skattwang - Tumblr blog

skattwang · 2 years

Text

My Christmas Present | KSJ | Pt.2

Summary: leaving your city after believing that you could not be with seokjin, after a misunderstanding, the years and the distance took care of bringing them together again

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x Reader

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff, Romance, Cowboy! Au

Word Count: 11.2k

Warnings: Lovers to Strangers to lovers, Sad scenes, mention of accident, mention of attempted sexual abuse

Masterlist | Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 | Seokjin Masterpost | ✔

He brushed back your wild hair. "It was worth what I felt earlier," he murmured dryly.

You colored even more. "I can't stay here," you told him wildly. "I have to go away..."

"hell, no, you don't," he said tersely. "You're not getting away from me a second time. Don't even think about running."

"But," you began urgently.

"But what?" he asked curtly. "But you can't give yourself to me outside marriage? I know that. I'm not asking you to sleep with me."

"It's like torture for you."

"Yes," he said simply. "But the alternative is to never touch you." His hand slid over your blouse and he smiled gently at the immediate response of your body. "I love this," he said gruffly. "And so do you."

You grimaced. "Of course I do," you muttered. "I've never let anyone else touch me like that. It's been eight years since I've even been kissed!"

"Same here," he said bluntly.

"Ha! You've been going around with a divorcee!" you flung at him out of frustration and embarra.s.sment.

"I don't have sex with her," he said.

"They say she's very pretty."

He smiled. "She is. Pretty and elegant and kind. But I don't feel desire for her, any more than she feels it for me, I told you we were friends. We are. And that's all we are."

"But...but..."

"But what, Y/N?"

"Men don't stop kissing women just because they get turned down once."

"It was much worse than just getting turned down," he told you. "I ran you out of town. It was rough living with that, especially when your father took a few strips off me and told me all about your past. I felt two inches high." His eyes darkened with the pain of the memory. "I hated having made an enemy of him. He was a good man. But I'd never had much interest in marriage or let anyone get as close to me as you did. If you were afraid, so was I."

"Yoongs said your parents weren't a happy couple."

His eyebrow lifted. "He never talks about them. That's a first."

"He told me to ask you about them."

"I see." He sighed. "Well, I told you a little about that, but we're going to have to talk more about them sooner or later, and about some other things." He lifted his head and listened and then looked down at you with a wicked grin. "But for the present, you'd better fasten your bra and tuck your blouse back in and try to look as if you haven't just made love with me."

"Why?"

"Mrs. Choi's coming down the hall."

"Oh, my gosh!"

You fumbled with catches and buttons, your face red,, your hair wild as you raced to put yourself back together. He snapped his shirt up lazily, his silvery eyes full of mischief as he watched your frantic efforts to improve your appearance.

"Lucky I didn't lay you down on the desk, isn't it?" he said, chuckling.

There was a tap on the half-closed door and Mrs. Choi came in with a tray. She was so intent on getting it to the desk intact that she didn't even look at you. "Here it is. Sorry I took so long, but I couldn't find the cream pitcher."

"Who drinks cream?" Seokjin asked curiously.

"It was the only excuse I could think of," you told him seriously.

He looked uneasy. "Thanks."

You grinned at him and then looked at you. Your eyes were twinkling as you went back out. And this time you closed the door.

Your's face was still flushed. Your gray eyes were wide and turbulent. Your mouth was swollen and when you folded your arms over your chest, you flinched.

His eyes went to yourr blouse and back up again. "When I felt you going over the edge, it excited me, and I got a little rough. Did I hurt you?"

The question was matter-of-fact, and strangely tender.

You shook yourr head, averting yourr eyes. It was embarrassing to remember what had happened.

He caught your hand and led you to the chairs in front of the desk. "Sit down and I'll pour you a cup of coffee."

You looked up at him a little uneasily. "Is something wrong with me, do you think?" you asked with honest concern. "I mean, it's unnatural...isn't it?"

His fingers touched your soft cheek. He shook his head. "People can't be pigeonholed. You might not be that responsive to any other man. Maybe it's waiting so long. Maybe it's that you're perfectly attuned to me. I might be able to accomplish the same thing by kissing your thighs, or your belly."

You flushed. "You wouldn't!"

"Why not?"

The thought of it made you vibrate all over. You knew that men kissed women in intimate places, but you hadn't quite connected it until then.

"The inside of your thighs is very vulnerable to being caressed," he said simply. "Not to mention your back, your hips, your feet," he added with a gentle smile. "Lovemaking is an art. There are no set rules."

You watched him turn and pour coffee into a ceramic cup. He handed it to you and watched the way your fingers deliberately touched his as he drew them away.

He wanted you so much that he could barely stand up straight, but it was early days yet. He had to go slowly this time and not push you too hard. You had a fear not only of him, but of real intimacy. He couldn't afford to let things go too far.

"What sort of things are we going to talk about later?" you asked after you'd finished half your coffee.

"Cabbages and kings," he mused. He sat across from you, his long legs crossed, his eyes possessive and caressing on your face.

"I don't like cabbage and I don't know any kings."

"Then suppose we lie down together on the sofa?"

Your eyes flashed up to see the amusement in his and back down to your cup. "Don't tease. I'm not sophisticated enough for it."

"I'm not teasing."

You sighed and took another sip of coffee. "There's no future in it. You know that."

He didn't know it. You were living in the past, convinced that he had nothing more than an affair in mind for them. He smiled secretively to himself as hethought about the future. Fate had given him a second chance; he wasn't going to waste it.

"About these books," he said in a businesslike tone. "I've made an effort with them, but although I can do math, my penmanship isn't what it should be. If you can't read any of the numbers, circle them and I'll tell you what they are. I have to meet a prospective buyer down at the barn in a few minutes, but I'll be somewhere close by all day."

"All right."

He finished his coffee and put the cup back on the tray, checking his watch. "I'd better go." He looked down at you with covetous eyes and leaned against the arms of your chair to study you. "Let's go dancing tomorrow night."

Your heart jumped. You were remembering how it was when they were close together and her face flushed.

His eyebrow lifted and he grinned. "Don't look so apprehensive. The time to worry is when nothing happens when I hold you."

"It always did," you replied.

He nodded. "Every time," he agreed. "I only had to touch you." He smiled softly. "And vice versa," he added with a wicked glance.

"I was green," you reminded him.

"You still are," he reminded you.

"Not so much," you ventured shyly.

"We both learned something today," he said quietly. "Y/N, if you can be satisfied by so small a caress, try to imagine how it would feel if we went all the way."

Your eyelids flickered. Your breath came like rustling leaves.

He bent and drew his mouth with exquisite tenderness over your parted lips. "Or is that the real problem?" he asked at your mouth. "Are you afraid of the actual penetration?"

Your heart stopped dead and then ran away. "Seokjin!" you ground out his name.

He drew back a breath so that he could see your eyes. He wasn't smiling. It was no joke.

"You'd better tell me," he said quietly.

You drew your lower lip in with your teeth, looking worried.

"I won't tell anyone."

"I know that." you took a long breath. "When my cousin Edan was married, she came to visit us after the honeymoon was over. She'd been so happy and excited." you grimaced. "She said that it hurt awfully bad, that she bled and bled, and he made fun of her because she cried. She said that he didn't even kiss her. He just...pushed into her...!"

He cursed under his breath. "Didn't you talk to anyone else about sex?"

"It wasn't something I could discuss with my father, and Edan was the only friend I had," you told him. "She said that all the things they write about are just fiction, and that the reality is just like her mother once said-a woman deals with it for the pleasure of children."

He leaned forward on his hands, shaking his head. "I wish you'd told me this eight years ago."

"You'd have laughed," you replied. "You didn't believe I was innocent anyway." He looked up into your eyes. "I'm sorry," he said heavily. "Life teaches hard lessons."

You thought about your own experience with modeling. "Yes, it does."

He got to his feet and looked down at you with a worried scowl. "Don't you watch hot movies?"

"Those women aren't virgins," you returned.

"No. I don't guess they are." His eyes narrowed as he searched your face. "And I don't know what to tell you. I've never touched an innocent woman until you came along. Maybe it does hurt. But I promise you, it would only be one time. I know enough to make it good for you. And I would."

"It isn't going to be that way," you reminded him tersely, denying yourself the dreams of marriage and children that you'd always connected with him. "We're going to be friends."

He didn't speak. His gaze didn't falter. "I'll check back with you later about the books," he said quietly.

"Okay."

He started to turn, thought better of it and leaned down again with his weight balanced on the chair arms. "Do you remember what happened when I started to suckle you?"

You went scarlet. "Please..."

"It will be like that," he said evenly. "Just like that. You won't think about pain. You may not even notice any. You go in headfirst when I touch you. And I wasn't even taking my time with you today. Think about that. It might help."

He pushed away from you again and went to the desk to pick up his hat. He placed it on his head and smiled at you without mockery.

"Don't let my brothers walk over you," he said. "If one of them gives you any trouble, lay into him with the first hard object you can get your hands on."

"They seem very nice," you said.

"They like you," he replied. "But they have plans."

"Plans?"

"Not to hurt you," he assured you. "You should never have told them you could cook."

"I don't understand."

"Mrs. Choi wants to quit. They can't make biscuits. It's what they live for, a plateful of homemade buttered biscuits with half a dozen jars of jam and jelly."

"How does that concern me?''

"Don't you know?" He perched himself against the desk. "They've decided that we should marry you."

"We?"

"We're a family. Mostly we share things. Not women, but we do share cooks." He cocked his head and grinned at your shocked face. "If I marry you, they don't have to worry about where their next fresh biscuit is coming from."

"You don't want to marry me."

"Well, they'll probably find some way around that," he said pointedly.

"They can't force you to marry me."

"I wouldn't make any bets on that," he said. "You don't know them yet."

"You're their brother. They'd want you to be happy."

"They think you'll make me happy." you lowered your eyes. "You should talk to them."

"And say what? That I don't want you? I don't think they'd believe me."

"I meant, you should tell them that you don't want to get married."

"They've already had a meeting and decided that I do. They've picked out a minister and a dress that they think you'll look lovely in. They've done a rough draft of a wedding invitation..."

"You're out of your mind!"

"No, I'm not." He went to the middle desk drawer, fumbled through it, pulled it further out and reached for something pushed to the very back of the desk. He produced it, scanned it, nodded and handed it to you. "Read that."

It was a wedding invitation. Your middle name was misspelled. "It's S/N, not S/N."

He reached behind him for a pen, took the invitation back, made the change and handed it back to you.

"Why did you do that?" you asked curiously.

"Oh, they like everything neat and correct."

"Don't correct it! Tear it up!"

"They'll just do another one. The papers will print what's on there, too. You don't want your middle name misspelled several thousand times, do you?"

You were all but gasping for breath. "I don't understand."

"I know. Don't worry about it right now. There's plenty of time. They haven't decided on a definite date yet, anyway."

You stood up, wild-eyed. "You can't let your76brothers decide when and who you're going to marry!"

"Well, you go stop them, then," he said easily. "But don't say I didn't tell you so."

He pulled his hat over his eyes and walked out the door, whistling softly to himself.

First you did the accounts. Your mind was still reeling from Seokjin's ardor, and you had to be collected when you spoke to his brothers. You deciphered his scribbled numbers, balanced the books, checked your figures and put down a total.

They certainly weren't broke, and there was enough money in the account to feed Patton's Third Army. You left them a note saying so, amused at the pathetic picture they'd painted of their finances. Probably, the reason for that was part of their master plan.

You went outside to look for them after you'd done the books. They were all four in the barn, standing close together. They stopped talking the minute you came into view, and you knew for certain that they'd been talking about you.

"I'm not marrying him," you told them clearly, and pointed at Seokjin.

"Okay," Jungkook said easily.

"The thought never crossed my mind," Tae remarked.

Yoongi just shrugged.

Seokjin grinned.

"I'm through with the books," you said uneasily. "I want to go home now."

"You haven't eaten lunch," Tae said.

"It's only eleven o'clock," you said pointedly.

"We have an early lunch, because we work until dark," Yoongi volunteered.

"Mrs. Choi just left," Tae said. He sighed. "She put some beef and gravy in the oven to warm. But she didn't make us any biscuits."

"We don't have anything to put gravy on," Jungkook agreed.

"Can't work all afternoon without a biscuit," Yoongi said, nodding.

Seokjin grinned.

You had thought that Seokjin was making up that story about the brothers' mania for biscuits. Apparently it was the gospel truth.

"Just one pan full," Jungkook coaxed. "It wouldn't take five minutes." He eyed you warily. "If you can really make them. Maybe you can't. Maybe you were just saying you could, to impress us."

"That's right," Tae added.

"I can make biscuits," you said, needled. "You just point me to the kitchen and I'll show you."

Jungkook grinned. "Right this way!"

Half an hour later, the pan of biscuits were gone so fast that they might have disintegrated. Jungkook and Seokjin were actually fighting over the last one, pulled it apart in their rush, and ended up splitting it while the other two sat there gloating. They'd had more than their share because they had faster hands.

"Next time, you've got to make two pans," Seokjin told you. "One doesn't fill Leo's hollow tooth."

"I noticed," you said, surprisingly touched by the way they'd eaten your biscuits with such enjoyment. "I'll make you a pan of rolls to go with them next time."

"Roils?" Jungkook looked faint. "You can make homemade rolls?"

"I'll see about the wedding rings right now," Tae said, wiping his mouth and pushing away from the table.

"I've got the corrected invitation in my pocket," Yoongi murmured as he got up, too.

Jungkook joined the other two at the door. "They said they can get the dress here from Paris in two weeks," Jungkook said.

You gaped at them. But before you could open your mouth, all three of them had rushed out the door and closed it, talking animatedly among themselves.

"But, I didn't say...!" you exclaimed.

"There, there," Seokjin said, deftly adding another spoonful of gravy to his own remaining half of a biscuit. "It's all right. They forgot to call the minister and book him."

Just at that moment, the door opened and Jungkook stuck his head in. "Are you Methodist, Baptist or Presbyterian?" he asked you.

"I'm...Presbyterian," you faltered.

He scowled. "Nearest Presbyterian minister is in Victoria," he murmured thoughtfully, "but don't worry, I'll get him here." He closed the door.

''Just a minute!" you called.

The doors of the pickup closed three times. The engine roared. "Too late," Seokjin said imperturb-ably.

"But didn't you hear him?" you burst out. "For heaven's sake, they're going to get a minister!"

"Hard to get married in church without one," he insisted. He gestured toward your plate with a fork to the remaining chunk of beef. "Don't waste that. It's one of our own steers. Corn fed, no hormones, no antibiotics, no insecticides. We run a clean, environmentally safe operation here."

You were diverted. "Really?"

"We're renegades," he told you. "They groan when they see us coming at cattle conventions. Usually we go with Jaesuk. He's just like us about cattle. He and the Jung brothers have gone several rounds over cattle prods and feed additives. He's mellowed a bit since his nephew came to live with him and he got married. But he likes the way we do things."

