Read Online Pete (The Cowboys) by Leigh Greenwood - Free Book Online
Authors: Leigh Greenwood
Ads: Link
why couldn’t she act like it?
Because she still couldn’t believe Pete was real. She couldn’t shake the feeling that if she tried to touch him, he’d disappear, that she’d wake up and find it had all been a dream. She didn’t know why she should feel like that, but the feeling wouldn’t go away.
The idea flashed into her head without warning. The impulse caught her by surprise. She turned. He was sleeping on his side, his back to her. The broad expanse of smooth, brown skin beckoned to her. Touch me. Come on. It’s all right. He’ll never know.
She had to be crazy, but once the idea thrust itself into her head, she couldn’t get rid of it.
You want to touch me. I know you do. It’s easy. Just reach out.
She gripped her hands together and held them tightly against her breasts. What if he woke up? What if he interpreted her touch as a signal that she wanted him to come to her side of the bed?
He’s given his word. Besides, he’s sound sleep.
The soft breathing continued without interruption. The more Anne thought about touching Pete, the more difficult it was to resist. She’d never had the opportunity to touch a man who was so young and strong and handsome. He was her husband. It was normal for married people to touch. Her parents had touched all the time. It was okay. It was all right.
She remembered he would let her hold his hand when they went out walking. She liked touching him. The tactile proof of his presence was comforting. He’d seemed to like it, too. His mother had died when he was a baby, and his father and brother were always yelling at him, beating and fighting him.
Maybe if she touched him—not much, just slightly—it would bring back some of the boy she remembered. Maybe all of him hadn’t been swallowed up by this new person who called himself Pete.
Still unsure of herself, she unclenched her fingers. She reached out and tentatively extended her fingers. Closer and closer until they came into contact with Pete’s warm, soft brown skin.
In one continuous motion, Pete threw the covers from his body, produced a gun Anne didn’t even know was in the room, and leapt from the bed to his feet, crouched and ready. His reaction was instantaneous and so unexpected, it surprised a shriek out of her.
He leapt on the bed, throwing his body across hers. “What is it? What’s wrong? Why did you wake me?”
Anne was too stunned to speak. She tried, but no sound would come out of her mouth.
“It’s not a snake, is it?”
She managed to shake her head.
“Then what is it? I don’t see or hear anything.”
He got up, opened the door, and looked out into the hall, but the house was silent. A look out the window apparently offered nothing of interest.
“There’s nobody here,” he said as he lowered the gun. “What happened? Did you have a bad dream?”
She nodded her head. She knew something awful would probably happen to her for touching him and lying about it, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell him what had really happened.
“Don’t look so frightened. There’s nothing wrong with that. I used to have them all the time myself. Indians. Had the same dream over and over again. They were attacking the wagon train I was on, killing everybody in sight. People screaming, blood flying, people running every whichaway. Can’t stand Indians to this day.”
“It was Indians,” she managed to say.
“You don’t have to worry about them. They’re pretty much locked away on reservations. You all right now?”
She nodded.
“You think you can go back to sleep?”
“Yes.”
“Good. You can wake me if you have another bad dream, but don’t touch me. Just call my name softly.”
“Okay.”
He put the gun under his pillow—she hadn’t seen him do that earlier—and got back into bed. “I’m going to see you don’t have any more bad dreams. Now tucker down and go to sleep.”
He turned over and was soon breathing softly again.
But Anne couldn’t sleep. She didn’t
Because she still couldn’t believe Pete was real. She couldn’t shake the feeling that if she tried to touch him, he’d disappear, that she’d wake up and find it had all been a dream. She didn’t know why she should feel like that, but the feeling wouldn’t go away.
The idea flashed into her head without warning. The impulse caught her by surprise. She turned. He was sleeping on his side, his back to her. The broad expanse of smooth, brown skin beckoned to her. Touch me. Come on. It’s all right. He’ll never know.
She had to be crazy, but once the idea thrust itself into her head, she couldn’t get rid of it.
You want to touch me. I know you do. It’s easy. Just reach out.
She gripped her hands together and held them tightly against her breasts. What if he woke up? What if he interpreted her touch as a signal that she wanted him to come to her side of the bed?
He’s given his word. Besides, he’s sound sleep.
The soft breathing continued without interruption. The more Anne thought about touching Pete, the more difficult it was to resist. She’d never had the opportunity to touch a man who was so young and strong and handsome. He was her husband. It was normal for married people to touch. Her parents had touched all the time. It was okay. It was all right.
She remembered he would let her hold his hand when they went out walking. She liked touching him. The tactile proof of his presence was comforting. He’d seemed to like it, too. His mother had died when he was a baby, and his father and brother were always yelling at him, beating and fighting him.
Maybe if she touched him—not much, just slightly—it would bring back some of the boy she remembered. Maybe all of him hadn’t been swallowed up by this new person who called himself Pete.
Still unsure of herself, she unclenched her fingers. She reached out and tentatively extended her fingers. Closer and closer until they came into contact with Pete’s warm, soft brown skin.
In one continuous motion, Pete threw the covers from his body, produced a gun Anne didn’t even know was in the room, and leapt from the bed to his feet, crouched and ready. His reaction was instantaneous and so unexpected, it surprised a shriek out of her.
He leapt on the bed, throwing his body across hers. “What is it? What’s wrong? Why did you wake me?”
Anne was too stunned to speak. She tried, but no sound would come out of her mouth.
“It’s not a snake, is it?”
She managed to shake her head.
“Then what is it? I don’t see or hear anything.”
He got up, opened the door, and looked out into the hall, but the house was silent. A look out the window apparently offered nothing of interest.
“There’s nobody here,” he said as he lowered the gun. “What happened? Did you have a bad dream?”
She nodded her head. She knew something awful would probably happen to her for touching him and lying about it, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell him what had really happened.
“Don’t look so frightened. There’s nothing wrong with that. I used to have them all the time myself. Indians. Had the same dream over and over again. They were attacking the wagon train I was on, killing everybody in sight. People screaming, blood flying, people running every whichaway. Can’t stand Indians to this day.”
“It was Indians,” she managed to say.
“You don’t have to worry about them. They’re pretty much locked away on reservations. You all right now?”
She nodded.
“You think you can go back to sleep?”
“Yes.”
“Good. You can wake me if you have another bad dream, but don’t touch me. Just call my name softly.”
“Okay.”
He put the gun under his pillow—she hadn’t seen him do that earlier—and got back into bed. “I’m going to see you don’t have any more bad dreams. Now tucker down and go to sleep.”
He turned over and was soon breathing softly again.
But Anne couldn’t sleep. She didn’t
Similar Books
