A New Forever
Authors: Alta Hensley,Carolyn Faulkner
A New Forever
By
Alta Hensley & Carolyn Faulkner
©2016 by Blushing Books® and Alta Hensley & Carolyn Faulkner
All rights reserved.
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Hensley, Alta
Faulkner, Carolyn
A New Forever
eBook ISBN:
978-1-68259-373-8
Cover Design by ABCD Graphics & Design
This book is intended for
adults only
. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the Author's advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.
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Table of Contents:
Elodie West pulled into the parking lot of the Back Home Diner; a popular hangout for the locals which the tourists and wannabe cowboys overlooked because it appeared like a place the Board of Health should have condemned years ago. She ascended the somewhat rickety staircase and adjusted her slim-fitting skirt, wishing she'd gone with one that was a bit longer and dowdier. Maybe she should have just stuck with her go-to jeans and paint-splattered tee. It wouldn't do to appear at all sexy around Clay Carver.
She stood in the doorway, looking at her reflection for the briefest of seconds. Small and slender, she barely came up to the former rodeo bull rider champ's shoulders. Her outfit was impeccable—a yellow blouse and denim skirt from TJ Maxx that had cost less than this meal was going to, even though it was more than she usually spent on clothing. One of her favorite straw cowboy hats sat jauntily atop her smart, shoulder-length, blonde hair; one of the few luxuries she refused to deny herself was a visit to her hairdresser every six to eight weeks, to cover the telltale gray that reminded her she was no longer in the bloom of youth.
Overall, she didn't mind being poor that much. She'd never really had a lot of money, so she didn't miss it. Elodie had grown up the second youngest of five—mostly overlooked in favor of the shining star of the family; April, the youngest. It was a big, loud, country family, and she kind of got lost in the crowd, and that was the way she liked it. She'd been cutting coupons since she could hold the scissors safely in her hands, and that hadn't changed once she reached adulthood. Her marriage at a frighteningly naïve eighteen had had only one saving grace: she hadn't ended up getting pregnant, with a permanent tie to the scuzzball she'd given her virginity to.
But that was a long time ago. She'd managed on her own, and since she was the only single member of the family, she'd moved back in to her childhood home and taken care of their parents when no one else could—or would. The only one who had even tried to help was her sister, April. There had never been any rivalry between them; Elodie had never begrudged April the spotlight, and they were very close. April had, of course, married a wonderful man who, for all his stern, staunch demeanor—enhanced by the fact that April had once confided to her older sister that she was spanked by her husband, and not just in a playful way—worshipped the ground his wife walked on.
Her sister's life had always been charmed. April breezed through school, getting 'A's and 'B's with absolutely no effort, got a full scholarship to college, hooked up with the hunkiest bull rider bachelor in town, had a gorgeous white picket fence on a sprawling piece of land, and was heartily enjoying working on the two point five kids to complete the perfect picture.
April's life was charmed, all right. She'd found out she was pregnant after taking a late night test at Elodie's apartment, and was driving home to tell her adoring husband—but her luck ran out the moment she skidded on a patch of black ice and collided with a tree less than a mile from her home.
Now April's husband was waiting inside for a different West girl. The failure. The one who never did anything with her life, who was divorced before she could legally drink. A starving artist who could barely pay her bills, but refused to give up her dream of seeing her work hanging prominently on a gallery's wall.
Elodie opened the door and pasted a smile on her face. The restaurant choice was hers—it was the cheapest place in town, since Clay steadfastly refused to eat at a fast food joint, and she insisted on them splitting the bill. It was a battle fought and eventually won on her part, but Clay never liked the idea of going Dutch. Maybe it was because, if he paid, their casual monthly lunches would feel like a date. And a date with her deceased sister's husband was not an option… even for a hillbilly like her.
