Impulsion: A Station 32 Fire Men Novel (8 page)

“It seems. At least until Harley completes her education.” She nodded to Harley. “I already told Garrison I would not recommend any half-cocked trainers. I don’t care how many he sets up for me to interview. If I don’t already know them, then they’re not qualified to handle either of you. It’s going to be up to you to hold this train wreck together while you’re at school. I’ll do my best to fix the damage when it’s over.”

Camille let her stare linger on Danny Boy before turning and walking back to the golf cart to answer her ringing cell phone. Camille would never admit it, but she was in love with Danny Boy, his bloodline. Her first horse was from the same one, and for all accounts Danny Boy carried most of his traits. It was going to kill her to watch this horse leave her property.

“What’s she talking about?” Wyatt asked under his breath as Harley dismounted and they began to walk back to the barn so the next lessons could come in. If it were any other day, she would have stayed in the ring with those riders, but when Danny Boy had an off day Camille would not let him in the ring with the smaller hoses, the newer riders.

“My dad wants him with me at school. He doesn’t think I’ll make it back here as much for the next few years.”

“You mean after next summer, right?”

Harley looked away, then down, trying to hide the tears that were welling in her eyes.

“That’s why, isn’t it? You’re not ready
…you just think it’s our last chance.”

She didn’t have a chance to respond; Ava was at her side, asking how her ride went, if she really fell off.

It was hours later when she was leading in the rescue horses from the back paddock with both Wyatt and Truman that she had a chance to dare a response to that question that had been lingering in her mind.

She knew Wyatt was mad, hurt, and he had no cause to be. At first she
, too, thought maybe that was her reason, but the more she thought about it, she realized it was more of a confirmation that the time was right. If they had a thousand summers left, she would still want to connect with him that way, mark her life with the essence of him.

“That’s not why,” she said quietly as she walked down the gravel pathway leading her favorite mare, Stolen Heart.

Truman was in the next field, trying to catch the last mare.

“You’ve been tense, skittish all summer. I thought you just had a bad spring, that your mom was giving you hell. You dealt with this alone.”

“What good would it do for us both to fear the end of this summer?”

“What good would it do?” he nearly shouted. In a lower voice, he said, “Harley, I see no divide between you and me. Your problems are mine. You blocked me out. Now we have no time.”

“Time for what? This changes nothing but the fact that you know that it’s going to be harder for the next little while.”

“For the next
few
years
,” he said with a locked jaw. “We could have done something, plotted, planned an escape, anything.”

“I’m going to work it out. A million things can happen between now and next summer.”

“When were you going to tell me? When the trailer rolled up in the barn driveway?”

“Before.”

“Before what?”

She looked away, trying to hide the pain in her eyes. She felt his hand lace through hers, the leather of the lead ropes brushing against their flesh. “Harley, if I knew, I would have done whatever I could to make you stronger
—not only enough to deal with your mother, but to ride Danny Boy, to keep you safe. I was taking my time, letting you find your own way so you would never forget, but if I knew we were out of time, I would have—I would have done something.” He squeezed her hand. “If they were already going to rip us apart, I wouldn’t have walked on glass; I would have stolen more time.”

Her eyes met his, fell deep within. “No distance or time is ever going to change the way I feel about you. I wanted this summer to be perfect, and it has been. I don’t want to fight. I forget about it when we’re together, when I feel this, when I know that it’s strong e
nough to face whatever test we’re given…don’t take that away from me.”

He squeezed her hand and pulled the horse he was guiding closer, long enough that it shielded him, giving him enough time to bring her hand to his lips. Before having no other choice than to let it go, he heard his brother open the gate and start to make his way on the path they were on. “I’m not going anywhere, Harley. I will always be your safe place.”

The next few days, it was hard to get away at night. It seemed like both Camille and Beckett stayed up later than usual, either that or Ava constantly had friends spending the night. But finally one night, the house was asleep by eleven.

Harley locked her room door, and for good measure she moved the pillows on her bed to make it look like she was lying there. She then climbed out her window onto the balcony, moved her legs over it, and began to scale down. Wyatt was on the ground, bracing to catch her if she fell, even though he knew she had done this too many times to slip.

He took her hand, and they disappeared into the shadows. The four-wheelers and Jeep were too loud to use this late at night, but the golf cart was nice and quiet. Wyatt had parked one by the edge of the fence, and they climbed in and made their way to the creek. The entire way, Harley’s heart was racing. They hadn’t spoken about any end or crossing any line since their fight, if you could even call that a fight.

She had no idea what to expect as he laid out the blanket on the bank of the creek; that was their normal routine. The sounds of nature were screaming around them, and the stars were thick above them.

She lay her head on his shoulder, just as she had done a million times before.

“How long does she want to keep you abroad?” he asked finally.

Harley had gone round and round with her mother about her future—well, at least she would always find an excuse not to take the path she wanted her to.

“A summer was the last I heard.”

“What was it before that?”

“She wanted me to take at least a semester over there.”

“For what?” He nearly cussed the words, which didn’t put Harley any more at ease.

Harley’s first thought was to become a
veterinarian. From the way her mother gasped, you would have thought she’d told her mother she wanted to be a waitress. In the end, her mother—with her father backing her—convinced Harley that she could do more for animals if she entered law, specifically business law, and that if she did so she would have more power when she began charities for animal rights.

