Play It Safe

  It was unusual, it was sophisticated, it was classy, it was cool, it was stylish and it was Colorado.

  It was the perfect coat for a macho man rancher cowboy’s stylish soon-to-be wife.

  I opened it, put it on, felt that soft fur against my skin, loved it instantly and my eyes drifted to Gray.

  Then I burst into tears.

  In turn, Gray burst out laughing. Then he held me as I cried and multitasked by ignoring it and continuing to hand out presents.

  “Let’s see, dollface,” he muttered, breaking into my thoughts. “Got me an ex-con whose smile scares me a little and whose also my woman’s long lost Daddy snorin’ on my couch. Got my Gran in a rented hospital bed, also snorin’. Got my estranged Mom lyin’ in the guest bedroom, luckily not snorin’. And got no beer left in the house because my uncles drank it all.”

  “I know,” I whispered, “isn’t it awesome?”

  I saw his grin in the moonlight but he said, “Not fond of a house without beer.”

  “I’ll go to Plack’s tomorrow,” I promised.

  “Know you will, my woman takes care of me,” he whispered and I sighed happily.

  I did, I took care of him. And I loved doing it. But I also loved knowing he noticed and liked it.

  Then his arms gave me a gentle squeeze.

  “You have a good Christmas, baby?”

  I pressed closer to him. “Yeah, honey.”

  “Good,” he murmured.

  “You?” I asked.

  “Best ever,” Gray answered.

  Oh yes.

  Yes.

  I loved Grayson Cody.

  “Good,” I said softly.

  Then I dipped my chin, moved in and kissed his chest.

  There, my lips against his skin, I whispered, “It’s been a wild ride and I can’t say over the years that I didn’t wish I’d made a different decision. But right now, in this bed with you, our family in this house, your ring on my finger, I’m glad that when I was on the sidewalk on the square in town with you and Casey all those years ago, I decided for the first time in my life not to play it safe.”

  Gray’s arms gave me another squeeze, this one so tight I was forced to take my face out of his chest, tip my head back and look at him.

  “I’m glad too, Ivey, seriously fuckin’ glad you took a chance on me.”

  Yeah, I loved Grayson Cody.

  He dropped his head and touched his mouth to mine, giving me a light kiss then ordering against my lips.

  “Say you love me, Ivey.”

  My lips smiled against his. “I love you, Gray.”

  His lips smiled back.

  Epilogue

  Him and Me. Mr. and Mrs. Cody

  Five and a half months later…

  “Thanks Jeb,” I said quietly into the phone, my eyes looking out the window over the sink to the barn.

  “Thought you and Gray’d wanna know, Ivey,” Jeb said quietly back.

  I pulled in breath then asked, “You okay?”

  “My wife misses her grandbabies,” he answered meaning he did too. “But she doesn’t miss the headaches.” This meaning he didn’t either. Then he stated, “Right,” in a tone that said the conversation was imminently over. “Candace told me to tell you to talk to Gray about you and him comin’ over for dinner again. She liked that. You talk to Gray, give her a call, let her know.”

  I’d talk to Gray but he didn’t overly enjoy our last dinner with Candace and Jeb Sharp. He got what they were trying to do, apologize for the behavior of their son, and he was trying to be a good guy. He didn’t blame them. Still, he didn’t enjoy it.

  “Will do. Take care, Jeb.” I gave my farewell.

  “You too, Ivey,” he replied then he was gone.

  I bleeped the phone off and looked back out the window.

  Then I smiled.

  Then I walked to the backdoor and pulled on my cowboy boots even though I was wearing a tight tank, a pair of cutoff jeans shorts and no socks. I also nabbed one of Gray’s raggedy baseball caps off the hook and tugged it on my head, tucking my hair behind my ears.

  It was a crazy, cowgirl look but I knew I worked it seeing as the first time I pulled on one of Gray’s hats and my boots with shorts rather than ran upstairs to find some flip-flops in order to go out and talk to Gray, my message wasn’t received for a half an hour. This was because that half an hour was spent mostly naked in our hayloft.

