Chapter Fourteen - Westin

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

WESTIN

The pastures are rotated. The cattle and horses rest in the lower fields, surrounded by shade with access to the river. Everything is just maintenance until we start branding in the fall.

I'm restless because every time I go to see Diane; she has every excuse in the world as to why she can't let me inside. Her face is worried all the time now, but she won't tell me what's going on.

It's killing me.

Finally, one day when I know all the Garrisons and David Carter have gone to West Lancaster, I leave Sovereign Mountain. I've been patient with Diane, and I've never had much patience to start with.

Time to go get what's mine.

Carter Farms is dead quiet when I pull off to the side of the road, hiding the truck behind the trees. On foot, I cut through the field to the house. The chickens are out in the yard, so I know she's home. She always calls the chickens inside the coop when she leaves to keep them safe.

The rooster jumps from the railing, crash-landing in the grass. I sidestep it and climb the back porch, rapping the screen door hard.

Silence.

I knock hard again. Through the screen, I see her lean into the hall .

"That's enough," she hollers. "I heard you."

I lean against the wall. "Open this fucking door, Diane, or I'll break it down. I'm done with this."

She gasps. Then, the door flies wide open, and her eyes narrow on me.

"I didn't invite you here, Westin Quinn," she snaps. "Don't you go beating on my door like you're the damn sheriff."

She's pissed off, but not really, and I'm too distracted by that short yellow dress to care. Quick as a flash, I heft her in my arms and kick the door open. We tumble into the empty kitchen, and I push her up against the hallway wall.

"Westin," she gasps. "Put me down."

I kiss her hard to shut her up. She's got a bite to her, like hard liquor. My forehead creases. It's early in the day to taste like whiskey, but maybe she was just having iced tea with something extra.

I pull back, and that's when I see it: a faint, green bruise on her temple.

My stomach drops. Suddenly, her refusal to see me makes sense.

Someone hit her.

I let her slide to her feet, taking her by the jaw and turning her head. Defeat clouds her eyes. She goes limp, letting me brush her blonde waves back. There's a scab about the size of a quarter and a healing bruise on her hairline.

My blood turns to fire.

"Who did this to you?" I ask, keeping my voice tempered.

I don't want to scare her more than she already is. She shakes her head.

"Nobody. I fell on the back porch and hit the railing."

I study her face and decide she isn't lying; she's just withholding the truth. Right away, I know it won't do any good for me to go after David in front of her. It had to be him. There's no one else, not unless David let those Garrison fuckers mess with her. The thought of him standing there and letting them beat her is somehow worse than if he did it himself.

She tilts her chin. "I fell. "

"When?"

"About a week ago."

"You said on the front porch?"

"The back," she says, narrowing her eyes. She's too sharp for me to trip up.

"Did you go to the quick clinic?"

She shakes her head. "No reason to. I put a cold rag on it and patched it up with gauze. Didn't even hurt."

She's lying about that part, I can see it in the way her pupils blow. I make sure my face is unreadable. It's clear she has been abused and she feels ashamed. Getting angry in front of her would be cruel.

I need to make sure she feels safe. Then, I can put a bullet into the motherfucker who did this to her later on. She shouldn't have to see the ugly parts.

I'll get the truth out of her gently. If it was her brother, he'd better find a priest and start confessing, because there's nowhere on this Earth he can hide where I won't find him.

"Come with me," I say.

"Where?"

"Out."

She shakes her head. "I have chores."

I take her by the chin and pull her face up. "Fuck it. Come with me to Sovereign Mountain tonight."

I expect her to refuse right away, but instead, she considers it. Something really has changed since I saw her last.

"The men won't be back until tomorrow," she whispers finally.

"He'll never know."

She bites her lip. Then, she nods, and for the first time in a week, her beautiful face lights up like sunshine. God, I can't resist her. My mouth comes down on hers, and she kisses me through her smile.

I kiss her back, and she tastes like I'm not leaving without her today.

She goes upstairs. I close up the barn, leaving the side door open so the horses can go inside once the sun sets. Then, I lock the chickens in the coop and meet her on the front porch .

She's in her boots and her little yellow dress, her hair loose over her shoulders. My eyes wander over the freckles on her bare nape.

I'm going to taste her there. I'll kiss down her spine, ease her legs apart, and lick between her thighs.

I get her for a night. I feel like the richest man in the world.

Her hand slips in mine, and my heart goes crazy as I lead her over the field and down the short hill to where I parked in the shade. I help her into the truck and toss her bags in the back with a straw bale and a bag of apples I picked up at the convenience store the other day. There's a jug of water, which might be warm, but it'll work.

I lift her by the waist and put her into the passenger side. She glances at me sideways.

"No yellow lily today?" she asks.

"You said to let them grow," I say.

She turns and puts her hand on my face. Our eyes lock, and the hair rises on the back of my neck.

I think I'll marry this girl. She must feel my breath hitch, because she falters, her lips parting. I'm speechless, so I take my hat off and fit it on her head.

"There you go, so the sun doesn't bleach your hair," I say.

She smiles, all the sadness gone.

"Thank you, sir," she whispers.

My brain thrums. My dick twitches. My eyes drag down her bare arms, and the memory of my belt wrapped around her wrists is strong. Maybe we'll take a detour before we get back to the gatehouse.

I settle in the driver's side and turn the key. The windows are down, and her hair whips around her face as I get back on the road. But we don't head towards Sovereign Mountain. Instead, I take a back road paved with loose gravel.

