Timing (234 page)

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Authors: Mary Calmes

Tags: #m/m romance, #contemporary, #m/m romance, #contemporary, #gay, #glbt, #romance, #mary calmes, #dreamspinner press

BOOK: Timing
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Timing

89

His smile was out of control. “Yep, and what kind of cattle are

here on the Red Diamond?”

I was aware of everyone’s attention. Charlotte was looking at me

like I had grown another head, and Rand’s wicked smile was making

his eyes glitter. I was making an absolute fool of myself, and that

would not do. I dropped the reins before turning to walk toward the

house. “Is your Mom here?” I asked casually.

“Yeah, she’s inside,” he chuckled.

I nodded, moving fast, not liking the fact that he was making fun

of me. I had cared enough to remember details I had overheard about

his ranch, and he found that amusing. Screw him! Nobody got to laugh

at me. The only comforting thought was that after years of practice, my

emotions were not easy to read on my face. I might feel warm, but I

never blushed. I might have trouble speaking, but it only made my

voice, when it did come out, lower, huskier, sexier. A string of my

mother’s deadbeat boyfriends, culminating in a vicious step-father, had

taught me how to keep everything from showing on the surface.

“Stef!”

I kept walking.

“Stefan Joss!”

His voice had been a roar, so I stopped and looked back over my

shoulder.

“I fired the butler,” he said sarcastically, pushing his hat back

before pointing to the trunk of the car. “So you should probably bring

in your and Char’s stuff.”

My look must have scared Ben.

“I’ll bring the bags,” the groom offered quickly, putting up his

hands. “Just go in already.”

On the porch, the wood creaked under my wingtips, and I smelled

the garlic and onions even before I reached the screen door.

“Hello,” I called out as opened it and went in.

“Stefan, honey, I’m in here.”

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You never realize how hungry you are until you’re faced with

sautéed onions. Even if you hate them, they still smell amazing.

“There’s my boy,” Charlotte’s mother greeted me warmly.

After we finished the hugging and kissing portion of the evening,

I listened as she explained about the twice-baked potatoes that were in

the oven and the gravy she was making to go over the barbecue ribs.

I was leaning against the counter when Ben came in with my

duffle and Charlotte’s garment bag. I saw him out of the corner of my

eye.

“Thanks. Sorry.”

“No.” He shook his head, waving at me, wanting my attention.

When I was really looking at him, giving him the full weight of

my stare, he mouthed out that Rand was a dick. Since Rand’s mother

was in the room with us, I understood why I was reading his lips and

not listening to his voice. No one wanted to hear a criticism of their

child, even if it was true.

“I couldn’t agree more,” I assured him, leaning against the

counter as Charlotte’s mother walked up beside me, her hand on my

back, patting gently.

“I made peach crumb cobbler for you and Charlotte for later.”

She knew it was my favorite. “Thank you for thinking of me.”

“I always think of you, sweetheart… you’re my angel.”

I had taken care of Charlotte when she couldn’t, helped fulfill her

late husband’s wish that his girl get a college degree. For the rest of my

life, I was golden in her book. “Which room is mine?”

“The one next to Rand’s at the top of the stairs.” She smiled at

me. “Charlotte’s is across the hall.”

Grabbing my duffle, I slung it over my shoulder and headed for

the stairs. I loved the feel of the house and noticed on the many

occasions I had been forced to be in it over the years that, for whatever

reason, I always felt comfortable. There were lots of windows, wooden

floors, rugs that resembled Navajo blankets, and leather furniture with

the brass rivets in it. It was a man’s home, and there were no delicate

Timing

91

feminine touches, even though Rand’s mother visited often. She had

left the ranch after her husband died and now lived in a condo in

Lubbock.

My room for the night was small but airy, the Casablanca fan

spinning slowly on the ceiling, all the windows open, the breeze

bringing in the smell of wildflowers and charcoal. The grill had been

fired up.

“I wasn’t laughing at you.”

Turning, I found Rand leaning against the doorframe.

“I swear, Stef, I would never laugh at you.”

“It felt like it.”

He shook his head. “Nope, I was just surprised.”

“About what?”

“That you knew anything at all about this ranch.”

I looked at him and felt my stomach flip over.

“So I’m sorry, all right?”

All I could do was nod.

His smile came fast as he tipped his head at me. “Nice collared

shirt you got on there.”

I flipped him off, turning back to the bed, needing to take a breath

since looking at Rand made moving air through my lungs difficult. He

needed to go away so I could calm down.

Grabbed hard, I landed on my back in the middle of the bed under

my best friend’s brother. It took me a second to realize that I had been

tackled and that the man with the dancing eyes looming over me

seemed very pleased with himself.

“Rand….” I tried to shove him off me. “What’re you––”

He bent and kissed me, sucking my bottom lip into his mouth,

biting it gently. The result was instantaneous: I forgot about everything

but him. My brain emptied; nothing mattered except Rand Holloway

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and the way I was being kissed, like if he didn’t, he’d die. He made me

feel like I was all he needed.

I arched up into him and felt the answering tension, his hard thigh

pressing into my groin, his arms wrapping around me tightly.

“Did you miss me?” he asked against my lips.

I coiled around him so he’d know, turning my head to offer up my

neck for more of his marks. His teeth closing on the base of my throat

felt like heaven, as did the hand sliding down my thigh, lifting my leg

up over his hip.

“I wanna be buried back inside you, Stef. It’s all I could think

about all day long.”

My eyes lifted from the kissable mouth to eyes filled with need.

“Close the door and I’m all yours.”

