Skin (39 page)

“F
ather?” Reese said to the man staring out the window. The old man’s hand resting on the cane-back chair flinched.

Reese hid his shock. In fifteen years the man who could single-handedly run a quarter horse ranch had shriveled up into a shell of a man. Watery brown eyes looked up at Reese as he came around to look the old man in the eye. A gnarled hand reached out toward him and Reese swallowed hard when a single tear ran down his father’s cheek.

Reese took the hand and squeezed it. “How have you been, Father?”

The old man nodded and opened his mouth as if to speak, but he coughed. Reese held his hand and waited for the spell to pass.

“Son,” he said, his voice raspy, as if little used.

“I’m here.”

The brown eyes bored into him. “I’m sorry.”

Reese patted the old man’s hand. “Me too.” And for so many things.

His father stared out the window and smiled a slow, sad smile. “It was my fault your mama left. I promised her excitement. I promised her the moon. I couldn’t deliver.”

“You can’t take the blame for her actions. It took me a long time to realize it wasn’t us, Dad, it was her, we were never enough. I’m sorry for you we weren’t.” He knew the feeling well. He wasn’t enough for Frankie. She’d made the same choice as his mother. To live a life without him.

“Missy didn’t understand,” his father said.

“No, she was too young. I thought the truth would make her see, clarify things.”

Sam squeezed his son’s hand. “It wasn’t your fault, boy. I reacted out of my own frustration. You were right to tell her the truth.” He coughed, then cleared his throat. “Soon I’ll see her. But I want you to know the ranch is yours. Old Midas has been holding down the fort, waiting for you to come back.”

Reese sat, stunned by the news.

The old man coughed and shook his head. Tears welled in his tired eyes. “You belong to the ranch, it will always be there for you, don’t forget it.”

“I won’t.”

Three months later

After months of wallowing in self-pity, anger, regret, and too many tears to count, Frankie felt as empty as the Grand Canyon. Her heart physically hurt. She missed her father and the man she’d always thought was Unk. She missed her cousin Anthony. It seemed so odd to think of him in that way, but slowly she got used to it. She missed her camera, she missed that damn ranch in Wyoming, and more than anything or anyone she missed Reese. To the point of physical pain.

Reese tried several times to contact her. She refused to talk to him or see him. Jase came by once and she refused to see him too. Ricco gave it a shot and was shot down. A man named Ty Jamerson came by with his fiancée on Reese’s behalf. She told them all to take a hike.

All the while her mother kept a watchful eye on her and honored her every wish. But not without commentary. “’Cesca, you’re losing too much weight.”

Frankie would shrug and respond, “So what? I have a few pounds to spare.”

“’Cesca, your color is terrible, go out into the sun, it’s good for you.”

“I don’t like the sun.”

“’Cesca, come see the rabbits, take a picture.”

“I don’t ever want to pick up a camera again.”

“’Cesca, a package for you.”

“Leave it on the table.”

It was then her mother took a stand.

Lucia brought in a package addressed to her. She thrust it in Frankie’s face. “Open it.”

“No.”

“There might be something good in it.”

“I don’t care what’s in it.”

“Then I will open it.”

“Be my guest.”

Frankie just stared out the window.

“Oh, looks like pictures. With a card.”

Frankie flinched.

Lucia opened the card. “It says, ‘a picture is worth a thousand words.’ ”

Frankie’s blood pressure spiked.

“I’ll open this envelope and see what they are.”

“No!”

Lucia chuckled. “So there is a person in that body.” She set the envelope down next to her daughter. “I’ll bring you a nice glass of Chianti.”

When she returned a few minutes later and put the glass down next to Frankie, Lucia reached for the envelope. “I’d like to see those.”

Frankie grabbed it. “No, Mama.”

Lucia smiled and took the chair next to her daughter. “Francesca, I love having you here, but you’re almost thirty, and you need to go out and make your mark on the world. Anthony wants you back at
Skin.”

“Skin
is a lie.”

“You believed in it once.”

“I believed in a lot of things once.”

“What do you want,
mia amore?”

“I don’t know.”

“I think you do. Maybe those pictures will help you realize it.” Lucia stood. “Drink your wine.”

Once her mother left the room, Frankie’s gaze locked on the envelope. She knew what was in it, and she didn’t want to see images of her and Reese.

Her ire piqued for the first time in months. How dare he do that? Send her their sex pictures? After he used sex as a means to pump her for information? How low could a person go? He made her fall in love and all for a job. To get information to put her in jail.

And he would have too!

She ripped open the envelope.

For a long moment she held it in her hand, not wanting to look but unable not to.

She slid a small grouping of pictures into her hand. She caught her breath, the sensations from that night engulfing her as if Reese was beside her, touching her skin. She closed her eyes. She could almost smell him.

Opening her eyes, she looked at the picture in her hand. Her gut somersaulted and emotion swelled in her throat. She lay sleeping on the bed of blankets Reese had made for her. He gently stroked her hair. She looked at the next picture; in this one he kissed her lips. The next he gazed lovingly at her.

Frankie sat back in the chair, resting her hand in her lap. When had he taken them?

She raised her hand and her skin flushed warm. The picture showed her body’s response to his touch. Her breasts were plump, her nipples beaded hard, the fine hair on her arms raised.

The next picture showed his fingertips brushing against her nipple. The next showed them making love in a slow undulation. The tender look in his eyes and the way she remembered his slow, sinuous rhythm forced emotion she had been denying to well.

The last picture was of Reese gently kissing her tears away.

Either he was a great actor or he meant it, or maybe some of both.

“Looks like two fools in love,” Lucia said over her shoulder.

“Mother!”

“Francesca, why are you here?”

She had no answer.

One month later

Sam called up to Reese from the kitchen, “You need to get that, son, me an’ Midas are busy.”

Reese didn’t hurry down the stairs. But he smiled at his father’s voice. It got stronger every day. The demons they both lived with the past years were slowly disappearing. While he was glad to have his father back, an even bigger hole, the one in his soul, remained empty.

He had tried everything to get Frankie to speak to him, even going to Scottsdale with Lucia’s help, but Frankie refused to see him.

When it became painfully apparent she wanted nothing to do with him, he took a leave of absence and retired to the ranch and what was left of his family.

He couldn’t blame her for not trusting him. Hell, he wouldn’t either.

The persistent knock at the front door to the sprawling ranch house disrupted his thoughts. Must be someone responding to the ad he put in the paper.

He opened the door and his heart dropped to his feet. Even though a wide-brimmed Stetson obscured her face, her scent hit him broadside.

From her leather boots to the denim duster she wore, Francesca Donatello’s curves betrayed her.

She held a folded newspaper in her hand. When she pushed the hat back and looked up at him, his heart melted. His smile pulled so hard at his lips, it hurt.

“I hear you need a ranch hand, mister. I’m here to apply for the job.”

“What experience do you have?”

She stepped up closer to him, her eyes never leaving his face. She pulled the duster back, revealing her full naked breasts. “I hear the guy who runs this place likes his women nekkid.”

“Who is it, son?”

Frankie yipped and wrapped herself back in the duster. Reese grabbed her by the hand and pulled her into the house, closing the door behind him with his boot.

“It’s the mother of your future grandchildren.”

“Whoa, not so fast, cowboy,” Frankie said as he scooped her into his arms and kissed her so hard she lost her breath.