Authors: Mary Calmes
Tags: #m/m romance, #contemporary, #m/m romance, #contemporary, #gay, #glbt, #romance, #mary calmes, #dreamspinner press
Timing
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His smile was out of control. “Yep, and what kind of cattle are
here on the Red Diamond?”
I was aware of everyone’s attention. Charlotte was looking at me
like I had grown another head, and Rand’s wicked smile was making
his eyes glitter. I was making an absolute fool of myself, and that
would not do. I dropped the reins before turning to walk toward the
house. “Is your Mom here?” I asked casually.
“Yeah, she’s inside,” he chuckled.
I nodded, moving fast, not liking the fact that he was making fun
of me. I had cared enough to remember details I had overheard about
his ranch, and he found that amusing. Screw him! Nobody got to laugh
at me. The only comforting thought was that after years of practice, my
emotions were not easy to read on my face. I might feel warm, but I
never blushed. I might have trouble speaking, but it only made my
voice, when it did come out, lower, huskier, sexier. A string of my
mother’s deadbeat boyfriends, culminating in a vicious step-father, had
taught me how to keep everything from showing on the surface.
“Stef!”
I kept walking.
“Stefan Joss!”
His voice had been a roar, so I stopped and looked back over my
shoulder.
“I fired the butler,” he said sarcastically, pushing his hat back
before pointing to the trunk of the car. “So you should probably bring
in your and Char’s stuff.”
My look must have scared Ben.
“I’ll bring the bags,” the groom offered quickly, putting up his
hands. “Just go in already.”
On the porch, the wood creaked under my wingtips, and I smelled
the garlic and onions even before I reached the screen door.
“Hello,” I called out as opened it and went in.
“Stefan, honey, I’m in here.”
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You never realize how hungry you are until you’re faced with
sautéed onions. Even if you hate them, they still smell amazing.
“There’s my boy,” Charlotte’s mother greeted me warmly.
After we finished the hugging and kissing portion of the evening,
I listened as she explained about the twice-baked potatoes that were in
the oven and the gravy she was making to go over the barbecue ribs.
I was leaning against the counter when Ben came in with my
duffle and Charlotte’s garment bag. I saw him out of the corner of my
eye.
“Thanks. Sorry.”
“No.” He shook his head, waving at me, wanting my attention.
When I was really looking at him, giving him the full weight of
my stare, he mouthed out that Rand was a dick. Since Rand’s mother
was in the room with us, I understood why I was reading his lips and
not listening to his voice. No one wanted to hear a criticism of their
child, even if it was true.
“I couldn’t agree more,” I assured him, leaning against the
counter as Charlotte’s mother walked up beside me, her hand on my
back, patting gently.
“I made peach crumb cobbler for you and Charlotte for later.”
She knew it was my favorite. “Thank you for thinking of me.”
“I always think of you, sweetheart… you’re my angel.”
I had taken care of Charlotte when she couldn’t, helped fulfill her
late husband’s wish that his girl get a college degree. For the rest of my
life, I was golden in her book. “Which room is mine?”
“The one next to Rand’s at the top of the stairs.” She smiled at
me. “Charlotte’s is across the hall.”
Grabbing my duffle, I slung it over my shoulder and headed for
the stairs. I loved the feel of the house and noticed on the many
occasions I had been forced to be in it over the years that, for whatever
reason, I always felt comfortable. There were lots of windows, wooden
floors, rugs that resembled Navajo blankets, and leather furniture with
the brass rivets in it. It was a man’s home, and there were no delicate
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feminine touches, even though Rand’s mother visited often. She had
left the ranch after her husband died and now lived in a condo in
Lubbock.
My room for the night was small but airy, the Casablanca fan
spinning slowly on the ceiling, all the windows open, the breeze
bringing in the smell of wildflowers and charcoal. The grill had been
fired up.
“I wasn’t laughing at you.”
Turning, I found Rand leaning against the doorframe.
“I swear, Stef, I would never laugh at you.”
“It felt like it.”
He shook his head. “Nope, I was just surprised.”
“About what?”
“That you knew anything at all about this ranch.”
I looked at him and felt my stomach flip over.
“So I’m sorry, all right?”
All I could do was nod.
His smile came fast as he tipped his head at me. “Nice collared
shirt you got on there.”
I flipped him off, turning back to the bed, needing to take a breath
since looking at Rand made moving air through my lungs difficult. He
needed to go away so I could calm down.
Grabbed hard, I landed on my back in the middle of the bed under
my best friend’s brother. It took me a second to realize that I had been
tackled and that the man with the dancing eyes looming over me
seemed very pleased with himself.
“Rand….” I tried to shove him off me. “What’re you––”
He bent and kissed me, sucking my bottom lip into his mouth,
biting it gently. The result was instantaneous: I forgot about everything
but him. My brain emptied; nothing mattered except Rand Holloway
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and the way I was being kissed, like if he didn’t, he’d die. He made me
feel like I was all he needed.
I arched up into him and felt the answering tension, his hard thigh
pressing into my groin, his arms wrapping around me tightly.
“Did you miss me?” he asked against my lips.
I coiled around him so he’d know, turning my head to offer up my
neck for more of his marks. His teeth closing on the base of my throat
felt like heaven, as did the hand sliding down my thigh, lifting my leg
up over his hip.
“I wanna be buried back inside you, Stef. It’s all I could think
about all day long.”
My eyes lifted from the kissable mouth to eyes filled with need.
“Close the door and I’m all yours.”