"I guess so." you savored the last of the beef. "It's really good."

"Beats eating pigs," he remarked, and grinned.

You burst out laughing. "Your brother Yoongi had plenty to say on that subject."

"He only eats beef or fish. He won't touch anything that comes from a pig. He says it's because he doesn't like the taste." He leaned forward conspira-torially. "But I say it's because of that movie he went to see. He used to love a nice ham."

"What movie?"

"The one with the talking pig."

"Yoongi went to see that?"

"He likes cartoons and sentimental movies." He shrugged. "Odd, isn't it? He's the most staid of us. To look at him, you'd never know he had a sense of humor or that he was sentimental. He's like the others in his lack of conventional good looks, though. Most women can't get past that big nose and those eyes."

"A cobra with a rabbit," you said without thinking.

He chuckled. "Exactly."

"Does he hate women as much as the rest of you?"

"Hard to tell. You haven't seen him in a tuxedo at a social bash. Women, really beautiful women, followed him around all night dropping their room keys at his feet."

"What did he do?"

"Kept walking."

You put down your fork. "What do you do?"

He smiled mockingly. "They don't drop room keys at my feet anymore. The limp puts them off."

"Baloney," you said. "You're the handsomest of the four, and it isn't just looks."

He leaned back in his chair to look at you. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Does the limp bother you?"

"Don't be ridiculous," you said, lifting your gaze. "Why should it?"

"I can't dance very well anymore."

You smiled. "I don't ever go to dances."

"Why not?"

You sipped coffee. "I don't like men touching me.

His eyes changed. "You like me touching you."

"You aren't a stranger," you said simply.

"Maybe I am," he murmured quietly. "What do you know about me?"

You stared at him. "Well, you're thirty-six, you're a rancher, you've never married, you come from San Antonio."

"And?"

"I don't know any more than that," you said slowly.

"We were a couple for several weeks before you left town. Is that all you learned?"

"You were always such a private person," you reminded him. "You never talked about yourself or your brothers. And we never really talked that much when we were together."

"We spent more time kissing," he recalled. "I was too wrapped up in trying to get you into bed to care how well we knew each other," he said with self-contempt. "I wasted a lot of time."

"You said that we shouldn't look back."

"I'm trying not to. It's hard, sometimes." He moved forward to take your hands under his on the table. "I like classical music, but I'm just as happy with country or pop. I like a good chess game. I enjoy science fiction movies and old Westerns, the silent kind. I'm an early riser, I work hard and I don't cheat on my tax returns. I went to college to learn animal husbandry, but I never graduated."

You smiled. "Do you like fried liver?"

He made a horrible face. "Do you?"

You made the same face. "But I don't like sweets very much, either," you said, remembering that he didn't. "Good thing. nobody around here eats them."

"I remember." you looked around at the comfortably big kitchen. There was a new electric stove and a huge refrigerator, flanked by an upright freezer. The sink was a double stainless-steel one, with a window above it overlooking the pasture where the colts were kept. Next to that was a dishwasher. There was plenty of cabinet space, too.

"Like it?" he asked.

You smiled. "It's a dream of a kitchen. I'll bet Mrs. Choi loves working in here."

"Would you?"

You met his eyes and felt your own flickering at the intensity of his stare.

"If you can make homemade bread, you have to be an accomplished cook," he continued. "There's a high-tech mixer in the cabinet, and every gourmet tool known to man. Or woman."

"It's very modern."

"It's going to be very deserted in about three weeks," he informed.

"Why is Mrs. Choi quitting?"

"Her husband has cancer, and she wants to retire and stay at home with him, for as long as he's got," he said abruptly. He toyed with his coffee cup. "They've been married for fifty years." He took a sharp breath, and his eyes were very dark as they met yours. "I've believed all my life that no marriage could possibly last longer than a few years. People change. Situations change. Jobs conflict." He shrugged. "Then Mrs. Choi came here to work, with her husband. And I had to eat my words." He lowered his eyes back to the cup. "They were forever holding hands, helping each other, walking in the early morning together and talking. She smiled at him, and she was beautiful. He smiled back. nobody had to say that they loved each other. It was obvious."

"My parents were like that," you recalled. "Dad and Mom loved each other terribly. When she died, I almost lost him, too. He lived for me. But the last thing he said on his deathbed-" you swallowed, fighting tears "-was her name."

He got up from the table abruptly and went to the window over the sink. He leaned against it, breathing heavily, as if what you'd said had affected him powerfully. And, in fact, it had.

You watched him through tears. "You don't like hearing about happy marriages. Why?"

"Because I had that same chance once," he said in a low, dull tone. "And I threw it away."

You wondered who the woman had been. nobody had said that any of the Kims brothers had ever been engaged. But there could have been someone you hadn't heard about.

"You're the one who keeps saying we can't look back," you remarked, dabbing your eyes with your napkin.

"It's impossible not to. The past makes us the people we are." He sighed wearily. "My parents had five of us in ten years. My mother hadn't wanted the first child. She didn't have a choice. He took away her checkbook and kept her pregnant. She hated him and us in equal measure. When she left it was almost a relief." He turned and looked across the room at you. "I've never been held with tenderness. None of us have. It's why we're the way we are, it's why wedon't have women around. The only thing we know about women is that they're treacherous and cold and cruel."

"Oh, Seokjin," you said softly, wincing.

His eyes narrowed. "Desire is a hot and unmanageable thing. sex can be pleasant enough. But I'd gladly be impotent to have a woman hold me the way you did in my office and kiss my eyes." His face went as hard as stone. "You can't imagine how it felt."

"But I can," you replied. You smiled. "You kissed my eyes."

"Yes."

He looked so lost, so lonely. You got up from the table and went to him, paused in front of him. Your hands pressed gently against his broad chest as you looked up into his eyes.

"You know more about me than I've ever told anyone else," he said quietly. "Now don't you think it's time you told me what happened to you in New York?"

You sighed worriedly. You'd been ashamed to tell him how stupid you'd been. But now there was a bigger reason. It was going to hurt him. You didn't understand how you knew it, but you did. He was going to blame himself all over again for the way they'd separated.

"Not now," you said.

"You're holding back. Don't let's have secrets between us," he said solemnly.

"It will hurt," you said.

"Most everything does, these days," he murmured, and rubbed his thigh.

You took his hand and held it warmly. "Come and sit down."

"Not in here."

He drew you into the living room. It was warm and dim and quiet. He led you to his big armchair, dropped into it and pulled you down into his arms.

"Now, tell me." he said, when your check was pillowed on his hard chest.

"It's not a nice story."

"Tell me."

You rubbed your hand against his shirt and closed your eyes. "I found an ad in the paper. It was one of those big ads that promise the stars, just the thing to appeal to a naive country girl who thinks she can just walk into a modeling career. I cut out the ad and called the number."

"And?"

You grimaced. "It was a scam, but I didn't know it at first. The man seemed very nice, and he had a studio in a good part of town. Belinda had gone to Europe for the week on an a.s.signment for the magazine where she worked, and I didn't know anyone else to ask about it. I assumed that it was legitimate." Your eyes closed and you pressed closer, feeling his arm come around you tightly, as if he knew you were seeking comfort.

"Go ahead," he coaxed gently.

"He gave me a few things to try on and he took pictures of me wearing them. But then I was sitting there, just in a two-piece bathing suit, and he told me to take it off." His breathing stilled under your ear. "I couldn't," you snapped. "I just couldn't let him look at me like that, no matter how good a job I could get, and I said so. Then he got ugly. He told me that he was in the business of producing nude calendars and that if I didn't do the assignment, he'd take me to court and sue me for not fulfilling the contract I'd signed. No, I didn't read it," you said when he asked. "The fine print did say that I agreed to pose in any manner the photographer said for me to. I knew that I couldn't afford a lawsuit."

"And?" He sounded as cold as ice.

You bit your lower lip. "While I was thinking about alternatives, he laughed and came toward me. I could forget the contract, he said, if I was that prudish. But he'd have a return for the time he'd wasted on me. He said that he was going to make me sleep with him."

"Good God!"

You smoothed his shirt, trying to calm him. Tears stung your eyes. "I fought him, but I wasn't strong enough. He had me undressed before I knew it. We struggled there on the floor and he started hitting me." your voice broke and you felt Seokjin stiffen against you. "He had a diamond ring on his right hand. That's how he cut my cheek. I didn't even feel it until much later. He wore me down to the point that I couldn't kick or bite or scream. I would never have been able to get away. But one of his girls, one of the ones who didn't mind posing nude, came into the studio. She was his lover and she was furious when she saw him with me...like that. She started screaming and throwing things at him. I grabbed my clothes and ran."

You shivered even then with the remembered humiliation, the fear that he was going to come after you. "I managed to get enough on to look halfway decent, and I walked all the way back to Belinda's apartment." you swallowed. "When I was rational enough to talk, I called the police. They arrested him and charged him with attempted rape. But he said that I'd signed a contract and I wasn't happy with the money he offered me, and that I'd only yelled rape because I wanted to back out of the deal."

He bit off a curse, "And then what?"

"He won," you said in a flat, defeated tone. "He had friends and influence. But the story was a big deal locally for two or three days, and he was furious. His brother had a nasty temper and he started making obscene phone calls to me and making threats as well. I didn't want to put Belinda in any danger, so I moved out while she was still in Europe and never told her a thing about what had happened. I got a job in New Jersey and worked there for two years. Then Jennie moved out to Long Island and asked me to come back. There was a good job going with a law firm that had an office pretty close to her house. I had good typing skills by then, so I took it."

"What about the brother?" he asked.

"He didn't know where to find me. I learned later that he and the photographer were having trouble with the police about some pornography ring they were involved in. Ironically they both went to prison soon after I left Manhattan. But for a long time, I was even afraid to come home, in case they had anyone watching me. I was afraid for my father."

"You poor kid," he said heavily. "Good God! And after what had happened here..." His teethground together as he remembered what he'd done to you.

"Don't," you said gently, smoothing out the frown between his heavy eyebrows. "I never blamed you. Never!"

He caught your hand and brought it to his mouth. "I wanted to come after you," he said. "Your father stopped me. He said that you hated the very mention of my name."

"I did, at first, but only because I was so hurt by the way things had worked out" you looked at his firm chin. "But I would have been glad to see you, just the same."

"I wasn't sure of that." He traced your mouth. "I thought that it might be as well to leave things the way they were. You were so young, and I was wary of complications in my life just then." He sighed softly. "There's one other thing you don't know about me."

"Can't you tell me?"

He smiled softly. "We're sharing our deepest secrets. I suppose I might as well. We have a fifth brother. His name is Namjoon."

"You mentioned him the first time you came over, with that bouquet."

He nodded. "He's in San Antonio. Just after you left town, he was in a wreck and afterward, in a coma. We couldn't all go back, and leave the ranch to itself. So I went. It was several weeks before I could leave him. By the time I got back, you weren't living with Jennie anymore and I couldn't make her tell me where you were. Soon after that, your father came down on my head like a brick and I lost heart."

"You called Jennie?"

"Yes."

"You wanted to find me?"

He searched your eyes quietly, "I wanted to know that you were safe, that I hadn't hurt you too badly. At least I found that much out. I didn't hope for more."

You traced his eyebrows, lost in the sudden intimacy. "I dreamed about you," you said. "But every time, you'd come toward me and I'd wake up."

He traced the artery in your throat down to your collarbone. "My dreams were a bit more erotic." His eyes darkened. "I had you in ways and places you can't imagine, each more heated than the one before. I couldn't wait to go to bed, so that I could have you again."

You blushed. "At first, you mean, just after I left."

His hand smoothed onto your throat. "For eight years. Every night of my life."

You caught your breath. You could hardly get it at all. His eyes were glittering with feeling. "All that time?"

He nodded. He looked at you soft throat where the blouse had parted, and his face hardened. His fingers trailed lightly down onto your bodice, onto your breast. "I haven't touched a woman since you left Jacobs-ville," he said huskily. "I haven't been a man since then."

Your wide eyes filled with tears. You had a good idea of what it would be like for a man like Seokjin to be incapable with a woman. "Was it because we fought, at the last?"

"It was because we made love," he whispered. "Have you forgotten what we did?"

You averted your eyes, hiding them in embarrassment.

"You left a virgin," he said quietly, "but only technically. We had each other in your bed," he reminded you, "naked in each other's arms. We did everything except go those last few aching inches. Your body was almost open to me, I was against you, we were moving together...and you cried out when you felt me there. You squirmed out from under me and ran."

"I was so afraid," you whispered shamefully. "It hurt, and I kept remembering what I'd been told..."

"It wouldn't have hurt for long," he said gently. "And it wouldn't have been traumatic, not for you. But you didn't know that, and I was too excited to coax you. I lost my temper instead of reassuring you. And we spent so many years apart, suffering for it."

You laid your hot cheek against his chest and closed your eyes. "I didn't want to remember how far we went," you said through a mist. "I hurt you terribly when I drew back..."

"Not that much," he said. "We'd made love in so many ways already that I wasn't that hungry." He smoothed your soft hair. "I wanted an excuse to make you leave."

"Why?"

His lips touched your hair. "Because I wanted to make you pregnant," he whispered, feeling your body jump as he said it. "And it scared me to death. You see, modern women don't want babies, because they're a trap. My mother taught me that."

"That's not true!" you pressed closer. "I would have loved having a baby, and I'd never have felt trapped!" you said, your voice husky with feeling. Especially your baby, you added silently. "I didn't know any of your background, especially anything about your mother. You never told me."

His chest rose and fell abruptly. "I couldn't. You scared me to death. Maybe I deliberately upset you, to make you run. But when I got what I thought I wanted, I didn't want it. It hurt when you wouldn't even look at me, at the bus stop. I guess I'd shamed you so badly that you couldn't." He sighed. "I thought you were modern, that we'd enjoy each other and that would be the end of it. I got the shock of my life that last night. I couldn't even deal with it. I lost my head."

You lifted your face and looked into his eyes. "You were honest about it. You'd already said that you wanted no part of marriage or a family, that all you could offer me was a night in your arms with no strings attached. But I couldn't manage to stop, or stop you, until the very last. I was raised to think of sleeping around as a sin."

His face contorted. He averted his eyes to keep you from seeing the pain in them. "I didn't know that until it was much too late. Sometimes, you don't realize how much things mean to you until you lose them."

His fingers moved gently in your hair while you stood quietly, breathing uneasily. "It wasn't just our mother who soured us on women. Namjoon was married," he said after a minute. "He was the only one of us who ever was. His wife got pregnant the first time they were together, but she didn't want a child. She didn't really want Namjoon, she just wanted to be rich. He was crazy about her." He sighed painfully. "She had an abortion and he found out later, accidentally. They had a fight on the way home from one of her incessant parties. He wrecked the car, she died and he lost an arm. That's why he doesn't live on the ranch. He can't do the things he used to do. He's embittered and he's withdrawn from the rest of us." He laughed a little. "You think the four of us hate women. You should see Namjoon."

