Meadowlarks (4 page)

             
I am immersed, fully capsized and ready to sink to the depths of the ocean. Is this how Quinn felt about me? I have a feeling of guilt but quickly push it aside. There is no freaking way this is love—not yet, anyway. We've known each other for two whole seconds. It's just got to be lust. I want this girl in such a raw way, yet...I want to know her, too.

             
The smell of lasagna fills the kitchen and travels into the living room where we are sitting on the large leather couch. I am embarrassed that I haven't offered her a drink by now. When I do, I realize I'm a bachelor and only have water, milk, or beer.

             
She says she'll have a beer, and I'm pleasantly surprised. I open two bottles and hand her one. She takes a sip, and I'm jealous of the bottle.

             
“So, if you grew up here, where are your parents, if you don't mind me asking? Do they live somewhere else?”

             
I look down at the coffee table and think how I'm going to answer these questions. Anyone who knows me knows where my parents are. My silence must have been the cue that I don't want to talk about it.

             
“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...”

             
“It's okay.” I smile. “My mom died a long time ago, and my dad lives with my brother Nick.”

             
“I'm sorry,” she says and touches my hand.

             
“It's okay. It was a
really
long time ago.” I am desperate to change the subject. Turning on my side, I face her. “Tell me about Alex. What's his story?”

             
She rolls her eyes. “Alex is spoiled by our parents. They gave him everything he wanted as a child, which made him turn into a bratty adult. They paid for him to go school, which he wasted, and when he tried going back home after dropping out, my dad said he needed to straighten up.”               She shrugs. “Alex was pissed. He's never been told no by them. So he calls me up, gives me a sob story, and moves here with me…I don't know what he plans on doing in Wyoming. Hell, I don't even know what I am doing here.” She blushes.

             
“Well.” I rub her knuckles with my thumb again. “I'm glad you are here.”

             
At that moment we are lips and tongues and taste all over again. She surprises me by pushing me back onto the couch; swinging her leg out, it knocks over a bottle of beer.

             
“Oops!” she giggles. “Sorry!”

             
I tell her not to worry and pull her onto me. Kissing deeply, I wrap my arms around her, and she has her fingers in my hair. I feel myself harden again, and she pulls away.

Inches from my mouth, she pants.
“I'm sorry; I really don't know what has gotten into me.” She sits up. “I'm not the type of girl who goes to a stranger’s house and does this.”

             
“Addison, I have no idea what is going on here. I feel...” I pause. “You make me feel so good.”               I narrow my eyes, and my voice lowers. “I've got to be honest, today wasn't the first time I've seen you and
wanted
you.”

             
She looks surprised, so I continue. “A few days ago I was at Zeke's with Jeremiah, and you came in with your brother.”

She smiles, probably remembering now where she'd seen Jeremiah before.

              “I was in the aisle, and I couldn't take my eyes off of you. I stood there like an idiot, and your brother caught me staring.”

             
She covers her face and blushes. “Blaine! You should have approached me then...”

             
I pull her down onto me, closer, kissing passionately. A loud beeping disturbs our intimate moment, and I realize I've burned the lasagna. Getting up quickly, I carefully place her on the couch and run into the kitchen. She sits back and smiles at me while I pull the smoking pan out of the oven and put it into the sink.

             
“Yeah, so you can add to the
About Blaine info
that I’m not that great of a chef.” I smirk and toss the oven mitts on the island.

             
“I can see that!” She giggles and crosses her legs in front of her.

             
“I can make a mean sandwich if you're interested.”

             
“That sounds great, thank you.”

             
We eat, side by side. The fire in the fireplace is crackling and warm, and it feels good against my skin after a rainy afternoon. I finish my roast beef sandwich first, and grab another beer since someone gorgeous knocked mine over.

             
“What do you have planned for tomorrow?” she asks, sitting up and adjusting her t-shirt.

             
I think about what I have planned, and get immediately distracted just looking at her.               “Umm, nothing, actually. Jeremiah is usually off on Thursdays, and I just hang around the farm.” I decide I'm taking this moment to ask to her come back tomorrow. “Would you like to go riding tomorrow, if it doesn't rain again?”

             
She beams. “I would love to!”

             
But I want her to stay. Does she want to stay?

             
“Addison?” I pause. “I want you to stay tonight.”

She looks around as if I'm asking her to sleep on the sofa. That
, or she's unsure about what I’ve just said. All of a sudden I feel vulnerable, like a deer in the middle of an open field during hunting season with nowhere to run.

             
“Or I can drive you back to town, to your car,” I quickly say to let her know I'm not against her leaving. Even though I don't want her to.

             
She gets up off the couch, still not saying anything, walks around the coffee table, steps over the puddle of spilled beer, and right up to me. Reaching around my neck she pulls my head down and whispers in my ear, “I want to stay.”

              A beam of light is forcing itself into my eye, waking me up—where is it coming from? I just slightly open my eye, and the glimmer shoots me down, so I close it quickly. Where am I? Nothing in my bedroom glistens. I tilt my head back and open my eyes again. This time I realize where the light is coming from. It's peaking through the blinds, bouncing off a tiny diamond earring and hitting me straight on.