  And during that half hour, Gray didn’t take off my boots.

  I loved those boots. But after our time in the hayloft, I loved them more.

  I went through the backdoor and my eyes slid through the space. There were three dozen, wooden picnic tables sprinkled across the vast area beside the house, in front of the barn and beyond. In two days, these would be covered in white tablecloths with a bucket of daisies and black-eyed susans in the middle of each one. All the trees were already strung with Christmas lights and there was an enormous kettle grill set up on a stand of bricks. And, in two days, seven dozen white and yellow balloons and a wooden dance floor were being delivered.

  This was because in two days Gray and I were getting married at the church and having the reception, a big barbeque, here.

  I couldn’t wait.

  Still smiling, I strode to the huge, open, double doors of the barn and walked right through.

  In the middle of the aisle between the stalls, Gray had one of the horses tethered. He had on his own hat, a tight, white tee, jeans, boots and work gloves and he was currying the horse.

  His gloved hand with the brush strapped on kept moving on the horse’s coat but his head turned to me.

  He looked me top-to-toe and when his eyes came back to mine, he grinned.

  God, that dimple.

  Loved it then, loved it the day before, loved it the first time I saw it and would love it for eternity.

  I grinned back and wandered to Answer’s stall. Answer wandered to me and shoved his head over the door. I wrapped an arm around his jaw and with my other hand stroked his nose.

  He snorted.

  Gray’s horse loved me. Then again, I bribed him with apples.

  “So,” I drew out the word, “you want an early wedding present?”

  Gray’s hand kept moving on the horse but his eyes had strayed to my legs.

  When I spoke, they came back to me.

  “Yeah,” he answered.

  “It’s a big day for Buddy Sharp,” I announced, Gray’s hand stopped but he kept the brush to the horse.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. Cecily’s all settled in Durango. Don’t know, maybe she’s planning a celebration for tonight since her divorce is final today. Maybe she’s planning to dive into a gallon of ice cream. Doesn’t matter, she’s there and we’re here. They also closed on their house today. Oh, and,” I kept going, “Bud has taken a job in New Hampshire. He’s packed up and he left this morning.”

  I didn’t know if after Gray’s crushing set down, Buddy got smart. I did know we didn’t have any more trouble with him. This might have been because of what Gray said to him. But it was also because his hands were full.

  Apparently, Cecily was done being the town pariah and she was done with Buddy doing more things to make her stay that way. She knew Buddy’s play with my father and while he was making it, she took her already packed bags and her daughters and she drove straight to Durango.

  On Christmas Eve.

  She’d never been back.

  And she’d filed for divorce, the timing being that Bud received the papers the day after Christmas. With all his machinations and her knowing about it, not to mention she knew he’d cheated on her repeatedly but, until then, turned a blind eye, he didn’t have a prayer in the world of getting custody of his daughters. So he didn’t fight it. Apparently she got a huge settlement and an even bigger child support payment and, word was, she was already seeing somebody.

  So maybe no ice cream for her.

  As for Buddy, Jeb Sharp heard about his son’s Christmas Eve
play and he was as done as Gray.

  So he started to talk to his cronies. Then his cronies took his back.

  So the day after New Year’s, Bud Sharp went to work and was told immediately that he was required to attend an emergency board meeting. At this board meeting, Buddy was informed that a variety of ranchers, orchard owners, farmers and businessmen who held their money in Buddy’s bank were threatening to pull it if the Board didn’t do something about Buddy. So they did. They told him they’d give him some money to go away quietly and asked for his voluntary resignation. Then they told him if he didn’t resign, he was fired and they’d give him no severance.

  Finally, in all his years, Bud Sharp did something smart.

  He resigned.

  He had been out of work for five months. This was because no one in seven counties would hire Buddy Sharp.

