Fateful Waters Read online

  The shower, as usual, turned into some very stimulating foreplay. They ended up toweling each other off before Cutter cut the sexual stimulation short by carrying her to the bed, not bothering to close the bathroom door. Lexie was grateful her mother was not home at the moment, and that Skip was closed in down the hall in the office eating his doggy dinner. She was anything but quiet, and her body quaked to fulfillment almost immediately.

  It didn’t take long for round two. Somewhere in the next couple of hours, she did get up to use the bathroom, check on Skip, and drink a big glass of tea. The witching hour had passed, and Mom was still not home. Poor Cutter must be exhausted; he didn’t stir when she left the bed or returned. Skip returned with her and curled up on the floor in his usual spot at the foot of the bed.

  She snuggled up next to her sleeping husband and let her fingers roam his chest and abs, gradually working her hand lower. She almost had a heart attack when his male appendage grew before her eyes and stood at attention. Lexie was amazed at his response to her touch! He had a completely satisfied grin on his too-attractive male countenance. He returned her tentative exploration with a lot more confidence than she’d displayed. When she thought she was going to die from wanting, he began to lower her hips toward her ultimate prize. Cutter was trying to take it slow and easy, but she didn’t want easy she wanted fulfillment. Lexie gasped at the pain as she impaled herself on his raised sword of love, but even the pain didn’t deter her from her frantic quest. Somewhere in the back of her mind it occurred to her as she collapsed on his chest that he had been holding back up until that point, most likely because of their size disparity.

  “Lex, are you alright?”

  No answer. She was sound asleep. Cutter smiled as he faded in to sleep. Unless he was mistaken, which he doubted, he would be a father by the end of May. Neither of them was aware of what time Eve returned home. Just before dawn Cutter took full advantage of his wife’s need for her mate while she plowed furrows in his back with her nails. He was a happy man, but he wondered if his little wife had any idea what had just happened. He knew exactly what had occurred. He’d spent his life breeding and raising animals. When a mare’s or a heifer’s height of estrus was reached, even the most reluctant of them broke down and sought what the stallion or bull had to offer. It was obvious to him that his little wife had just reached those heights on a human level, and it was well worth the slightly painful scratches on his back.

  Cutter let her sleep while he went about his morning chores, but he intended to follow up enthusiastically over the next few days to ensure the Ross line.

  18

  The morning ride went off without a hitch. Lexie and Blue had hit it off the day before, and things only improved from there. Eve and Blaze got along well too. Mom was a decent rider; Lexie had forgotten that when she was a small child, her mom used to take her horseback riding. She said it was something she’d done on her short honeymoon with Lexie’s dad, and enjoyed immensely. Skip enjoyed the outing as much as everyone else, romping along beside Blue.

  Lexie was glad she was bringing up the rear with Skip for most of the ride, and that Cutter had stationed himself next to her mom. They were busy yackety-yacking. She heard Booker’s name come up in the conversation several times, and dropped Blue back a little more each time, hoping not to be drawn in to the conversation. She expected to be stiff or sore from riding the evening before, but her muscles loosened up the first half hour back in the saddle. What she didn’t expect was the irritation and arousal between her legs that had nothing whatsoever to do with riding. By the time they returned to the barn, she was wet and throbbing. Mom saved her a major embarrassment by making an excuse to find a bathroom. She handed her horse off to Pete as her mother had to Sam, and accompanied her mom to the house.

  While Eve took first dibs on the john, Lexie changed her jeans and underwear. She was mortified to find the wetness had penetrated her undies and her jeans; she prayed the suede seat on her new reining saddle wasn’t sporting a corresponding telltale wet spot. A quick change and opting for her running shoes rather than the boots she’d been wearing, she entered the bathroom as soon as her mother finished. Cleaned up and relatively composed, she walked down to the dining room for lunch along with her mother.

  Things went downhill beginning with lunch, when Cutter offered to drive Mom to the airport in the morning. Booker had changed his flight back to match hers, and he would pick her up in the morning.