Harley knew the education was just a ruse; all in all, her mother never expected her to work a day in her life. She wanted her to have a vibrant resume that said she studied abroad, that she spoke so many languages and was educated in such a manner, but that wasn’t for a career; that was to become a wife, a wife of some powerful man that would further extend the family’s wealth, maybe even
add some kind of fame or notoriety.

Harley told her father
—and meant it—that she did not want to study abroad because she would be too far from him, that she wanted to be close. He agreed with her, so her mother was reasoned down and convinced into only taking Harley away for a summer at best. But that was only after she argued that Harley could not wait for her father to pass away to begin her life, that she should give him the pleasure of knowing she was well cared for before that point.

“Experience, I guess.”

“When are you going to know for sure?”

“Maybe in a few months. I still have time to talk her down to a few weeks, could argue that I want to ride while I still have the chance.”

She winced, moving her shoulder. Today was a hard ride. Basically, she was thinking too much now, trying to figure out how to be naturally calm.

Wyatt seemed to feel that pain. He rolled her to her side and moved his hand across her back, her shoulders, working out the tension. “I don’t know that this hard ground is helping you.”

“If he can read me so well, how does he not know how to read that I need him not to pull?”

“A different langu
age,” he said quietly as he landed a kiss on her shoulder. He rolled her to her back, moved himself between her legs. Harley’s heart quickened, and he smiled shyly, landing a sweet kiss on her lips as her hands moved to his face, caressing him.

His lips left hers, and one hand reached for the hand she had on his face. “Soft hands,” he breathed. She blushed. His hand moved back to her thigh, pulled it closer to his waist. “Strong legs.”

She laughed aloud.

“I’m serious,” he said just before his lips connected with hers. Her legs didn’t tighten around him as he deepened that kiss, as he moved into the cradle of her body. “Stronger,” he whispered against her lips as his hand reached back for her thigh once more, sliding closer, edging to the warmth of her.

Her hands continued that soft sway on his face, his shoulders, and chest as she devoured his kiss.

“Stronger,” he said again as his lips moved from her lips, past her chin, leaving slow, passionate kisses across her neck, daring to display more seduction with the flesh of his lips each time.

She squeezed him with her thighs, but not with all her strength; he was powerful, but the idea of hurting him, or even stopping them, was keeping her to a seductive hug with her legs, especially since she could feel his hand moving ever closer to the part of her body that was craving him.

“Stronger,” he said against her neck as he rocked into her, as that hand moved even closer. She squeezed him with all of her strength, and he barely gasped as he moved her hands above her head; every time she would tighten her grip, he would loosen it, caress her palms.

She had no idea how he was doing it, but he seemed to be everywhere. His hands were soft, his lips were fierce, and his body was moving at a rhythm against her all at once.

His lips rose from her neck, and one hand left hers and trailed down her arm, her shoulders, her chest. “Don’t think about one thing when you ride; think about nothing, just be. Feel the sensations, dance with the rhythm, give, take.” That hand of his moved back to her thigh, so close to where she wanted him.

She was trying to hear his words, but her heart was racing; right now, she was thinking too much. Any time before she had told him she was ready, her mind would have been numb at this point, her body would have been running the show, she would have been fighting him for control, they would have rolled off the blanket they were on more than once. But right now, all she could do was focus on his hand as it moved away from her thigh and up to slip beneath her shirt and caress her skin. Every time her legs would loosen, he would move his hand to her thigh to tell her to tighten them again, dare to let the tips of his fingers slide beneath her shorts, brushing the silk of her panties. He did the same with her hands. “Soft hands,” he whispered every time her hand gripped the one he was holding, which was bracing him above her.

That game didn’t end; it intensified as his fingertips did make it past that silk barrier, as they stole her breath with each movement. It was killing her, but she kept her hand soft on his, and the one that was brushing through his hair only barely showed force.

She felt the power of seductive energy inside her building with each touch of his deft fingers against her flesh, building, and building, and building even more.

They had been here before, this was part of their rhythm, but even this had changed now; there was more want behind it, a deep desire to cross that line they had never touched, only brushed against.

Wyatt felt her tense under him. His kiss slowed, then ended as his eyes met hers, but his hand didn’t stop. His deft fingers moved with her body, explored, and found new ways to drive her wild.

Wyatt read every expression, every time her eyes would flutter closed for a brief second, when her breath would hitch, when she would move with his touch.

All at once, she drew in a deep breath, her entire body grew tense, then a wave of energy moved across his hand. His lips met hers, then he swallowed the moan that was leaving her, devoured the sensation of her body convulsing around his hand. When he dared to break this kiss, against the flesh of her lips he whispered, “Impulsion.”

That word that had been her curse in the ring had now taken on a new meaning. It wasn’t a demon of a skill she fought to obtain; it was a passion she wanted to feel over and over.

A few heartbeats later, she pushed him to his back, deepened her kiss as her hands moved down his chest, past the rim of his jeans.

Wyatt’s head was spinning. He was going to have to stop this soon. He’d yet to get any protection, and he doubted that Harley wanted him to take her on the bank of a creek with nothing but the night sky to hide them.

He groaned as her touch stole his breath, as he felt her body move against his. Just as he was about to roll her back over to her back, do his best to slow them down, they heard distant dogs barking. That sound made both their hearts race, but not for any positive reason; it meant the dogs sensed something around the farm, it meant someone would come to investigate.

Wyatt was on his feet in a heartbeat, pulling Harley up with him. She fumbled with her clothes as he wound their blanket up as fast as he could, stuffing it in a trash bag, then into the base of a tree trunk.