You stirred in his arms. "Poor man. He must have loved her very much."

"Too much. That's another common problem we seem to have. We love irrationally and obsessively."

"And reluctantly," you guessed.

He laughed. "And that."

He let you go with a long sigh and stared down at you warmly. "I suppose I'd better take you home. If you're still here when the boys get back, they'll tie you to the stove."

You smiled. "I like your brothers." you hesitated. "Seokjin, they aren't really going to try to force you to marry me, are they?"

"Of course not," he scoffed. "They're only teasing."

"Okay."

It was a good thing, he thought, that you couldn't see his fingers crossed behind his back.

He took you home, pausing to kiss you gently at the front door.

"I'll be along tomorrow night," he said softly. "We'll go to a movie. There's a new one every Saturday night at the Roxy downtown."

You searched his eyes and tried to decide if he was doing this because he wanted to or because his brothers were pestering him.

He smiled. "Don't worry so much. You're home, it's going to be Christmas, you have a job and plenty of friends. It's going to be the best Christmas you've ever had."

You smiled back. "Maybe it will be," you said, catching some of his own excitement. Your gaze caressed his face. They were much more like friends, with all the dark secrets out in the open. But his kisses had made you too hungry for him. You needed time to get your emotions under control. Perhaps a day would do it. He was throwing out broad hints of some sort, but he hadn't spoken one word of love. In that respect, nothing had changed.

"Good night, then," he said.

"Good night."

You closed the door and turned on the lights. It had been a strange and wonderful day. Somehow, the future looked unusually bright, despite all your worries.

The next morning, you had to go into town to Rose's shop to help her with the bookkeeping. It was unfortunate that when you walked in, a beautiful woman in designer clothes should be standing at the counter, discussing Seokjin.

"It's going to be the most glorious Christmas ever!" she was telling the other woman, pushing back her red-gold hair and laughing. "Seokjin is taking me to the Christmas party at the Jungs' house, and afterward we're going to Christmas Eve services at the Methodist Church." She sighed. "I'm glad to be home. You know, there's been some talk about Seokjin and a woman from his past who just came back recently. I asked him about it, if he was serious about her." She laughed gaily. "He said that he was just buttering her up so that she'd do some bookkeeping for him and the brothers, that she'd run out on him once and he didn't have any intention of letting her get close enough to do it again. I told him that I could find it in my heart to feel sorry for her, and he said that he didn't feel sorry for her at all, that he had plans for her..."

Rose spotted you and caught her breath. "Why, Y/N, I wasn't expecting you...quite so soon!"

"I thought I'd say hello," you said, frozen in the doorway. You managed a pasty smile. "I'll come back Monday. Have a nice weekend."

"Who was that?" you heard the other woman say as you went quickly back out the door and down the street to where you'd parked the car Mino had returned early in the morning, very nicely fixed.

You got behind the wheel, your fingers turning white as you gripped it. You could barely see for the tears. You started the engine with shaking fingers and backed out into the street. You heard someone call to you and saw the redhead standing on the sidewalk, with an odd expression on her face, trying to get your's attention.

You didn't look again. You put the car into gear and sped out of town.

You didn't go straight home. You went to a small park inside the city and sat down among the gay lights and decorations with a crowd that had gathered for a Christmas concert performed by the local high school band and chorus. There were so many people that one more didn't matter, and your tears weren't as noticeable in the crush of voices, The lovely, familiar carols were oddly soothing.

But your Christmas spirit was absent. How could you have trusted Seokjin? You were falling in love all over again, and he was setting you up for a fall. You'd never believe a word he said, ever again. And now that you'd had a look at his beautiful divorcee, you knew you wouldn't have a chance with him. That woman was exquisite, from her creamy skin to her perfect figure and face. The only surprising thing was that he hadn't married her years ago. Surely a woman like that wouldn't hang around waiting, when she could have any man she wanted.

Someone offered you a cup of hot apple cider, and you managed a smile and thanked the child who held it out to you. It was spicy and sweet and tasted good against the chill. You sipped it, thinking how horrible it was going to be from now on, living in Jacobsville with Seokjin only a few miles away and that woman hanging on his arm. He hadn't mentioned anything about Christmas to you, but apparently he had his plans all mapped out if he was taking the merry divorcee to a party. When had he been going to tell you the truth? Or had he been going to let you find it out all for yourself?

You couldn't remember ever feeling quite so bad. You finished the cider, listened to one more song and then got up and walked through the crowd, down the long sidewalk to where you'd parked your car. You sat in it for a moment, trying to decide what to do. It was Saturday and she had nothing planned for today. You weren't going to go home. You couldn't bear the thought of going home.

You turned the car and headed up to the interstate, on the road to Victoria.

Seokjin paced up and down your's front porch for an hour until he realized that you weren't coming home. He drove back to town and pulled up in front of Jeon Haru's brick house.

She came out onto the porch, in jeans and a sweatshirt, her glorious hair around her shoulders. Her arms were folded and she looked concerned. Her frantic phone call had sent him flying over to your's house hours before he was due to pick you up for the movie. Now it looked as if the movie, and anything else, was off.

"Well?" she asked.

He shook his head, with his hands deep in his jacket pockets. "She wasn't there. I waited for an hour. There's no note on the door, no nothing."

Haru sighed miserably. "It's all my fault. Me and my big mouth. I had no idea who she was, and I didn't know that what I was telling Rose was just a bunch of bull that you'd handed me to keep me from seeing how much you cared for the woman." She looked up accusingly. "See what happens when you lie to your friends?"

"You didn't have to tell her that!"

"I didn't know she was there! And we had agreed to go to the Jungs' party together, you and me and Park Chanyeol."

"You didn't mention that you had a date for it, I guess?" he asked irritably.

"No. I didn't realize anyone except Rose was listening, and she already knew I was going with Chanyeol."

He tilted his hat further over his tired eyes. "God, the webs we weave," he said heavily. "She's gone and I don't know where to look for her. She might have gone back to New York for all I know, especially after yesterday. She had every reason to think I was dead serious about her until this morning."

Haru folded her arms closer against the cold look he shot her. "I said I'm sorry," she muttered. "I tried to stop her and tell her that she'd misunderstood me about the party, that I wasn't your date. But she wouldn't even look at me. I'm not sure she saw me. She was crying."

He groaned aloud.

"Oh, Seokjin, I'm sorry," she said gently. "Namjoon always says you do everything the hard way. I guess he knows you better than the others."

He glanced at her curiously. "When have you seen Namjoon?"

"At the cattle convention in San Antonio last week. I sold a lot of my Montana herd there."

"And he actually spoke to you?"

She smiled wistfully. "He always speaks to me," she said. "I don't treat him like an invalid. He feels comfortable with me."

He gave her an intent look. "He wouldn't if he knew how you felt about him."

Her eyes narrowed angrily. "I'm not telling him. And neither are you! If he wants me to be just a friend, I can settle for that. It isn't as if I'm shopping for a new husband. One was enough," she added curtly.

"Namjoon was always protective about you," he recalled. "Even before you married."

"He pushed me at Eunwoo," she reminded him.

"Namjoon was married when he met you."

Her expression closed. She didn't say a word, but it was there, in her face. She'd hated Namjoon's wife, and the feeling had been mutual. Namjoon had hated her husband, too. But despite all the turbulence between Haru and Namjoon, there had never been a hint of infidelity while they were both married. Now, it was as if they couldn't get past their respective bad marriages to really look at each other romantically. Tira loved Namjoon, although no one except Seokjin knew it. But Namjoon kept secrets. No one was privy to them anymore, not even his own brothers. He kept to himself in San Antonio. Too much, sometimes.

Haru was watching him brood. "Why don't you file a missing persons report?" she suggested suddenly.

"I have to wait twenty-four hours. She could be in Alaska by then." He muttered under his breath. "I guess i could hire a private detective to look for her."

She gave him a thoughtful look and her eyes twinkled. "I've got a better idea. Why not tell your brothers she's gone missing?"

His eyebrows lifted, and hope returned. "Now that's a constructive suggestion," he agreed, nodding, and he began to grin. "They were already looking forward to homemade biscuits every morning. They'll be horrified!"

And they were. It was amazing, the looks that he got from his own kinfolk when he mentioned that their prized biscuit maker had gone missing.

"It's your fault," Tae said angrily. "You should have proposed to her."

"I thought you guys had all that taken care of," Seokjin said reasonably. "The rings, the minister, the gown, the invitations..."

"Everything except the most important part," Yoongi told him coldly.

"Oh, that. Did we forget to tell her that he loved her?" Jungkook asked sharply. "Good Lord, we did! No wonder she left!" He glared at his brother. "You could have told her yourself if you hadn't been chewing on your hurt pride. And speaking of pride, why didn't you tell Haru the truth instead of hedging your bets with a bunch of lies?"

"Because Haru has a big mouth and I didn't want the whole town to know I was dying of unrequited love for Y/N!" he raged. "She doesn't want to marry me. She said so! A man has to have a little pride to cling to!"

"Pride and those sort of biscuits don't mix," Tae stressed. "We've got to get her back. Okay, boys, who do we know in the highway patrol? Better yet, don't we know at least one Texas Ranger? Those boys can track anybody! Let's pool resources here..."

Watching them work, Seokjin felt relieved for himself and just a little sorry for you. You wouldn't stand a chance.

You didn't, either. A tall, good-looking man with black hair wearing a white Stetson and a Texas Ranger's star on his uniform knocked at the door of your motel room in Victoria. When you answered it, he tipped his hat politely, smiled and put you in handcuffs.

They were halfway back to Jacobsville, your hastily packed suitcase and your purse beside you, before you got enough breath back to protest.

"But why have you arrested me?" you demanded, "Why?" He thought for a minute and you saw him scowl in the rearview mirror. "Oh, I remember. Cattle rustling." He nodded. "Yep, that's it. Cattle rustling." He glanced at you in the rearview mirror. "You see, rustling is a crime that cuts across county lines, which gave me the authority to arrest you."

"Whose cattle have I rustled?" you demanded impertinently.

"The Kims Brothers filed the charges."

"Kim...Kim Seokjin?" you made a furious sound under your breath. "No. Not Seokjin. Them. It was them! Them and their damned biscuits! It's a put-up job," you exclaimed. "They've falsely accused me so that they can get me back into their kitchen!"

He chuckled at the way you phrased it. The Kims brothers and their mania for biscuits was known far and wide. "No, ma'am, I can swear to that," he told you. His twinkling black eyes shone out of a lean, darkly tanned face. His hair was black, too, straight and thick under that wide-brimmed white hat. "They showed me where it was."

"It?"

"The bull you rustled. His stall was empty, all right."

Your eyes bulged. "Didn't you look for him on the ranch?"

"Yes, ma'am," he assured you with a wide smile. "I looked. But the stall was empty, and they said he'd be in it if he hadn't been rustled. That was a million-dollar bull, ma'am." He shook his head. "They could shoot you for that. This is Texas, you know. Cattle rustling is a very serious charge."

"How could I rustle a bull? Do you have any idea how much a bull weighs?" you were sounding hysterical. You calmed down. "All right. If I took that bull, where was he?"

"Probably hidden in your room, ma'am. I plan to phone back when we get to the Hart place and have the manager search it," he assured you. His rakishgrin widened. "Of course, if he doesn't find a bull in your room, that will probably mean that I can drop the charges."

"Drop them, the devil!" she flared, blowing a wisp of platinum hair out of her eyes. "I'll sue the whole d.a.m.ned state for false arrest!"

He chuckled at you fury. "Sorry. You can't. I had probable cause."

"What probable cause?"

He glanced at you in the rearview mirror with a rakish grin. "You had a hamburger for lunch, didn't you, ma'am?"

You were openly gasping by now. The man was a lunatic. He must be a friend of the brothers, that was the only possible explanation. You gave up arguing, because you couldn't win. But you were going to do some serious damage to four ugly men when she got back to Jacobsville.

The ranger pulled up in front of the Kims' ranch house and all four of them came tumbling out of the living room and down to the driveway. Every one of them was smiling except Seokjin.

"Thanks, Hyun," Jungkook said, shaking the ranger's hand. "I don't know what we'd have done without you."

The man got out and opened the back seat to extricate a fuming, muttering you. You glared at the brothers with eyes that promised retribution as your handcuffs were removed and your suitcase and purse handed to you.

"We found the bull," Yoongi told the ranger. "He'd strayed just out behind the barn. Sorry to have put you to this trouble. We'll make our own apologies to Miss Y/N, here."

Hyun stared at the fuming ex-prisoner with pursed lips. "Good luck," he told them.

You didn't know where to start. You looked up at Seokjin and wondered how many years you could get for kicking a Texas Ranger's shin.

Reading that intent in your eyes, he chuckled and climbed back into his car. "Tell Nmajoon I said hello," he called to them. "We miss seeing him around the state capital now that he's given up public office."

"I'll tell him," Yoongi promised.

That barely registered as he drove away with a wave of his hand, leaving you alone with the men.

"Nice to see you again, Miss Y/N," Yoongi said, tipping his hat. "Excuse me. Cows to feed."

"Fences to mend," Jungkook added, grinning as he followed Yoongi's example.

"Right. Me, too." Tae tipped his own hat and lit out after his brothers.

Which left Seokjin to face the music, and it was all furious discord and bass.

You folded your arms over your breasts and glared at him.

"It was their idea," he said pointedly.

"Arrested for rustling. Me! He...that man...that Texas Ranger tried to infer that I had a bull hidden in my motel room, for G.o.d's sake! He handcuffed me!" you held up your wrists to show them to him.

"He probably felt safer that way," he remarked, observing your high color and furious face.

"I want to go home! Right now!"

He could see that it would be useless to try to talkto you. He only made one small effort. "Haru's sorry," he said quietly. "She wanted to tell you that she's going to the Jungs' party with Park Chnayeol. I was going to drive, that's all. I'd planned to take you with me."

"I heard all about your 'plan.'"

The pain in your eyes was hard to bear. He averted his gaze. "You'd said repeatedly that you wanted no part of me," he said curtly. "I wasn't about to let people think I was dying of love for you."

"Wouldn't that be one for the record books?" you said furiously.

His gaze met yours evenly. "I'll get Pyo to drive you home."

He turned and walked away, favoring his leg a little. You watched him with tears in your eyes. It was just too much for one weekend.

Pyo drove you home and you stayed away from the ranch. Seokjin was back to doing the books himself, because you wouldn't. Your pride was raw, and so was his. It looked like a complete stalemate.

"We've got to do something," Yoongi said on Christmas Eve, as Seokjin sat in the study all by himself in the dark. "It's killing him. He won't even talk about going to the Jungs' party."

"I'm not missing it," Jungkook said. "They've got five sets of Lionel electric trains up and running on one of the most impressive layouts in Texas."

"Your brother is more important than trains," Tae said grimly. "What are we going to do?"

Yoongi's dark eyes began to twinkle. "I think we should bring him a Christmas present."

"What sort of present?" Tae asked.

"A biscuit maker," Yoongi said.

