Billy, who refused to meet her gaze. She wanted to promise him he wouldn't regret taking her side. She wanted to tell him he'd made the right decision. She wanted to say that Emma would have to eat her words.

The truth was, she was hot and sticky and had pinp.r.i.c.ks on her fingers where she'd stuck herself with Will's safety pins before she'd stuck him. She'd managed to aggravate Billy's sister and had to bite her tongue to cope with the condescension of his mother. She was hungry and she could see that if she wanted to eat around here she was going to have to learn to cook. Now that Emma was gone, it seemed the cleaning was going to fall to her, too.

And she didn't have a clue how she and Billy were going to be able to sleep in that iron bed of his with the sagging mattress, right beside a baby who was likely to keep them up half the night sniffling and snorting and making strange baby noises.

After supper Dora took Will to give him a bath while Billy and Summer cleaned up the kitchen together. Billy didn't have an automatic dishwasher. It didn't take long before Summer's hands looked like prunes.

"I've got a job," Billy told her as he dumped leftovers in Tupperware containers.

"The TSCRA is keeping you on?" she asked hopefully.

"Nope. Your father had a few words with the local supervisor. There's no TSCRA job for me around here."

"I'm sorry, Billy."

"Doesn't matter," he said. "I got work with one of the local ranchers."

Summer tried to meet his eyes, but he wouldn't look at her. She knew how disappointed he must be, back in Bitter Creek doing menial work for menial wages.

"Maybe you could do something with this place to earn money," Summer suggested.

"Like what?" Billy said.

"I don't know. A guide service for hunters maybe, or a bed and breakfast."

"Where would we put company in this house?"

"Not in the house, in that old bunkhouse out by the barn. It probably needs a new roof, but it has a big cook-stove and a serviceable bathroom."

"It would take a fortune to clean it up," Billy said.

"I've got a little money-"

"You're not spending your money on this place."

"What else am I going to do with it?" Summer said.

"Leave it in the bank."

Summer took one look at his stony features and realized she would be wasting her time arguing. But she wasn't giving up on the idea. She'd just have to do it without Billy finding out. Once the place was fixed up, he'd be glad for the extra income. And after all, for the next two years, she was his wife.

Summer had been doing so much thinking, she was surprised to realize she'd finished the last of the dishes.

As she pulled out the plug to let the water drain, Billy whispered in her ear, "Thanks for being here, Summer. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Summer knew in that instant that even if she ended up with pickled fingers from doing dishes and bags under her eyes from sleeplessness and had to eat leftovers out of Tupperware for supper every night, she was going to make it.

Billy needed her. And when friends needed friends, they did whatever they had to do to help.

She turned to Billy and offered him what she'd wanted so desperately herself. Peace. Solace. Love. She put her arms around his neck, leaned her cheek against his chest, and said, "Don't worry, Billy. Everything will be fine."

She heard him swallow noisily several times as his arms tightened around her and he pulled her close. "Thanks, Summer. I need to believe that."

They heard Will laughing in the bathtub.

Billy pulled her hands down and held them in his own for a moment. "I better go spend some time with Will."

"Sure," she said. "See you later."

Summer gulped as she watched Billy saunter down the hall. The next time she saw him, they'd both be getting into the same bed.

Oh, boy.

Chapter 8.

"I'M BACK, REN. AND THIS TIME I'M STAYING."

Lauren Creed looked through the screen that separated her from Jackson Blackthorne, then pushed it open and let him in. All the way in. Before the screen door had slammed behind him, muting the afternoon sun, she was in his arms, their mouths meshed. His body was all hard planes against which she fitted her softness, as she stood on tiptoe, her arms reaching up to clasp him around the neck.

She felt him pick her up, his arms tightening like a vise around her ribs as his tongue came searching for the taste of her. She opened wide, wanting the warm, wet intrusion, which mimicked the s.e.xual act. He dragged her arms from around his neck and stood her on her feet, popping the b.u.t.tons on her s.h.i.+rt as he tore it away, shoving the fabric down her arms, where the b.u.t.toned cuffs captured the worn cotton.