  “Really, Cutter, you and Lexie won’t have to drive me to Lubbock and then make the return-trip using up most of your morning. Booker has the rental to drop off at the airport anyway.”

  He was addressing Eve but was giving Lexie an accusatory stare when he asked her mother, “So he has completed his mysterious mission here?”

  “I don’t know, Cutter. He has been very vague about the reason for suddenly flying to Lubbock. Like I told you on the ride, Lexie probably knows more about what he has been up to than I do. But she was very evasive on our trip here, and I haven’t been able to talk with her since she set up the lunch meeting with him yesterday.”

  Cutter filed away the fact his wife had initiated contact with Booker while she deliberately neglected to notify her husband of her plans for the day until she was well off of the ranch.

  Lexie was concentrating on her enchilada, and thinking, Gee, thanks a lot, Mom. She was really beginning to hate the constant Tex-Mex type meals that Maria served most of the time. Lexie had only been picking at her lunch, and what little she had ingested felt like it was crawling its way back out as soon as Cutter told her mom not to worry; he and Lex could find a way to occupy their morning. They could even take another morning ride once they saw her and Booker on their way. His suggestion felt more like a threat than an invitation. She intuitively knew that he was holding off on their showdown about Booker’s activities until Mom was safely on her way home.

  Lexie and Skip retreated to the sanctuary offered in her mother’s temporary room. Maria wouldn’t breach the connecting room while her mother was here, and she felt fairly confident that Cutter would honor their privacy. It was a little tricky trying to pack her mom’s new riding boots into her already stuffed luggage.

  “Mom, why don’t you let me just ship them and your new cowgirl outfit home for you? Instead of trying to stuff them in the bag.”

  “I really should wash them, and a few other things, before packing them.”

  “Okay, I’ll gather the clothes I want to wash, and we’ll hit the laundromat in Lubbock. We can also have dinner out. I don’t think I my stomach will stand another jalapeno-laced meal tonight.”

  Eve laughed at her daughter’s description of Maria’s culinary skills. “I know what you mean. The first day it was a treat, but it gets old really fast. I think I blew any chance I had with Booker; I ate like a glutton or a starving person last night.”

  Lexie gathered her laundry while she continued the conversation, reassuring her mom that having a good appetite was not going to lower her in Booker’s eyes. Lexie picked up her shoulder bag, and looked at her dog, who was wagging his tail in anticipation. She couldn’t take him along this time, but she didn’t want to lock him in the office or the bedroom for hours. He had struck up a tail-wagging relationship with Sam, so she asked the horse manager if he would mind keeping Skip with him while they took care of a few errands in Lubbock. Sam was happy to have the dog for company. However, Cutter was anything but happy when she called him from the laundromat to inform him that she and her mom were going to eat at one of the local restaurants, and would not be home for dinner.

  “Is something wrong, Lexie?”

  “Not really. I think Cutter is pissed at me. He thinks I am avoiding him.”

  “Are you?”

  “Yes.”

  They broke out in spontaneous laughter, stowed the clean laundry in the backseat, and went in search of a good meal. It was close to nine by the time they turned into the drive near the front of the house, and the night was as bl
ack as pitch with no stars or moonlight. The only illumination once she cut the headlights was the glow from the inside light sources.

  Skip met them at the front door. He was loose and had the run of the house! Thankfully, Maria had gone home after cleaning up the kitchen. Cutter must have retrieved Skip from Sam’s care. She followed her mom down the hall, and was helping her to pack her now clean clothes. They’d shipped her boots and what they jokingly referred to as her cowgirl outfit, and two handbags she’d spotted in a leather goods store window on their afternoon outing and just had to have. The box would be delivered in three to five business days.

  A distant rumble of thunder punctuated Cutter’s knock on the bedroom door; he pushed it open leaning against the doorframe as he observed the scene. Lexie noted his hair was wet; his green plaid shirt was un-tucked and only half buttoned. He had a heavy bottomed highball glass half full of an amber-colored liquid; scotch she thought. That was his poison of preference, if memory served her. She wondered how much he had already imbibed of the potent brew.