  And the settlement with Cecily wiped him out.

  Now he’d found the only job he could find.

  In New Hampshire.

  Which was a long, long way away.

  Thankfully.

  Gray grinned. “That’s a great fuckin’ wedding present.”

  “Yeah,” I said softly.

  He took his hand from the horse and turned fully to me.

  “Come here, Ivey.”

  I didn’t hesitate.

  I gave Answer one last stroke and went there.

  Gray watched me move.

  When I got there, his arm with hand not holding the brush wrapped around me and he pulled me close. Then his head slanted and dropped, mine tilted the other way and, since we had a lot of practice, we didn’t crash the bills of our hats when he laid a long, wet one on me.

  And also with lots of practice, he was able to shove his gloved hand down my shorts and in my panties to cup my ass.

  As usual, it was tremendous.

  When he lifted his head, I asked quietly, “Want some lunch, honey?”

  “Yeah, dollface,” he answered and I smiled.

  He smiled back.

  Then he slid his hand out of my pants and turned back to the horse.

  I turned to the doors but I felt his eyes on me as I walked so I stopped and turned back.

  Yep, I was right. My man’s eyes were on me.

  “Okay, you walk away from me, I watch your ass,” I told him. “What do you watch when I walk away from you?”

  “The prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  My heart jumped, my belly warmed and my lips smiled.

  That was a really good answer.

  So, still smiling, I turned and walked out of the barn to go to the house to make my man some lunch.

  * * * * *

  Two days later…

  I had my hand in the bend of Lash’s arm, my other hand wrapped around a huge bouquet of little baby daisies mixed with big, beautiful white roses and my eyes were on the doors in front of us that led to the church sanctuary.

  “Nervous, babe?” I heard Lash ask and I looked up at his handsome head on top of his fabulous tuxedo.

  “No,” I told him honestly.

  He grinned.

  I leaned into his side.

  His grin faded and his eyes grew warm.

  “Love you, Ivey soon-to-be Cody.”

  “Love you too, Lash, my awesome ex-fake-boyfriend.”

  He burst out laughing.

  I did too.

  My music started playing then Stacy, Chastity, Macy and finally Janie strutted down the aisle in their gorgeous yellow dresses in front of Lash and me.

  The wedding march sounded.

  Still smiling, I walked on my high-heeled, fabulous designer shoes in my unbelievably expensive, exquisite wedding gown on the arm of my ex-fake-boyfriend who paid for both and I did this straight to my waiting, seriously gorgeous, macho man rancher cowboy.

  * * * * *

  Three hours later…

  My feet moved on the wood boards set out on the grass to act as the dance floor, the song a slow one. One of my arms was wrapped around a pair of broad shoulders, one of my hands held in a hand that pressed mine to the chest of a beautiful man.

  He swayed, I followed his lead and we danced cheek-to-cheek.

  We didn’t talk.

  We didn’t need to say anything.

  This was because I knew Brutus loved me.

  And this was because Brutus knew I felt the same.

  * * * * *

  Seven hours later in The Brown Palace, Denver…

  I felt Gray’s breathing turn to normal against my neck as mine did the same against his.

  He didn’t move.

  I didn’t either.

  We lay connected, my legs wrapped tight around his hips, his fingers laced in mine held over my head and pressed into the pillows.

  We stayed that way a long time, him and me.

  Mr. and Mrs. Cody.

  * * * * *

  Six and a half months later…

  Christmas music playing, a bay and rosemary candle burning, my hands kneading cookie dough, I heard my father muttering beside me, “Fuck me, I can squirt out a fuckuva Christmas tree.”

  I looked to the half a tray of perfectly formed, green-tinted, Christmas tree-shaped butter cookies he was pressing from the cookie press then I tipped my head back and looked at my Dad.

  “You’re a master,” I told him.

  He looked at me and smiled his huge, wild-ass smile.

  “Fifty-seven years on this earth, I learn my calling is cookie making.”

