Chapter Twenty-Nine

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

B AILEY FEARED THAT even though she loved Stuart, she couldn’t do this. Just the thought brought back the horror of the masked man standing over her, the pain of being violated and scarred forever, and worst, a fear he would come for her again.

But Stuart didn’t lead her to his bedroom as she’d anticipated. Once inside the house, he stopped in the kitchen to turn on the radio. Then he pulled her into a slow dance. They’d never danced together. The thought made her laugh to herself. They’d never even had a real date. She would have said that she hardly knew the sheriff, but that would have been a lie.

Surprisingly, they danced well together—as if they’d been doing it for years. As they moved to the music, he bent his head to the side of her neck. His breath against her sensitive skin behind her ear sent a shiver of desire through her. He pulled her closer, her breasts pressing against his hard chest. She could tell he was in pain. What had she been thinking even suggesting that they make love with him hurt?

She’d just wanted to get it over with. Just do it, even if it was trauma, telling herself it would be better the next time. If there was a next time.

The song ended, but another came on. Stuart didn’t seem to be in any hurry as he kissed her softly on the mouth, tracing his tongue across her lips. She found herself beginning to relax a little. The kiss became more passionate as they danced.

Her breasts felt heavy, the nipples hard and aching for his touch. Breaking off the kiss, he began to trail kisses slowly down her throat, releasing button after button as he went. She felt her desire for this man burn hotter along with her fear.

He reached her bra and drew down the right side to lathe her nipple with his tongue before nipping at the hard point. She groaned his name and pressed against his mouth, heat rushing to her center.

But as he started to do the same with her left breast, she grabbed his hand to stop him. Their gazes locked, hers filling with tears. The brand on her breast was faint. He hadn’t been able to hold the iron to it long enough to go through the second or third layer of skin.

But it was still scarred. A constant reminder and why she hadn’t been with a man in all this time. She hadn’t wanted Stuart to see her like this.

He took her hand, pressed it to his lips, his gaze never breaking with hers. When he released it, he opened his shirt. She hadn’t really ever seen how scarred his chest and torso were before that moment. He’d always hurried to cover up—just as she did. Emotion weakened her knees and made her eyes fill as she leaned toward him and began to kiss his scars. He let out a soft moan as the music played and she kissed her way across his broad chest, lathing his nipple as he’d done to hers.

After a moment, she drew back and, heart pounding, let him remove her shirt and bra. She couldn’t look at him at first, but then he cupped her left breast and kissed her scar as she had his. Tears filled her eyes.

When he lifted his head, he smiled and said, “You’re beautiful, Bailey McKenna, scars and all.”

She laughed. “You too, Stuart Layton, scars and all.”

Then he kissed her, drawing her to him, into his strong arms. His body felt warm against hers. Hadn’t she dreamed of this on all those nights when she’d come to him and he’d waited patiently, knowing she needed him, but unsure why?

Bailey barely remembered them taking off the rest of their clothes, leaving a trail of garments through the house as they fell into his bed. But she would always remember the gentle way he touched her, finding those sensitive spots that made her moan and writhe, wanting him like she’d never thought possible.

“Stuart,” she’d pleaded at one point, gathering up a handful of his hair to pull him up to her mouth so she could kiss him. He’d given her so much pleasure, but now she wanted him inside her. “Please.”

He had gently lowered himself on her, flesh to flesh, heart to heart. When he’d entered her, she’d felt both desire and relief. He made love to her, so different from her other nightmare memory that she felt it begin to fade. Stuart’s love would heal her, already had, she thought as he made her come yet again before letting himself go. They’d been breathing hard, looking into each other’s eyes and laughing. They done it. They’d found their way to each other against the odds.

She was smiling, cuddled against him, finally in that safe place she’d longed for. She wondered if he would resign as sheriff now or stay. She thought about her book. She could finally write that last chapter.

One day Stuart would ask her about his mother. Or maybe he’d wait until the book was published and read about it then. There’d been too many secrets, but some of them would be coming to light. She would weather that storm when it hit.

When she woke the next morning, she found him beside the bed on one knee. “Marry me, Bailey. I love you. You love me. We were made for each other.”

