Knocked up by the Mountain Man (Silver Ridge Mountain Men)

6. Beau

6

BEAU

W hat the fuck?

I can’t believe this. I can’t believe my day has gone this way. Of all the out of town vets who could have come to the ranch, why the fuck did it have to be Clara Ryder?

My room feels hazy around me, the amber liquid swirls in my glass as I take a slow sip. The burn of the whiskey is comforting, and familiar, but it’s not enough to dull the thoughts racing through my mind. The moonlight filters through the window, casting long shadows that dance across the walls, making me feel sicker by the moment.

I’m not drunk yet, but I’m well on my way.

Clara’s face keeps appearing in my mind, haunting me with eyes that once held so much promise. I can still see the way she looked at me earlier today, the shock and pain mirrored in my own heart. How did we end up here, so far from where we once were?

It’s been over three years since she vanished, leaving nothing but a void I’ve been unable to fill ever since.

I had tried to contact her endlessly when she vanished. I searched all the familiar haunts, scoured social media and reached out to mutual friends, but no one knew where she had gone. Wyatt, bless his heart, always seemed a bit cagey whenever I asked about Clara, dodging my questions or changing the subject. I never understood why. I just thought he didn’t want me to get close to his sister, so I tried to respect that.

I take another sip, the warmth spreads through my chest.

Clara’s return has dredged up old feelings, the ones I thought I’d buried deep. Seeing her today, and hearing Wyatt talk about her kid , had thrown me for a loop. She must be happy, settled, and married.

The thought of the life she built makes my stomach churn.

Who’s the man who won her heart? Who is the father of her child? The questions gnaw at me, each one more painful than the last. I’ve never told anyone this, but Clara is the one who got away. The one I thought I’d spend my life with, I thought we would build a future together, chase our dreams and live a happy life. I might have been a bit of a player back in high school, but that’s only because I wanted the one person I couldn’t have. My best friend’s sister.

I always wanted Clara, and for a while, I had started to think that I might finally have her. I knew it’d be hard, and that Wyatt might not like it, but I really think I loved her and that would make it all worth it. Because love conquers all, right?

I set the glass down and run a hand over my face, trying to push away the memories that flood my mind. The way she used to laugh, the sparkle in her eyes, the warmth of her touch… I lean back in my chair, closing my eyes. The room is spinning slightly now, the alcohol starting to take effect.

My mind drifts back to that night with Clara, the feel of her body pressed against mine, the way she made me feel so alive. I can still smell her scent, a mix of wild flowers and fresh hay, intoxicating and unforgettable. I remember the first time we kissed, the electricity that surged between us, the way she melted into my arms.

My hand moves absently to my thigh, the memory so vivid it feels like she’s here with me.

I can almost hear her voice, soft and breathless, whispering my name.

Frustration and longing build inside me, a persistent ache that won’t go away.

I’ve tried to move on, but no one compares to Clara.

No one ever will.

I feel a pang of guilt, thinking about her being a wife , happy with someone else, raising a family. It should have been us. It should have been me by her side.

I shift in my chair, the sensation of my hand on my thigh sends a shiver through me. I know I shouldn’t, but the memories are too strong, and powerful to ignore. I let my hand wander, imagining it’s her fingers tracing the lines of my body.

“Damn it, Clara,” I mutter, my voice thick with desire and regret. “Why did you leave?”

My hand moves lower, the whiskey giving me the courage to let go, to drown in the fantasy of her. I can feel the heat rising, the need building, and I don’t fight it. I let my hand slip inside my pants, I imagine it’s her fingers instead of mine. I stroke myself slowly, the images in my mind blending with the sensation.

I see her lips, soft and full, wrapped around my cock.

The sight of her taking me in, her eyes looking up at me with a mixture of need and desire, is almost too much to bear. I quicken my strokes, my hand caressing my steel length harder and faster as the image of her intensifies. I picture her moaning, her mouth working me with a rhythm that drives me wild.

