One to Take (Stuart & Mariska): Sexy Cowboy (One to Hold Book 8) (7 page)

“I’m okay for now.” Picking up a slice of cucumber, I eat it slowly, not meeting his eyes. “I was just so interested in watching you work with her. I feel so stupid.”

“It was after lunch. I should have made you go inside and eat something.”

“It’s not your fault. You shouldn’t have to remind me to eat.”

I look up and our eyes meet. In spite of his irritation, I see the love simmering in those hazel depths. Two breaths, and he reaches for the plate, setting it aside and pulling me into his arms. I reach around his waist, holding his firm torso tightly. My face is pressed into his shoulder.

“You scared the shit out of me,” he says, holding the back of my head.

We’re quiet a few beats, and my insides throb with a mixture of relief and love and embarrassment. My eyes heat as per usual, and internally, I chastise myself.

“It won’t happen again,” I say. It’s a promise to us both.

He exhales, leaning back to smooth my hair away from my face. “Mom’s right. The climate here is different, we’re at a higher altitude—”

“Still,” I shake my head and grasp his hand, giving it a squeeze. “I’ve been taking care of myself a long time. I’ll do a better job. You don’t have to worry about me.”

That gets me a smile, and another wave of relief washes through me. “I’m sure I’ll worry about you regardless, but it’s good to hear.”

Reaching for the plate, he sets it on my lap again. “You good here?”

I nod, picking up the watermelon. “I’ll eat this and then have some lunch.”

“I’ll go check on Jessie.”

Nodding, I wave him away. “Go on. I’ll be right here.”

He walks to the door, but pauses a moment to give me a final look before heading out. I exhale a breath as I watch his handsome form disappear through the doorway.

M
y muscles are tense
, vibrating with adrenaline as I return to the yard. If I hadn’t heard Mariska’s sketchpad hit the ground, I might not have made it to the fence in time to catch her. Her face was so pale, and she fell so fast, I almost missed her.

I remember shouting her name. Jessie bolted, of course. I couldn’t care less as I ran to the house, carrying Mariska limp as a doll in my arms. She’d been fine only moments before. I had no clue why she would suddenly be unconscious.
Fuck this helpless feeling! I hate it!

When I’d entered the house, I scanned quickly for my keys, trying to decide if it would be quicker to take her to the truck and drive her into town or call 911. My mother and Bill saw me from the kitchen and ran to where I stood holding her.

“Put her on the couch,” my mother said, running back to the kitchen. “Let me get some water.”

“Lemonade would be better,” Bill called, holding Mariska’s wrist as I laid her on the soft leather cushions. “Her pulse is steady. It’s probably altitude sickness.”

“Altitude?” That couldn’t be right. “She’s never had a problem before.”

“She wasn’t pregnant before.”

Mom came back with a damp washcloth and a glass of lemonade. “Move back so I can put this on her face.”

Reluctantly, I stepped out of the way, but not too far. “I think we should call 911.”

“Let’s see if this works before we panic.”

That fueled my anger. “I’m not panicking.” Mom cut her eyes at me, but fuck if I was sorry. “She could be in serious danger.”

“I think she’s going to be okay.” Mom leaned back as Mariska exhaled a soft noise and turned her head.

Every muscle in my body shuddered with release.

“What happened?” Her voice was soft but strong, and all three of us let out the collective breath we were holding.

The tension had just started to ease until Mariska said she hadn’t eaten… It was good that my mom sent me to the kitchen to get her a plate of food. I might have said something I’d regret in that moment. At least she seemed to realize the seriousness of what happened. I silently decided to do a better job making sure she eats.

Now on my way back to check on Jessie, all this adrenaline has left me drained. The little horse is in the pen with the line still attached to her halter, which is dangerous. As I approach, she kicks her feet and runs away, dragging it. I have to pick it up so she doesn’t hurt herself.

What happened isn’t the greatest thing when training a new colt, but it’s not the worst either. We’ll get to desensitization before too long. She has to be ready for the unexpected and not panic—she just got an early lesson today.

“Ho, girl, easy,” I say in an even tone. She keeps running, but as I walk closer, she struggles.

Her instinct is to run. Horses are easy prey for mountain lions and other big cats in the area, and their flight instinct is strong. But she’s coming back around. Mariska’s right. She’s a smart little thing.