Jungkook chuckled. "I'll get a bow."

"I'll get out the truck," Tae said, shooting out the front door.

"Shhh!" Yoongi called to them. "It wouldn't do to let him know what we're up to. We've already made one monumental mistake."

They nodded and moved more stealthily.

Seokjin was nursing a glass of whiskey. He heard the truck leave and come back about an hour later, but he wasn't really interested in what his brothers were doing. They'd probably gone to the Christmas party over at Jung's ranch.

He was still sitting in the dark when he heard curious muffled sounds and a door closing.

He got up and went out into the hall. His brothers looked flushed and flustered and a little mussed. They looked at him, wide-eyed. Jungkook was breathing hard, leaning against the living-room door.

"What are you three up to now?" he demanded.

"We put your Christmas present in there," Jungkook said, indicating the living room. "We're going to let you open it early."

"It's something nice," Yoongi told him.

"And very useful," Jungkook agreed.

Tae heard muffled noises getting louder. "Better let him get in there. I don't want to have to run it down again."

"Run it down?" Seokjin cocked his head. "What the hell have you got in there? Not another rattler...!"

"Oh, it's not that dangerous," Yoongi assured him. He frowned. "Well, not quite that dangerous." He moved forward, extricated Jungkook from the door and opened it, pushing Seokjin inside. "Merry Christmas," he added, and locked the door.

Seokjin noticed two things at once-that the door was locked, and that a gunnysack tied with a ribbon was sitting in a chair struggling like crazy.

Outside the door, there were muffled voices.

"Oh, God," he said apprehensively.

He untied the red ribbon that had the top securely tied, and out popped a raging mad Park Y/N

"I'll kill them!" you yelled.

Big booted feet ran for safety out in the hall.

Seokjin started laughing and couldn't stop. Honest to God, his well-meaning brothers were going to be the death of him.

"I hate them, I hate this ranch, I hate Jacobsville, I hate you...mmmfff!"

He stopped the furious tirade with his mouth. Amazing how quickly you calmed down when his arms went around you and he eased you gently out of the chair and down onto the long leather couch.

You couldn't get enough breath to continue. His mouth was open and hungry on your lips and his body was as hard as yours were soft as it moved restlessly against you.

You felt his hands on your hips and, an instant later, he was lying between your thighs, moving in a tender, achingly soft rhythm that made you moan.

"I love you," he whispered before you could get a word out.

And then you didn't want to get a word out.

His hands were inside your blouse and he was fighting his way under your skirt when they dimly heard a key turn in the lock.

The door opened and three pair of shocked, delighted eyes peered in.

"You monsters!" you said with the last breath you had. You were in such a state of disarray that you couldn't manage anything else. Their position was so blatant that there was little use in pretending that they were just talking.

"That's no way to talk to your brothers-in-law," Jungkook stated. "The wedding's next Saturday, by the way." He smiled apologetically. "We couldn't get the San Antonio symphony orchestra to come, because they have engagements, but we did get the governor to give you away. He'll be along just before the ceremony." He waved a hand at them and grinned. "Carry on, don't mind us."

Seokjin fumbled for a cushion and flung it with all his might at the door. It closed. Outside, deep chuckles could be heard.

You looked up into Seokjinn's steely gray eyes with wonder. "Did he say the governor's going to give me away? Our governor? The governor of Texas?"

"The very one."

"But, how?"

"The governor's a friend of ours. Namjoon worked with him until the wreck, when he retired from public office. Don't you ever read a newspaper?"

"I guess not."

"Never mind. Just forget about all the details." He bent to your mouth. "Now, where were we...?"The wedding was the social event of the year. The governor did give you away; along with all four brothers, including the tall, darkly distinguished Namjoon, who wore an artificial arm just for the occasion. You were exquisite in a Paris gown designed especially for you by a well-known couturier. Newspapers sent representatives. The whole world seemed to form outside the little Presbyterian church in Victoria.

"I can't believe this," you whispered to Seokjin as they were leaving on their Jamaica honeymoon. "Seokjin, that's the vice president over there, standing beside the governor and Namjoon!"

"Well, they sort of want Namjoon for a cabinet position. He doesn't want to leave Texas. They're coaxing him,"

You just shook your head. The Kims family was just too much altogether!

That night, lying in your new husband's arms with the sound of the ocean right outside the window, you gazed up at him with wonder as he made the softest, sweetest love to you in the dimly lit room.

His body rose and fell like the tide, and he smiled at you, watching your excited eyes with sparks in his own as your body hesitated only briefly and then accepted him completely on a gasp of shocked pleasure.

"And you were afraid that it was going to hurt," he chided as he moved tenderly against you.

"Yes." You were gasping for air, clinging, lifting to him in shivering arcs of involuntary rigor. "It's...killing me...!"

"Already?" he chided, bending to brush his lipsover your swollen mouth. "Darlin', we've barely started!"

"Barely...? Oh!"

He was laughing. You could hear him as you washed up and down on waves of ecstasy that brought unbelievable noises out of you. You died half a dozen times, almost lost consciousness, and still he laughed, deep in his throat, as he went from one side of the bed to the other with you in a tangle of glorious abandon that never seemed to end. Eventually they ended up on the carpet with the sheet trailing behind them as you cried out, sobbing, one last time and heard him groan as he finally shuddered to completion.

They were both covered with sweat. Your hair was wet. You were trembling and couldn't stop. Beside you, he lay on his back with one leg bent at the knee. Incredibly he was still as aroused as he'd been when they started. You sat up gingerly and stared at him, awed.

He chuckled up at you. "Come down here," he dared you.

"I can't!" You were gasping. "And you can't...you couldn't...!"

"If you weren't the walking wounded, I sure as hell could," he said. "I've saved it all up for eight years, and I'm still starving for you."

You just looked at him, fascinated. "I read a book."

"I'm not in it," he assured you. He tugged you down on top of him and brushed your breasts with his lips. "I guess you're sore."

You blushed. "You guess?"

He chuckled. "All right. Come here, my new bestfriend, and we'll go to sleep, since we can't do anything else,"

"We're on the floor," you noted.

"At least we won't fall off next time."

You laughed because he was outrageous. You'd never thought that intimacy would be fun as well as pleasurable. You traced his nose and bent to kiss his lips. "Where are we going to live?"

"At the ranch."

"Only if your brothers live in the barn," you said. "I'm not having them outside the door every night listening to us."

"They won't have to stand outside the door. Judging from what I just heard, they could hear you with the windows closed if they stood on the town squa... Ouch!"

"Let that be a lesson to you," you told him dryly, watching him rub the nip you'd given his thigh. "Naked men are vulnerable."

"And you aren't?"

"Now, Seojkin...!"

You screeched and he laughed and they fell down again in a tangle, close together, and the laughter gave way to soft conversation. Eventually they even slept. When they got back to the ranch, the three brothers were gone and there was a hastily scrawled note on the door.

"We're sleeping in the bunkhouse until we can build you a house of your own. Congratulations. Champagne is in the fridge." It was signed with love, all three brothers-and the name of the fourth was penciled in.

"On second thought," you said, with your arm around your husband, "maybe those boys aren't so bad after all!"

He tried to stop you from opening the door, but it was too late. The bucket of water left your wavy hair straight and your navy blue coat dripping. You looked at Seokjin with eyes the size of plates, your arms outstretched, your mouth open.

Seokjin looked around you. On the floor of the hall were two towels and two new bathrobes, and an assortment of unmentionable items.

He knew that if he laughed, he'd be sleeping in the barn for the next month. But he couldn't help it. And after a glance at the floor-neither could you.

#seokjin #seokjin fanfic #seokjincowboy #seokjin au #seokjin smut #bts jin #bts series #bts smut #btscowboy #btsrichau #seokjin x reader #bts x y/n

2 notes · View notes

skattwang · 2 years

Text

My Christmas Present | KSJ

Summary: leaving your city after believing that you could not be with seokjin, after a misunderstanding, the years and the distance took care of bringing them together again

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x Reader

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff, Romance

Word Count:14.2k

Warnings: Lovers to Strangers to lovers, Sad scenes, mention of accident, mention of attempted sexual abuse, virgin!reader

A/N: Hello, we are back. Today I bring you a new adaptation, it is a series that I love. 5 stories, which I hope you enjoy. Every month there will be a story, if you want to be in a taglist of the series, just tell me

Masterlist | Pt. 1 | Pt. 2

It was the holiday season in Jacobsville, Texas. Gaily colored strands of lights crisscrossed the main street, and green garlands and wreaths graced each telephone pole along the way. In the center of town, all the small maple trees that grew out of square beds at intervals along the sidewalk were decorated with lights as well.

People were bundled in coats, because even in south Texas it was cold in late November. They rushed along with shopping bags full of festively wrapped presents to go under the tree. And over on East Main Street, the Optimist Club had its yearly Christmas tree lot open already. A family of four was browsing its sawdust-covered grounds, early enough to have the pick of the beautifully shaped fir trees, just after Thanksgiving, you gazed at your surroundings the way a child would look through a store window at toys you couldn't afford.

Your hand went to the thin scar down an otherwise perfect cheek and you shivered. How long ago it seemed that you stood right here on this street corner in front of the Jacobsville Drugstore, and backed away from Kim Seokjin. It had been an instinctive move; at eighteen, he'd frightened you. He was so very masculine, a mature man with a cold temper and an iron will. He'd set his sights on you, who found him fearful instead of attractive, despite the fact that any single woman hereabouts would have gone to him on her knees.

You recalled your jet black hair and pale, metallic eyes. You'd wondered at first if it wasn't your fairness that attracted him, because he was so dark. Your hair so blond it was almost platinum, and it was cut short, falling into natural thick waves. Your complexion was delicate and fair, and you had big gray eyes, just a shade darker than Seokjin's. He was very handsome-unlike his brothers. At least, that was what people said. You hadn't gotten to meet the others when you left Jacobsville. And only Seokjin and three of his brothers lived in Jacobsville. The fifth Kim male wasn't talked about, ever. His name wasn't even known locally.

Seokjin and three of his four brothers had come down to Jacobsville from San Antonio eight years ago to take over the rich cattle operation their grandfather had left to them in his will.

It had been something of a local joke that the Kims had no hearts, because they seemed immune to women. They kept to themselves and there was no gossip about them with women. But that changed when you attended a local square dance and foundherself whirling around the floor in Kim Seokjin's arms.

Never one to pull his punches, he made his intentions obvious right at the start. He found you attractive. He was drawn to you. He wanted you. Just like that.

There was never any mention of marriage, engagement or even some furtive live-in arrangement. Seokjin said often that he wasn't the marrying kind. He didn't want ties. He made that very clear, because there was never any discussions of taking you to meet his brothers. He kept you away from their ranch.

But despite his aversion to relationships, he couldn't seem to see enough of you. He wanted you and with every new kiss you grew weaker and hungrier for him.

Then one spring day, he kissed you into oblivion, picked you up in his arms and carried you right into your own bedroom the minute your father left for his weekly poker game.

Despite the drugging effect of masterful kisses and the poignant trembling his expert hands aroused, you had come to your senses just barely in time and pushed him away. Dazed, he'd looked down at you with stunned, puzzled eyes, only belatedly realizing that you were trying to get away, not closer.

You remembered, red-faced even now, how he'd pulled away and stood up, breathing raggedly, eyes blazing with frustrated desire. He'd treated you to a scalding lecture about girls who teased. You'd treated him to one about confirmed bachelors who wouldn't take no for an answer, especially since you'd told him you weren't the sleep-around sort. He didn't buy that, he'd told you coldly. You were just holding out for marriage, and there was no hope in that direction. He wanted to sleep with you, and you sure seemed to want him, too. But he didn't want you for keeps.

You had been in love with him, and his emotional rejection had broken something fragile inside you. But you hadn't been about to let him see you pain.

He'd gone on, in the same vein. One insult had led to another, and once he'd gotten really worked up, he'd stormed out the door. His parting shot had been that you must be nuts if you thought he was going to buy you being a virgin. There was no such thing anymore, even at the young age of eighteen.

His rejection had closed doors between them. You couldn't bear the thought of staying in Jacobsville and having everybody know that Kim Seokjin had thrown you aside because you wouldn't sleep with him. And everybody would know, somehow. They always knew the secret things in small towns.

That very night you had made up your mind to take up your cousin Jennie's offer to come to New York and get into modeling. Certainly you had the looks and figure for it. You might be young, but you had poise and grace and an exquisite face framed by short, wavy blond hair. Out of that face, huge gray eyes shone like beacons, mirroring happiness or sorrow.

After that sordid evening, you cut your losses and bought a bus ticket.

You'd been standing right here, on this very corner, waiting for the bus to pick you up in front of this drugstore, when Seokjin had found you.

Your abrupt withdrawal from him had halted him in his tracks. Whatever he'd been going to say, your shamed refusal to look at him, combined with your backward steps, stopped him. You were still smarting from his angry words, as well as from your own uninhibited behavior. You were ashamed that you'd given him such license with your body now that you knew there had only been desire on his part.

He hadn't said a single word before the bus stopped for you. He hadn't said a word as you hurriedly gave your ticket to the driver, got on the bus and waited for it to leave without looking his way again. He'd stood there in the trickling rain, without even a raincoat, with his hands deep in his jean pockets, and watched the bus pull away from the curb. That was how you had remembered him all the long years, a lonely fading figure in the distance.

You'd loved him desperately. But your own self-respect wouldn't let you settle for a furtive affair in the goldfish-bowl atmosphere of Jacobsville. You'd wanted a home, a husband, children, everything.

Seokjin had only wanted to sleep with you.

You'd gone, breathless and sick at heart, all the way to New York City, swearing your father to absolute secrecy about your movements.

There had been a letter, a few weeks after your arrival, from your father. In it, he told you that he'd seen Seokjin only once since your departure, and that he was now hot in pursuit of a rich divorcee with sophistication dripping from her fingers. If you had any parting regrets about your decision to leave town, that was the end of them. Seokjin had made his feelings plain, if he was seeing some woman already.

You wondered if your father hadn't said something unpleasant to Kim Seokjin about his daughter's sudden departure from home. It would have been like him. He was fiercely protective of his only child, especially since the death of your mother from heart disease some years past. And his opinion about philandering men was obvious to everyone.

He believed in the old-fashioned sort of courtship, the kind that ended in marriage. Only a handful of conventional people were left, he told you over and over. Such people were the cornerstones of social order. If they all fell, chaos reigned. A man who loved a woman would want to give you, and his children, his name. And Seokjin, he added, had made it clear to the whole town that he wanted no part of marriage or a family. You would have been asking for heartbreak if you'd given in to Seokjin's selfish demands.

Your father was dead now. You had come home for the funeral as well as to dispose of the house and property and decide your own future. You'd started out with such hopes of becoming a successful model. Your eyes closed and you shivered unconsciously at the memories.

"Y/N?"

You turned at the hesitant sound of your name. The face took a little longer to recognize. "Hyeri?" you said. "Lee Hyeri!"