  She couldn’t procrastinate much longer. Mom had an early flight in the morning, and needed her sleep. She gathered up her clean folded laundry, kissed her mother’s cheek, and exited the blocked door. Cutter stood aside to let her pass then effectively blocked Skip. He told him to stay with Eve tonight. That in itself didn’t bode well for the rest of the evening. She’d hoped that he would postpone the inevitable brawl until her mom was gone.

  Cutter was trying to control his temper; he didn’t want a knock-down drag-out with her mother here, either. She put her laundry away, that was a particularly sore spot with him—there were adequate laundry facilities here at home. She completely ignored him on her way to bathroom. The sounds of the shower and then her hairdryer played on his frayed nerves. Aggravated by what he felt were more stalling tactics, he occupied himself by returning to the small bar in the front office and pouring a good three fingers of scotch in his seemingly bottomless glass. He wondered if his mother had been this frustrating, and was the reason his father had taken to drink.

  She was sitting cross-legged on the bed brushing her hair when he returned, and an urge to run his hands through its thick silky length assailed him. Disgusted with his obsession where his new wife was concerned, he drained the remainder of the contents in the tumbler, and set it on the nightstand with so much force, he cracked the thick glassware.

  “Cutter, are you drunk?”

  She stood up, placing her hairbrush on the dresser, and turned to face him. “What is the matter with you tonight? Why did you feel the need to get shit-faced?”

  She continued to stand there with her hands on her hips, and stare at him like she was completely appalled. “I’m not drunk yet, unlike my hammered bride on our wedding night, I am a long way from being comatose.”

  “So, this is payback for some perceived slight?”

  “Yeah, something like that. Also the fact that you take off without a word to anyone, even me”

  “Well, the hell with you! I don’t have to put up with your stinking mood, or your liquor-induced insults! I also don’t need your permission to go to town, or anywhere else.”

  She turned toward the door, intending to leave before her temper got the better of her, when like lightning he moved to scoop her up from behind, throwing her on the bed. Lexie moved just as fast as she sprung to her feet, and delivered a well-placed uppercut to his solar plexus. The blow temporally doubled him up. The punch also sent a staggering pain shooting up her right arm. Again she made for the door, but she had been hampered by her position on the bed and not able to deliver a strong enough blow to keep him down the length of time required to make her escape. He made a grab for her, shredding her new blue negligee. This time when he tossed her on the bed she was naked, and he followed her down pinning her beneath his superior weight while he glared at her like he wanted to strangle her. Instead, he kissed her neck and shoulders working his way down her stiff, resistant body. He was not the gentle lover of the recent past.

  This was way too rough and angry to be called foreplay of any kind, and she refused to cooperate, but Cutter knew how to manipulate her body until it betrayed her. Lexie was completely unable to control the physical response, even with the pain shooting through her wrist and lower arm. He was grinning now, because he had her at his mercy. It was hard to say which of them she hated most at that moment, Cutter or herself. He knew she would not scream at him with her mother and Skip in the adjoining room.

  Lexie sobbed silently with the intensity and humiliation of her unwelcome response. Once the quake was over, she went limp but continued to experience aftershocks. She realized he had removed his weight from her body, but as she scanned the room through her waterlogged vision, she saw him remove his jeans and briefs. She tried to communicate to her traitorous limbs to kick out at him as he approached her again, but he had no difficulty getting her to comply with his instant replay. He applied his expert knowledge of his partner’s anatomy until she shattered.

  It appeared he was finished harassing her for the night. He climbed back into his jeans, not bothering with his briefs, picked up the cracked tumbler, and left the room closing the door behind him. Lexie tried in vain to make sense of what had just happened. She cried herself to sleep, her right arm adding to her overall misery.