Before we leave the pen, I keep working with her until she’s calm again, coming to me and putting her nose on my chest so I can touch her head. Then I stroke her neck, thinking about the coming winter and returning to Princeton.

Perhaps I can convince Bill to hold onto her during the long season. My jaw tightens. It’s not fair to her with no one riding her or working with her. When we come back in the spring it’ll be like starting all over. Still, Mariska loves her so much…

“What do you think, girl?” I ask, scratching behind her ears. “How much will you remember after six months?”

She lowers her head, and I almost think she understands me. I unfasten the line from her halter and wrap it up, coiling it over my elbow and shoulder. Then I do a quick loop around the center and throw it over my shoulder. I make a clucking noise and start to walk. She walks beside me, not going too far ahead or dropping back.

“Good girl,” I say when we reach the gate, smoothing her neck.

She’s learning really well, but when we get into the open space between the barn and the ring, her head lifts fast and she looks out away from the house, toward the open prairie. Her ears twitch, and I recognize that body language. I’ve seen it in her mother on more than one occasion.

Reaching for her halter, I catch the side by her face. “Come on. You’re not going anywhere.”

It’ll take more than a few weeks of gentling to get that urge to run out of her, if we ever do.

“Finished?” I look up and see Mariska coming toward me. The color is back in her cheeks, and her strength seems fully returned.

“She’s done enough for today.” We walk her to the barn. “How are you feeling?”

“I have a little headache, but I feel a lot better.” She smiles up at me, and my chest tightens.
If anything happened to her…

Jessie’s stall is right beside her mother’s. Once she’s inside, Freckles nickers and stamps around her corral. “Freckles should be ridden more. Part of her problem is being cooped up too long.

“Let’s do it then!” Mariska has climbed onto the rails and is watching as I brush Jessie’s neck.

I give her a glance then shake my head. “I don’t know.”

“My blood sugar dropped. I’m not sick!” She catches my shirtsleeve and pulls it. “I wanted to go to that lake where Patrick took us last year. You can ride Freckles, and I’ll saddle up Cheyenne.”

“I’ll saddle up Cheyenne. You can worry about the bridle.”

Her pink lips press together, but I brush that off. If she thinks she’s going to be stubborn with me, she’s got her work cut out for her. Still, it’s a good idea. We need to run the horses, so I relent.

Freckles is jumpy and pulls on the reins the entire way to the lake. I hold her at an easy canter because I don’t want Mariska riding at a full gallop. She’s not only pregnant, she’s inexperienced—something my little brother didn’t worry about last year.

I ease my horse to a stop at the top of the last hill so we can look over the small valley with the large pond in the center. It’s in the opposite direction from the cabin but still about as far from the ranch house.

“In the winter it’s black,” Mariska says, pushing her hair back as she adjusts her seat on Cheyenne. “The grasses around it were brown, and it looked like something from another planet.”

“It changes with the season.” I turn Freckles to the side. She doesn’t want to stand still.

“It’s beautiful.” Mariska gives Cheyenne a nudge, and we start down the hill at an easy walk. Today the grasses are sage green and the water of the lake reflects the blue sky.

When we reach the clump of small trees near the bank, I leave Cheyenne’s reins loose on a scrub bush, but I have to tie Freckles to a branch. I don’t usually tie the horses, but she’s so flighty. I don’t want to have to tell Bill she ran away again—with all his tack.

Mariska takes off with a shriek. “Last one in is a rotten egg!”

Freckles dances in place, but I can’t help a laugh as I watch my fiancée stripping off her top and tossing it aside followed quickly by her bra. Her black mini is next, and in a flash of golden skin and wild chestnut hair she cannonballs into the water, creating a huge splash.

Since I’m clearly the rotten egg in this scenario, I take my time removing my boots and hat and leaving them by the horses. I asked Winona to pack us a snack just in case, and I take the towel off the back of my saddle.

Leaving my shirt with my boots, I walk out onto the weathered wooden pier, collecting discarded items of clothing as I go. Mariska is in the center of the lake dog paddling around.

“It’s so warm!” she calls out. “It was like ice last winter.”

“It was probably about to freeze before the Chinook blew in.”

“What are you waiting for? Get in!” She swims toward the end of the pier and holds the posts as she waits.

