This Calder Sky (Calder Saga 3)

Maggie relaxed in the tub, letting her hands idly play with the mounds of bubbles while she watched Chase shave. It was either a very slow process, or he was deliberately taking his time. She studied the flatly roped muscles of his back and shoulders and the bulging strength of his upper arms. His hair was damp, nearly black. He rinsed the razor in the water running from the sink faucet and stroked the blade down his cheek, exposing the darkly tanned skin beneath the lather.

“An electric razor is a lot quicker,” she said for conversation.

“Maybe quicker, but I prefer the blade.”

She let her expression tease him. “I suppose an electric razor isn’t ‘he-man’ enough for you.”

“Careful,” he warned with amusement, and she laughed. “A blade shaves closer. I thought I might need a smooth face tonight.”

“You might.” There was faint color in her cheeks as she dipped the bath sponge into the water. “Would you wash my back when you’re through?”

There were traces of shaving lather on his face when he crossed over to the tub. Kneeling beside it, he took the sponge from her hand and scrubbed her back. Maggie closed her ey

es, relaxing under the rough, massaging action.

“You can keep that up all day,” she murmured.

“If I hadn’t already taken a shower, I’d climb in there with you.” He stopped and tossed the sponge in the bubbly water in front of her.

As he started to push to his feet, her glance fell on his left arm. A coldness ran through her when she saw the white scar that slashed crookedly across his forearm, and she remembered that it had been caused when she had stabbed at him. She reached out to cover the mark with her hand and block out the unpleasant reminder.

“What’s going to happen to us, Chase?” Her voice was low, flatly questioning.

He knew precisely what she was thinking. He caught hold of her hand, gripping it hard. “This isn’t paradise. There are scars and flaws in all of us. God knows we’re going to have our share of trouble, so don’t go looking for it, Maggie. All we can do is hold on tight to what we’ve got—and pray to God it’s enough. We just have to hold on,” he repeated, his voice hard with conviction, “and take it as it comes.”

She lifted her gaze, meeting his with a quiet sureness. The chill remained, but she could face it. “Yes.”

His mouth curved in approval and he dropped a kiss on her lips. “Hurry up and get out of that tub. Ty will be coming, expecting dinner to be on the table.”

Ty noticed the change almost immediately. One of the first things he said was: “You look beautiful tonight, Mom.” Chase caught her glance and smiled. “Our son has an eye for beauty.”

Ty’s gaze darted between his parents, sensing the closeness and the warmth—the secret looks that left him out. He had been aware of the strain between them before and had kept hoping they would start getting along with each other. Now that it had happened, he wasn’t altogether comfortable with the change.

That night Maggie was lying in bed when Chase came out of the bathroom and turned off the light. She turned back the bedcovers to let him slide in beside her and snuggled under the arm he wrapped around her.

“Did Ty seem quiet to you tonight?” she asked.

“Yes.” His hand rubbed her arm in a semi-absent caress. “Our son is a little jealous, I’m afraid, and a little uncomfortable with us.”

“But why?” She turned her head, trying to see him in the dark.

“Children—adolescents—have a hard time accepting the fact that their parents—especially their mother—have sexual desires. It’s as if once they have been conceived, their parents aren’t supposed to do it again. Don’t worry,” he murmured, grazing his mouth over her cheekbone. “He’ll get over it. Right now, he’s just uncomfortable with his own sexual needs.”

“I hope so.” She rubbed her cheek against his mouth, her hands seeking the hardness of his body under the covers.

“If he doesn’t straighten out soon, I’ll line him up with a girl. It’ll take his mind off us.” He had reached the corner of her lips.

But Maggie drew back at his suggestion. “Chase, you wouldn’t. He’s only fifteen.”

“I wouldn’t? You were fifteen, as I recall.” He reached out and pulled her back, threading his fingers in her hair to hold her head still. “Do you know that I’ve never made love to you at night? Do you suppose I’ll know how?”

His mouth covered hers and she forgot all about Ty.

The world seemed brighter to Chase. The grass was greener, the sky was bluer, and the sun was shinier. These last few days he’d walked with new strength, new purpose. Even the weight of running the Triple C rested more lightly on his shoulders.

As he drove into the headquarters, he saw Nate leaving the office where all the records for the breeding stock were kept. The old cowboy wouldn’t tell his age, but Chase guessed he was in his sixties. Age had finally caught up with Nate. He couldn’t spend long hours in the saddle anymore without coming away all stoved up. But his eye for cattle was unfailing, so Chase had put him in charge of the breeding program to continually improve their range stock. Chase honked the horn to attract Nate’s attention, then pulled the pickup around to park it in the shade of a building. The cowboy was angling in his direction as Chase climbed out of the cab.

“Just came back from checking on the south branch to see how Ike was doing.” Chase explained where he’d been. “I saw some of the calves out of your new bull. They must be twenty pounds heavier than the others.”