"Jung Hyeri" the other woman corrected with a grin. "I married Jay."

"Jay!" you were momentarily floored. The younger Jung brother had been a rounder and a half, and he was married? And to Hyeri, of all people, the shy and sweet girl for whom Jay and Jae had shared guardianship following the death of their parents.

"Surprising, isn't it?" Hyeri asked, hugging you. "And there's more. We have three sons."

"I haven't been away that long, have I?" you asked hesitantly.

"Eight years," came the reply. Hyeri was a little older, but she still had the same pretty gray-blue eyes and dark hair, even if it had silver threads now. "Jae married Choi Juni just after I married Jay. They have three sons, too," she added on a sigh. "Not a girl in the bunch." you shook your head. "For heaven's sake!" "We heard that you were in modeling..." Her voice trailed away as she saw the obvious long scar on the once-perfect cheek. "What happened?"

Your's eyes were all but dead. "Not much. I decided that modeling wasn't for me." you laughed at some private joke, "I went back to school and completed a course in business. Now I work for a group of attorneys. I'm a stenographer." your gaze fell. "Ja-cobsville hasn't changed a bit."

"Jacobsville never changes," Hyeri chuckled. "I find it comforting." The laughter went out of her eyes. "We all heard about your father. I'm sorry. It must have been a blow."

"He'd been in the nursing home near me for some time, but he always said he wanted to be buried here. That's why I brought him home. I appreciated so many people coming to the funeral. It was kind."

"I suppose you noticed one missing face in the crowd?" Hyeri asked carefully, because she knew how persistent Kim Seokjin had been in his pursuit of you.

"Yes." you twisted your purse in your hands. "Are they still making jokes about the Kims boys?"

"More than ever. There's never been the slightest hint of gossip about any of them and a woman. I guess they're all determined to die single. Especially Seokjin. He's turned into a recluse. He stays out at the ranch all the time now. He's never seen."

"Why?"

Hyeri seemed evasive. "He doesn't mix and nobody knows much about his life. Odd, isn't it, in a town this small, where we mostly know each other's business, that he isn't talked about? But he stays out of sight and none of the other boys ever speak about him. He's become the original local mystery."

"Well, don't look at me as if I'm the answer. He couldn't get rid of me fast enough," you said with a twinge of remaining bitterness.

"That's what you think. He became a holy terror in the weeks after you left town. nobody would go near him."

"He only wanted me," you said doggedly.

Hyeri's eyes narrowed. "And you were terrified of him," she recalled. "Jay used to joke about it. You were such an innocent and Seokjin was a rounder. He said it was poetic justice that rakes got caught by innocents."

"I remember Jay being a rake."

"He was," Hyeri recalled. "But not now. He's reformed. He's the greatest family man I could have imagined, a doting father and a wonderful husband." She sobered. "I'm sorry things didn't work out foryou and Seokjin. If you hadn't taken off like that, I think he might have decided that he couldn't live without you."

"God forbid," you laughed, your eyes quick and nervous. "He wasn't a marrying man. He said so, frequently. And I was raised...well, you know how Dad was. Ministers have a decidedly conventional outlook on life."

"I know."

"I haven't had such a bad time of it," you lied, grateful that your old friend couldn't read minds. You smiled. "I like New York."

"Do you have anyone there?"

"You mean a boyfriend, or what do they call it, a significant other?" you murmured, "No. I...don't have much to do with men."

There was a strangely haunted look about you that Hyeri quickly dispelled with an offer of coffee and a sandwich in the local cafe.

"Yes, thanks, I'm not hungry but I'd love some hot chocolate."

"Great!" Hyeri said. "I've got an hour to kill before I have to pick my two oldest boys up at school and the youngest from kindergarten. I'll enjoy your company."

The cafe was all but empty. It was a slow day, and except for a disgruntled looking cowboy sitting alone at a corner table, it was deserted.

Seonwha, the owner, took their orders with a grin. "Nice to have pleasant company," she said, glaring toward the cowboy in the corner. "He brought a little black cloud in with him, and it's growing." She leaned closer. "He's one of the Kims employees," she whispered. "Or, he was until this morning. It seems that Seokjin fired him."

The sound of the man's name was enough to make your's heart race, even after so many years. But you steeled yourrself not to let it show. You had nothing left to offer Seokjin, even if he was still interested in you. And that was a laugh. If he'd cared even a little, he'd have come to New York looking for you all those years ago.

"Fired him?" Hyeri glanced at the man and scowled. "But that's Jaesuk" she protested. "He's the Kims' foreman. He's been with them since they came here."

"He made a remark Seokljin didn't like. He got knocked on his pants for his trouble and summarily fired." Seonwha shrugged. "The Kims are all high-tempered, but until now I always thought Seokjin was fair. What sort of boss fires a man with Christmas only three weeks away?"

"Jaebum?" Hyeri ventured dryly.

"Jaesuk said he cut another cowboy's wages to the bone for leaving a gate open." She shook her head. "Funny, we've heard almost nothing about Seokjin for years, and all of a sudden he comes back into the light like a smoldering madman."

"So I noticed," Hyeri said.

Seonwha wiped her hands on a dishcloth. "I don't know what happened to set him off after so many years. The other brothers have been more visible lately, but not Seokjin. I'd wondered if he'd moved away for a while. nobody even spoke of him." She glanced at you with curious eyes. "You're Park Y/N, aren't you?" she asked then, smiling. "I thought I recognized you. Sorry about your pa."

"Thanks," you said automatically. You noticed how Seonwha's eyes went to the thin scar on your cheek and flitted quickly away.

"I'll get your order."

Seonwha went back behind the counter and Hyeri's puzzled gaze went to the corner.

"Having a bad day, Jaesuk?" she called.

He sipped black coffee. "It couldn't get much worse, Mrs. Jung," he replied in a deep, pleasant tone. "I don't suppose Jay and Jae are hiring out at the feedlot?"

"They'd hire you in a minute, and you know it," Hyeri told him. She smiled. "Why don't you go out there and..."

"Oh, the devil!" Jaesuk muttered, his black eyes flashing. He got to his feet and stood there, vibrating, as a tall, lean figure came through the open door.

You actually caught your breath. The tall man was familiar to you, even after all those years. Dressed in tight jeans, with hand-tooled boots and a chambray shirt and a neat, spotless white Stetson atop his black hair, he looked formidable, even with the cane he was using for support.

He didn't look at the table where you were sitting, which was on the other side of the cafe from Jaesuk.

"You fired me," Jaesuk snapped at him. "What do you want, another punch at me? This time, you'll get it back in spades, gimpy leg or not!"

Kim Seokjin just stared at the man, his pale eyes like chrome sparkling in sunlight.

"Those purebred Angus we got from Montana are coming in by truck this morning," he said. "You're the only one who knows how to use the master program for the computerized herd records."

"And you need me," Jaesuk agreed with a cold smile. "For how long?"

"Two weeks," came the curt reply. "You'll work that long for your severance pay. If you're still of a mind to quit."

"Quit, hell!" Jaesuk shot back, astonished. "You fired me!"

"I did not!" the older man replied curtly. "I said you could mind your own damned business or get out."

Jaesuk's head turned and he stared at the other man for a minute. "If I come back, you'd better keep your fists to yourself from now on," he said shortly.

The other man didn't blink. "You know why you got hit."

Jaesuk glanced warily toward you and a ruddy color ran along his high cheekbones. "I never meant it the way, you took it," he retorted.

"You'll think twice before you presume to make such remarks to me again, then, won't you?"

Jaesuk made a movement that his employer took for assent.

"And your Christmas bonus is now history!" he added.

Jaesuk let out an angry breath, almost spoke, but crushed his lips together finally in furious submission.

"Go home!" the older man said abruptly.

Jaesuk pulled his hat over his eyes, tossed a dollar bill on the table with his coffee cup and strode out with barely a tip of the hat to the women present, muttering under his breath as he went.

The door closed with a snap. Kim Seokjin didn't move. He stood very still for a moment, as if steeling himself. Then he turned, and his pale eyes stared right into your's. But the anger in them eclipsed into a look of such shock that you blinked.

"What happened to you?" he asked shortly.

You knew what he meant without asking. You put a hand self-consciously to your cheek. "An accident," you said stiffly.

His chin lifted. The tension in the cafe was so thick that Hyeri shifted uncomfortably at the table.

"You don't model now," he continued.

The certainty in the statement made you miserable. "No. Of course I don't."

He leaned heavily on the cane. "Sorry about your father," he said curtly.

You nodded.

His face seemed pinched as he stared at you. Even across the room, the heat in the look was tangible to you. Your hands holding the mug of hot chocolate went white at the knuckles from the pressure of them around it.

He glanced at Hyeri. "How are things at the feed-lot?"

"Much as usual," she replied pleasantly. "Jay and Jae are still turning away business. Nice, in the flat cattle market this fall."

"I agree. We've culled as many head as possible and we're venturing into new areas of crossbreeding. Nothing but purebreds now. We're hoping to pioneer a new breed."

"Good for you," Hyeri replied.

His eyes went back to you. They lingered on your wan face, your lack of spirit. "How long are you going to stay?" he asked.

The question was voiced in such a way it seemed like a challenge. Your shoulders rose and fell. "Until I tie up all the loose ends, I suppose. They've given me two weeks off at the law firm where I work."

"As an attorney?"

You shook your head. "A stenographer."

He scowled. "With your head for figures?" he asked shortly.

Your gaze was puzzled. You hadn't realized that he was aware of your aptitude for math.

"It's a waste," he persisted. "You'd have been a natural at bookkeeping and marketing."

You'd often thought so, too, but you hadn't pursued your interest in that field. Especially after your first attempt at modeling.

He gave you a calculating stare. "Rose has opened a boutique in town. She designs women's clothes and has them made up at a local textile plant. She sells all over the state."

"Yes," Hyeri added. "In fact, she's now doing a lot of designing for Kyungsoo's wife, Jani know, her signature rodeo line of sportswear."

"I've heard of it, even in New York," you admitted.

"The thing Rose doesn't have is someone to help her with marketing and bookkeeping." He shook his head. "It amazes me that she hasn't gone belly-up already."

Hyeri started to speak, but the look on Seokjin's face silenced her. She only smiled at you.

"This is your home," Seokjin persisted quietly. "You were born and raised in Jacobsville. Surely having a good job here would be preferable to being a stenographer in New York. Unless," he added slowly, "there's some reason you want to stay there."

His eyes were flashing. You looked into the film on your cooling hot chocolate. "I don't have anyone in New York." you shifted your legs. "I don't have anyone here, either, now."

"But you do," Hyeri protested. "All your friends."

"Of course, she may miss the bright lights and excitement," Seokjin drawled.

You looked at him curiously. He was trying to goad you. Why?

"Is Jacobsville too small for you now, city girl?" he persisted with a mocking smile.

"No, it isn't that at all," you said. You cleared your throat.

"Come home," Hyeri coaxed.

You didn't answer

"Still afraid of me?" Seokjin asked with a harsh laugh when your head jerked up. "That's why you left. Is it why you won't come back?"

You colored furiously, the first trace of color that had shown in your face since the strange conversation began.

"I'm not...afraid of you!" you faltered.

But you were, and he knew it. His silver eyes narrowed and that familiar, mocking smile turned up his thin upper lip. "Prove it."

"Maybe Miss Rose doesn't want a bookkeeper."

"She does," he returned.

You hesitated. "She might not like me."

"She will."

You let out an exasperated sigh. "I can't make a decision that important in a few seconds," you told him. "I have to think about it."

"Take your time," he replied. "Nobody's rushing you."

"It would be lovely if you came back, though," Hyeri said with a smile. "No matter how many friends we have, we can always use one more."

"Exactly," Seokjin told you. His eyes narrowed.

"Of course, you needn't consider me in your decision. I'm not trying to get you to come back for my sake. But I'm sure there are plenty of other bachelors left around here who'd be delighted to give you a whirl, if you needed an incentive." His lean face was so hard and closed that not one flicker of emotion got away from it.

You were eyeing him curiously, but you didn't say a word, not even when your gaze fell to his hand on the silver knob of the cane and saw it go white from the pressure.

He eased up on the handle, just the same. "Well?"

"I'd like to," you said quietly. You didn't look at him. Odd, how his statement had hurt, after all those years. You looked back on the past with desperation these days, wondering how your life would have been if you hadn't resisted him that night he'd tried to carry you to bed.

You hadn't wanted an affair, but he was an honorable man, in his fashion. Perhaps he would have followed up with a proposal, despite his obvious distaste for the married state. Or perhaps he wouldn't have. There might have been a child... You grimaced and lifted the cup of chocolate to your lips. It was tepid and vaguely distasteful.

"Go see Rose, why don't you?" he added. "You've nothing to lose, and a lot to gain. She's a sweet woman. You'll like her."

Did he? you didn't dare wonder about that, or voice your curiosity. "I might do that," you replied.

The tap of the cane seemed unusually loud as he turned back to the door. "Give the brothers my best," Seokjin told Hyeri. He nodded and was gone.

Only then did you look up, your eyes on his tall, muscular body as he walked carefully back to the big double-cabbed black ranch pickup truck he drove.

"What happened to him?" you asked.

Hyeri sipped her own hot chocolate before she answered. "It happened the week after you left town. He went on a hunting trip in Montana with some other men. During a heavy, late spring snow, Seokjin and another man went off on their own in a four-wheel-drive utility vehicle to scout another section of the hunting range."

"And?" you prompted.

"The truck went over a steep incline and overturned. The other man was killed outright. Seokjin was pinned and couldn't get free. He lay there most of the night and into the next day before the party came looking for them and found him. By that time, he was unconscious. The impact broke his leg in two places, and he had frostbite as well. He almost died."

You caught your breath. "How horrible!"

"They wanted to amputate the leg, but..." you shrugged. "He refused them permission to operate, so they did the best they could. The leg is usable, just, but it will always be stiff. They said later that it was a miracle he didn't lose any toes. He had just enough sense left to wrap himself in one of those thin thermal sheets the men had carried on the trip. It saved him from a dangerous frostbite."

"Poor man."

"Oh, don't make that mistake," Hyedri mused. "Nobody is allowed to pity Kim Seokjin. Just ask his brothers."

"All the same, he never seemed the sort of man to lose control of anything, not even a truck."

"He wasn't himself but he didn't lose control, either."

"I beg your pardon?"

Hyeri grimaced. "He and the other man, the one who was driving, had been drinking. He blamed himself not only for the wreck, but for the other man's death. He knew the man wasn't fit to drive but he didn't try to stop him. They say he's been punishing himself ever since. That's why he never comes into town, or has any social life. He's withdrawn into himself and nobody can drag him back out. He's become a hermit."

"But, why?"

"Why was he drinking, you mean?" Hyeri said, and you nodded. Still, Hyeri hesitated to put it into words.

"Tell me," came the persistent nudge from you.

Hyeri's eyes were apologetic. "Nobody knows, really. But the gossip was that he was trying to get over losing you."