He chuckled before he bent and ground his mouth down over
mine, kissing me so hard, so deep, his tongue driving me out of mind,
stroking over mine until I was sure I had melted into the bed. His hands
were on me everywhere, under my shirt, on my burning skin. I didn’t
even realize he had tugged the button-down out of my pants.
“You’re just saying yes ’cause you know I can’t do shit about this
right now.”
I reached up and took his face in my hands. “I’m saying yes
because I want you to fuck me ’til I pass out.”
The groan was low; he sounded like he was in agony. “Jesus,
Stef… why you gotta say shit like that when you know it’ll be all I can
think about now?”
“Because I can,” I said with a smile up at him.
“Aww, man.” He sighed before he suddenly clutched me tight to
him, his face pressed into the crook of my neck. “This is good too.”
I had no idea what was going on. Hot pillow talk promising hours
of fucking I could do. Intimacy was a totally different thing. The man
was not trying to rip off my clothes; he was hugging me tight to his
heart as he rolled over on his back, keeping me in his arms.
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“Stay here with me after the wedding. I wanna wake up with you
in the morning and take you riding and eat dinner, just you and me.
Please… just stay here.”
I pushed against him, and he let me untangle myself. I sat up,
straddling his thighs as I looked down into his eyes.
“Oh yeah.” He shifted under me, drawing his knees up behind my
back, running his hands up my thighs. “This works.”
When I put my hands down on his chest and lifted up only to sink
back down, pressing my ass down over his groin, I felt him shudder
under me.
“Stef.” My name came out as a sultry whisper. “Forget what I
said… fuck me now.”
I licked my lips. “Can’t… you’ve got a house full of people to
entertain.”
“Stef, I––”
“Stef!” Charlotte called as she clomped up the stairs.
I scrambled away from Rand and off the bed and was standing by
the window when she strolled into the bedroom.
“What’re you doing?” she snapped at me. “Get downstairs and
deal with these people with me.”
Rand muttered something as he stalked from the room.
“What?” she called after him. “What?”
I moved toward the door, but her eyes, suddenly back on me,
froze me where I stood.
“What did he say?”
“What?”
She squinted at me.
“Seriously, what?”
“Did he just say that I shouldn’t yell at you?”
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“No,” I assured her, tipping my head at the door. “C’mon, I’ll
follow you.”
She was staring at me. “Why would my brother care what I do to
you?”
“He doesn’t.”
But she did not look convinced as I walked out of the room.
THERE were over a hundred people just at the rehearsal dinner; I could
only imagine what the wedding the following day was going to be like.
As I sat at the table with the rest of the bridal party, I watched Rand as
he stood talking to people I didn’t know. Every time I tried to look
away, I found my eyes wandering back.
His black hair fell into his eyes, long in the front and running
down the back of his neck, but not hitting his shoulders like mine did.
The inky waves looked soft, and I knew from brand new first-hand
experience that they were. The blue eyes looking out between the
strands of hair that caught on his lashes were very sexy. I found that
just looking at him—his profile, the chiseled features, the sharp, clean
lines—made my heart beat funny. I needed to take a walk and clear my
head so I could process everything that had happened.
I walked down toward the stable, and halfway there, I heard
footsteps behind me. Turning, I found Nick. He was weaving, tripping
as he closed in on me, so very drunk.
“You better get your ass back up there and––”
“Stef,” he cut me off, lunging at me, wrapping his arms around
me, trying to pull me close.
But while Nicholas Towne was taller than me, six-three to my
own five-eleven, he was not the wall of solid muscle that Rand
Holloway was. I had him shoved back and flat on his back in the dirt
seconds later. The maneuver I had performed had swept his legs out
from under him before he even realized he was falling.
“Shit,” he coughed after a minute. “I think you broke my legs.”
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“Hardly,” I said, squatting down beside him. “What the fuck was
that?”
He coughed again. “I don’t… I’m just drunk.”
I nodded. He was most definitely drunk, but that did not mean his
agenda was fuzzy in any way. Had I been receptive to it, he would have
kissed me and maybe done more. The look, when he came at me, had
been pure lust. But making him explain himself was a mistake. Better
to just let it go and not have any awkwardness for Charlotte’s big day.
“Take my hand.”
He took the assistance I offered him, letting me pull him up to his
feet.
“Sorry, Stef.”
“It’s fine,” I assured him, turning away. “I’ll see you back up at
the house.”
“You won’t tell Ben,” he said behind me.
“Shouldn’t you be more worried about explaining it to your
wife?”
“Stef I––”
“Just forget it.”
“Thanks, Stef,” he called after me.
I waved to let him know I’d heard him but didn’t turn around. I
was having the weirdest few days.
The further I walked, the calmer I got. It was twilight; the breeze
was warm, and the smells of grass and flowers and the faint trace of
smoke filled the air. It was nice, slow and easy, and as I climbed up on
the fence to look out at the pasture, I had the strangest feeling of calm.
Four men on horseback were riding toward the house, and when they
saw me, they all lifted their hands to wave. It was nice, friendly, and I
smiled as I waved back. Minutes later, hoof beats in the dirt turned my
head back toward the house. I doubted I would ever get tired of seeing
Rand up on a horse. He belonged on the cover of a romance novel.
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“Hey.” I nodded to him as I stepped off the fence, looking up into
Rand’s bright blue eyes.
“What’re you doin’ out here?”
I shrugged. “Just needed to clear my head.”
“Why?”
“You know why.”
He nodded, patting the side of the horse’s neck. “C’mon, lemme