 
## Forever His
Copyright 2016

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# Table of Contents

Romance In The Jungle

Journey To Love

Cruise Away With Him

Escort in the City

Romancing The White Billionaire

Confessions of a Stay at Home Escort

Love in Vegas

Jet Set With the Billionaire

Sex in Paris

Last Chance to Love

Romancing The Cowboy

Voyage With The Billionaire

Romancing The Bull Rider

Cowboy Come Home

Taken By The Rancher

Cowgirl Desires

Romancing His Cowgirl

Love In The Outback

Come Home Cowgirl

Embracing Love Again

Taming The Cowboy

The Nurse And The Cowboy

The Cowgirl's Love

Craved By The Cowboy

Last Chance Cowboy

Finding Love Out West

Finding Love On The Ranch

The Cowboys Touch

Corralled By The Cowboy
Romance In The Jungle

## by

## Carol Lewis

# Chapter One

"Clara?" My boss's voice cut through my thoughts, and my cheeks flushed when I realized I'd spaced-out while seated on the other side of his unnecessarily enormous desk. "Do you understand what's required of you? I thought the email was pretty clear."

I swallowed hard, hating the way he talked to me like I was a third grader who didn't understand a math problem. Sure, the email had been informative in the succinct manner that I was accustomed to from the higher-ups, but that didn't mean I was okay with the content. I wasn't spaced out and dreaming about hunks or anything; my mind was a mess with what I'd been tasked with, and I'd found it hard to concentrate on anything since that email found its way into my inbox.

"I just..." I trailed off with a sigh, then shook my head. "Hal, this is a lot to ask of—"

I noticed his jaw clench somewhat before he remarked, "It's your job, Clara."

I wasn't going to say that it was a lot to ask of _me_. No, it was a lot to ask of the managers I had to break the news to. The company had a very tight year, and it was my responsibility to tell all the in-store managers—who worked hard to push our electronics year-round—that they needed to cut employees, then cut the remaining workers' hours as much as possible. Too much competition in the market to keep going the way we were, apparently.

"Time to make some cutbacks. Fire some underlings. Do a bit of restructuring". I said under my breath.

It didn't feel right to me. I'd been one of those sales associates in high school. I'd worked there to finance my university business degree, and the company had been good to me ever since. Hell, I was one of the few women in the senior tiers of the entire company.

I should have been grateful I wasn't in here to get fired, I guess. Maybe I should have sent a thank-you email to Hal for not firing me through the computer. But it didn't sit right with me. I'd rather take a salary cut than lay off hundreds of hardworking people across the country. Our store was nationwide, with major outlets in almost every state except Alaska and Hawaii. In my opinion, we could afford to keep our people.

But no one wanted to listen to the chief PR executive because I don't deal with numbers—I give the company a shiny, smiling face for the public, and I make sure my legion of HR folks do their jobs right and don't get sued by a disgruntled employee.

Aside from it being a questionable moral decision, letting go of this many workers was going to be a PR nightmare.

"I'm going to have to think this over," I insisted after a slight pause.

His thick eyebrows shot up as he glared at me. We' have always gotten along, but I felt Hal was looking for ways to replace me with someone who didn't question his decisions. I mean, who could blame him? Regardless, I figured he needed someone around to question his ethics from time-to-time—like now, for instance.

"What's to think over?" He held up his hand when I drew a breath to speak. "No, it's really simple. This order comes from the higher-ups... higher up than me. You take your assignment; you spread the word to management, and you follow-up to make sure they've cut the hours. End of story."

"But Hal—"

"We're not discussing this further," he said dismissively, his eyes flicking toward the door. "I only called you in here because you hadn't replied to the email to confirm you received it. I expect you to carry out your job by the end of the day."

I hesitated before leaving, and Hal let out a long sigh.

"Part of working at corporate is making the tough decisions, Clara," he told me. He then turned on his desktop monitor and began clacking away at his computer. "You can't care what other people think of you if you want to survive here."

Biting down hard on the insides of my cheeks to keep from snapping, I pushed the chair back and stood.

"Thanks, Hal."

There was no way in hell I was going to do this—not by the end of the day, anyway. After slipping out of his office, I grabbed my coat and purse, told the receptionist I was headed to lunch with a vendor, and called it a day. I needed to think, to consider my future career at the company, and I definitely couldn't do it surrounded by other corporate vultures.