"Where are we going?" she asks, letting one arm hang out the window.

"You want a swim?" I ask. "It's pretty hot out."

She glances sideways. "I didn't bring a suit."

I shrug. "I didn't either. "

The tension in the cab crackles like the air before a storm. She bites that full lower lip and her breasts heave. I slide my hand over her knee and grip her bare inner thigh—the soft part, right below her sex.

We're both quiet for a few minutes.

"Where are you from, anyway?" she asks finally. "Did you always live at Sovereign Mountain?"

I don't like talking about my childhood, but today, with the sun shining through the window and her sitting there in a dress that looks like summertime, I feel like I could say a few words.

"The ranch is pretty new," I say. "My family farm sat there before."

"How'd you do that?"

"Build a ranch? One foot in front of the other," I say. "Tell me about your life."

A crease appears between her brows. She stares straight ahead.

"There isn't much to say," she says. "My parents have always been gone. My Nana raised David and I as best she could. I feel like she did a decent job with me, but David's kind of a dick."

I bite back a laugh.

"Sorry," she says quickly.

"No, I like your honesty, Diane," I say. "What kind of woman was your Nana? She from around here?"

She nods, her eyes lighting up like the clouds have parted. I do a double take. It hits me how much her grandmother meant to her. It must have hurt deeply when she passed.

Of course it did. She doesn't have anybody else.

"Carter Farms has been in our family for a long time," she says, shifting to face me. She puts my hat on the seat between us and leans her temple on the headrest. "My Nana was sweet, but she was tough. I wish I could be like her."

I don't tell her that she is; I know she won't believe me.

"What happened to her husband?" I ask.

She shrugged. "Not much. He was a little older than her, so he passed first. I remember him a tiny bit, but it's just flashes from when I was a toddler. They really loved each other. "

"That what she said?"

She nods. "And it's in The Canterbury Tales ."

"What now?"

"You know how some families have a family Bible where they record important dates?" she asks. "Well, all my family had was a copy of Canterbury Tales . So we used that. There's a list of all the marriages on the front page. My grandpa left a little note in there, saying he loves her forever. She signed her initials under it, like she was co-signing on it or something."

"That's sweet," I say.

"Yeah," she says, her voice soft. "It is."

"Who's the last couple in there?"

"My parents."

I've got a mind to make sure my name gets written in that family book next to hers someday, but it's too soon to voice that out loud.

"I can't imagine it," she says, "loving somebody that much and having to keep going without them."

My mind goes back to my mother. Sometimes, I wonder if she loved my father at all. Maybe she stayed with him out of resignation, or because she had a son with him.

"What happened to your parents?" she asks.

Her face is innocent, waiting on my answer. The wind tugs at the stray curls around her throat.

"My father's dead," I say.

She studies me. "You look like you didn't care for him."

I shrug. We go over a bend and around a corner, where the road narrows and I pump the brakes a little.

"I liked him fine," I say.

Her lips purse. "No you didn't."

"He was a hard man to get to know," I say, after a short pause. "My mother is a good one, like your Nana. She made my childhood good."

"Does she look like you?" she asks.

"Not so much," I say. "Tell me something about your family. "

Honestly, she could read the phonebook out loud and I'd listen. I just want to hear her soft voice.

"Nana always made me wear a hat in the summer," she says. "My hair used to be white by August. Nana got three straw hats: one for the house, for the barn, and for the pickup so when I forgot, I'd have an extra."

"You have pretty hair," I say, wishing I had more eloquent words.

She bites her lower lip. My eyes drop to her mouth. The truck swerves and I right it, forcing my attention back to the road.

"Watch yourself," she says.

"You got me distracted, darling," I say.

She's blushing, the pink making her handful of summer freckles stand out. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you're taking me out to compromise me, Mr. Quinn."

I slide my hand over her knee, bare skin on my calloused palm.

"Oh, that right?" I say.

She clears her throat, tossing back her flyaway waves. "Does it bother you that you're so much older than me?"

That makes me pause for a second, but I keep my face impassive.

"No, not much," I lie.

She doesn't need to know about my baggage yet. There's a long silence as I pull the truck down the last hill and shift it into park. We're at the edge of the swimming hole, dusty earth around the wheels. The creek trickles, filling up the rounded basin surrounded by brush and trees.

Everything smells like summer. I never want it to end.

I glance over. She glances back. Her throat bobs.

"Why me?" she whispers.

I get out of the truck, circle it, and open her door. She turns sideways, bare legs dangling down. I lean over her, caging her in.

"Because you're so fucking sweet," I say, bending in to kiss her mouth. God, she's soft all over. "And I can't sleep for thinking about you."

She tangles her hands together, picking at her thumbnail. Brown eyes, soft like velvet, fix on me .

"Really?" she whispers.

"Why do you think I keep coming back?"

She shrugs. "I don't know."

"I can't get enough of you, darling."

Her breath hitches. I lift the edge of her skirt, inching it up so I can slide both hands up her thighs. She squeezes her knees together.

"You behave yourself," she whispers.

I laugh. "Diane, I probably won't. Not with you looking like that."

She's so flustered, she can't speak. I bend in and kiss her long and deep. When I pull away, her eyes are glassy. I know if I slip my fingers under her panties, she'll be wet.

"Let's go for a swim," I say.

She gestures at me. "You first. I'm not stripping until you do."

I stand back and reach down. Her eyes drop and her lips part. Slowly, so she gets to watch, I unfasten my belt and strip it off in one go.

"Your turn," I say.