Eagle's Redemption (8 page)

“Right.” Going up on her tiptoes, she pressed a quick kiss to Dash’s chin then turned to her horse. Even though Dash had the advantages of height and vision, she’d been doing this all her life while he was a greenhorn. By the time he’d finished removing the tack from Moose, she’d finished with both Ghost and the pack animal, and sent them both out into the paddock. While Dash tossed a few flakes of hay into the feed trough, she turned on the water tap. Dash had quickly picked up on giving her simple instructions such as “Two steps forward and one to your left” without having to hover over her every move. Once again they instinctively worked in tandem, each conscious of the other’s every movement. As soon as their mounts were seen to, Dash caught Carmen’s hand in his and led her to the back door of the line shack, Silver padding along behind them.

“Welcome to my humble abode.”

The first scents she noticed were fresh pine and lemon disinfectant. Either Dash had planned to invite her back here or he kept his place sparkling clean—she’d bet on the latter. The main room was a big, open space with an oversized wooden table lined with benches and a couple of worn but comfy couches in front of the stone hearth. One corner held a stove, sink and refrigerator while a door in the opposite wall led to the bedroom and bath. It was simple and plain and something about it felt…sterile, reminding Carmen that Dash had still not committed to making this his home.

“Thirsty?” Dash asked after they’d both washed their hands in the kitchen sink. “I don’t have a ton of groceries in the place, but I can manage water, soda and beer.”

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“A soda sounds great.” She sat at one of the benches while he gathered drinks from the ancient fridge. Something sat on the table in front of her, and she reached out with one finger to see what it was.

“Oh, let me get that out of your way,” Dash said, moving toward the table.

“What is it?” Carmen asked as she picked up the wooden…sculpture? She traced the lines of it with her hands and smiled. “It’s a bear, isn’t it? Where did this come from?”

“Therapy of a sort, I guess,” he said as she heard him take a seat across from her.

“My hands still aren’t one hundred percent, so the docs suggested some kind of fine motor work while I’m sitting around in front of the TV at night.”

“
You
whittled this?” she ran her hands over it again, admiring the clear shape of the bear. It was simplified, almost a fetish, but the snout, legs and humped back were distinctive and the proportions were perfect. “This is great.”

“When I was a kid, my mom used to leave me with the lady in the next apartment while she worked. Mrs. Jones had her father living with her, so the old guy became kind of a surrogate grandfather. He couldn’t walk much by then, so whittling was one thing he could still do, and he showed me the basics. I hadn’t done any in years. I was supposed to find something to do with my hands and there was this big old woodpile alongside the house.” The sounds of him pouring the drinks accompanied his words.

“Then this is really fantastic,” she enthused. “This isn’t your first piece, is it?”

“No. A couple of the first attempts went back into the woodpile, but there are a few better ones over on the mantel. I’ll get them for you in a minute. I was going to send this one to my brother Nate. He’s a huge Chicago Bears fan.”

“And is it helping your hands?” She set the bear down when he placed a glass in front of her.

“Some. The computer work at the ranch seems to be exercising them too; just as all the riding is getting some strength back in the leg.”

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They chatted idly as they drank then Carmen washed the glasses while Dash dried them and put them away since the shack didn’t boast a dishwasher. After that, they moved over to the hearth where Silver was already snoozing on a thick rag rug.

“Here’s the first one I kept,” Dash said. He reached up and took down a sculpture about eight inches long, slender and undulating.

“Rattlesnake,” she said. “Diamondback…you’ve even got the pattern worked into its back and the rattle on its tail.”

“It was a fairly easy shape to start with.” He took the snake and handed her another, this one mostly triangular in shape.

“Coyote.” It was the traditional fetish pose, with the animal sitting on its haunches and pointing its face up at the moon.

“Very good. I tried to do one of Silver, but it didn’t come out right, so that one went into the kindling bucket.” He reached for another and traded it for the coyote in her hand. “This one is for Leah…a welcome-home gift.”

The spindly legged foal was perfect…its legs knobby and slightly splayed, its mane curling on its long neck and ears pricked. “She’ll love it,” Carmen assured him. “You’ve got a real gift, Dash.”