  “Worse callings to have,” I told him.

  “That’s the damn truth,” he told me then went back to pressing out Christmas trees.

  Hoot Booker stayed in Mustang and worked the late shift at The Rambler so Janie could give that up after doing it for years. He lived in the room over the bar where I used to live. He didn’t make a mint, he didn’t live in a palace and he didn’t care.

  He didn’t need much seeing as he was right where he wanted to be.

  See? Totally my Dad.

  He was just like me.

  He’d shared his story with Gray and me and there were no protestations of the wronged man. He had lived hard, played rough, did what he could to earn a living, not all of that legal and eventually found himself in a blood feud. A blood feud he ended.

  But he did his time, a lot of it, and took that time to reflect.

  And those reflections led to some decisions.

  When he got out, he’d spent half his life in prison.

  He wasn’t going to waste another second on stupidity.

  Lucky me.

  “Right,” I heard Gray say and I looked over my shoulder to see him on his cell walking into the kitchen eyes to his boots. “Right,” he repeated, stopping on the other side of the table and lifting a hand to wrap it around the back of his bent neck and taking in his posture made something stutter uncomfortably in me. “Right,” he whispered. “Yeah, thanks, man. Later.”

  He studiously stared at his phone as he flipped it shut, kept his eyes downcast as he shoved it in his back pocket and then, slowly, he lifted his head and his eyes came to me.

  One look at his face, that something in me stuttered to a halt, stalling all my systems.

  “Wash your hands, Ivey,” Gray ordered gently.

  Oh God.

  Oh God.

  Not today, not three days from Christmas.

  “Mrs. Cody?” I whispered and Gray shook his head.

  “No, baby. Now wash your hands, yeah?”

  When I didn’t move, stood frozen to the spot, Hoot’s hand wrapped around my forearm and he murmured, “Wash your hands, beautiful.”

  I looked to him then to the dough. Then I rubbed my hands clean of lumps, walked to the sink and washed them.

  I was drying them, turning and nearly bumped into Gray when I did. I had barely got my body to facing him fully when both his hands settled on either side of his neck, he bowed his back and his face was in mine.

  “Fast, right? I tell you fast.”

  Oh God.
br />   “Gray –” I whispered.

  “That was Lash. He got word. Casey’s body was found a week ago in Oakland. He’d been shot in the head. Cops don’t know why. They’re investigating.”

  I stared at him.

  “Ivey.”

  I kept staring at him.

  “Baby,” he whispered, his hands giving me a squeeze.

  Casey.

  I closed my eyes, twisted my head and shoved my face in neck as the sob tore through me.

  His hands left my neck and his arms wrapped around me tight.

  My arms did the same.

  My brother.

  My Casey.

  Now really dead to me.

  My body bucked with another sob and I felt my hair shifted to the side then I felt my father’s big, warm hand curl around the back of my neck.

  And I stood in a warm kitchen with Christmas music playing, bay and rosemary scent all around me, safe in the attentions of two men who loved me as I cried for another one who used to love me, who used to be everything to me.

  Until he wasn’t.

  * * * * *

  Eleven months later…

  The noise came on the monitor, my eyes opened to darkness and Gray’s arm tightened around me.

  “Your turn,” I muttered into the dark.

  “Yeah,” Gray muttered back, shifted, kissed my shoulder and exited the bed.

  I pretended to fall back asleep.

  But I didn’t.

  I did what I did every time it was his turn.

  I gave it time then slid out of bed silently, tiptoed out of the room and went one room over, a room that became Gray’s office when the den was taken up by Grandma Miriam.

  Now it was a nursery.

  The light glowed through the opened door and I approached it, with practice, without a sound.

  Then I peered around to see my man in his light blue, drawstring pajama bottoms, his glorious chest bare, sitting and rocking in the rocking chair with our baby son, Holt cradled in his arm, Gray holding the bottle to his little baby lips.