They were both breathing hard and she saw his nostrils flare as he caught the scent of her, saw his eyelids droop as he surveyed the prize he'd finally won.

"You're so beautiful. And mine. At last."

He reached down and took each wrist, one at a time, and unb.u.t.toned the cuffs, then gently drew the material away. He reached behind her and unclasped her bra and drew it off and let it drop to the floor, then lowered his head and suckled her.

Ren gasped at the feel of his warm, wet mouth on her flesh and grasped at his hair, holding him where he was. She pressed her hand against the hard ridge in his jeans and heard him moan. She traced the shape of him, then cupped him, forcing him to spread his legs so she could caress him.

His eyes were glazed when he raised his head, and she felt the afternoon breeze cool her peaked nipple where his mouth had left it wet. He picked her up, grinned wryly, and said, "Where's the closest flat surface with a little give?"

"That would be a bed," she said, returning his smile, her mouth stretching wide with a responding grin she couldn't repress.

He stopped and looked into her eyes and said, "Not his bed."

"No. Not the bed I shared with Jesse. There's a bedroom downstairs. On the other side of the parlor."

She saw the shadows appear in Jackson's eyes at the sound of Jesse's name and pressed her mouth to his, offering love and peace and forgetfulness.

Comfort wasn't what he wanted. His mouth ravaged hers, demanding more, seeking more, insisting on more.

She gave all she had, every morsel of herself, every bit of her soul.

They made it as far as the buffalo hide on the floor in front of the fireplace. He kicked the coffee table out of the way and lay her down in front of the ash-laden fireplace, reaching for the snap on her jeans and yanking down her zipper. He pulled at her boots and dragged at her socks, baring her to his gaze. His eyes were avid, drinking her in, eating their fill.

She tore at his s.h.i.+rt, wanting him bare, seeking the hard feel of his flesh and the crisp touch of the dark hair on his chest and the feel of a big man, a powerful man, under her hands.

He yanked off his own boots and helped her shove his jeans and boxers down off his hips. And then they were both naked, and he thrust hard and deep, joining them at last.

She looked up into his eyes and felt her throat swell with joy and love and hope... so much more feeling than she could contain. "Jackson," she cried. "I can't-It's too much. I can't-"

"You can," he said. "I love you, Ren. I've always loved you. I always will."

His gaze was fierce as his mouth claimed hers, their tongues dueling, their bodies writhing in an ancient dance of love. She felt too much, needed too much, wanted too much. Her heart felt as though it might burst with joy. Then her body did explode with pleasure beyond bearing. She surged against the sweat-slick body that covered her own and held on tight... and felt herself sink into oblivion.

Ren wasn't sure how long she remained unaware of her surroundings, but when she woke, she was in bed, covered with a sheet that was tucked up under her arms, the breeze caressing her sweaty flesh. She sat up abruptly and called, "Jackson?"

"I'm here."

She turned and found him lying beside her, the pillow bunched beneath his head, his body covered to the waist with the same sheet that covered her, his eyes focused on her face.

She grabbed at the sheet, which had fallen to her waist, but he reached out and tugged it free.

"Let me look," he said quietly. "I want to see you. I want to make up for all the years I haven't had the right to look."

She thought of how her body had changed in thirty-seven years and turned her face away. She felt his hand on her chin as he gently tugged her face in his direction.

"You're beautiful, Ren. In my eyes you can never be anything else."

She lifted her chin and said, "If you're going to look, then so am I." She pulled the sheet away from his body and let her gaze follow the dark line of hair from his navel downward. And realized her gaze was causing a transformation.

"Thank G.o.d everything still works," he said with a chuckle.

She laughed and rolled on top of him, pressing her lips against his throat and straddling his waist. "We're both going to be sore tomorrow," she warned.

"Who the h.e.l.l cares," he said, as he rolled her back under him and impaled her once again.

She gasped, surprised at how wet and ready she was for him. She closed her eyes and bit her lip and relished the pleasure. Again.

Afterward, they both lay panting, too tired to reach for the sheet. They lay uncovered, the incessant Texas wind cooling their laboring bodies.