He chuckled before he bent and ground his mouth down over

mine, kissing me so hard, so deep, his tongue driving me out of mind,

stroking over mine until I was sure I had melted into the bed. His hands

were on me everywhere, under my shirt, on my burning skin. I didn’t

even realize he had tugged the button-down out of my pants.

“You’re just saying yes ’cause you know I can’t do shit about this

right now.”

I reached up and took his face in my hands. “I’m saying yes

because I want you to fuck me ’til I pass out.”

The groan was low; he sounded like he was in agony. “Jesus,

Stef… why you gotta say shit like that when you know it’ll be all I can

think about now?”

“Because I can,” I said with a smile up at him.

“Aww, man.” He sighed before he suddenly clutched me tight to

him, his face pressed into the crook of my neck. “This is good too.”

I had no idea what was going on. Hot pillow talk promising hours

of fucking I could do. Intimacy was a totally different thing. The man

was not trying to rip off my clothes; he was hugging me tight to his

heart as he rolled over on his back, keeping me in his arms.

Timing

93

“Stay here with me after the wedding. I wanna wake up with you

in the morning and take you riding and eat dinner, just you and me.

Please… just stay here.”

I pushed against him, and he let me untangle myself. I sat up,

straddling his thighs as I looked down into his eyes.

“Oh yeah.” He shifted under me, drawing his knees up behind my

back, running his hands up my thighs. “This works.”

When I put my hands down on his chest and lifted up only to sink

back down, pressing my ass down over his groin, I felt him shudder

under me.

“Stef.” My name came out as a sultry whisper. “Forget what I

said… fuck me now.”

I licked my lips. “Can’t… you’ve got a house full of people to

entertain.”

“Stef, I––”

“Stef!” Charlotte called as she clomped up the stairs.

I scrambled away from Rand and off the bed and was standing by

the window when she strolled into the bedroom.

“What’re you doing?” she snapped at me. “Get downstairs and

deal with these people with me.”

Rand muttered something as he stalked from the room.

“What?” she called after him. “What?”

I moved toward the door, but her eyes, suddenly back on me,

froze me where I stood.

“What did he say?”

“What?”

She squinted at me.

“Seriously, what?”

“Did he just say that I shouldn’t yell at you?”

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“No,” I assured her, tipping my head at the door. “C’mon, I’ll

follow you.”

She was staring at me. “Why would my brother care what I do to

you?”

“He doesn’t.”

But she did not look convinced as I walked out of the room.

THERE were over a hundred people just at the rehearsal dinner; I could

only imagine what the wedding the following day was going to be like.

As I sat at the table with the rest of the bridal party, I watched Rand as

he stood talking to people I didn’t know. Every time I tried to look

away, I found my eyes wandering back.

His black hair fell into his eyes, long in the front and running

down the back of his neck, but not hitting his shoulders like mine did.

The inky waves looked soft, and I knew from brand new first-hand

experience that they were. The blue eyes looking out between the

strands of hair that caught on his lashes were very sexy. I found that

just looking at him—his profile, the chiseled features, the sharp, clean

lines—made my heart beat funny. I needed to take a walk and clear my

head so I could process everything that had happened.

I walked down toward the stable, and halfway there, I heard

footsteps behind me. Turning, I found Nick. He was weaving, tripping

as he closed in on me, so very drunk.

“You better get your ass back up there and––”

“Stef,” he cut me off, lunging at me, wrapping his arms around

me, trying to pull me close.

But while Nicholas Towne was taller than me, six-three to my

own five-eleven, he was not the wall of solid muscle that Rand

Holloway was. I had him shoved back and flat on his back in the dirt

seconds later. The maneuver I had performed had swept his legs out

from under him before he even realized he was falling.

“Shit,” he coughed after a minute. “I think you broke my legs.”

Timing

95

“Hardly,” I said, squatting down beside him. “What the fuck was

that?”

He coughed again. “I don’t… I’m just drunk.”

I nodded. He was most definitely drunk, but that did not mean his

agenda was fuzzy in any way. Had I been receptive to it, he would have

kissed me and maybe done more. The look, when he came at me, had

been pure lust. But making him explain himself was a mistake. Better

to just let it go and not have any awkwardness for Charlotte’s big day.

“Take my hand.”

He took the assistance I offered him, letting me pull him up to his

feet.

“Sorry, Stef.”

“It’s fine,” I assured him, turning away. “I’ll see you back up at

the house.”

“You won’t tell Ben,” he said behind me.

“Shouldn’t you be more worried about explaining it to your

wife?”

“Stef I––”

“Just forget it.”

“Thanks, Stef,” he called after me.

I waved to let him know I’d heard him but didn’t turn around. I

was having the weirdest few days.

The further I walked, the calmer I got. It was twilight; the breeze

was warm, and the smells of grass and flowers and the faint trace of

smoke filled the air. It was nice, slow and easy, and as I climbed up on

the fence to look out at the pasture, I had the strangest feeling of calm.

Four men on horseback were riding toward the house, and when they

saw me, they all lifted their hands to wave. It was nice, friendly, and I

smiled as I waved back. Minutes later, hoof beats in the dirt turned my

head back toward the house. I doubted I would ever get tired of seeing

Rand up on a horse. He belonged on the cover of a romance novel.

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Mary Calmes

“Hey.” I nodded to him as I stepped off the fence, looking up into

Rand’s bright blue eyes.

“What’re you doin’ out here?”

I shrugged. “Just needed to clear my head.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

He nodded, patting the side of the horse’s neck. “C’mon, lemme

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