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The very tenderness of it evoked a tremor of longing. Her lips parted, seemingly of their own volition, wanting more, inviting more.
When he kissed her again, hard and deep, a moan rose in her throat. Her arms slid around his neck. They were spiraling out of control. They should stop. They had to stop. But the hunger of all those years apart was as powerful as a landslide. He was fully aroused, his erection straining the zipper of his jeans.
His arms caught her close, arching her against him. His hand found its way under the hem of her shirt, sliding up her ribs to cup one small, perfect breast, stroking the nipple through her lace bra. Her fingers raked his hair as she uttered little animal sounds—sounds that triggered a rush of memories. They were nineteen again, and nothing mattered except belonging to each other, body and soul. Now it was the same. So help her, if she burned in hell for it, she didn’t want to stop—and neither did he.
But there were other forces at work.
A belching snort from the mare broke them apart. Lupita shuddered and lifted her tail as the mineral oil took full effect. The odor was enough to quell any thought of desire.
“Oh, good grief!” Natalie pulled away from it and stumbled over to stroke the mare’s neck. “That’s my girl,” she murmured, avoiding Beau’s eyes. “You’re going to be fine now, aren’t you, Lupita?”
The moment had turned awkward. Beau darted out of the stall and returned with a shovel to scoop the mess and haul it outside. By the time he came back into the barn, Natalie had gathered her gear and was headed for the door. Her stoically frozen expression was enough to tell him that whatever had passed between them was over.
He stepped into her path. “Thank you,” he said. “You saved that mare’s life tonight.”
“You’ll get my bill in the mail.” She sounded shaken.
“Will you be all right?”
“Of course.” She stood in the light of the single bulb. Her eyes were shadowed with fatigue, as if she’d spent too many sleepless nights. “Beau, what happened back there . . .”
“I know,” he said. “Don’t worry, it’s already forgotten.” That was a lie and they both knew it.
“We can’t go back to where we once were,” she said. “We’ve come too far over the years. We’re different people now.”
He gazed down into her dark eyes—so much kindness there, so much truth. A lot of women might be capable of an affair, but Natalie wasn’t made that way. “I understand,” he muttered. “Sorry things got out of control.” He ached to wrap her in his arms and hold her close one last time, but that would only complicate things. “I’ll walk you to your vehicle.”
She shook her head. “Please don’t. I’ll be fine.”
He let her go then, listening as she loaded her gear and started the engine. As she pulled out of the yard, he stood in the doorway, watching the red dots of her taillights until they vanished around the bend.
Catching the muffled sound of a vehicle’s engine starting, Lute slipped from his hiding place in the barn’s deep shadows and exited the building through a rear door. Too bad he couldn’t reach Slade right now. It would have been quite a sight if Slade had shown up and caught his wife and Beau in that hot embrace. But Slade was on his way back from a run to Mexico and wasn’t answering his cell. All Lute could do was leave him the message.
He ought to let Stella know as well. Not that Stella would care, though she might get a good laugh out of the news that Slade’s wife was getting it on with her old boyfriend. But that wasn’t for him to decide. Stella was paying him to pass on everything he relayed to Slade, so he dutifully made the call.
Maybe this time would make a difference.
Lute was more than ready for his life to change. He was tired of being a shit shoveler for the Tylers, and being chewed out by Beau just for taking a nap was eating at him like a worm in his gut. The more he thought about the man, the more he hated him. He would like nothing better than to watch Slade pound him to a whimpering pulp.
Stella had said that Slade wanted to give him extra jobs. Maybe he’d learn more about that the next time he went into town. Lute wasn’t lazy. But cleaning stables didn’t fit his kind of ambition. Or put the kind of money in his pocket that he wanted.
The next morning, Beau was up early to head straight to the bunkhouse and catch Lute in bed. He stalked into the small single room. “Gear up!” he barked. “Put your pants on!”
“What’d I do now?” Lute grumbled as he crawled out of the quilts and reached for the jeans that were hanging on the bedpost.
“You damn near killed one of our best mares. Why did you give her all that grain? Any idiot would know better than to do that!”
Lute cast him a whipped dog look. “I didn’t mean any harm by it. She was the last one to get fed, and I’d run out of hay. The grain was there, in a sack, and I thought, what’ll it hurt this once?”
Beau squelched the urge to grab him and throw him against the wall. “That mare bloated because you were too damned lazy to go to the hay shed and get another bale! She would’ve died if I hadn’t noticed her and called the vet.”
The vet.
A sly expression crept over Lute’s face, causing Beau to wonder how much the little bastard knew. He always seemed to be slinking around, like he was spying on people.
Lute shrugged. “Then I guess it’s
taken care of. No harm done. I’ll get the hay first thing after breakfast.”