My options were limited, but once I set them out, the decision was easy. Either I instruct managers to lay off hundreds and hundreds of people across the country, or I piss off Hal.

From my bench at a local park, a place I often went to work out some of my heavier problems, I grinned: pissing off Hal was practically my favorite pastime already.

Bring it on.

****

"Honey, it sounds like you made the right decision." I bit my lip, my stare glazed over as my dad's voice sounded in my ear. "I mean, would you really want to invest your career in a company who does something like that?"

"I guess not," I sighed, but my words were unconvincing to both of us. I sounded miserable, and I was fully aware of it. I mean, how can I not be? With a stereotypical white box filled with my desk's contents sitting on the couch beside me, I had every right to be miserable; I'd been fired.

Apparently Hal did not appreciate my combative attitude on the issue, and after a forty minute meeting where I tried to argue against the ruling, occasionally pointing out senior-level employee salaries that could be cut back to make up for budget issues, he told me he'd have to let me go.

"We planned to merge PR and HR one of these days anyway," he'd told me as I openly gawked at him. "We need team players, Clara, and I'm afraid you're not cutting it anymore."

In that moment, I'd questioned my stance on the whole issue, and it had apparently come down to me losing my job—or them. In the end, I shook his hand because that's how I'd been raised, then I was left to pack my things. My coworkers, the ones who I got along with best, were devastated to see me go, and I'd sat in my car crying for a full twenty minutes before I left the parking lot.

A part of me wanted to take this to a labor board. We weren't unionized at the company or anything drastic like that, but I was pretty sure this was a wrongful termination if I'd ever seen one. The more I sulked at home, however, the more I wondered if corporate life was for me. I loved business, but politics weren't my game—never had been, never would be.

"Think of all the free time you have now," Dad said.

I know he was trying to be helpful, but my dad's words made my eyes prickle with tears, and I ran my fingers under to collect some of the watery mascara.

"I guess."

"You're a bright girl," he continued, and I could hear the clatter of dishes in the background. He was cleaning up after his lunch, pleasantly enjoying retirement as the rest of us slaved away every day. Well, the rest of them. No more of that for me. "Some lucky company is going to snatch you right up."

I shrugged. Working in public relations had become a pretty popular gig these days, and even though the job market hadn't been saturated with people when I graduated university five years ago, it was pretty competitive now.

"But take a breather," he asserted firmly. "I bet you're a little worn out anyway, and there's no sense in running yourself ragged to find something new right away. You have savings, right?"

"Yup," I said, picking at the track-pants I'd practically fallen into as soon as I was home. "Plenty of that."

Even if the company had its problems, I'd always been paid well. By my rough estimates, I could keep paying my rent and car payments for another eight months before I needed to delve too far into my savings. Money wasn't the problem. Morale, on the other hand, could probably use a boost or two.

"I've never been fired before," I muttered, my voice losing a bit of its strength. "Dad... It's humiliating."

"You were fired for something you believe in." I heard the kettle shrieking in the background, and sighed. "I know it doesn't make it any better today, but one day you'll look back on this knowing that you did the right thing."

"They'll just get someone else to do the cutting," I argued, suddenly feeling a little stupid. "People are still going to be let go... I'm just one of them now too."

"Sleep on it."

I fell quiet for a long moment, my mind a mess of incoherent thoughts, broken only by my dad's voice. "So, what else is new?"

I didn't have it in me to make chitchat about the rest of my life; work had been all-consuming this past year, so I didn't exactly have time for much of a social life. Maybe now I could... see movies, or something. After giving my dad an adequate rundown of my pathetic social endeavors as of late, which included finding a sale on detergent at the grocery store down the street from me and a solo trip to a music festival in my favorite park for all of thirty seconds (I'd been exhausted from a full day at the office), I made my excuses and said my goodbyes.

Mom was going to call me when she got home from work, so I had that exciting conversation to look forward to, during which I was sure I'd rehash everything from today in agonizing detail as she chirped about silver linings.