             
Addison.

             
I’m pulled into a shameless haze, remembering last night. Remembering the deep, passionate, and intense night we spent together. I can't even count how many times we had sex. The connection with this girl is unfathomable; I am at a loss for words.

             
I look down, and she's lying on my chest. Her long auburn hair is messy and all kinds of beautiful. Tousled strands here and there, across the pillow and down her naked back. I feel her soft hand on my chest, and she's breathing ever so quietly. I don't want to move; I want to lay here with her, just like this. Gently tracing my fingertips down her skin, I close my eyes and fall back into oblivion.

             
A familiar sound wakes me. Rex is outside barking at something.

             
Please Lord, not another animal for him to chase.
How did he get out?
My hand reaches to where there was warmth earlier, but it's now gone.               She's not here. I am still naked from our intense midnight tryst. Reaching down to the floor, I find my pajama bottoms and pull them on.

             
Through the upstairs window I can see Rex outside, favoring his right paw and limping around. He looks okay otherwise. I love this dog. I found him four years ago wandering on Porter Road. He was a few months old, malnourished and filthy. I asked around for a few weeks to see if anyone knew where he came from, but no one claimed him, so I kept him as my own. The typical man's best friend cliché. Yeah, that's Rex, hands down.

             
Walking down the stairs, I start to smell a most delicious scent. Bacon. Reaching the bottom on the staircase I can hear the grease popping and crackling in the pan. Then as quickly as the smell reached my nostrils, I forget about it.

             
Instead all my senses are peaked when I see the gorgeous creature standing at the screen door, naked except for one of my white t-shirts. Leaning against the wooden beam, her one leg tucked behind the other, she's resting her head on the frame. I could stand here all day and look at her.

             
What is this girl doing in Wyoming? Why is she in my kitchen?
              My eyes drink up every inch of her, and I am intoxicated, over the limit and headed to the drunk tank. Rex makes his way up the steps, and she opens the door to let him in.               He wags his tail as he approaches me.

“Hey
boy, how are we feeling today?” I scruff his ears with my hands.

             
“Good morning.” She pleasantly smiles at me. “I hope you don't mind.” Her hands stretch out the hem of my t-shirt.

             
“Not at all. You look better in it than I do.”

             
“I'm making breakfast—bacon and eggs okay?” She starts walking towards the large steel range.

             
“Mmm. It smells good.” I sit on one of the stools at the island.

             
“Blaine?” She looks up at me. “I really enjoyed last night.”

             
She's blushing, and I don't know why. I saw every inch of this woman, and she has nothing to be shy about. She's as close to perfection as humanly possible.

             
“I did too, baby.” I reach for her hand, and our fingers touch, sending tingles up my forearm.

             
We eat breakfast and talk about what seems to be a beautiful day in the making. No rain in sight, and the blue sky is the most exotic shade, almost the color of the ocean. I clear our dishes and place them in the sink. I'll get to them later.

             
She goes upstairs and is back down just as fast, wearing her pants and my black t-shirt again. Searching through her purse for something, she pulls out a hair band. Leaning her lovely neck back, I watch her pull her hair into a ponytail and then flip it around, securing it into a messy bun on the top of her head.

             
She catches me staring. “What?” she laughs and holds her hands up questionably.

             
“Nothin’.” I grin, and lick my bottom lip. “Just happy you’re here.”

             
It's the truth, I am happy. I haven't felt like this...well, ever. I usually enjoy my bachelor status immensely. I don't have anyone to answer to, and I can see whatever girl I want to, whenever I want to. And I can stop myself from getting too deep, getting hurt...hurting her.

             
But this? Shit, I have no idea why I'm completely at her mercy. Judge, jury, and executioner. I'm out for the count.

             
“You look eager, Miss Cole,” I say walking towards her. “I bet you can't wait to get out there and go riding. Am I right?”

             
She hooks each of her index fingers in a belt loop on my jeans and pulls herself into me. “Yes, I really want to go riding,” she teases, and bats her long lashes.

             
Through the giant wooden doors of the barn, the smell of hay and grain flow through my nostrils. I love this smell; I grew up in this scent, and I couldn't imagine anything else.

“When you rode, what was your style? Do you prefer western or English? I have both.” I point to the tack room door.

              “Actually, I was hoping to ride bareback. I like to feel the horse move. It's more natural.” She smiles and shrugs her shoulders.

Oh, fuck
. I inhale and flash back to my daydream of her riding, bareback, sexy and free. I give her the biggest smile, all teeth, white and ear to ear.               I grab my western saddle off its rack, a black leather Billy Cook. I grab a black saddle pad and Mischief's bridle from the hook.

             
“Both Arabs are great rides. Cylas or Roman,” I say.

             
She thinks about her options for a moment.               “Cylas.”

