Uncommon Passion (35 page)

he walked in front of a bus, and the driver’s startled honk brought back the armor that allowed him to walk

up to Steve.

“Your girl just left,” Steve observed.

“How’d she seem?”

“Better than you do, to be honest. Head held high. Went to her car, put her hair up, got in, and drove

away.” He looked at Ben, but Ben stared straight ahead. “You okay?”

He didn’t even know what that meant. Okay. What did it mean?

“Fine,” Ben said shortly. “Everything’s fine.”

He wondered how long it would take the cold black mass inside to recede again. He wondered if Rachel

would make it home okay.

Mostly he wondered how long it would take Rob Strong to give her what she really needed.

• • •

Once again Rachel drove back to Silent Circle Farm in a daze, but this time she knew exactly what had

happened. She’d had passionate, intense, boundary-pushing sex with Ben Harris, but the
why
eluded her.

Complicated, tempestuous, emotional despite his best effort to keep it meaningless. Once again she’d left

someone she cared about.

Her watch read shortly after midnight when she parked in the bunkhouse lot, so she decided to check

on the does a little early. Using the full moon’s silvery light to guide her, Rachel made her way down the

path to the goat shed and found Irene in the birthing stall. She’d shown no interest in food for the last day

or so and hung off by herself, away from the other does. But when Rachel quietly opened the door, Irene

looked at her, a distant, unfocused cast to her liquid brown eyes. Humming quietly, Rachel stood in the

darker end of the shed and studied the doe. The bones in Irene’s hips and tail protruded more prominently

and her tail jutted out from her spine.

“Okay, sweetie,” Rachel said. “It’s time.”

She hurried through the wildflowers to Rob’s small house and knocked on his bedroom window.

Almost immediately his face appeared in the window, his hair a tousled halo around his head. “Irene’s

kidding.”

Without a word he let the curtain fall back over the window. Moments later he opened the front door,

jeans on but not buttoned, his shirt in his hand. “I checked her at ten and she wasn’t in labor,” Rob said as

he followed her back up the path.

“She is now,” Rachel said.

When they entered the goat shed Irene stood exactly where Rachel left her, in the corner of the pen,

head down. Rachel gathered the kidding tote from the supply room and shrugged into the old flannel shirt

Rob left there as protection against messier jobs. When she came back out, Irene stood head down, her

sides rigid with the effort of pushing. When the contraction eased she looked at Rachel and nickered, as if

to say
What’s going on?
Rachel looked over the young goat, her hand sliding along her side, fingertips

searching for clues to the kid’s position. Rob scratched gently behind Irene’s ears. But with each

contraction a nose and one hoof presented, only to slip back inside when the taut muscles eased. She

quickly washed her hands and pulled on the gloves, then slid her hand inside. “I found an ear,” she said. “I

can feel the rest of the skull, but the head’s definitely twisted.”

“Okay,” Rob said.

“Grab some gloves,” she said.

“Your hands are smaller than mine,” Rob protested.

His hesitancy made her smile. “But next season I won’t be here,” she said. “You’ll be fine.” When Rob

wore gloves and was up to his knuckles in the birth canal, she held Irene’s head and said, “Fold one foot

back and guide the head over that foot.”

He took his time and with the next contraction the kid presented perfectly, one tiny black nose resting

on two equally tiny black hooves.

“Pull,” she said.

Again gentle but firm, Rob pulled as Irene pushed, and just like that, the kid slid from the doe’s body,

into the straw. Rachel and Rob got rags and a box lined with soft cloths, drying the kid off as best they

could. After a moment Irene turned around and nosed the kid, licking the amniotic sac from its neck as

Rachel used a clean rag to clear the nose and mouth. Eventually the kid scrambled to its feet, wobbling as

she nosed at Irene’s udders.

“Good job, new mama,” she said. She disposed of the gloves, then offered Irene a treat of raisins and

peanuts. The goat lipped the sweets from her hand and stood under Rachel’s gentle petting while Rob

washed up. Then Rachel washed her hands and arms, and came to stand by Rob outside the pen.

“I really hate to lose you,” Rob said quietly.

“You might not. I didn’t get into school,” she replied. Was that only a few hours ago that she’d gotten

that news?

He looked at her, and Rachel was grateful for the crescent moon and lack of light. The muscles of her

face twisted into unfamiliar positions as she struggled to hold back tears and the onslaught of emotions. She

blinked hard, cleared her throat.

“I’m sorry,” he said with the same gentleness. “What did they say?”

“My essay was great, but I don’t have enough science.”

“That’s fixable,” Rob said.

It was. Totally fixable. She’d done the hard stuff. She’d left, lost her virginity. She could take high

school science. At twenty-five.

“Are you worried about how you’ll do in the classes? Because you’ll do just fine. You’re smart, and you

work harder than anyone else I know. It’s just a question of time.”

What knotted her throat unbearably wasn’t his kind words. She wanted to hear them from Ben. Not

Rob. But Ben would never be there for her like that. Oh, if she needed to work off steam in a man’s bed,

Ben would be there for her, waiting just inside his door, all sleep rumpled and stone-faced. She wanted him

to share the good times and the bad, not lock them away.

You foolish girl. You fell in love with him. You were warned, but you gave your body away and where

exactly did you think your heart was?

She loved him, loved his strength and the wounded, damaged soul inside.

A sob escaped her. Rob turned to look at her. “Hey,” he said, clearly a little alarmed, and reached for

her.

Rachel turned her face into his shoulder, sobs wracking her body. Rob held her while she cried, both

arms around her to keep her close, giving her strength while she had none. When her tears subsided she

relaxed into his torso.

“Why do I think that wasn’t just about the miracle of birth and vet tech school?” he asked wryly.