  His frustration with her evasiveness, and the drinking while waiting for her to decide to return, had messed with his better judgment. His temper had gotten the better of him and he had forgotten about her martial arts abilities. If she’d been on solid ground instead of trying to balance on the bed, he would probably still be out for the count. He absently rubbed his bruised upper abdomen. Last night she clawed up his back in a bout of passion, and twenty-four hours later she tried to put his lights out—not that he didn’t have it coming. He got up from his leather chair and filled a new glass with more of the dog that bit him. After a few more drinks, he began to doze off in his chair. The sound of the breaking glass jarred him from his stupor. The new replacement tumbler had slipped from his relaxed fingers, and now decorated the hard surface of the office floor. Cutter retrieved the broom from the utility closet in the hall near the kitchen and dumped the pieces of the ill-fated tumbler into the office wastebasket to join its cracked predecessor. He decided to sleep the remainder of the night in the bunkhouse. He needed to put some distance between them before he did something he would regret even more than their recent encounter.

  Cutter closed the front door and headed for one of the bunks usually reserved for the single ranch hands. He was in desperate need of a few hours sleep, and a clear head before he tackled her involvement with the mess over at the Lazy K. She had lied to him about the lunch date with Booker, and he knew that she was lying by omission about her knowledge of events at the neighboring ranch. That discussion would have to wait until morning; he wasn’t in any condition to ward off an attack if she was still bent on revenge for his behavior.

  Lexie woke to the sounds of Skip’s excited barking the next morning. She ached all over. She winced while slipping her right arm into a white terry robe to check on Skip; she went by way of the connecting bath. Mom was already packed, and just closing her makeup case.

  Mom’s “Good morning, sleepy head,” was way too cheerful for Lexie’s mood this morning.

  “What’s the matter with Skip, Mom?”

  “Oh, poor puppy, he got all excited when I moved my luggage to the front door. I think he’s under the impression that we are all going home.”

  “Maybe I shouldn’t have brought him here? He would be better off at home with you and Grandma. Why didn’t you wake me?”

  She giggled! Her mother actually giggled. “Cutter said you had a long hard night, and to let you sleep in.”

  “He ought to know. And of course, like everyone else, you do whatever Cutter says.”

  “What’s wrong, Lexie? You’re in a strange mood this morning.”

  “I just need to get cleaned up. I feel disgusting.
Like a street walker.”

  Eve was worried. Lexie’s attitude was not that of a happy newlywed. She hoped Lexie’s grandmother hadn’t exuded too much influence on how her daughter perceived men. Maybe she should have remarried, but she had never found the right man. Her daughter had been raised in a house full of women. Now she was part of a male dominated society. By the time Lexie made her entry to the kitchen, Booker was already loading her luggage. Eve had hoped to talk with her daughter before departing.

  Lexie was severely depressed that morning. She couldn’t find the silver lining to the dark clouds following the storm of the night before. She battled impending tears while holding onto Skip’s collar with her left hand as she said farewell to her mother. Booker and Cutter were having a conversation on the opposite side of the red Durango rental. She leaned in to kiss her mother’s cheek one more time and spoke to her just above a whisper. “Please Mom, talk to Grandma about Skip. I think he will be better off back home. If she agrees, I’ll make arrangements to send him home with the Williams boys the next time they make a hay delivery. Unless I decide to take him home myself before then.”

  Cutter was discussing the ownership of some Hereford-Longhorn crosses on Rocking R property belonging to the Lazy K outfit. Booker agreed to look into the situation, but he was as evasive as Cutter’s new wife about the goings-on over there. He was close enough to hear part of Lexie’s hushed conversation with her mother. Drinking to excess was one of the most stupid stunts he had pulled since his freshman year at A& M. Once the rental and its occupants were well out of sight, she collapsed on the lowest porch step with her arms around her dog, and her head buried in his coat. In hindsight, he should have brought them home with him, even if it took an extra day or two. Maybe their morning ride would distract her from the departure of her mother. He also figured the ride would give him the opportunity to talk with her, and apologize for last night. At the same time he hoped to gain some insight into Bookers involvement with Lexie, and the connection she had with the events at Lazy K.