I can’t help smiling down at her. Her face is glowing, and she’s so damn happy. What happened earlier today seems far away. “Give me a second.”

Shrugging out of my jeans, I toss them aside and do a shallow-dive into the warm water. Mariska is on me in a second.

“You went commando!” Her bare breasts pressing against my chest cause a definite rise down below.

“We’re on vacation.”

“I wish that worked with bras.”

“You won’t hear me complaining.” I cup her breasts, rolling her nipples between my fingers and thumbs, watching her eyes darken.

Her slim hands cover mine, threading our fingers and pulling them away. “Hang on, I want to talk first.”

I do a little growl, wrapping our laced hands around her waist and drawing her flush against me. “Talk second.”

She giggles and chases my lips with hers. Our mouths unite and a little moan tells me all I need to know. Unfastening our fingers, I cup her ass, sliding her up over my waist, I position my head at her entrance, and in a stomach-tingling thrust, we’re together.

Sighs and moans are the only noise surrounding us. We rock together, her soft meeting my hard. In all my life, I’ve only had this with her. I’ve been with other women—some I remember better than others—but it’s not about that. It’s about us, how we complete each other.

I touch her, and she moans. I kiss that little spot behind her ear, and she shivers. She touches me, and my brow feels tight. I can’t think beyond needing her, possessing her, loving her, protecting her.

“Mariska,” I exhale through the pulses of my orgasm. Her slim hands hold my face as our mouths fuse together. Her knees are bent, legs tight around my waist, and I’m deep inside her.

She sighs, and I kiss her again, giving her tongue a suck. Her inner muscles clench, drawing another pulse from me, and I groan. We hold each other so close. Her soft breasts are crushed against my chest, and our bodies touch from face to chest to thigh.

Her lips taste like the fresh water of the lake. I hold her to me, thinking beneath her softness is our baby. The baby we made.

“I love you so much.” I almost sound angry, but shit, it’s only because I mean the words so fiercely.

She exhales a laugh, kissing my chin. “Always so serious. Have I told you how much I love you, my sexy Marine?”

I’m not sure the emotions in my chest can get any tighter. I don’t know the words for how I’m feeling. I’ve never been much for words. Action is what I’m about.

“You don’t have to.”

She lifts her head, and our eyes meet. Her golden sunset eyes. I could lose days in them. They’re like the desert. They’re like the sun rising in the Montana sky. They’re everywhere I want to be.

“Why do we have to leave?” Her question is gentle, not hard or accusatory. Only curious.

I know better than to give her the real reason. The best way to have Mariska arguing we should stay in Montana is to tell her the reason we have to leave is the baby.

“I have to set up the Princeton office.” I kiss the side of her neck, nip her earlobe with my lips. I won’t look in her eyes and tell her half-truths. “You know that.”

“But… it’s not what you want. We all know you want to be here.”

My sweet Mariska. I’ve only talked about it with Derek, but the women in my life are always dissecting my motives—my fiancée, my mother, my sister, my sister-in-law, Derek’s wife… I don’t know why I’m often the topic of discussion, but I’ve come to accept it.

“I have an obligation to Derek and Patrick to be a part of the team. You know this.”

Her chin goes out. “You don’t like being cooped up in an office. You hate it.”

“Some things change.” Leaning down, I kiss her temple, taking a deep inhale of her jasmine-scented hair.

“Not that.” She pushes back, out of my arms to meet my gaze head-on. “You’re doing this because of me. Aren’t you?”

Her defiance is adorable. Still, I straighten in the water, putting space between us. She’s not giving me orders, and what we have to do is non-negotiable.

“I’m doing the right thing for all of us.” My tone is firm, and her eyes drop.

A little pout is on her lips. I can’t tell if she’s angry or sad, but conflict is not what I want for today. We had a ridiculous morning followed by this very satisfying trip to the lake. Now I want peace, calm.

“Come here.” I hold out my hand. “I love you.”

She drifts to me in the water, putting her arms over my shoulders. My face is at her neck, and I kiss her soft skin.

“I don’t want you to give up what makes you happy for me,” she says softly.

“
You
make me happy.” I hold her as I say the words, truer than she can ever understand.

“Have you ever considered that I like it here, too?”

“I’m glad to hear it, and we’ve got plenty of time. For now, we’re headed back to Princeton.”