“Oh, shit,” he breathed, his hands threading through her hair. “That’s fucking good, baby.”
“Mmm-hmm,” she murmured, sucking the smooth, rounded head into her mouth. His fingers pulled her hair from the braids, telling her all she needed to know about how her mouth felt on him. She started moving, taking all of his length into the heat of her mouth, applying the perfect pressure. He was large but not monstrous, which made giving him head pleasurable. She worked him, one hand cupping his balls while the other framed her lips, adding pressure. He bent forward, reaching for her ass, stroking, dipping his fingers into her slick heat. He played with her while she did her best to drive him insane.
Didn’t take long until she felt his balls tighten in her hand.
“Oh, Maggie,” he groaned between what sounded like gritted teeth. And then she felt the spurt of hot ejaculate. She pulled off and worked him with her hand, lifting her gaze to watch him come.
Cal closed his eyes, muscles quivering in his chest as he thrust his hips in time with her hand.
“Shit, woman,” he said, finally opening brilliant blue eyes that were still dilated and halfway amazed. “You trying to kill me?”
“You think that was me trying to kill you?” she joked, rising, refastening the string bikini and looking for the towel she’d spied earlier. Finding it tossed over the clothesline, she snagged it and handed it to Cal. “Guess we better figure out how to hook this water hose into the sprayer.”
He reassembled his clothing. “You want to work after that?”
Maggie crooked her head. “That’s what I’m paying you for.”
“I was thinking along the lines of a nap.”
“Wrong,” Maggie said, picking up the hose that still gushed water. She walked over and turned the spigot off. “I’m going to fetch a T-shirt to cover this. I’d die if your brother saw me looking like this.”
“We must protect the innocent,” he said, eyeing the pressure washer.
“If you remember, we caught him out here trying to score with his girlfriend. I doubt he’s all that innocent,” she cracked.
Cal put his fingers in his ears. “I can’t hear you.”
Maggie smiled and headed back toward the kitchen door, marveling she’d engaged in oral sex out in the open. She’d once watched porn in college in which three people had frolicked naked in the middle of a public park, and rather than find the scenario titillating, she’d been appalled anyone could have sex somewhere a passerby could happen upon them. But she’d allowed Cal to peel her bikini off and go down on her on a grassy patch in broad daylight right outside a God-fearin’ town. That’s what the man did to her. He took things she thought impossible and made them perfect.
Just as she pulled on the screen door handle, she heard the sound of a vehicle come up the drive.
“Holy crap,” she muttered, scooting inside the kitchen, terror and relief mixing together. She peered out as the silver sedan came to a halt in the gravel. Five minutes earlier and whoever was driving would have bumbled into a real-life porno. Scrambling up the back kitchen stairs, Maggie made it to her room and into a tunic T-shirt dress and sandals in less than two minutes, setting records with her wardrobe change. She could do nothing about the messy, damp braids or the flush in her cheeks from her romp with Cal, but she was presentable.
Sort of.
The doorbell rang right as she stepped back into the living area, something that surprised her since she’d never actually tried the bell before. She pulled the door open to an older man standing on the freshly painted porch. He had coal-black hair gathered into a queue, wore a crisp pair of blue jeans, white dress shirt and a silver bolo tie. His craggy face was tan, his cheekbones proclaiming him Native American, but his eyes were stone gray and somewhat distant. He looked startled, though he’d been the one ringing the bell.
“Can I help you?” she asked, wondering if perhaps he, too, had heard about the ranch for sale. Two potential buyers within hours of each other?
“Is Cal Lincoln here?”
“Cal?”
“Yes, I need to talk with him.”
“Okay,” she said, feeling a wariness creeping over her. This man did not look friendly. He looked perturbed. Had Cal done something to him?
The man’s mouth flattened with impatience. “Ma’am?”
“Who may I say is asking?” she asked, gripping the doorknob tightly. Perhaps she should shut the door, lock it and get Cal.
“Gary Whitehorse.”
“Oh,” she said, her mind registering the man as Wyatt’s father...Cal’s stepfather. She vaguely recalled Cal saying Gary Whitehorse had the personality of a wall. “Of course. Won’t you come in?”
He followed her into the dim living area.
