courtneyhume Courtney Hume

This is a sequel novelette for Tangled Up in Blue, Book 1 in the Ikana College series. Read it AFTER you’ve read that book! 😍


Романтика современный 18+. © all rights reserved © Courtney Hume

#first-love #contemporary-romance #tangled-up-in-blue #protective-hero #new-adult-college #military-romance #college-love-story
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Cold Feet

Blue

I can’t stop thinking about the dead eagles.

Keegan’s breath caresses my chest, and her fingertips send shivers through my arms and legs as they zigzag along my abdomen. They loop my belly button and go down to where the blood is surging and my whole body is on the knife’s edge, waiting.

And then she pulls her fingers back up, swirling patterns on my skin, a teasing invitation.

I look over to see her cheek sliding up in a smile. I can smell her hair, that faint scent of coconut and something perfumy that haunted my dreams for the three long years we were apart.

Even though we made love just a few hours ago, I’m aching for her this morning, my body feeling as desperate to plunge inside her, be enveloped by and wrapped up in her, as the first time we were together after I got out of Leavenworth.

I’d been desperate for her then. I’m desperate for her now. My body is ready, more than ready. It always is, with Keegan.

But my mind keeps seeing those eagles. And thinking about the dream I had last night.

It’s barely past sunrise, and the cabin is already heating up.

We spent the night on the floor in the living room in front of the window AC unit. It was just too damn hot to sleep in the loft. But the AC didn’t make much difference.

It would have been way more comfortable in Keegan’s bedroom at the ranch’s main house. But both of us wanted to get away from the wedding planning, away from all the drama, for a couple of days.

Besides, Keegan wanted to show me the new bathroom her grandmother had added to the cabin.

So we rode out here late yesterday afternoon.

But then Keegan needed me out of the way for a little while so she could talk to somebody about her wedding dress.

I’m not supposed to see the dress before the wedding. That much even I know about being a groom. Apparently, I’m not even supposed to hear anything about the dress.

I initially meant to just stand outside on the bluff and take some deep, cleansing breaths or something.

But then I got it into my head to go down to the river. So I scrambled down the bluff, grabbing at exposed tree roots and heavy boulders to steady myself and wiping sweat out of my eyes.

When I got close to the bottom, I jumped. But I landed wrong, stumbled over some rocks and ended up knee-deep in the water.

“Goddamn it!”

I stomped back to shore, growling at my wet jeans and boots.

I guess it was one way to cool off.

A movement up at the top of a pasture a few hundred yards away near the tree line caught my eye, and I put a hand up to shade my eyes from the sun.

Two coyotes were creeping stealthily toward a nearby herd of cattle.

"Fuck,” I muttered.

The ranch has been in an ongoing battle with at least one pack that has been targeting calves, especially the newborns. Everyone is supposed to be on alert.

And I hadn’t even thought to bring along a rifle.

All I could do was starting yelling and waving my arms around like a fool, hoping it would scare them off.

Thankfully, it worked. The coyotes took off running in the other direction. But I knew they’d be back.

I pulled out my phone to text a warning to the ranch foreman.

I’d just slid the phone back into my pocket when I spotted the eagles.

First I noticed a wing, sticking up out of some mass that was being carried along by the rushing river. As it got closer, I saw the sodden feathers, the white heads: a male and a female, I was pretty sure.

I waded back into the water and pulled them out.

They were tangled up in each other, talons looped together, hooked beaks side by side. Even soaking wet, the wings didn’t look right; they hung at odd angles, clearly broken.

Looking closer, I could see blood, lots of it, black against the dark feathers.

Keegan’s teeth nip my shoulder playfully, and I flinch, jolted back into the present, back into a moment I should be enjoying.

I wrap my hand around her fingers and pull them gently away from my body. Then I slide away from her and sit up.

“What’s wrong?”

I shake my head slightly, not sure how to answer. What the hell is wrong with me? Why am I so unnerved by those eagles?

Maybe because it seems like some kind of omen.

It’s hard not to assume they were our eagles, the pair that was like a soaring benediction on my crazy-ass proposal to Keegan the day after my release from military prison.

I don’t remember seeing any other eagles on the ranch.

And then there’s the terrible dream I had last night, where Keegan was dying.

Keegan was screaming as she reached out to me, trying to twist away from the knife that was plunging into her chest over and over again.

There were hands--three pairs of them--gripping my arms and legs, holding me so tightly I couldn’t move, couldn’t help her. I’d looked down, in my dream, at those hands.

They were very familiar; I knew those hands.

“Nothing,” I finally mumble in response to Keegan’s question. “It’s just…”

How in the hell do I explain what I’m feeling without freaking her out? Without sounding like I’m losing my mind?

The dreams I used to have—the ones where I see the guys in my patrol die over and over again—have diminished; they don’t invade my sleep as often as they used to.

The therapy I’m getting is probably helping with that, even if I don’t want to admit it.

I fought hard against going, arguing that driving every week into Oklahoma City to see some expensive shrink was a stupid waste of time and money.