She was overdressed, but she'd felt as though she had to do something to counter the casual denim and flannel that would just strain a touch as it stretched across the breadth of his shoulders, hugging the bulging muscles of his arms as he leaned forward to reach for his coffee cup. Clay was well into his thirties but showed absolutely no signs of either encroaching paunch or a rapidly surrendering hairline. If anything, he was looking leaner and meaner than ever since April's death, and that had been five years ago. Elodie was beginning to think he lived on hot black coffee and not much else, despite the fact that he'd hired a cook for his ranch who could whip him up anything he desired.
Conservatively cropped black hair and thick black eyebrows framed eyes bluer than any man ought to be allowed to have. Clay was perpetually tanned, although April knew that was due to his hard work on his blazing fields all year round. He barely had time to sleep; having thrown himself into the running of his ranch and land with a zealous, not entirely healthy, fervor. He was tall, broad, and hard, in every possible way. Clay was the exact opposite of his fey bride—he'd met and married April in a whirlwind courtship when she was barely in college, but he'd also required that she finish school just as she'd planned, not using their marriage as an excuse to quit. That had helped put their parents at ease about the imposing, austere man their daughter had fallen in love with, but no one who knew Clay would ever think that he had done it for them.
Where April was funny, soft, and emotional, Clay was hard and serious—except when it came to April. Elodie used to watch him with her sister; watch the melting that took over his expression whenever he looked at his wife. His whole demeanor changed when he was around her. The love in his eyes was almost painful to see.
Very painful to Elodie.
Clay was one of those rare men who knew exactly what he was about at all times. He exuded confidence and intelligence. The son of a rancher, he hadn't come from money, but was well on his way to coming into his own. When he married April, he was already running his father's land, and growing it even bigger. He wasn't flashy or boorish, but classy and steady. And he made class and steadfastness incredibly sexy. The air around him crackled, while he sat back and watched it happen.
But ever since April's death, Clay had been burying himself in work, and Elodie couldn't say she blamed him. He'd lost the love of his life. He went home every day to an empty house. There would be no more upturned noses to kiss, no hot wild sex in the foyer because they just couldn't bear to wait until they got to their bedroom, no Sunday mornings lazily reading the paper and pigging out on homemade cinnamon rolls that had become a weekend tradition. There would never be an April again.
Elodie slipped into their usual booth opposite him, removing her hat and putting the smart pink and cream checked bag on the bench beside her. She looked up to find Clay staring intently at her. Her eyes went wide. It was unusual for anyone to pay that much attention to her—she did her best to blend into the woodwork. There must be something wrong. "What? Do I have toilet paper on my shoe?"
He almost smiled. His smiles had always been rare events—he wasn't the joke a minute type. But since April, they had all but disappeared. "No, I just forget sometimes how like your sister you are."
"I am not," Elodie defended staunchly. "We don't look a thing alike."
"No, you don't. But you have the same air about you."
The waitress appeared at that point, and Elodie ordered her boring usual; a toasted tuna sandwich on white bread. It was also one of the cheapest things on the menu. She could see Clay grimacing over a menu that hadn't changed since Eisenhower was in office. He finally settled on his own usual; a bacon cheeseburger, with fries and a chocolate shake.
Taking a sip of her tepid tap water, Elodie corrected him. "We never had the same air. April was—well, you know how April was. Everyone loved her. She was Prom Queen and head cheerleader and voted most likely to get everything she ever wanted in life. I just hid behind an easel and counted down the days until I could be set free." It sounded petty and jealous, which wasn't at all how Elodie felt. Usually.
Clay didn't say a word, just raised his eyebrow at her unexpected rancor.
Elodie sighed and laced her fingers on the tabletop. "Oh, I'm sorry. You know I don't mean that the way it sounds."
His eyes narrowing on her enough to make her fidget with her napkin, Clay shot back, "Yes, you do, or you wouldn't have said it."
Elodie did not want to go there. "Anyway, how have things been going with you?" she asked, deliberately changing the subject.
Clay held her eyes for just a millisecond longer, letting her know that he knew exactly what she was doing. "All right. Busy."