Too depressed to sort through my desk things, I grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, then buried myself beneath a quilt. At least good ol' TV had no desire to analyze my recent firing. Good ol' TV was always there to distract, never to judge. Besides, I can't remember the last time I watched TV in the afternoon, so there was that.

# Chapter Two

Why does everyone on social media look so accomplished?

With one hand in a chip bowl, laptop perched on my knees, and my free hand strictly for scrolling, I wasted away yet another unemployed day online. A week had gone by since I'd been "let go" from the company, and I could slowly feel all my brainpower oozing out of me with each unproductive day that passed. I had also taken up talking to myself while puttering around my apartment, an embarrassing tic I hadn't ever done before. Most of my friends were coupled up, but I still had the opportunity to grab drinks and dinner here and there—each time winding up spectacularly drunk and blaming it on my recent firing.

But everyone I knew worked during the day; had weird hours that saw them snoozing in the afternoons; or they traveled for work. So, while my nights were open to the possibility of some social contact outside my parents and my younger brother, my days were filled with, well, just me.

" I'm not all that interesting, honestly."

My online friend group is rife with drama, however, and I could usually spend a few hours scrolling through all the various feeds. It was like having reality TV without the commercials or drunken sobbing—unless you counted _my_ drunken sobbing. I'd branded the people I was friends with and followed into two groups: accomplished adults and forever teenagers. A lot of my high school friends were forever teenagers. Most of my college group was accomplished adults.

I feel the more time I spend online I felt myself dangling precariously between the two groups, threatening to drop off into the more adolescent.

Scrolling through a Twitter feed from a girl I went to high school with, I smirked at her incredibly passive-aggressive comments toward another girl we mutually knew, and I felt like I was in twelfth grade all over again. Once the 140 character posts turned into song lyrics, I clicked to another tab, all the while feeding a continuous stream of chips in my mouth. With my greasy blonde hair chucked up in a bun, chip crumbs on my chin and ratty college t-shirt, I was definitely a pitiful sight.

But at least no one could see me slightly judging them from the other side of a computer screen. Unfortunately, not much had changed since the last time I ambled through my newsfeed, and I let out a defeated sigh.

It was at that moment that something caught my eye. It wasn't a snarky post or a depressed cry for attention, nor was it one of a thousand pictures of people's kids, but rather an advertisement. Usually, I ignored the pleas for my business, each ad tailored to me based on my browsing history, but the words in this one spoke to me.

Want to change your life? Want to be a life-changer?

Why yes. Yes I do want to change my life. Chewing my lower lip for a moment, I threw caution to the wind and clicked the ad link, surprised when I found myself on a volunteering website. There were all sorts of places to dedicate one's time to, but I was immediately drawn towards ones that required a trip overseas. Lips pursed, I clicked through a few information paragraphs.

"I'd always wanted to travel to Africa....anywhere in Africa." I thought out loud.

I was fully aware that the continent had a range of beauty from the mountains of Kilimanjaro to the spices sold in Morocco. The north, south, east, and west are all vastly different from one another.

Chip bowl forgotten, I sat up and narrowed in on an organization that taught children in rural villages. Their contact page listed a representative in Kingston.

"That's about an hour's drive from home." I thought to myself.

Without giving it more than a passing thought, I grabbed my phone and dialed the number.

****

"You have a variety of options to pick from. Here's a few brochures..."

"I actually looked through all of these online," I said, watching as Eileen, the representative from the volunteer organization, set the papers back down on her desk. "There's one in particular I was interested in."

"Well that's wonderful," she offered with a smile, her hands knitted together in front of her. "You know, we do have an online application that you can fill out."

I swallowed down my embarrassment, heat rushing to me cheeks. "I...I just wanted to talk to someone about this, face-to-face."

Her expression turned kind, and I let out a little breath when she told me she understood that. Good. I couldn't be the only one who wanted to talk things over with an actual person. I'd seen the online application before I drove out here. I'd read through all the FAQ pages, I'd watched the videos that other volunteers made about their amazing trips abroad. I'd done it all. As exciting as it all seemed, I couldn't bring myself to commit to something so... out there until I talked to someone.

It wasn't crazy to volunteer, I know that. It wasn't some absurd idea that I might want to give back. But I'd spent years in the corporate world, and before that I was working in retail dealing with awful customers and finicky electronics. This was... different. This was a big, scary, strange step that I felt odd taking through some online application. I wanted to see a face. I'd spent a week looking at the website, perusing everything, researching the trips I wanted to do.