But the three women in my life—Keegan, Mama and, oddly, Virginia Cooke—had insisted. And talking to Dr. Benton usually does leave me feeling calmer, more in control.

I turn back toward Keegan and run a finger down her soft cheek.

“It’s just…”

I shake my head again, intending to say nothing more. But then the words rush out of my mouth.

“I found two eagles in the river this morning. Our eagles, Keegan. Dead. They looked like they’d been—I don’t know—almost shredded. Their wings were broken, they were all cut up. What the hell do you think happened to them?”

Keegan sits up next to me, bewildered. Then a look of realization crosses her face.

“Those stupid wind turbines,” she groans, briefly closing her eyes.

“Huh?”

“They put them up on the Carter ranch, the one that borders ours? Everybody’s doing it around here now, trying to bring in extra money.”

I let that explanation sink in.

“So the eagles were cut up by the turbines?” I ask. “And ended up in the river?”

Keegan nods, getting to her feet and wrapping the sheet around her body as I stare pensively at the outline of her breasts.

“The river runs right alongside the turbines on the Carters’ property,” she says. “The poor birds must have flown into them and fallen into the river, then been swept downstream. It’s not the first time we’ve seen dead birds since they put those things up.”

She’s studying me, her eyes slightly narrowed, a quizzical look on her face. Then she gives me a teasing smile.

“I wasn’t aware, Mr. Daniels,” she says, “that you were such a bird lover.”

She leans down to kiss me.

“Don’t worry too much about the eagles.”

“They were our eagles, Keegan. The pair that. . .kind of represents you and me together. For life. Remember? But now they’re dead.”

I couldn’t sound more pathetically woe-begone if I tried.

“Of course I remember. But Blue—”

“I’m not superstitious,” I hedge, even though I’m sure giving the impression that I am, “it’s just that after what happened in Arcadia the other day. And then...”

I manage to stop myself from bringing up my stupid dream. No way in hell I should be telling her about that.

The online threats have been getting worse in the last couple of months. My release from Leavenworth was widely reported, and people know we’re living at the ranch. And of course, as soon as we started trying to plan our wedding, word got out.

When we go into town, we’re stared at, talked about.

Just last week, an old guy who said he was a Vietnam vet came up to us on the street and started yelling that we had no right to get married, no right to live happily ever after.

As we tried to turn around and get away from him, he’d gotten in my face, so close drops of his spit spattered my cheeks.

“Somebody’s going to take her away from you, you fucking traitor!” he snarled, pointing at Keegan. “Just like you took all those men away from their families!”

A shadow crosses Keegan’s face as her hands cup my face.

“Blue. We’ve already talked about this. It was nothing. Who cares what people say?”

I’m shaking my head adamantly before she’s even finished speaking.

“It wasn’t nothing, and you know it.”

I can’t stop hearing the words that enraged veteran screamed in my face: Somebody’s going to take her away from you.

“It’s probably not the last time something like that is going to happen, either,” I go on, springing off the bed and turning toward the high round window that shows the Cooke Ranch stretching to the horizon.

I push my fingers through my hair, then turn back to Keegan.

“As long as you’re with me, it’s. . .”

My mouth stops forming words and just hangs open as I take in the hurt—followed swiftly by fury—in her eyes.

“So what is it you’re saying, Blue?” she says evenly. “What exactly are you trying to tell me?”

It’s not that I don’t want to marry Keegan. I want to say the vows and slide my grandma’s ring on her finger more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.

But what if I’m putting her in danger? Just like I put the lives of my three brothers-in-arms in danger? Just like I got them killed?

What if it’s happening all over again?

“Are you saying you want to call off the wedding?”

“No!”

I stretch my arms out to her, put my hands up as if that will fill the chasm I’ve managed to dig between us.

“No, of course not,” I go on, trying to pour assurance into my voice. “Keegan, there is nothing on this earth I want more than to be married to you. The idea of being married to you is what kept me going at Leavenworth. It’s just that...”

It’s just that, even after all this time, I can’t drive away the fear spewing out of the hole inside me where I’ve tried to bury it. How do I make her understand that?

And what, exactly, am I saying? What the fuck do I want?

“I’m talking about our safety,” I try again. ”Your safety. This is serious. I—”

She puts up a hand to stop me, then turns abruptly toward the loft stairs, letting the sheet fall to the floor. I get the same sensation I always do at the sight of her naked body: I can barely breathe.

“You’re right, Blue.”

The bitterness in her tone sends a spike through me.

“This is serious.”

She takes a couple of steps down and then pauses, turning back to me.

“I’m going to go take a long, hot bath,” she says coolly. “Maybe while I’m doing that, you should build a fire.”

She hurries down the rest of the log stairs as I stand there, befuddled.

“A fire?” I call after her. “What are you talking about? It’s already almost 90 degrees out there. Why would I build—”

“So you can warm up your cold feet,” she cuts me off, just before slamming the bathroom door.

29 августа 2024 г. 13:58 0 Отчет Добавить Подписаться
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