“Cal’s outside preparing to power wash the outside of the house. Let me get him before he gets started and can’t hear me call him,” she said, turning to find Cal already strolling through the dining area. He must have heard the car pull up. Thankfully he’d pulled on a T-shirt. His flip-flops slapped the bottom of his feet and he frowned when he saw Gary. “Gary. What’s wrong? Why—”
“You didn’t come for Sunday dinner,” Gary said.
“I told Mom I wouldn’t make it.” Cal looked confused or aggravated. He didn’t seem to care for Gary showing up unannounced. “You came out here to bust my balls for not coming—”
“No,” Gary interrupted, picking up a small bronze reproduction of a Remington piece showing a cowboy riding a bronco. He made a face and set it back down. “I’m leaving on a business trip for a month. I need to speak with you.”
Cal eased toward the couch, putting some distance between him and Gary as if he expected bad news. “About?”
“Jared called. He said you hadn’t returned his call. He’s worried.”
“You talked to my doctor? That’s against the code thing or whatever. The HIPAA stuff.”
“Your mother’s listed on your paperwork. Besides she and Jared are old friends by now. He’s patched you up enough. Your surgeon did not discuss any results with your mother, but he implied you need a second surgery and seems to have concerns about you going back to the rodeo. He was surprised you hadn’t mentioned this to your family or to the PBR officials.”
Cal’s face shuttered. “I haven’t talked to Mom or the PBR because there’s no need. This isn’t your business, Gary. Or my mother’s. Jared shouldn’t have called the house. I would have returned his call.”
“You’re making dangerous decisions. Your mother can’t sleep at night for worrying about you and about the fact you’re teaching your brother to do something that could get him seriously injured.”
“You’ve got to be joking. My shoulder is fine,” Cal said, slapping a hand against the shoulder. “She and I discussed Wyatt. I know what I’m doing.”
Gary stared flatly at his stepson before shaking his head. “We’ve never been close, Cal, and in the past, things have been tense. Still, I care about you. You’re expressly ignoring the advice of the medical professionals. Why don’t you come to work for me?”
“This is bullshit. I don’t want to work for you and I know my limitations. My shoulder is fine. Jared doesn’t have the final say and he doesn’t understand that—” Cal bit off his response, glancing over at Maggie as if he’d suddenly realized she was still in the room. “You don’t have to worry with this, Mags. Go start power washing. I’ll be there in a minute.”
A dart of hurt hit her in the solar plexus. Cal didn’t want her there for the conversation with his stepfather. Again, he’d proven he didn’t want her involved in the things that really mattered to him. Things like his career and future. She was a five-week-long booty call. “Sure. Nice to meet you, Mr. Whitehorse.”
Gary nodded. “My mind weighs heavy. I apologize if I was abrupt.”
“It’s fine. Safe travels,” she said, leaving the room, allowing the kitchen door to swoosh shut behind her.
Her throat felt scratchy with emotion even as her mind turned over all Gary said. Cal professed his shoulder was fine, and though she had her own reservations about Cal’s health and return to bull riding, the fact he needed more surgery to repair his shoulder was a surprise. Because Cal had said nothing. He’d downplayed every wince, hidden his pain from her.
Already it was August which meant Cal’s first event in Alabama was just weeks away. He’d been practicing on the bucking barrel, but he often did that while she stayed inside working on one project or another. When she thought back on it, she could see he didn’t want her there when he practiced. Was it because he had trouble? Or because he couldn’t do it?
Tomorrow evening he and Wyatt were going over to a friend’s ranch north of Fort Worth to practice on live bulls. He’d even written up a funny request-for-leave form he’d left by her cereal bowl that morning, joking about working overtime to make it up to her. And by overtime he meant in bed. He acted like a man near the end of recovery.
So why would he lie?
Pride?
Well, duh. Yeah. He was a dude. Men were notorious for allowing pride to break line in front of reason. That’s why they drove around for hours before asking for directions. She’d always thought it strange Siri was a woman because most men ignored directional advice given by a woman. No doubt, Cal’s stubborn pride about the frailty of his body prevented him from making the right decision. Her cowboy was a determined man on a mission to get back in the saddle...or rather on the back of a bull. He’d probably go to Mobile even if his arm was hanging by a thread. Common sense wasn’t an option.