“Nothing like yours,” he said as he replaced the foal on the mantelpiece. “But I’m glad you like them.”

“Don’t belittle your talent,” she told him, reaching up to tug on both his ears, bringing his face down to hers. “You do lots of things well.”

“Yeah?” This time sensuality whipped through his tone, and she could sense his smile. “Like what?”

“Like this.” She pulled him closer so she could plant a kiss on his warm, sexy lips.

“Mm. I must have been inspired.” He took control of the kiss, his tongue thrusting deep into her welcoming mouth.

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Before Carmen even knew what had happened, their clothes were scattered about the living room floor, and she was glad Dash had thought to stuff a condom into the pocket of his jeans. She knelt on the floor with her torso on the cushions of the wide sofa, the tweedy fabric rough against her nipples, while Dash was on his knees between her feet, and slowly filled her from behind.

“I was hoping to make it to the bedroom.” He pushed into her with slow, sure strokes.

“Next time,” she said on a long exhale. “This is…nice.”

“Oh hell, nice is too pale a word, sweetheart. This is fucking phenomenal.”

“Uh-huh,” was all she could manage.

Sweeping her hair off to one side, he leaned over and sucked on the spot where her neck curved into her shoulder. It was one of those erotic zones she’d never realized she had before Dash had discovered it, and she felt her vaginal muscles squeeze down on his cock. She tilted her hips up, inviting him even deeper.

“You have the prettiest damn ass I’ve ever seen. Did you know that?” His words were clipped and he dragged in a breath between every three or four.

“No,” she gasped. “Feel. Free. To. Tell. Me.”

“Going to fuck it one of these days,” he muttered then added, “if you want.”

“Hell yes,” she groaned. She’d never actually tried that before, but with Dash she wanted everything. She wanted him to possess her in every way humanly possible. “Go ahead.”

“Not now.” He pistoned his steely erection into her wet, clinging cunt. “Too close.”

What he did do was wet his finger with saliva—she heard the damp pop as he stuck it in his mouth—and he pressed it up against the rosette of her anus.

“Oh Dash,” she moaned. The extra stimulation was exquisite. Then he pushed it an inch or so inside her sphincter and she squealed with delight. The extra fullness sent her arousal soaring. Apparently it worked for him too. Dash slammed himself deep and 58

Eagle’s Redemption

shuddered. He nipped down on her shoulder as he came, and that, on top of everything else, hurled her over the edge. Her climax roared through her, making her ears ring and all the breath whoosh from her lungs. Sparks flared behind her eyelids while her body quivered on and on and on.

Eventually she realized she needed to breathe, but it was tough with Dash slumped over her back. He must have figured that out too because he pulled out of her and stood then used the hand that hadn’t been inside her to help her to her feet.

“What do you say to a shower together before we head back to your place?”

“I’d say you read my mind,” she said as they staggered together toward the bathroom.

* * * * *

Later, as they rode back toward Carmen’s house where Dash had left his pickup and the ranch horse trailer for Moose, she felt a weird prickling sensation on the back of her neck.

“Dash, do you see anybody else out here?” she asked. “I’m kind of getting the feeling there’s somebody or something watching us.”

“You too? I thought it was just me being paranoid.” He drew Moose to a halt and she could tell he was looking and listening, using all his training as a cop and the instincts that had made him a good one. Even Silver seemed to be on alert, though he hadn’t growled or gone after anything.

Finally, Dash nudged Moose back into a walk, which Ghost automatically matched.

“Nobody here as far as I can tell.”

Carmen shrugged. “Just our imaginations, I guess.”

“Yeah, well, after Leah getting shot a few months ago, I’m less sure that it’s safe out here,” Dash grumbled. “I’m definitely staying with you tonight unless you want to come back to my place.”

She smiled. “Well, either one is fine, but I think we’re overreacting.”

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“Probably.” He didn’t mean it. She could tell he was still watching the horizon.

Confident in the fact Dash would never let anyone hurt her, she relaxed, determined to enjoy whatever time with him she could.