She let out a rough laugh and looked up at him. His gaze remained focused on the night sky. “Because

you see more than you say? I broke up with Ben,” she said, and swiped her sleeve across her face. “My first

breakup, except . . . I don’t think we were even together. Either way, it’s harder than I thought it would be.”

“I’m sorry. You seemed to really care for him.”

“I did,” she said, then tipped her face to the starry sky. “I fell in love with the first man I slept with. I

wanted something passionate and intense and real. I knew it would hurt . . . just not this much. Now I

understand why Jess is the way she is.”

A low laugh huffed from Rob’s nostrils, and he looked down at her.

“No virgins here,” she said.

“Not anymore,” he conceded.

They stood by the pen for a while before the day’s events caught up with Rachel. She yawned, then

used the stretch to step out of Rob’s sheltering arms. “I should get to bed.”

“You’ve got a knack for this,” he said, nodding at the pen. “Things are going well this season. I’m going

to branch out, add alpacas and sheep. I could use permanent help. The job’s yours if you want it. I’ll work

around your class schedule.”

She hesitated. This was the safe thing to do, stay at the farm. She wished it felt right, but it didn’t.

Maybe it was the events of the day. Maybe she’d feel differently after some sleep and some distance.

As if sensing her indecision, Rob said, “You don’t have to tell me now. We’ve got the summer ahead of

us. Let me know when you make up your mind.”

Chapter Twenty-one

An entire week had come and gone without Rachel, without even the promise of Rachel. The pain

permeated Ben’s entire gut, like an infection he couldn’t cure. He stood outside No Limits, watching the

bouncer usher stragglers out the front door. Closing time on yet another night of wild, sexy fun. A carload

of young women idled near the exit, waiting for Steve. “Go on,” Ben said. “I’ll finish up here.”

“I can wait,” Steve said. “Or you want to meet us later?”

He should, for the simple reason that there’d been no one since Rachel. Every night he’d gone home

alone to sit in silence. He didn’t want what he usually sought out, mindlessness. He wanted Rachel. Slow

and passionate and deep as the ocean. But Rachel asked more of him than he could give.

Fuck dilemmas. Fuck rocks and hard places. The razor-sharp edge of who she was hovered over his

paper-thin excuse for a soul. He didn’t want that blade to fall. He couldn’t bear to push it away, either.

“Not tonight,” Ben said.

“How’s your brother?” Steve asked.

“Home.” Sam was sixteen pounds lighter, but he was alive, out of the hospital, expected to fully

recover. The doctors said the headaches would taper off, and for God’s sake, stay off the ladders.

“Glad to hear it,” Steve said, then left.

The bouncer signaled Ben, pointing at two guys meandering through the nearly empty parking lot.

“Hey,” Ben called, then whistled sharply when they ignored him. “Don’t even think about it.”

After some grumbling the guys sat on the curb, phones in hand, presumably texting sober friends or a

cab company. Ben bounced on the balls of his sore feet, waiting for the bouncer to shoot the bolts,

signaling the end of his night. Same shit, different day . . . except he was different, too.

The last person out the door was Juliette.

Her tight microskirt and heels highlighted her long legs as she crossed the lot in his direction. He

watched her walk because he could. The skirt stopped at her upper thighs, and before Rachel he would

have said this was what he wanted. Long blond hair, carefully applied makeup, clothes chosen to highlight

breasts, legs, her flat stomach, and toned legs. A surface. A pretty one, sure, but a surface. Like the plastic

cover on an iPhone. He had no idea who was underneath that surface, what she loved, what she dreamed

about. Maybe nothing. Maybe something that would surprise him.

Like Rachel.

The bouncer tossed him a wave, then stepped inside and closed the doors. The bolts shot home just as

Juliette stepped up onto the sidewalk. “Hey,” she said quietly.

He gave her a nod.

“I wanted to apologize in person,” she said. “What Steve and I did was stupid, and wrong. I’m sorry.

Even if Rachel hadn’t been there—”

“If Rachel hadn’t been there, things would have turned out very differently and we both know it,” Ben

said. He flashed her the smile, the one he used to hide everything, the one that never fooled Rachel.

Juliette smoothed her hair away from her cheek with that familiar palm-out movement. Rachel’s hair

flashed into his mind, the matter-of-fact way she dealt with it, not using it to signal interest or availability.

Who the fuck have you become?

Get her out of your head, or you’re going to go out of your head.

“How are things with Rachel?” she asked, only a slight artfulness to the question.

He gave her a look, because they weren’t the kind of friends who inquired into personal relationships.

He didn’t even know her last name. “Over.”

Juliette’s eyes widened slightly. “Really,” she said, as if he’d surprised her. He was struggling through

what that single word in that tone meant when she shrugged, her bare shoulders lifting above her strapless

top. “How ’bout we do that different ending tonight?”

It was the offer he expected, the perfect opportunity to pick up right where he left off, mark the last few

months as a blip on the radar of his life. As if Rachel hadn’t changed the way he looked at the world. But

something told him Juliette wasn’t any more into this than he was, and
because I can
made his stomach

lurch like it had in the hotel room.

“I’ve got to be up early tomorrow,” he said, letting her down as gently as he could. “Are you okay to

drive?”

“Water only for the last couple of hours,” she said. “But thanks for checking. I’m sorry you and Rachel

are over,” she added as she walked away. “From what I saw, it was something special.”

She saw them thirty seconds away from fucking. What came through that made it special? Was it some

kind of girl-radar that turned everything into the big moment, the happily ever after, like sounds only dogs

and dolphins could hear, leaving the average man standing around, bewildered?

His phone buzzed. The text from Sam read,
i’m awake come over.

Might as well. Ben climbed into his truck and drove to Sam’s house. He found him in the garage

cleaning up his workbench.