             
I pick up his bridle too, sling my saddle over my shoulder, and we head out to the horses in the pasture. The horses are scattered around the field, and making a clicking noise with my mouth, I call out to them.               “Come on, boys.”

             
Roman whinnies at us, and Cylas trots over to the gate.

             
“I can't get over how beautiful they are, Blaine.” She holds on to the steel gate, looking out at the horses like a little kid waiting in line for a pony ride at the fair.

             
Mischief and Cylas are both bridled, and while I'm adjusting the saddle strap, I hear Addison talking to Cylas.

             
“Good boy,” she says calmly. “What a beautiful boy.”

             
She runs her hands through his white mane and, with reigns in one hand, she flings herself up on his back. She’s smiling at me as I'm sure I'm gaping like crazy, and she giggles.

             
“It's like riding a bike; you never forget!” she says matter-of-factly and holds the black leather reigns with one hand while placing her other on her hip.

             
“Let's see what you've got, miss!” I lift myself up into the saddle using the stirrup, much less gracefully.

             
Mischief takes the lead, like usual. He's a confident beast, strong and in many ways, just like me.

             
“So, have you decided how long you'll be in Wyoming?” I ask, realizing we've been silent for quite some time.

             
“Actually, I was thinking of applying for a nursing job at the hospital. I like Sheridan...so far.”

             
“Mmm, hospital scrubs, huh?” I envision her, and the thought makes me have to adjust myself in my saddle.

             
She laughs. “Yes, I think it's about time I get a job. Maybe Alex will get inspired and do the same.” She shakes her head, probably thinking of her brother and his carefree lifestyle.

             
I don't know where it comes from, but I find myself offering him a job.               “I could use a hand around here. I know Jer wouldn't mind some extra help, too.”

             
She grins and looks surprised. “Really? Well, I doubt he has any clue about farms. I don't know how much help he would be.”

             
“I'd like to meet him; maybe he can come out for a beer,” I suggest, unsure of why I even want to meet him. The last time I saw him, he looked like no one I could give a shit about.

             
“Okay, I'll call him when we get back to the house.” She clicks with the side of her mouth and Cylas responds. They trot ahead of me, and she turns back to look at me, her eyes alight and so very blue.

             
I squeeze my legs around Mischief's girth. “Come on!”

             
We're off, closely on their heels. In the open field, I am beside her. Neck and neck, our horses like two drag cars ready to take the competing pink slip. She looks so happy, cantering, free and beautiful. Not a care in the world.

             
She reaches up and pulls the hair band out of her messy bun. The red tendrils fall and whip in the wind.
In this moment, there is nowhere else I want to be. We run faster, and it's hard to focus on where I'm going. I can't stop looking at the fire flowing beside me. Red on white and beautiful. With her legs wrapped around Cylas, they look like they were made for each other, two separate moulds that have finally connected and become one.

             
As if on cue, something spooks the horses, and they both jump to the side. A flock of birds fly out of the grass and scatter in the blue sky.

             
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, boy!” I try to calm Mischief; he's snorting and breathing heavily. I see Cylas to my right, but no Addison. I frantically look around. “Addison?!”

             
I see her lying in the grass a few feet behind the horses. I jump down off my horse and run over to her. To my amazement, she's laughing.               She's holding her hands over her heart, and I lean down to help her get to her feet.

             
“Baby, are you okay?!” I reach for her face.

             
“Yes! I'm okay! I fell; he didn't throw me.” She looks at over at Cylas, who is calmly eating some grass.

             
“Holy shit, I thought...I don't know what I thought,” I say, running my hands through my hair.

             
She puts her hands in mine, and I pull her into my body.

             
“I'm okay, Blaine. Really. It's not the first time I've fallen off a horse, and it probably won't be the last.” She is trying to make me feel better.

I felt such panic when I saw her motionless for a second, and I had an incredible urge to wrap her in my arms and never let her go.

              “Are you okay to ride back? We can walk if you want to.” I brush off some dirt on her arm with my hand.

             
“Yeah, I'm fine. Let's go!” She's eager, and I can't believe this woman standing in front of me. She's fearless.

             
Helping her up on Cylas' back, I can't resist running my hand over her behind and down her leg.

             
“Ready?” I look up at her, and she leans down to kiss me.

             
Easy boy
, I tell myself, feeling the excitement build in my jeans.

             
“Now try and keep up this time, cowboy.” She makes fun of me, pulling the reigns to turn Cylas around.

             
I get up on Mischief in one swift, and I must say, impressive move and give him a small kick to get moving. We walk back the rest of the way, side by side, as I want to keep her close.

             
“So what kind of nursing do you want to do?” I ask her as we reach the gate to the corral.

             
“I'd like to work in the NICU actually, with preemies and newborns with special medical needs.” She pulls her hair over her right shoulder so it cascades down her chest.

             
“My brother was born at twenty-eight weeks gestation. My mother almost lost him.” She frowns. “I was five when he was born, and although I don't remember much, I do remember my father's fear and the panic when Alex came into the world.”

             
Maybe that's why they gave him everything, I thought to myself—for fear of losing him.