Dusty Britches (31 page)

“
I
’
m sorry, Dusty,
”
he whispered softly.
“
I never wanted to hurt you.
”
H
is lips touched hers tentati
vely. She couldn’t breathe!
She thought she
’
d die for wan
t of being able to embrace him—hold him—
taste his kiss again.
“
I never, never, never wanted to hurt that little girl,
”
he added.

“
I know,
”
she whispered.

His mouth was fully on her own—
warm, moist, lingering, and much, much more firmly than it had been five years before. With each successive kiss, his mouth endeavore
d to coax her into joining him—
into participating in the delirious physical dialogue. Dusty felt her hands relax and move down to his waist.
He broke from her for a moment—a
roguish twinkle in his eye as he whispered,
“
Maybe that little girl never did grow up
.”

It was a
challenge, and it upset Dusty—
caused her hands to fist once more. Only this time, they fisted at the waist of his
blue jeans—
clutching the fabric of his pants in her palms
—
and she reflexively tugged on his clothing, causing him to stumble and bump her back against the rock behind her.

“
Did she?
”
he whispered, letting one hand leave her face and go to
her waist,
pulling her body flush with his own.

“
Yes,
”
she affirmed, and this time when his lips parted against her own
,
she tri
ed to breathe calmly—
let her mind float away in the dream.

Dusty endeavored to let Ryder kiss her, even attempted to return his kiss, though the trembling
wracking
her entire body made it difficult to do so. As his arms tightened aroun
d her, pulling her against him—
as his kiss coaxed her
and his mouth toyed with hers—
she felt her body relax against his. Soon his proficient, demanding kiss rained the warmth
of passion over her completely,
beginning to rinse away so many years of hardness or heartlessness. It was as if she stood
beneath the waterfall,
its liquid elements having been changed to that of a warm, sweet drink. As the kisses between them intensified, his hands left her body
,
going to where hers still clutched the waist of his pants. Still intent on kissin
g her, he took her hands in his, pressing
them against his chest
until they
relaxed. Placing his arms around her waist, he pulled her to him.

His kiss was entirely beguiling
—p
owerful, irresistible, and fantastically passionate! The sure knowledge,
I was too young
!
traveled quickly through Dusty
’
s mind. Fourteen! Never would she have understood a man at that young age. Never could she have been a woman for a man while still a child.

Then, as if an evil entity had entered their hidden escape, she thought of how she had never allowed Cash to kiss her like this. Never had she wanted him to. A
nd the moment was lost to her—f
or heartache, loss
,
and betrayal had reentered her thoughts. She pulled her face from Ryder
’
s, putting a hand to her mouth to keep from returning to him.

“
Please, don
’
t,
”
she whispered.
“
Ryder, please.
”

He frowned down at her
—
brushed a lock of hair from her cheek.

“
You did grow up, didn
’
t you?
”
he mumbled.
“
And you got all the weight of experience on your shoulders that goes along with it, don
’
t you?
”
Sighing heavily, he took her fisted hands in his once more and forced them open.
“
Thank you, Dusty,
”
he mumbled.
“
I needed to be forgiven.
”
He took a step back from her and added,
“
And you need to forgive. You
’
ll never get beyond it if y
a
don
’
t.
”
Raising her hands, he kissed each upturned palm.
“
You know…you were the sweetest thing on earth
to me.” Then he turned from her—
and in a moment was gone.

Immediately, Dusty
’
s hands went to her face in an effort to cool the blush born
e
of passion
blazing radiant
on her cheeks. Her mind whirled, her heart beat frantically,
and
her arms and legs
were so atingle they
felt numb. What had she done? In forgiv
ing him—in letting him kiss her—
she had curse
d her soul to endless, eternal heartache!
His kiss had confirm
ed what she had already known: s
he would love him forever!
She could
never go on and l
ead a normal life now. Not ever!
Not without him.

Hours later, Dusty returned to the house, wet, wrung out
,
and defeated. As she tried to slip into her room quietly, Becca stepped into the hallway.

“
Are you all right?
”
her sweet, concerned sister asked in a whisper.

“
I
’
m fine,
”
Dusty lied.

“Do…
do you need anyth
ing?” Becca ventured. “D
o you need to talk?
”

“
No,
”
Dusty told her, closing her bedroom door behind her. She didn
’
t nee
d to talk. She needed to love—t
o love and be loved.
Yet
that
need would never be fulfilled—
because the only man
who could
fulfill
it
wouldn
’
t
. She slept hard
and awoke
feeling more tired than she had before.