But I needed to see someone nod and smile at me before I applied. I wanted to hear that this was legitimate, that grown people my age did this kind of stuff.

"Now, would you like to discuss any particular volunteer opportunity?"

The phone rang beside her, but she pressed something to silence the sound. Her office was much more hectic than I anticipated, as soon as I stepped through the front door from the packed parking lot, it was like I was back at my old company. There were computers, people, desks, filing cabinets, the whole nine.

"I was back in the corporate world...with prettier pictures on the wall". I smiled at the ironic sentiment of my thought. "I'd like to teach kids," I explained, my legs pumping up and down with anxious energy. I'm not sure why I was so nervous, it's not like she knows me. This Eileen woman won't look at me and call me a fraud for wanting to teach. She doesn't know I've only ever worked in PR as a serious adult with a serious adult job. I wanted to do something fun, and I'd always loved kids. This would be perfect...in theory. "Preferably on one of your Africa trips."

"There are several countries that are perfectly safe to volunteer in for our Africa destinations," she told me. "You can specify where you'd like to go when you apply."

"Great."

"The kids are wonderful," Eileen insisted with a nod. "I think this is a great choice. We've always had the best feedback from these excursions. Usually we coordinate our teachers with our builders, and you'd go over with a group."

That was a relief. As much as I wanted to stand on my own two feet, maybe patch myself up after getting fired, I wasn't sure if I could go to some remote location across the world alone.

"You can choose from different timespans abroad," she told me brightly; though I had a sinking suspicion she'd recited this same speech hundreds of times over to different volunteers. Eileen still managed to slip a brochure my way, which I then stuffed in my purse. "Six months is the shortest, two years is the longest. We usually recommend six months for first-timers."

I nodded. "That makes sense."

I guess. Six months is still quite a hefty chunk of time spent away from home, and I wondered the average age of volunteers applying to the organization. I mean, high school kids couldn't go for that long, and college kids were probably in the same boat. So, most of these volunteers had to be established adults who had time to spend not making money in some foreign country.

But that wasn't why I was doing it. I mean, we had to _pay_ to volunteer, so money was the furthest thing from my mind.

We danced around the application process for another fifteen minutes, and after I'd exhausted all my questions, like "will I be able to get tampons if I run out?"—I shook Eileen's hand and left. Head held high, I wandered back to my car, a pleasant sense of determination taking over.

I sent in my application from my tablet while still in the parking lot with no regrets.

# Chapter Three

"Are you sure there's going to be clean water there?" I tried not to roll my eyes at my mom's question. She sat across from me at the massive table my parents had reserved for this very occasion, noting that she was buttering her free bread a little too aggressively. "I mean, do they even speak English?"

She posed the question with a disgusted look, her nose wrinkling.

"Well, I think English is on the curriculum that I'm going to cover," I informed her, my hand wrapped around my wine glass tightly. "It's an English-based volunteer program, so I would assume they speak English at a basic level."

"I guess it'll be charming, in a way," she mused before stuffing a chunk of buttered bread in her mouth. "Quaint, even."

My dad rolled his eyes at her muffled words, and I tried my best not to stab her with my fork. I couldn't be too angry with her; she put together this wonderful dinner (well.... she'd called and made reservations) for me, my friends, and a few select members of the family. However, since she'd heard about my volunteer trip abroad, she'd been poking holes in the whole thing. Dad said it was because she was nervous, that she nagged when she was worried about me, but that didn't make it any less annoying.

It was also incredibly degrading to be twenty-nine and still nagged by your mother, but I guess that's something that just won't go away with age.

"We're both very proud of you, honey," Dad told me, patting my mom's shoulder and smiling. "All I ask is that you stay safe and take lots of pictures."

"That's the plan," I chuckled, toasting them both with my wine glass before drinking It. Mom had chosen one of my favorite restaurants in town, and she booked a room that was sectioned off from the rest of the establishment. It included a balcony area, usually inhabited by smokers, which overlooked the gardens. Seeing as it was springtime, this would have been the perfect setting for a romantic stroll.