"But he wanted to lose me," you exclaimed, shocked. "He couldn't get out of my house fast enough when I refused...refused him," you blurted. You clasped your hands together. "He accused me of being frigid and a tease..."

"Seokjin was a rounder, Y/N," Hyeri said gently. "In this modern age, even in Jacobsville, a lot of girls are pretty sophisticated at eighteen. He wouldn't have known about your father being a minister, because he'd retired from the church before the Kims came to take over their grandfather's ranch. He was probably surprised to find you less accommodating than other girls."

"Surprised wasn't the word," you said miserably. "He was furious."

"He did go to the bus depot when you left."

"How did you know that?"

"Everybody talked about it," Hyeri admitted. "It was generally thought that he went there to stop you."

"He didn't say a word," came the quiet reply. "Not one word."

"Maybe he didn't know what to say. He was probably embarrassed and upset about the way he'd treated you. A man like that might not know what to do with an innocent girl."

You laughed bitterly. "Sure he did. You see her off and hope she won't come back. He told me that he had no intention of marrying."

"He could have changed his mind"

You shook your head. "Not a chance. He never talked about us being a couple. He kept reminding me that I was young and that he liked variety. He said that we shouldn't think of each other in any serious way, but just enjoy each other while it lasted."

"That sounds like a Kim, all right," Hyeri had to admit. "They're all like Seokjin. Apparently they have a collective bad attitude toward women and think of them as minor amusements."

"He picked on the wrong girl," you said. You finished your hot chocolate. "I'd never even had a real boyfriend when he came along. He was so forceful and demanding and inflexible, so devoid of tenderness when he was with me." you huddled closer into your sweater. "He came at me like a rocket. I couldn't run, I couldn't hide, he just kept coming.'' your eyes closed on a long sigh. "Oh, Hyeri, he scared me to death. I'd been raised in such a way that I couldn't have an affair, and I knew that was all he wanted. I ran, and kept running. Now I can't stop."

"You could, if you wanted to."

"The only way I'd come back is with a written guarantee that he wanted nothing more to do with me," you said with a cold laugh. "Otherwise, I'd never feel safe here."

"He just told you himself that he had no designs on you," Hyeri reminded you, "He has other interests."

"Does he? Other...women interests?"

Hyeri clasped her fingers together on the table. "He goes out with a rich divorcee when he's in need of company," she said. "That's been going on for a long time now. He probably was telling the truth when he said that he wouldn't bother you. After all, it's been eight years." She studied the other woman. "You want to come home, don't you?"

Caught off guard, you nodded. "I'm so alone," you confessed. "I have bolts and chains on my door and I live like a prisoner when I'm not at work. I rarely ever go outside. I miss trees and green grass."

"There's always Central Park."

"You can't plant flowers there," you said, "or have a dog or cat in a tiny apartment like mine. I want to sit out in the rain and watch the stars at night. I've dreamed of coming home."

"Why haven't you?"

"Because of the way I left," you confessed. "I didn't want any more trouble than I'd already had. It was bad enough that Dad had to come and see me, that I couldn't come home."

"Because of Seokjin?"

"What?" For an instant, your's eyes were frightened. Then they seemed to calm. "No, it was foranother reason altogether, those first few years. I couldn't risk coming here, where it's so easy to find people..." you closed up when you realized what you were saying. "It was a problem I had, in New York. That's all I can tell you. And it's over now. There's no more danger from that direction. I'm safe."

"I don't understand."

"You don't need to know," you said gently. "It wouldn't help matters to talk about it now. But I would like to come back home. I seem to have spent most of my life on the run."

What an odd turn of phrase, Hyeri thought, but she didn't question it. She just smiled. "Well, if you decide to come back, I'll introduce you to Rose. Just let me know."

You brightened. "All right. Let me think about it for a day or two, and I'll be in touch with you."

"Good. I'll hold you to that."

For the next two days, you thought about nothing else except coming back to your hometown. While you thought, you wandered around the small yard, looking at the empty bird feeders and the squirrel feeder nearby. You saw the discarded watering pot, the weed-bound flower beds. Your father's long absence had made its mark on the little property. It needed a loving hand to restore it.

You stood very still as an idea formed in your mind. You didn't have to sell the property. You could keep it. You could live here. With your math skills, and the bookkeeping training you'd had in business school, you could open a small bookkeeping service of your own. Rose could be a client. You could have others. You could support yourself. You could leave New York.

The idea took wing. You were so excited about it that you called hyeri the next morning when you were sure that the boys would be in school.

You outlined the idea to your friend. "Well, what do you think?" you asked enthusiastically

"I think it's a great idea!" Hyeri exclaimed. "And the perfect solution. When are you going to start?"

"Next week," you said with absolute certainty. "I'll use the Christmas vacation I would have had as my notice. It will only take a couple of days to pack up the few things I have. I'll have to pay the rent, because I signed a lease, but if things work out as I hope they will, that won't be a problem. Oh, Hyeri, it's like a dream!"

"Now you sound more like the Y/N I used to know," Hyeri told you. "I'm so glad you're coming home."

"So am I," you replied, and even as you said it, you tried not to think of the complications that could arise. Seokjin was still around. But he'd made you a promise of sorts, and perhaps he'd keep it. Anyway, you'd worry about that situation later.

A week later, you were settled into your father's house, with all your bittersweet memories of him to keep you company. You'd shipped your few big things, like your piano, home by a moving service. Boxes still cluttered the den, but you were beginning to get your house into some sort of order.

It needed a new roof, and some paint, as well as some plumbing work on the leaky bathtub faucet. but those were minor inconveniences. You had a good little nest egg in your savings account and it would tide you over, if you were careful, until you could be self-supporting in your business again.

You had some cards and stationery printed and put an ad in the Jacobsville weekly newspaper. Then you settled in and began to work in the yard, despite the cold weather. You were finding that grief had to be worked through. It didn't end at the funeral. And the house was a constant reminder of the old days when you and your father had been happy.

So it was a shock to find Kim Seokjin on your doorstep the first Saturday you were in residence.

You just stared at him at first, as if you'd been stunned. In fact, you were. He was the last person you'd have expected to find on your doorstep.

He had a bouquet of flowers in the hand that wasn't holding the cane and his hat. He preferred them brusquely.

"Housewarming present," he said.

You took the pretty bouquet and belatedly stood aside. "Would you like to come in? I could make coffee."

He accepted the invitation, placing his hat on the rack by the door. He kept the cane and you noticed that he leaned on it heavily as he made his way to the nearest easy chair and sat down in it "They say damp weather is hard on injured joints," you remarked.

His pale eyes speared into your face, with an equal mixture of curiosity and irritation. "They're right," he drawled. "Walking hurts. Does it help to have me admit it?"

"I wasn't trying to score points," you replied quietly. "I didn't get to say so in the cafe, but I'm sorry you got hurt."

His own eyes were pointed on the scar that ran the length of your cheek. "I'm sorry you did," he said gruffly. "You mentioned coffee?"

There it was again, that bluntness that had frightened you so much at eighteen. Despite the eight years in between, he still intimidated you.

You moved into the small kitchen, visible from the living room, and filled the pot with water and a pre-measured coffee packet. After you'd started it dripping, and had laid a tray with cups, saucers and the condiments, you rejoined him.

"Are you settling in?" he asked a minute after you'd dropped down onto the sofa.

"Yes," you said. "It's strange, after being away for so many years. And I miss Dad. But I always loved this house. Eventually it will be comforting to live here. Once I get over the worst of the grieving."

He nodded. "We lost both our parents at once, in a flood," he said tersely. "I remember how we felt."

He looked around at the high ceilings and marked walls, and the open fireplace. He nodded toward it. "That isn't efficient. You need a stove in here."

"I need a lot of things in here, but I have to eat, too," you said with a faint smile. You pushed back your short, wavy platinum hair and curled up on the sofa in your jeans and gray sweatshirt and socks. Your shoes were under the sofa. Even in cold weather, you hated wearing shoes around the house.

He seemed to notice that and found it amusing, judging by the twinkle in his pale eyes.

"I hate shoes," you said.

"I remember."

That was surprising. You hardly remembered the girl you'd been eight years ago. It seemed like a lifetime.

"You had a dog, that damned little spaniel, and you were out in the front yard washing him one day when I drove by," he recalled. "He didn't like a bath, and you were soaked, bare feet, cutoffs, tank top and all." His eyes darkened as he looked at you. "I told you to go in the house, do you remember?"

"Yes." The short command had always puzzled you, because he'd seemed angry, not amused as he did now.

"I never said why," he continued. His face tautened as he looked at you. "You weren't wearing anything under that tank top and it was plastered to you," he added quietly. "You can't imagine what it did to me... And there was that damned Youngjae standing on the sidewalk gawking at you."

Youngjae had asked you out later that day, and you'd refused, because you didn't like him. He was an older boy; your father never had liked him.

"I didn't realize," you said, amazed that the memory should be so tame now, when his odd behavior had actually hurt in the past. You actually flushed at the thought that he'd seen you that way so early in their relationship.

"I know that, now, eight years too late," he said abruptly.

You cocked your head, studying him curiously.

He saw your gaze and lifted his eyes. "I thought you were displaying your charms brazenly for my benefit, and maybe even for Youngjae's," he said with a mocking smile. "That's why I acted the way I did that last night we dated."

Your face thinned with distress. "Oh, no!"

"Oh, yes," he said, his voice deep with bitterness. "I thought you were playing me for a sucker, Y/N. That you were pretending to be innocent because I was rich and you wanted a wedding ring instead of an affair."

The horror you felt showed in your wan face.

"Yes, I know," he said when you started to protest. "I only saw what I wanted to see. But the joke was on me. By the time I realized what a hell of a mistake I'd made about you, you were halfway on a bus out of town, I went after you. But I couldn't manage the right words to stop you. My pride cut my throat. I was never that wrong about anyone before."

You averted your gaze. "It was a long time ago. I was just a kid."

"Yes. Just a kid. And I mistook you for a woman." He studied you through narrow lids. "You don't look much older even now. How did you get that scar?"

Your fingers went to it. The memories poured over you, hot and hurting. You got to your feet. "I'll see about the coffee."

Your heard a rough sound behind you, but apparently it wasn't something he wanted to put words to. You escaped into the kitchen, found some cookies to put in a bowl and carried the coffee back to the coffee table on a silver tray.

"Fancy stuff," he mused.

You knew that he had equally fancy stuff at his place. You'd never been there, but you'd certainlyheard about the Kims heirlooms that the four brothers displayed with such pride. Old Spanish silver, five generations old, dating all the way back to Spain graced their side table. There was crystal as well, and dozens of other heirlooms that would probably never be handed down. None of the Kims, it was rumored, had any ambitions of marrying.

"This was my grandmother's," you said. "It's all I had of her. She brought this service over from England, they said."

"Ours came from Spain." He waited for you to pour the coffee. He picked up his cup, waving away cream and sugar. He took a sip, nodded and took another. "You make good coffee. Amazing how many people can't."

"I'm sure it's bad for us. Most things are."

He agreed. He put the cup back into the saucer and studied you over its rim. "Are you planning to stay for good?"

"I guess so," you faltered. "I've had stationery and cards printed, and I've already had two offers of work."

"I'm bringing you a third-our household accounts. We've been sharing them since our mother died. Consequently each of us insists that it's not our turn to do them, so they don't get done."

"You'd bring them to me?" you asked hesitantly.

He studied you broodingly. "Why shouldn't I? Are you afraid to come out to the ranch and do them?''

"Of course not."

"Of course not," he muttered, glaring at you. He sat forward, watching your uneasy movement. "Eight years, and I still frighten you."

You curled up even more. "Don't be absurd. I'm twenty-six."

"You don't look or act it."

"Go ahead," you invited. "Be as blunt as you like."

"Thanks, I will. You're still a virgin."

Coffee went everywhere. You cursed roundly, amusing him, as you searched for napkins to mop up the spill, which was mostly on you.

"Why are you?" he persisted, baiting you. "Were you waiting for me?"

You stood up, slamming the coffee cup to the floor. It shattered with a pleasantly loud crash, and you thanked goodness that it was an old one. "You son of a...!"

He stood up, too, chuckling. "That's better," he mused, watching your eyes flash, your face burn with color.

You kicked at a pottery shard. "damn you, Kim Seokjin!"

He moved closer, watching your eyelids flutter. You tried to back up, but you couldn't go far. Your legs were against the sofa. There was no place to run.

He paused a step away from you, close enough that you could actually feel the heat of his body through your clothing and his. He looked down into your eyes without speaking for several long seconds.

"You're not the child you used to be," he said, his voice as smooth as velvet. "You can stand up for yourself, even with me. And everything's going to be all right. You're home. You're safe."

It was almost as if he knew what you'd been through. His eyes were quiet and full of secrets, buthe smiled. His hand reached out and touched your short hair.

"You still wear it like a boy's," he murmured. "But it's silky. Just the way I remember it."

He was much too close. He made you nervous. Your hands went out and pressed into his shirtfront, but instead of moving back, he moved forward. You shivered at the feel of his chest under your hands, even with the shirt covering it.

"I don't want a lover," you said, almost choking on the words.

"Neither do I," he replied heavily. "So we'll be friends. That's all."

You nibbled on your lower lip. He smelled of spice and leather. You used to dream about him when you first left home. Over the years, he'd assumed the image of a protector in your mind. Strange, when he'd once frightened you so much.

Impulsively you laid your cheek against his chest with a little sigh and closed your eyes.

He shivered for an instant, before his lean hands pressed you gently to him, in a nonthreatening way. He stared over your head with eyes that blazed, eyes that he was thankful you couldn't see.

"We've lost years," he said half under his breath. "But Christmas brings miracles. Maybe we'll have one of our own."

"A miracle?" you mused, smiling. You felt ever so safe in his arms. "What sort?"

"I don't know," he murmured, absently stroking your hair. "We'll have to wait and see. You aren't going to sleep, are you?"

"Not quite." You lifted your head and looked up at him, a little puzzled at the familiarity you felt with him. "I didn't expect that you'd ever be comfortable to be around."

"How so?"

You shrugged. "I wasn't afraid."

"Why should you be?" he replied. "We're different people now."

"I guess."

He brushed a stray hair from your eyebrow with a lean, sure hand. "I want you to know something," he said quietly. "What happened that night...I wouldn't have forced you. Things got a little out of hand, and I said some things, a lot of things, that I regret. I guess you realize now that I had a different picture of you than the one that was real. But even so, I wouldn't have harmed you."

"I think I knew that," you said. "But thank you for telling me."

His hand lay alongside your soft cheek and his metallic eyes went dark and sad. "I mourned you," he said huskily. "Nothing was the same after you'd gone."

You lowered your eyes to his throat. "I didn't have much fun in New York at first, either."

"Modeling wasn't all it was cracked up to be?"

You hesitated. Then you shook your head. "I did better as a stenographer."

"And you'll do even better as a financial expert, right here," he told you. He smiled, tilting up your chin. "Are you going to take the job I've offered you?"