Du
sty was quiet for days, hardly saying a word to anyone,
even when spoken to. She answered questions in short, quiet responses. Yet the spirit of resentment and hardness about her had begun to dissipate somewhat. For that reason, Becca decided not to push her sister to talk.
Becca sensed s
o
mething about Dusty had changed—for the better.
It was so hard not to ask what had happened with Ryder the nig
ht Dusty had come home so late—especially when
Becca knew her sister had been with Ryder. She
’
d seen Ryder come home sometime before Dusty, completely drenched from the waist up. She had seen Dusty come
home drenched from head to toe,
and she knew Dusty
’
s favorite private escape was the old waterfall. It didn
’
t take a genius to put two and two togethe
r. Furthermore,
there was the
change in Dusty’s countenance. Healing had begun—
Becca was certain of it. While it delighted her to near
elation
,
Becca’s
own affairs of the heart, or lack thereof, tainted her happiness in her sister
’
s healing.

Becca
stepped
up on
to
the bottom rung of the hog fence and poured the contents of
the slop bucket into the trough. S
he
thought of her own heartache—her own very deep heartache
.
It seemed to Becca her own heartache was even more impossible to heal than Dusty’s, though she was certain her
big sister would disagree wholeheartedly.

Suddenly
,
the top rung of the fence against which
Becca leaned began to give way,
the crackling sound
of
splitting wood reaching Becca
’
s ears the
next moment
. Dropping the bucket into the mess of mud and manure in the pen,
Becca grabbed at the fencepost,
hoping to stop herself from following the bucket into the mess.
Yet
her feet were so firmly r
ooted on the bottom fence rung—
her knees l
ocked against the next rung up—
that she couldn
’
t get a good grip. A split second before she would have gone toppling forward and into another round of bathing with the hogs, she felt someone pull on the back of her skirts
. Falling backward,
Becca Hunter found herself cradled in the arms of Feller Lance.

“
You
’
re just bound and determined to waller around with them hogs,
ain’t ya?” he grouched at her,
though his smile revealed her predicament amused him. Becca was stunned at his rescuing her.
He was holding her in just the same manner
as
he had many years before,
when he
’
d carried her home at age twelve after she
’d
banged herself up falling out of an apple tree.
Becca couldn’t speak, rendered silent by surprise—and delight
.

In a moment her wits were about her again
, however, and Becca explained,
“
You said to feed
’
em over the fence! Last time I fell in, you laughed at me and asked why I never fed them over the
fence. So I was feedin’ them over the fence.”

Feller chuckled and let Becca
’
s feet fall to the ground. As she stood
,
blushing furiously and straightening her skirts, he told her,
“
I said feed
’
em over th
e fence, girl. Not on the fence.”

“
Well
,
maybe you should just build a better fence
next
time,
”
Becca scolded, still blushing. She hated
the way
she blushed so easily in front of Feller.

“
Maybe I should,
”
he surrendered with a
handsome and alluring
smile.

Becca straightened her back and walked away.
Oh, how wonderful Feller was! How fantastically perfect
,
she thought as she walked back to the house. But her heart sank to the pit of
her stomach in the next moment. H
ow f
antastically perfect—
and how completely out of reach of a young, silly girl like herself.

Dusty shook her head and smiled as she watched Becca walking back toward the house. She
’
d seen Becca almost
plunge
headfirst into the hog pen again. If it hadn
’
t been for Feller, she would
’
ve been covered in pig manure. Picking up the bowl of strawberry stems,
Dusty
left the house by way of the kitchen door and headed out toward the garden. She sloshed the stems out of the tub and into a pile her daddy or one of the hands would turn und
er for next year’s garden spot and then
turned and hurried back
toward the house. T
here were still the supper dishes left in the sink.
When she looked up to see
Ryder striding toward her
, she
began to tremble.

Dusty
’
s heart had begun to change that night under the waterfall. She
’
d done a lot of soul
-
searching
once
Ryder
had
left her with the taste of his kiss still burning on her lips. The things Becca and her father had said to her came to mind often, but it was Ryder who had given her more to think about.
Silently, s
he could
admit to feeling less hateful—
more compassion
ate and concerned about others. It seemed to her the change had begun after her conversation with Ryder
. Had the hard to hear yet kindhearted things said to her
by Ryder and everyone else
begun the chang
e? Or had it simply been Ryder—
his words, his admissions, his kiss
—that
had changed her? She
wasn’t certain
. She
did
know that since
meeting him behind the waterfall, she had not talked with him. With the
except
ion of
casual conversation with others present during meals
, she had not spoken to him
. Now he strode toward her intent, it seemed
—intent on something
.