As it stands, I've spent the night seated by my parents, not even at the head of the table, and my friends were chugging back the various bottles of wine my dad had ordered once we arrived. I could tell many of them were trying to keep their drunken exploits to a minimum with my family around, but the other end of the table was already getting noisy, a cousin of mine leading the charge with a slurred toast to me.

"Hey, do you want to grab some fresh air?"

To my right sat the guy who'd known me since elementary school. Mark had been a family friend for years, and even tonight, he knew how to swoop in and save the day. I nodded quickly. We weren't the only ones getting up and away from the table; there were two couples chatting by the doors, wine in hand. The idea of a cozy dinner morphed into some weird, drunken party between two groups of people....that never should have met.

Mark held the door to the balcony open for me, and I slipped out into the cool night air. With arms wrapped around myself, I briefly wondered if I should have brought my jacket. As thin as it was, it still would have helped against the chilly breeze.

I smiled when he sidled up beside me, his hands in his pockets. Most people grew out of their lanky phase, but Mark wasn't one of them. He'd retained his gangly limbs, his hands and feet that seemed to outgrow the rest of his body, and the occasional bit of acne that myself and our other friends always told him wasn't as bad as he was making it.. Despite his appearance, he wasn't socially inept, and he never had been. Class clown would have been his high school superlative if our graduating class had gotten our acts together and actually did superlatives.

"So," he mused, "six months abroad, huh?"

"I think it'll be good for me," I told him, nodding as I shuffled closer. He was a good windbreaker. Down below, little lights hanging on trees, intermingled with blossoms and budding leaves, lit the way for people to wander the garden trail. "I've always been independent, but I also feel like I've relied on my job to give me purpose, you know?"

"I guess."

"It'll be a great way to give back to the karma gods, anyway," I laughed with a slight roll of my eyes. I wrapped my arms around myself, stuffing my chilled hands under my arms. "Apparently I've done something to piss them off."

"You know, I bet I could find you a job in a heartbeat," he insisted, brushing up against me as he spoke. I glanced up at him, then shrugged.

"Maybe I don't want a job right now." I mean, obviously he could find me a job: Mark worked at the employment office, and had done so since he graduated college. "This is the adventure I want."

A silence fell between us, and when it had dragged on longer than I was comfortable with, I looked up at him again with a frown.

Just then, he kissed me. It lasted all of 2.5 seconds, and ended with me stumbling away, a hand flying up to cover my mouth.

"Mark!"

"I'm sorry," he stammered. Even in the starlight, I could see the flaming blush on his cheeks. "I just thought...with you going away... You ought to know how I feel about you."

I cringed on the inside, my face melting into a neutral, calm expression—the best I could muster given the circumstances. I'd known Mark had a thing for me. He had a thing for me in high school that went away when he dated the female class clown. He had a thing for me in college when my boobs finally came in. And now apparently he had a thing for me ever since I gotten fired, as if my sad life could somehow be fixed by his job hunting skills.

His attraction was sometimes insulting, actually. He usually wanted me when I was down on my luck, and try as I might, I could never find him attractive. I'd seen him in braces, and there was no going back from that.

"Mark," I started, taking a little sigh as I tried to choose my words carefully. "Thank you, but—"

"But you're not attracted to me like that," he finished, and I glared when he rolled his eyes. "It's the same old story, Clara, and I'm sick of it."

So much for choosing words carefully. "Excuse me?"

"You flirt with me all the time," he started, ticking off each thing on his finger. "Your parents sat us next to each other, and by the way, your mom loves me. You call me crying when you're drunk—"

"Once! That happened _once_!" I snapped, mortified that he remembered—and even more horrified that I'd done it in the first place. Mark reached out to touch me, and I stiffened when he stroked my arm.

"I just think we've been dancing around this thing for a long time." I knew he was trying to be a mixture of things with that smile: comforting, seductive, cool. It was a weird combination and a total turn-off. I pulled my arm away and took a step back as he said, "You don't have to go away for six months to find yourself... We can do that together."

" _We_ finding myself defeats the whole purpose," I hissed. I then turned on my heel and stalked back into the restaurant, wanting nothing more than to curl up in a ball under the table as my parents shooed everyone away.