She’d nodded, smiling at him as he put the ring back on her finger before he crawled into bed, promising to love, honor and cherish her. Then he set about showing her exactly how he planned to do all three.

CJ HAD CONVINCED himself that his mother wouldn’t be coming back to the jail. Charlotte Stafford was no fool. Once Oakley told her about her visit to her brother, her mother would know for certain he couldn’t change.

That’s why he was so surprised when he was told he had a visitor and found his mother patiently waiting in the booth behind the Plexiglass partition. He sat down, picked up the phone, and saw that he was shaking. She’d offered him a chance to start over, to erase what he’d done, to change. He hadn’t realized how badly he’d want to try until that moment.

“You came back,” he said, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice any more than he could the fear of why she’d come. Would she be so cruel as to offer him a way out and then take it back? That would have been something he might have done. The thought didn’t help.

“Have you had time to think over what we talked about?” she asked.

“I’ve done nothing but,” he said honestly.

“I believe in second chances,” she said. “Holden and I...well, we’re going to be seeing each other.”

He nodded. He’d wondered about her change of heart. He should have known it was Holden McKenna’s doing. He ground his teeth for a moment, having spent his life hating the man for hurting his mother, and worse, hating her for having a weak spot for the man even after he had broken her heart.

“You’ve always been in love with him,” he managed to say now that he knew where her generosity had come from. She was telling him that if he didn’t accept this and Holden, he could rot in jail the rest of his life.

“How do you feel about that?” She studied him with eyes so much like his own.

He knew he had to be honest. If he too readily accepted this turn of events, she’d know he was lying. “I can’t say I’ve ever liked him, but then again, he broke my mother’s heart by marrying someone else.” He met her gaze. “But if you can forgive him—”

“Forgiveness is a two-way street. I hurt him deeply too. I’m hoping our love, which has lasted all these years despite our...past, is strong enough to put all of that behind us.”

“Are you talking marriage?” he asked, having trouble even saying the words. “Where would you live? What would happen to the Stafford Ranch?”

He saw her expression and realized that he’d said too much.

“We aren’t to that point. We haven’t discussed any of this.”

His greatest fear was that the Stafford Ranch would be gobbled up by the McKenna Ranch, and Holden would take everything. CJ had dreamed of the day when he would run the ranch. That dream popped like a bubble. If the ranch was gone, what was there for him if he got off and was released? What was the point?

“What are you offering me?” he asked, unable to keep his anger or his frustration out of his voice.

“Your brothers, Brand and Ryder, have been running the ranch,” she said. “You would work with them, the three of you. I wouldn’t take the ranch away from my children.”

Work with Brand and Ryder? She had to be kidding. He’d run that ranch when they were still in diapers. “I see.” He did see. He wouldn’t go to prison, because his life would be a prison of its own.

He smiled. He knew exactly what he wanted to say. I do believe in second chances. But I’m going to have to pass. I’ve hired a lawyer. He’s probably not as good as one you could hire for me. Also, I wouldn’t have your clout behind me. But I think I’m going to take my chances.

Fortunately, he was too smart to say any of that. “Whatever you’re offering me, Mother, I’d like to take it. I want a future.” He was already thinking of the things he’d do if he was free. Going back to work the ranch wasn’t one of them. “Thank you.”

His mother smiled.

He couldn’t tell if she was convinced, because the two of them were a lot alike. But he knew that she couldn’t stand the thought of him spending years in prison. Also, how would it look for her and the family—especially if she really might get back together with Holden McKenna?

“I’ll see what I can do,” she said, then put the phone back and rose.

He tried to look contrite, not too relieved but with just enough gratitude, before she walked out. He was gambling on her buying it because she wanted to so badly. He’d always been a gambler, he thought as he replaced his phone, smiling.

Not even his sister could change their mother’s mind, he told himself. Oakley had always been a thorn in his side. He’d deal with her when the time came. He was getting out of here, he told himself as the guard took him back to his cell. His future suddenly looked bright. Look out Powder Crossing, CJ Stafford is coming home.