Elodie shifted in her seat as surreptitiously as she could. He had a habit of doing that; of paying closer attention to her than she was used to anyone doing. Commenting on something she'd said that no one else had heard, making her feel special, as if she mattered much more than she knew she did. He did it in a very brotherly fashion, as casual as a man like he could be.
And every time he did it, every time those all too knowing eyes settled on her, she literally contracted.
Elodie had been harboring a horrid secret throughout her sister's marriage, one that she fully intended to take to the grave with her: she was in love with her sister's husband.
It hadn't happened gradually, either. The entire family had been introduced to Clay when he was invited to dinner one night—the general rule of dating being that it was best to let the date meet the entire gaggle at one time and either sink or swim. Some swam and even joined in, seeming to revel in the commotion more so than those born to it—like Elodie—did. Some sank ignominiously, like the girl their eldest brother had brought home, who refused to speak to anyone but him through the entire meal, and then only in whispers. It was as if she needed a personal translator to convey her thoughts and feelings to the peons.
Needless to say, that didn't go over very well, and it wasn't long before Steve found a new girl.
Elodie had lost her heart to Clay on first sight. She was twenty at the time, but had already been married and divorced and was now living back at home. Her parents were sadly resigned about what had happened between their second youngest and that awful boy Randy, but they were trying to make the best of it. Elodie came into the room and saw him sitting there—in her usual chair—and she knew she was a goner—that whatever gurgles of feeling she'd had for Randy were no more than emotional indigestion.
This man had reached out and grabbed hold of her barely beating heart and made her feel alive, made her feel like she could do anything... then put his arm around April's shoulder and leaned close to whisper something in her ear, and made Elodie trip over that very same heart on her way to a seat as far away from him as she could get.
What she'd felt then towards Clay had never gone away, and had never diminished. On the contrary; the longer she knew him, the more acute her responses became. It got so that she could barely stand to be in the same room with him, and yet she couldn't stay away. She and April had always been close, and since they were in the same town, they spent a lot of time together. Elodie tried desperately not encroach on the newlyweds, though, and was scrupulously careful not to reveal any of her feelings about Clay to anyone. There wasn't another living soul who knew how she felt about him. She kept it all inside, and smiled and laughed and ate dinner with them on occasion, went to the beach with them, and even hoped—because she loved the both of them so much—that April was pregnant this time, after several false alarms.
Clay still unknowingly held her heart in his hands, but Elodie would never encroach on her sister's territory, even after death. It would be wrong, and she just couldn't bring herself to do it.
But Elodie could no more give up their once a month luncheons than she could give up chocolate chip ice cream. He fascinated her, always had, and she needed her fix. Clay occasionally called to ask her out to dinner, or to accompany him to a social function, but Elodie always declined. She didn't know how far she could be trusted with him, and she refused to do anything that might dishonor April's memory. She was quite sure that being seen around town with your dead sister's husband fell well into impropriety, so she always turned him down.
Just like every other monthly meal, they sat and talked about the weather, the ranch, what they had been doing for the past month, and other inconsequential topics. Like always. Although not terribly exciting, it was comfortable, and always made Elodie feel a sense of calm.
Towards the end of the meal, Clay threw his napkin on his plate. "Next time, we're going to some place decent."
"This is decent," she said indignantly.
That eyebrow shot up as he pinned her. "It's barely edible. Next month, we're going to Red Creek."
Elodie pursed her lips. "The pretentious steak house? I can't afford it."
Another near smile. "But I can, and I'm taking you. For dinner. And I'm not taking 'no' for an answer."
Elodie held her breath, her eyes skittering away from his to the neutral territory of the scratched Formica tabletop. April had shared more with her older sister than she probably should have, but Elodie had had a hard time not living vicariously through those sexy stories.
She knew—just from being around him—that Clay was a very dominant man. Certainly not abusively so, in any way, but there was never any question as to who was in charge in his relationship with her sister. April had confided one night when they had been at Elodie's small apartment, talking, laughing, and drinking a very good Cabernet Sauvignon, that Clay never hesitated to lay down the law in more ways than one.
