Authors: Cara Ellison
Mark could see at once that she was going to beg off – he recognized that scared look in her eye. Before she could decline, he said, “You should. That would be great. If your body is up for it.”
“I’m healed up. I just don’t think…”
“Come on,” John and Larissa said in unison. They glanced at each other, laughing that they were so in tune they completed each other’s thoughts.
Lauren looked at Mark. “Do you think it’s a good idea?”
“I think you should do it, but it is entirely your call.”
That was apparently the right thing to say because she pursed her lips prettily. “Okay, I’ll do it.”
“Excellent!” Larissa held up her half-f glass. “To trying new things.”
Four glasses met and clinked.
“I assume this means you’ll all be there,” Lauren said with a smug expression on her face. She grinned at Mark.
“I don’t do yoga. I’ve never done yoga…”
“Hey, we just toasted to trying new things. That doesn’t apply to just me, you know,” Lauren said.
Mark looked to John. “You in?”
“I guess,” he said reluctantly.
“Okay, I’ll go.”
Lauren squealed with pleasure, then hugged him with puppyish exuberance.
It hit him like a blow to the chest.
Too soon, she must have realized she was a little tipsy and she stepped back. She picked up her glass of dessert wine from the counter and took a sip, then glanced back at him, her eyes sparkling like green jewels. The look in her eyes knocked him for another loop. Raw hunger.
He had no choice but to stand there and take it, trying to play it off like it was no big deal when in reality his cock had stiffened to steel in his pants while excitement of another kind was bourgeoning in his chest.
“At least you guys will show up,” Lauren said. Despite her initial protest, she was obviously jazzed about the idea of teaching a class full of Montana ranch wives the tenets of mindful movement.
Larissa slit her eyes playfully. “I reckon I can corral at least twenty people eager to twist themselves into pretzels.”
Lauren smiled at Mark with that sunny, melting grin that could light up a room. He wanted to see her smile like that every day.
As Mark drove home, Lauren seemed happy. She giggled, and then looked out the window.
“What’s so funny?”
“The thought of you doing yoga.”
Mark smirked. He couldn’t picture himself doing yoga either.
“But the good news is, I don’t think I’ll teach just a straight yoga class. I think I’ll teach a hybrid, yogalates. A mix of yoga and pilates, and maybe some martial arts.”
“I like your ambition,” he said lightly.
As they drove into the garage, Mark got out and opened her door, then helped her down. They walked inside, and Mark let May out for her last pit stop for the evening then turned on the heater. “Do you need some warmer pajamas?” Mark asked. “I have some other shirts. I think I have some old sweat pants but you’ll swim in those.”
“No, the Harvard shirt is fine. I might buy some new pajamas tomorrow though; it is getting chilly.”
Mark went back outside to watch May. When they returned, Lauren was in her yoga pants and the big cable knit sweater he had given her on the first night she was here. She was in the living room, curled up on the sofa with her feet under her watching Law & Order and eating a big bowl of Carrie’s Mint Chocolate Chip.
He liked it. Liked the whole situation.
“You look cozy,” he said.
“I am. Do you want me to get you some ice cream?”
Mark picked up a brick-red chenille blanket lying over the back of a chair, and draped it over her legs.
“Thank you,” she said, smiling up into his face. “Do I look cold?”
“You look…” The word choices swirled momentarily around his head. Adorable? Perfect? Gorgeous? Made for the sofa… this house… me?
Just then, the phone rang.
“You should get that,” she said, she said. She looked nervous again.
“Should I?”
She nodded. “Probably.”
He walked to the kitchen and grabbed the phone. “Hello?”
“You motherfucker,” Shelby Sloan hissed. “I’ve been trying to reach you for fucking days and you don’t answer my voicemails or my emails.”
Mark didn’t feel anger, which was unusual for him when she got like this. Knowing there was no reasoning with a woman in this condition, he felt only a little pity, and regret that he hadn’t been paying attention to his voicemail or email; it would have prompted him to act much sooner.
“Hold on, I’ll call you right back,” Mark said, setting down the phone.
He walked past a the snugly looking Lauren to his office. He shut the door, sat at his desk, and dialed. As soon as Shelby answered, Mark said, “I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner, Shelby. I’m afraid that I have nothing to say to you anymore. It’s over between us.”
She was stunned to a rare silence.
“You’re breaking up with me?” She finally rasped.
“Yes. Totally and completely. I don’t expect we have anything left to say.”
“We were engaged. We were supposed to get married.”
“We were
not
engaged. We’re definitely not getting married.”
A cold silence shivered from the other end of the line. Then: “You bastard.”
“Goodbye, Shelby.” Mark hung up, feeling absolutely magnificent, like he’d just dropped a thousand pound weight off his shoulders. It made his future clearer: he would not be going back to Washington D.C. He was staying in Spanner. How strange he had waited until now to clean up the emotional effluvia of his life.