I imagine her beneath me, her body arching with each thrust, her nails digging in o my back as I fuck her from different angles. Explore one another in a way we hadn’t thought to when we were younger. Her moans fill my ears, her breath hot against my skin, and I lose myself in the fantasy, my fist now pumping with pleasure.

I see her on top of me, riding me with an intensity that makes my head spin, her hips moving in a way that drives me to the brink of madness.

“Clara,” I whisper. The name a prayer, and a plea.

My body tenses, the pleasure building to a crescendo. I imagine her with me, the way she used to look at me, the way she used to touch me. The ache inside me turns into a burning need, and I let myself go, surrendering to the memory of her…

“Oh fuck!”

The release is intense, overwhelming, and for a moment, I’m not alone. For a moment, she’s here with me, and everything is right again. I’m left with the echo of her name on my lips, the ghost of her touch lingering on my skin…

But as the euphoria fades, I’m left with the same hollow ache. The same unfulfilled longing. I slam my fist down on the night stand harder than intended, the sound is jarring in the stillness of the room. This isn’t enough. I need more than memories and fantasies. I need answers.

I know where she’s staying on the ranch. She’s at Wyatt’s guest house, and I know Wyatt is on a date tonight, so there’s no one to stop me from going to see her. The thought of confronting her, demanding answers to the questions that have plagued me for all these years, fills me with a strange mix of anger and anticipation.

I need to know.

I can’t hold back any longer.

I clean myself up, grab my jacket and head out into the night, the cool air sobering me up slightly as I walk towards the guest house. But I don’t think it’s enough, because I stop by the giant oak tree, right outside, trying to gather myself together. I’m still contemplating whether to knock or not when the door opens, and Clara steps out. She’s on the phone, her voice carrying softly in the night air. I stay hidden in the shadows, straining to hear her words.

“Yes, Daniel, it’s all good here. I’m fine. Better than I thought I’d be.”

My heart pounds in my chest. Daniel. Who’s Daniel? Her husband? The uncertainty gnaws at me.

I can’t see her face clearly in the dim light, but I can hear the warmth in her voice, the way she speaks to him. My blood boils with jealousy and frustration. I take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm raging inside me. She laughs softly at something he says, the sound is like a knife twisting in my heart. It’s a laugh I used to know so well, the one that once brought me so much joy. Now, it only brings pain.

“I know, I know, I don’t have to be here for long. I’m doing my best.”

She turns away from me, so I don’t catch the next few words but that does nothing to stop the painful twisting sensation in my gut.

The world seems to narrow down to just the two of us, and the pounding of my heart is so loud I’m sure she’ll hear it.

When she finishes speaking, I decide to slip away quietly, unwilling to face her with my emotions in such disarray. But as I step back, my foot catches on a root. I stumble forward, my hand grazing the rough bark of the oak tree in a desperate attempt to steady myself. The noise is unavoidable. The rustling of the branches, and my muffled curse breaks the silence.

Clara’s head snaps in my direction, her eyes wide with shock as they lock onto mine. The phone slips from her hand, and I see a flicker of fear cross over her face, before it transforms into something unreadable.

“What are you doing here?”

I straighten up, brushing the dirt off my jacket. I guess we’re doing this now, whether I’m ready for it or not. “Was that your husband on the phone?”

Her expression hardens, and she crosses her arms over her chest. “That’s none of your business, Mr. Marshall.”

Hearing her call me by my surname, as if we’re strangers, pisses me off. “Why are you here, Clara? Why did you come back?”

Her eyes narrow, her stance becoming even more defensive. “My services were needed on the ranch,” she says curtly, her voice cold and distant.

“That’s it?” I demand, frustration boiling over. “You disappear for years and come back with nothing but a professional excuse?”

She cuts me off, her tone final and unyielding. “If that’s all, goodnight, sir. I’ll see you again when I’m required to work, and not before.”

Before I can say another word, she turns on her heel and storms back inside, the door closing firmly behind her. I stand there, seething with anger and hurt.

What the fuck?