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“Have you heard about anybody hanging out on the ranch where they’re not supposed to be?” Dash was riding out with Mac on Monday morning, checking fences again. The plan for the next few days was for him to work outside in the mornings with Mac then handle the office tasks in the afternoon. To Dash’s mind, it sounded like the ideal combination. Ever since his ride with Carmen yesterday he’d had that weird, prickling feeling at the back of his neck—even today, out on the trail with Mac.

“Not since Grant Fallon went to prison for shooting both Leah and J—our—oh hell, I still can’t comfortably call him our father.” Mac shook his head in disgust.

“Me either,” Dash agreed. “And it’s probably just me being twitchy, but have you gotten the feeling lately that there’s somebody out here, watching us?”

Mac paused, his head tilted slightly to one side as he thought. Slowly, he nodded.

“Not before, but today? Yeah, a little.”

“I rode out yesterday with Carmen Whitefeather. She let me go with her to help release that injured eagle I found,” Dash added hurriedly when Mac cast him a funny look. “She felt the same thing. Even her dog was spooked.”

“Well, there is always the possibility of poachers,” Mac reminded him. “Could be whoever shot the bird in the first place wants another go at it. There’s always someone who’s convinced the birds are after their chickens or toy poodle or something, or some asshole who just feels more macho by shooting things.”

Dash wasn’t entirely convinced, but he nodded. “If you say so.”

“Anyway, we’ll keep our eyes open and let the rest of the hands know, just in case,”

Mac continued. “That’s about all we
can
do really.”

“Yep.”

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“So on to more pleasant topics, Leah and Shane get home tomorrow.”

“Uh-huh.” What was Mac up to now?

“Well, I know they want us to come up to the ranch house for dinner tomorrow, but I was thinking we needed to do something a little bigger, you know? So, how about a welcome-back party at Hell’s Bells the night after?”

Dash raised one eyebrow. “You sure they’ll want to go out drinking and partying right after they get back from their honeymoon?” Hell’s Bells was the name of Mac’s bar, the business he’d built for himself. It was a nice enough place—exactly the way Dash had imagined a western honky-tonk—but Dash still preferred to avoid social gatherings. He was reluctant enough to go to Leah’s coming-home dinner at the ranch.

Mac grinned. “I know Shane. He’s gonna want to show off his good luck for the whole town to see. So, I can count on you to show up, right?”

“I guess.” He hid a grimace and nudged his horse into a faster walk.

* * * * *

“So, about Leah’s dinner tonight,” Carmen said as they ate breakfast the next morning. After just a week it seemed normal to be feeding Dash before he left for the ranch. “Are you going?” It would be the first time they’d gone anywhere since they’d been sleeping together, and she was twitchy as a sixteen-year-old at her first Sadie Hawkins dance. If her body wasn’t still humming from this morning’s lovemaking, she’d have been even more nervous.

“I guess,” he answered slowly. “You?”

“Planned on it,” Carmen answered. “Grandfather’s going too. He offered to come pick me up, if you didn’t want to come back here between work and dinner.” Of course she was hoping Dash would insist on driving her to the dinner. He’d need to shower and change anyway, and he could do that here as well as in the bunkhouse at the ranch.

The only sound that broke the silence was Dash chewing a bite of waffles. Finally he swallowed a gulp of coffee and said, “I guess I’ll see you there then.”

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Okay, this is going well.
Carmen’s pleasant anticipation of the evening ahead dimmed considerably. Apparently he didn’t want anyone to know they were seeing each other. That pretty well explained why they hadn’t gone out for dinner a single time, even though he’d spent the last five nights at her house, rocking her world. He wasn’t the first guy she’d slept with who’d wanted to keep it a secret. She’d just thought Dash was a better caliber of man than Johnny Dowling or Brett Beck, two men she’d dated briefly in Houston when she’d lived with her parents. Johnny had fucked her then never spoken to her again, moving on to date one of her former best friends.

Brett had been the one who admitted outright that while Carmen was an all-right lay, she wasn’t someone he’d want to show off to his friends or family, even if her father was rich enough to almost compensate for her personal shortcomings.

She’d moved here to Morgan’s Creek shortly thereafter.