He walked back out to the living room and sat beside Lauren. “How’s the ice cream?”
“Yummy delish.” She lifted a spoon full to his lips.
He opened his mouth and took the ice cream.
“Good, right?”
“Very.”
She looked at him with that vibrating anticipation that he had seen more often in her eyes, that he had seen that night at dinner. Every male instinct clamored to lean over and lick the smudge of ice cream right off her lips, devour her luscious mouth with his own, and let his hands rove over the secret curves that had been tempting him since the first time he saw her cute butt in the shapeless hospital gown.
But before he could, she got up to wash the ice cream bowl and put it in the dishwasher.
He followed, standing by the counter while she washed her hands and then dried them on a kitchen towel.
She paused and looked at him. “Are you okay?”
“I’m great. Really terrific. We were supposed to discuss a few things tonight.”
“Yes,” she said, her voice brittle. “I wonder if we might …wait? It’s just that after tonight I’m very tired.”
He sensed she was putting him off but even that was interesting. Still, she seemed to be in a good mood now, and he didn’t want to spoil that.
Lauren smiled. “Good. I was thinking…. Since I’m going to teach a yogalates class, that’s one thing I can check off my bucket list. I’m thinking I should make it a habit. A few days ago, you mentioned teaching me to ride the horses. How about tomorrow morning?”
“If you’d like,” he replied.
“I would definitely like,” she said.
Wonderful tension grew between them, like anything could happen. Mark had the feeling they were no longer discussing horses.
“Well, I should go to bed.”
“Me too.”
She and May waited at the bottom of the stairs while he turned off the lights, then they walked up. May followed Lauren into her room, and Mark continued to his room. In the darkness, he undressed and got into bed.
He thought of Lauren, terrified beside him in the car, then later, how she was so glittery and smiley. How pretty she looked in her vintage second-hand outfit. How her slight, strong body had felt against his when she spontaneously hugged him. His body responded to the sensual memory. The urge to climax was strong, but he wouldn’t finish himself off tonight. Not with Lauren just down the hall from him.
He felt free of Shelby, free to let whatever was going to happen with Lauren unfold. The problem was that Lauren was going to leave pretty soon, and he was not willing to do anything that would make her feel pressured. She’d been through hell with Seth; she felt controlled and stymied. Mark wanted to give her the gift of freedom, the option of choice.
She was fully healed, and soon Spanner would be just a tiny waypoint on her journey west.
Whatever was going to happen, he hoped it was sooner rather than later. There was no way he could hold out indefinitely.
Nine
“You’re a natural,” Mark said, watching Lauren astride Millie, the younger – and gentler - palomino.
“I don’t know about that,” she said with a jittery little laugh. They were riding the horses on the trail along the river by the ranch, a route long enough to give the equines some exercise while not making a big deal of it, which he thought would put Lauren at ease for her first ride.
She seemed to be doing very well, her natural athleticism obvious in her graceful poise. As her horse clopped ahead of him, he admired her narrow waist and the sweet curve of her derrière perched on the leather saddle. Sweet heaven, it was surreal. This dewy-fleshed green-eyed goddess who had materialized in his barn one day had become a source of constant lust. He wasn’t sure when he started to like her so much, but for the first time in a long time, he was feeling much better overall. The bad dreams still tortured him at night, but his days were filled with calm peacefulness. Lauren made him laugh; she was goofy and natural, beautiful, and sweet.
He brought his horse abreast of hers.
“Are you excited about the yoga class?” she asked.
“Honestly no, but I’m eager to see you teach.”
“Why?”
“You said that was what you wanted to do. I’m eager to see you achieve your dream.”
Her eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Nobody has ever said that to me before.”
“That’s a damn shame.”
They sauntered through the aspen trees, along an old horse trail that led out to the range where the Darmstadt’s cattle were grazing. He kept to the flat, well- worn tracks, wanting Lauren to enjoy the experience and not be afraid of climbs or sudden tricky switchbacks.
Well before they came to the cattle, they approached an enclave where the creek widened, and the mountains loomed high overhead. “Do you want to rest for a while?” Mark asked.
“Sure, I’m thirsty,” Lauren said.
Mark dismounted, then tied the horse to a tree. Lauren was scared, not sure how to get off the horse.
Mark stood to the side, his hands up. “Swing your left leg around, and just step down.”
She awkwardly swung her left leg over but she’d let her foot come out of the stirrup so both her legs were hanging off the side of the horse. “I think I did it wrong,” she squeaked.
Laughing, Mark grabbed her by the waist and gently set her on terra firma. She looked up at him, flushed and lovely. “Thank you. As we can see I am not the most graceful horsewoman.”