"Yes," you said at once. Your gaze drew slowly over his face. "Are your brothers like you?"

"Wait and see."

"That sounds ominous."

He chuckled, moving slowly away from you to retrieve his cane from the chair. "They're no worse, at least."

"Are they as outspoken as you?"

"Definitely." He saw your apprehension. "Think of the positive side. At least you'll always know exactly where you stand with us."

"That must be a plus."

"Around here, it is. We're hard cases. We don't make friends easily."

"And you don't marry. I remember."

His face went hard. "You have plenty of reason to remember that I said that. But I'm eight years older, and a lot wiser. I don't have such concrete ideas anymore."

"You mean, you're not still a confirmed bachelor?" you laughed nervously. "They say you're taken with the gay divorcee, just the same."

"How did you hear about her?" he asked curtly.

His level, challenging gaze made you uneasy. "People talk," you said.

"Well, the gay divorcee," he emphasized, his expression becoming even more remote, "is a special case. And we're not a couple. Despite what you may have heard. We're friends."

You turned away. "That's no concern of mine. I'll do your bookkeeping on those household accounts, and thank you for the work. But I have no interest in your private life."

He didn't return the compliment. He reached for his hat and perched it on his black hair. There were threads of gray at his temples now, and new lines in his dark, lean face.

"I'm sorry about your accident," you said abruptly, watching him lean heavily on the cane.

"I'll get by," he said. "My leg is stiff, but I'm not crippled. It hurts right now because I took a toss off a horse, and I need the cane. As a rule, I walk well enough without one."

"I remember the way you used to ride," you recalled. "I thought I'd never seen anything in my life as beautiful as you astride a horse at a fast gallop."

His posture went even more rigid. "You never said so."

You smiled. "You intimidated me. I was afraid of you. And not only because you wanted me." you averted your eyes. "I wanted you, too. But I hadn't been raised to believe in a promiscuous life-style. Which," you added, looking up at his shocked face, "was all you were offering me. You said so."

"God help me, I never knew that your father was a minister and your mother a missionary," he said heavily. "Not until it was far too late to do me any good. I expected that all young women were free with their favors in this age of no-consequences intimacy."

"It wouldn't be of no consequence to me," you said firmly. "I was never one to go with the crowd. I'm still not."

"Yes, I know," he murmured dryly, giving you a long, meaningful glance. "It's obvious."

"And it's none of your business."

"I wouldn't go that far." He tilted his hat over his eyes. "I haven't changed completely, you know. I still go after the things I want, even if I don't go as fast as I used to."

"I expect you do," you said. "Does the divorcee know?"

"Know what? That I'm persistent? Sure she does."

"Good for her."

"She's a beauty," he added, propping on his stick. "Of an age to be sophisticated and good fun."

Your heart hurt. "I'm sure you enjoy her company."

"I enjoy yours as much," he replied surprisingly. "Thanks for the coffee."

"Don't you like cookies?" you asked, noting that he hadn't touched them.

"No," he said. "I don't care for sweets at all."

"Really?"

He shrugged. "We never had them at home. Our mother wasn't the homey sort."

"What was she like?" you had to ask.

"She couldn't cook, hated housework and spouted contempt for any woman who could sew and knit and crochet," he replied.

You felt cold. "And your father?"

"He was a good man, but he couldn't cope with us alone." His eyes grew dark. "When she took off and deserted him, part of him died. She'd just come back, out of money and all alone, from her latest lover. They were talking about a reconciliation when the flood took the house where she was living right out from under them." His face changed, hardened. He leaned heavily on the cane. "Namjoon and Yoongi and I were grown by then. We took care of the other two."

"No wonder you don't like women," you murmured quietly.

He gave you a long, level look and then dropped his gaze. You missed the calculation in his tone when he added, "Marriage is old-fashioned, anyway. I have a dog, a good horse and a houseful of modern appliances. I even have a housekeeper who can cook. A wife would be redundant."

"Well, I never," you exclaimed, breathless.

"I know," he replied, and there was suddenly a wicked glint in his eyes. "You can't blame that on me," he added, "God knows, I did my best to bring you into the age of enlightenment."

While you were absorbing that dry remark, he tipped his hat, turned and walked out the door.

You darted onto the porch after him. "When?" you called after him. "You didn't say when you wanted me to start."

"I'll phone you." He didn't look back. He got into his truck laboriously and drove away without even a wave of his hand.

At least you had the promise of a job, you told yourself. You shouldn't read hidden messages into what he said. But the past he'd shared with you, about his mother, left you chilled. How could a woman have five sons and leave them?

And what was the secret about the fifth brother, Namjoon, the one nobody had ever seen? You wondered if he'd done something unspeakable, or if he was in trouble with the law. There had to be a reason why the brothers never spoke of him much. Perhaps you'd find out one day.

It was the next day before you realized you hadn't thanked Seokjin for the flowers he'd brought. You sent a note out to the ranch on Monday, and got one back that read, simply, "You're welcome." So much for olive branches, if one had been needed.

You found plenty to keep you busy in the days that followed. It seemed that all your father's friends and the people you'd gone to school with wanted you to come home. Everyone seemed to know a potential client. It wasn't long before you were up to your ears in work.

The biggest surprise came Thursday morning when you heard the sound of many heavy footsteps and looked up from your desk to find three huge, intimidating men standing on your porch just beyond the glass-fronted door. They'd come in that big double-cabbed pickup that Seokjin usually drove, and you wondered if these were his brothers.

You went to open the door and felt like a midget when they came tromping inside your house, their spurs jingling pleasantly on boots that looked as if they'd been kept in a swamp.

"We're the Kims." one of them said. "Seokjin's brothers."

As you'd guessed. You studied them curiously. Two were dark-haired like Seokjin , and one had brown hair. All were dark-eyed, unlike him. None of them would have made any lists of handsome bachelors. They were rugged-looking, lean and tanned, and they made you nervous. The Kims boys made most people nervous. The only other local family that had come close to their reputations for fiery tempers were the Jung boys, who were all married and just a little tamer now. The Kims were relative newcomers in Jacobsville, having only been around eight years or so. But they kept to themselves and seemed to have ties to San Antonio that were hard to break. What little socializing they did was all done there, in the city. They didn't mix much in Jacobsville.

They introduced themselves abruptly, without even being asked first.

Taehyung was the youngest. They called him Tae. He had deep-set black eyes and a thin mouth and, gossip said, the worst temper of the four.

The second youngest was Jungkook. He was broader than the other three, although not fat, and the tallest. He had brown eyes and a mischievous streak that the others apparently lacked.

Yoongi had black eyes like a cobra. He didn't blink. He was taller than all his brothers, with the exception of Jungkook, and he did most of the bronc-breaking at the ranch. He had the bearing and arrogance of royalty, as if he belonged in another century. They said he had the old-fashioned attitudes of the past, as well.

He gave the broader of the three a push toward you. He glared over his shoulder, but took off his hat and forced a smile as he stood in front of you.

"You must be Park Y/N" Jungkok said with a grin. "You work for us."

"Y...yes, I guess I do," you stammered. You felt surrounded. You moved back behind the desk and just stared at them, feeling nervous and inadequate.

"Will you two stop glaring?" Jungkook shot at his taciturn brothers. "You're scaring her!"

They seemed to make an effort to relax, although it didn't quite work out, "Never mind," Jungkok muttered. He clutched his hat in his hand. "We'd like you to come out to the ranch," he said. "The household accounts are about to do us in. We can't keep Seokjin still long enough to get him to bring them to you."

"He came over Saturday," you said.

"Yeah, we heard," Jungkook mused. "Roses, wasn't it?"

The other two almost smiled.

"Roses," you agreed. Your gray eyes were wide and they darted from one giant to another.

"He forgot to bring you the books. The office is in a hel...heck of a mess," Jungkook continued. "We can't make heads nor tails of it. Seokjin scribbles, and we've volunteered him to do it mostly, but we can't read his writing. He escaped to a herd sale in Montana, so we're stuck." He shrugged and managed to look helpless. "We can't see if we've got enough money in the account to buy groceries." He looked hungry. He sighed loudly. "We'd sure appreciate it if you could come out, maybe in the morning, about nine? If that's not too early."

"Oh, no," you said. "I'm up and making breakfast by six."

"Making breakfast? You can cook, then?" Jungkook asked.

"Well, yes." you hesitated, but he looked really interested. "I make biscuits and bacon and eggs."

"Pig meat," the one called Taehyung muttered.

"Steak's better," Yoongi agreed.

"If she can make biscuits, the other stuff doesn't matter," Taehyung retorted.

"Will you two shut up?" Jungkook asked sharply. He turned back to you and gave you a thorough appraisal, although not in the least sexual. "You don't look like a bookkeeper."

"Nice hair," Taehyung remarked.

"Bad scar on that cheek," Yoongi remarked. "How did it happen?"

Heavens, he was blunt! You were almost startled enough to tell him. You blurted that it had been in an accident.

"Tough," he said. "But if you can cook, scars don't matter much." your mouth was open, and Jungkook stomped on his big brother's foot, hard.

"Don't insult her, she won't come!"

"I didn't!"

Taehyung moved forward, elbowing the other two out of the way. He had his own hat in his hand. He tried to smile. It looked as if he hadn't had much practice at it.

"We'd like you to come tomorrow. Will you?"

You hesitated.

"Now see what you've done!" Jungkook shot at Yoongi. "She's scared of us!"

"We wouldn't hurt you," Taehyung said gently. He gave up trying to smile; it was unnatural anyway. "We have old Mrs. Choi keeping house for us. She carries a broomstick around with her. You'll be safe."

You bit back a laugh. But your eyes began to twinkle.

"She carries the broomstick because of him," Taehyung added, indicating Jungkook. "He likes to..."

"Never mind!" Jungkook said icily.

"I was only going to say that you..."

"Shut up!"

"If you two don't stop, I'm going to lay you both out right here," Yoongi said, and looked very much as if he meant it. "Apologize."

They both murmured reluctant apologies.

"All right, that's that." He put his hat back on. "If you can come at nine, we'll send one of the boys for you."

"Thank you, I'd rather drive my own car."

"I've seen your car. That's why I'm sending one of the boys for you," Yoongi continued doggedly.

Your mouth fell open again. "It's a...a nice old car! And it runs fine!"

"Everybody knows Mino sold it to you," Yoongi said with a disgusted look. "He's a pirate. You'll be lucky if the wheels don't fall off the first time you go around a curve."

"That's right," Tae agreed.

"We'll stop by on our way out of town and talk to him," Jungkook said, "He'll bring your car back in and make sure it's perfectly safe to drive. He'll do it first thing tomorrow."

"But..."

They put their hats back on, gave you polite nods and stomped back out the way they'd come.

Yoongi paused at the front door, with the screen open. "He may talk and act tough, but he's hurt pretty bad, inside where it doesn't show. Don't hurt him again."

"Him?"

"Seokjin."

You moved forward, just a step. "It wasn't like that," you said gently. "He didn't feel anything for me."

"And you didn't, for him?"

You averted your gaze to the floor. "It was a long time ago."

"You shouldn't have left."

You looked back up, your eyes wide and wounded. "I was afraid of him!"

He let out a long breath. "You were just a kid. We tried to tell him. Even though we hadn't seen you, we knew about you from other people. We were pretty sure you weren't the sort of girl to play around. He wouldn't listen." He shrugged. "Maybe we corrupted him. You might ask him sometimes about our parents," he added coldly. "Kids don't grow up hating marriage without reason."

There was a lot of pain in his lean face. He was telling you things you'd never have dared ask Seokjin. You moved forward another step, aware of the other two talking out on the porch in hushed whispers.

"Is he still...like that?"

His eyes were cold, but as they looked into yours, they seemed to soften just a little. "He's not the same man he was. You'll have to find out the rest for yourself. We don't interfere in each other's lives, as a rule." His gaze went over your wan face. "You've been to hell and back, too."

He was as perceptive as his brother. You smiled. "I suppose it's part of becoming an adult. Losing illusions and dreams and hope, I mean." you locked your fingers together and looked up at him quietly. "Growing up is painful."

"Don't let go," he said suddenly. "No matter what he says, what he does, don't let go."

Your surprise widened your eyes. "Why?"

He pulled his hat lower over his forehead. "They don't make women like you anymore."

"Like me?" you frowned.

His dark eyes glittered. He smiled in a way that, if you hadn't been half-crazy about Seokjin, would have curled your toes, "I wish we'd met you before," he said. "You'd never have gotten on that bus." He tilted the hat. "We'll send Pyo for you in the morning."

"But..."

The door closed behind him. He motioned to the other two and they followed him down the steps to the four-door pickup truck. It had a big cab. It was streamlined and black, and it had a menacing look not-unlike Kim Seokjin's brothers!

You wondered why they'd all come together to ask you to go out to the ranch, and why they'd done it when Seokjin was gone. You supposed you'd find out. You did wonder again about the fifth brother, the mysterious one that Seokjin had mentioned. None of these men were named Namjoon.

Later, the telephone rang, and it was Mino. "I just wanted you to know that I'm going to have that car I sold you picked up in the morning and put to rights," he said at once. "I guarantee, it's going to be the best used car you've ever driven! If you would, just leave the keys in it, and I'll have it picked up first thing. And if there's anything else I can do for you, little lady, you just ask!"

He sounded much more enthusiastic than he had when he'd sold you the rusty little car. "Why, thank you," you said.

"No problem. None at all. Have a nice day, now."

He hung up and you stared blankly at the receiver. Well, nobody could say that living in Jacobsville wasn't interesting, you told yourself. Apparently the brothers had a way with other businessmen, too. You'd never have admitted that the car had worried you from the time Mino had talked her into buyingit, for what seemed like a high price for such a wreck. You had a driver's license, which you had to have renewed. But never having owned a car in New York, it was unique to have one of your own, even if it did look like ten miles of bad road.

It was a cold, blustery morning when a polite young man drove up in a black Mercedes and held the door open for you.

"I'm Pyo," he told you. "The brothers sent me to fetch you. I sure am glad you took on this job," he added. "They won't give me any money for gas until that checkbook's balanced. I've been having to syphon it out of their trucks with a hose." He shook his head ruefully as he waited for you to move your long denim skirt completely out of the door frame so that he could close the door. "I hate the taste of gasoline."

He closed the door, got in under the wheel and took off in a cloud of dust.

You smiled to yourself. The brothers were strange people.

The ranch was immaculate, from its white wood fences to the ranch house itself, a long elegant brick home with a sprawling manicured lawn and a swimming pool and tennis court. The bunkhouse was brick, too, and the barn was so big that you imagined it could hold an entire herd of horses.

"Big, huh?" Pyo grinned at you. "The brothers do things on a big scale, but they're meticulous-especially Yoongs. He runs the place, mostly."

"Yoongs?"

"Yoongi. nobody calls him that in the family."

He glanced in your direction, amused. "They said you're the reason Seokjin never married."

Your heart jumped. "No kidding?"

"Oh, yeah. He doesn't even look at women these days. But when he heard that you were coming back, he shaved and bought new clothes." He shook his head. "Shocked us all, seeing him without a beard."

"I can't imagine him with one," you said with some confusion.

"Pity about his leg, but he's elegant on a horse, just the same."

"I think he gets around very well."

"Better than he used to." He pulled up in front of the house, turned off the engine and went around to help you out.

"It's right in here."

He led you in through the front door and down a carpeted hall to a pine-paneled office. "Mrs. Choi will be along any minute to get you some coffee or tea or a soft drink. The brothers had to get to work or they'd have been here to meet you. No worry, though, Seokjin's home. He'll be here shortly and show you the books. He's trying to doctor a colt, down in the barn."

"Thank you, Pyo"

He tipped his hat. "My pleasure, ma'am." He gave you a cursory appraisal, nodded and went back out again.

He'd no sooner gone than a short, plump little woman with twinkling blue eyes and gray hair came in, rubbing her hands dry on her apron. "You'd be Miss Park. I'm Mrs. Choi" she introduced herself. "Can I get you a cup of coffee?"

"Oh, yes, please."

"Cream, sugar?"

"I like it black," you said.

The older woman grinned. "So do the boys. They don't like sweets, either. Hard to get fat around here, except on gravy and biscuits. They'd have those every meal if I'd cook them."

The questions the brothers had asked about you cooking came back to haunt her.

"None of them believe in marriage, do they?" you asked.

Mrs. Choi shook her head. "They've been bachelors too long now. They're set in their ways and none of them have much to do with women. Not that they aren't targeted by local belles," she added with a chuckle. "But nobody has much luck. Seokjin, now, he's mellowed. I hear it's because of you."

While you flushed and tried to find the right words to answer her, a deep voice did it for her.

"Yes, it is," Seokjin said from the doorway. "But she isn't supposed to know it."

"Oops," Mrs. Choi said with a wicked chuckle. "Sorry."

He shrugged. "No harm done. I'll have coffee. So will she. And if you see Jungkook..."

"I'll smash his skull for him, if I do," the elderly woman said abruptly, and her whole demeanor changed. Her blue eyes let off sparks. "That devil!"

"He did it again, I guess?"

She made an angry noise through her nose. "I've told him and told him..."

"You'd think he'd get tired of having that broomstick thrown at him, wouldn't you?" Seokjin asked pleasantly.

"One of these days he won't be quick enough," Mrs. Choi said with an evil smile.

"I'll talk to him."

"Everybody's already talked to him. It does no good."

"What does he do?" you asked curiously.

Mrs. Choi looked at Seokjin, who'd started to answer, with eyes that promised culinary retribution.

"Sorry," he said abruptly. "I can't say."

Mrs. Choi nodded curtly and smiled at you. "I'll just get that coffee. Be back in a jiffy."

You left and Seokjin's dark eyes slid over your's pretty figure.

"You look very nice," he said. His eyes lifted to your wavy hair and he smiled appreciatively. "I always loved your hair. That was a first for me. Usually I like a woman's hair long. Yours suits you just as it is."

Your slender hand went to the platinum waves self-consciously. "It's easy to keep like this." you shifted to the other foot. "Your brothers came to the house yesterday and asked me to come out here and look at the household accounts. They say they're starving."

"They look like it, too, don't they?" he asked disgustedly. "Good God, starving!"

"They were very nice," you continued. "They talked to Mino and he's repairing my car."

"His mechanic's repairing your car," he told you. "Mino's having a tooth fixed." you knew you shouldn't ask. But you had to. "Why?"

"He made a remark that Yoongs didn't like."

"Yoongs. Oh, yes, he's the eldest."

He brightened when he realized that you remembered that. "He's thirty-eight, if you call that old." Anticipating your next question, he added blithely, "Taehyung's thirty-four. I'm thirty-six. Jungkook's thirty-two."

"So Yoongs hit Mino?"

He shook his head.

"Then who broke his tooth?"

"Jungkook."

"Yoongs got mad, but Jungkook hit Mino?" you asked, fascinated.

He nodded. "He did that to save him from Yoongs."

"I don't understand."

"Yoongs was in the Special Forces," he explained. "He was a captain when they sent him to the Middle East some years back." He shrugged. "He knows too much about hand-to-hand combat to be let loose in a temper. So we try to shield people from him." He grinned. "Jungkook figured that if he hit Mino first, Yoongs wouldn't. And he didn't."

You just shook your head. "Your brothers are... unique," you said finally, having failed to find a good word to describe them.

He chuckled. "You don't know the half of it."

"Do they really hate women?"

"Sometimes," he said.

"I'll bet they're sought after," you mentioned, "especially when people get a good look at this ranch."

"The ranch is only a part of the properties we own," he replied. "Our people are fourth-generation Texans, and we inherited thousands of acres of land and five ranches. They were almost bankrupt when the old man died, though," he mused. "He didn't really have a head for figures. Broke Grandad's heart. He saw the end of his empire. But we pulled it out of the fire."

"So I see," you agreed.

"The only problem is, none of us are married. So if we don't have descendants, who's going to keep the empire going?"

You thought of the most terrible answer to that question, and then got the giggles.

He raised an eyebrow.

You put a hand over your mouth until you got yourself back under control. "Sorry. I was only thinking of that movie about the man who got pregnant...!"

He gave you a level look, unsmiling.

You cleared your throat. "Where are the accounts?"

He hesitated for a minute, and then opened the desk drawer and took out a set of ledgers, placing them on the spotless cherry wood desk.

"This is beautiful," you remarked, stroking the silky, high-polished surface.

"It was our grandfather's," he told you. "We didn't want to change things around too much. The old gentleman was fond of the office just the way it is."

You looked around, puzzled by the plain wood paneling. There were no deer heads or weapons anywhere. You said so.

"He didn't like trophies," he told you. "Neither do we. If we hunt, we use every part of the deer, but wedon't have the heads mounted. It doesn't seem quite sporting."

You turned as you pulled out the desk chair, and looked at him with open curiosity.

"None of your brothers are like I pictured them."

"In what way?"

You smiled. "You're very handsome," you said, averting your eyes when his began to glitter. "They aren't. And they all have very dark eyes. Yours are gray, like mine."

"They favor our mother," he said. "I favor him." He nodded toward the one portrait, on the wall behind the desk. It looked early twentieth century and featured a man very like Seokjin, except with silver hair.

"So that's what you'll look like," you remarked absently.

"Eventually. Not for a few years, I hope."

You glanced at him, because he'd come to stand beside you. "You're going gray, just at the temples."

He looked down into your soft face. His eyes narrowed as he searched every inch of you above the neck. "Gray won't show in that beautiful mop on your head," he said quietly. "It'll blend in and make it even prettier."

The comment was softly spoken, and so poetic that it embarrassed you. You smiled self-consciously and your gaze fell to his shirt. It was open at the collar, because it was warm in the house. Thick black hair peered over the button, and unwanted memories of that last night they'd been together came flooding back. He'd taken his shirt off, to give your hands total access to his broad, hair-roughened chest. He liked your lips on it...

You cleared your throat and looked away, your color high. "I'd better get to work."

His lean hand caught your arm, very gently, and he pulled you back around. His free hand went to the snaps that held the shirt together. He looked into your startled eyes and slowly, one by one, he flicked the snaps apart.

"What... are you... doing?'' you faltered. You couldn't breathe. He was weaving spells around you. You felt weak-kneed already, and the sight of that broad chest completely bare drew a faint gasp from your lips.

He had you by the elbows. He drew you to him, so that your lips were on a level with his collarbone. You could hear his heartbeat, actually hear it.

"It was like this," he said in a raw, ragged tone. "But I had your blouse off, your breasts bare. I drew you to me, like this," he whispered unsteadily, drawing you against the length of him, "and I bent, and took your open mouth under my own...like this..."

It was happening all over again. You were eight years older, but apparently not one day less vulnerable. He put your cold hands into the thick hair on his chest and moved them while his hard mouth took slow, sweet possession of your lips.

He nudged your lips apart and hesitated for just a second, long enough to look into your eyes and see the submission and faint hunger in them. There was just the hint of a smile on his lips before he parted them against your soft mouth.

You had no pride at all, you decided in the hectic seconds that followed the first touch of his hard mouth. You were a total washout as a liberated woman.

His hands had gone to your waist and then moved up to your rib cage, to the soft underside of your breasts. He stroked just under them until you shivered and moaned, and then his hands lifted and took possession; blatant possession.

He felt your mouth open. His own answered it while he touched you, searched over your breasts and found the hard nipples that pushed against his palms.

His mouth grew rougher. You felt his hands move around you, felt the catch give. Your blouse was pushed up with a shivering urgency, and seconds later, your bare breasts were buried in the thick hair that covered his chest and abdomen.

You cried out, dragging your mouth from his. He looked into your eyes, but he wouldn't let you go. His hard face was expressionless. Only his eyes were alive, glittering like gray fires. He deliberately moved you from side to side and watched your face as he did it, enjoying, with a completely masculine delight, the pleasure you couldn't hide.

"Your nipples are like rocks against me." He bit off the words, holding you even closer. "I took your breasts inside my mouth the night we made love, and you arched up right off the bed to give them to me. Do you remember what you did next?"

You couldn't speak. You looked at him with mingled desire and fear.

"You slid your hands inside my jeans," he whispered roughly. "And you touched me. That's when I lost control."

Your moan was one of shame, not pleasure. You found his chest with your cheek and pressed close to him, shivering. "I'm sorry," you whispered brokenly. "I'm so sorry...!"

His mouth found your eyes and kissed them shut. "Don't," he whispered roughly. "I'm not saying it to shame you. I only want you to remember why it ended the way it did. You were grass green and I didn't know it. I encouraged you to be uninhibited, but I'd never have done it if I'd known what an innocent you were."

His mouth slid over your forehead with breathless tenderness while his hands slid to your lower back and pulled you even closer. "I was going to take you," he whispered. His hands contracted and his body went rigid with a surge of arousal that you could feel. His legs trembled. "I still want to, God help me," he breathed at your temple. "I've never had the sort of arousal I feel with you. I don't even have to undress you first." His hands began to tremble as he moved you sensually against his hips. His mouth slid down to yours and softly covered it, lifting and touching and probing until you shivered again with pleasure.

"I thought you knew," you whimpered.

"I didn't." His hands moved to the very base of your spine and lifted you gently into the hard thrust of his body. He caught his breath at the wave of pleasure that washed over him immediately. "Y/N," he breathed.

You couldn't think at all. When he took one of your hands and pressed it to his lower body, you didn't even have the will to protest. Your hand opened and you let him move it gently against him, on fire with the need to touch him.

"Eight years," you said shakily.

"And we're still starving for each other," he whispered at your mouth. His hand became insistent. "Harder," he said and his breath caught.

"This...isn't wise," you said against his chest.

"No, but it's sweet. Y/N...!" He cried out hoarsely, his whole body shuddering.

Your hand stilled at once. "I'm sorry," you whispered frantically. "Did I hurt you?"

He wasn't breathing normally at all. His face was buried in your throat and he was shaking like a leaf. You brushed your mouth over his cheek, his chin, his lips, his nose, whispering his name as you clung to him.

His hand gripped you upper thigh, and it was so bruising that you were afraid you were going to have to protest. He fought for sanity, embarrassed by his weakness.

You were still kissing him. He felt your breasts moving against his chest, intensifying the throbbing, hellish ache below his belt, He held you firmly in place with hands that shook.

You subsided and stood quietly against him. You knew now, as you hadn't eight years ago, what was wrong with him. You felt guilty and ashamed for pushing him so far out of control.

Your fingers touched his thick, cool hair lovingly. Your lips found his eyelids and brushed softly against them. He was vulnerable and you wanted to protect him, cherish him.

The tenderness was doing strange things to him. He still wanted you to the point of madness, but those comforting little kisses made his heart warm. He'd never been touched in such a way by a woman; he'd never felt so cherished.

You drew back, and he pulled you close again.

"Don't stop," he whispered, calmer now. His hands had moved up to the silken skin of your back, and he smiled under the whisper of your lips on his skin.

"I'm so sorry," you whispered, His fingers slid under the blouse again and up to explore the softness of your breasts. "Why?" he asked.

"You were hurting," you said. "I shouldn't have touched you..."

He chuckled wickedly. "I made you."

"I still can't go to bed with you," you said miserably. "I don't care if the whole world does it, I just can't!" His hands opened and enfolded your breasts tenderly. "You want to," he murmured as he caressed them.

"Of course I want to!" your eyes closed and you swayed closer to his hands. "Oh, glory," you managed to say tightly, shivering.

"Your breasts are very sensitive," he said at your lips. "And soft like warm silk under my hands. I'd like to lay you down on my grandfather's desk and take your blouse off and put my lips on you there. But Mrs. Choi is making coffee." He lifted his head and looked into your dazed, soft gray eyes. "Thank God," he whispered absently as he searched them.

"Thank God for what?" you asked huskily.

"Miracles, maybe," he replied. He smoothed the blouse up again and his eyes sketched your pretty pink breasts with their hard dark pink crowns. "I could eat you like taffy right now," he said in a rough tone.

The office was so quiet that not a sound could be heard above the shiver of your breath as you looked up at him.

His pale eyes were almost apologetic. "I think I have a death wish," he began huskily as he bent.

You watched his mouth hover over your breast with a sense of shocked wonder. Your eyes wide, your breath stopped in your throat, you waited, trembling.

He looked up, then, and saw your eyes. He made a sound in the back of his throat and his mouth opened as he propelled you closer, so that he had you almost completely in that warm, moist recess.

You wept. The pleasure grew to unbearable heights. Your fingers tangled in his hair and you pulled him closer. You growled sharply at the sensations you felt. Your hips moved involuntarily, searching for his body.

The suction became so sweet that you suddenly arched backward, and would have fallen if it hadn't been for his supporting arm. You caught your breath and convulsed, your body frozen in an arc of pure ecstasy.

He felt the deep contractions of your body under his mouth with raging pride. His mouth grew a little rough, and the convulsions deepened.

Only when he felt you begin to relax did he lift his head and bring you back into a standing position, so that he could look at your face.

You couldn't breathe. You sobbed as you looked up into his pale eyes. The tears came, hot and quick, when you realized what had happened. And he'd seen it!

"Don't," he chided-tenderly. He reached for a handkerchief and dried your red eyes and wiped your nose. "Don't be embarrassed."

"I could die of shame," you wept.

"For what?" he asked softly. "For letting me watch you?"

Your face went red. "I never, never...!"

He put a long forefinger against your lips. "I've never seen a woman like that," he whispered. "I've never known one who could be satisfied by a man's mouth suckling at her breast. It was the most beautiful experience I've ever had."

You weren't crying now. You were staring at him, your eyes wide and soft and curious.

#kim seokjin #seokjin fanfic #seokjincowboy #seokjin au #seokjin smut #seokjin series #seokjin x reader #seokjin imagine #bts fic #bts seokjin

7 notes · View notes