But seeing as I was a grown-up, I sat back down in my seat, filled my wine glass to a socially unacceptable level, and played pretend nice with Mark and everyone else for the rest of the night.

In two days I'd be leaving for the trip of a lifetime, and I was pretty sure the simple act of packing my suitcase would help me forget about the downward spiral this night had taken.

# Chapter Four

"Damn it."

I let out a long sigh and closed my eyes tightly as someone bumped into my shoulder, though I heard no "excuse me", "sorry", or "pardon" as whoever did the damage walked away. I shouldn't have been surprised; airports weren't known for their pleasantness. In fact, every single airport employee I'd dealt with today had been stone-faced and distant, as if returning my smile might set off a national security threat.

Then there were my fellow travelers, carrying too many bags and screaming kids to baggage check-in and through the security gates. I'd waited in too many long lines already since arriving a whopping five hours before my flight—and now I'd learned that my plane was delayed.

Pressing my lips together, I waited for the updates board detailing all the incoming flight details to change again, and sure enough, my flight to Accra, Ghana expected delays by about an hour. Again, I probably shouldn't have been surprised. There were intensive spring showers acting as a blockade around the airport, and they'd been hammering the city for the last few days. Most flights were delayed.

Drumming my fingers on my boarding pass, a fat rectangular piece of paper that I clutched to my chest, I glanced at the clock on the black board. According to one of the info signs, my gate was only a ten minute walk from the airport's food court and lounge area. There was no need to rush; my economy class seat at the very back of the plane—right next to the washrooms, if I'm not mistaken—wasn't exactly going anywhere.

My backpack, filled with the essentials on the off-chance that my suitcase went missing, seemed heavier now as I slung it over my shoulders, adjusting the straps for comfort. I had a whole slew of brochures and print-offs about Togo to read—even if I'd read them a few times over already, they were probably worth another quick skimming. Although I was flying to Ghana first, my volunteering assignment was placed in a fairly rural setting in Togo (Togo is right beside Ghana and fairly close to Nigeria). I'd take a small connecting aircraft from the Kotoka International Airport in Accra shortly after my arrival, and from there a volunteer was supposed to take me to my outpost.

All in all, it was going to be a long, tiring trip, regardless of how excited I was to get started, an hour's delay only added to the length of my travels. I threw my shoulders back and braved the crowds, making a beeline for the least busiest café . I ordered a coffee and a pastry, knowing we'd be fed at least two meals on the plane. With my order in hand, I found a vacant table near a window overlooking the runway, and that was where I decided to spend most of my hour's delay.

The volume of the café's patrons swelled and weakened with the departures of planes, and after scanning my brochures, I pulled out my phone and started playing some games to pass the time. I had actual books to read for the flight, but I didn't want to waste them at the airport.

"Do you mind if I take this chair?"

I almost jumped out of my seat as a lone, deep, masculine voice cut through my thoughts, interrupting my debates about where to move a certain piece of fruit in my game. There were lots of voices around me, but none of them were close.

I looked up, surprised, and tried not to drop my jaw at the tall drink of water leaning on the chair across the table. Dressed well in a pressed pair of black trousers, he had a laptop bag slung over his shoulder, the strap sitting comfortably across a broad chest and a white button-up. A jacket hung over his arm, and for a moment, I guess I was impressed. I then remembered that most guys in the corporate world wore a uniform like this, and I probably shouldn't gaze at him.... I'd seen enough of his type before.

But I just couldn't help myself. He watched me with a curious expression, waiting for my response. His shaggy brown hair seemed slicked back and off his face—a feat accomplished without looking greasy. A smattering of freckles crested his nose, and his blue eyes were an immediate contrast to my brown. In fact, he was almost my opposite, in a way. My dirty-blonde hair was thin compared to his brunet waves, and even though my skin was darker, I wasn't graced with sun-kissed freckles.

Nor did I look like a movie star when I smiled.

"Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt," he said as the silence dragged on. "There's nowhere else to sit."

I didn't need to glance around the café to know that it had filled up, but I did so anyway, as if contesting his claim.

"Sure," I replied, waving toward the chair. "Take it."

Much to my surprise, the man set his jacket on the back of the chair and took a seat. I couldn't help but watch him, my eyes glued to the way his hands handled his laptop case. His fingers were so...elegant. Was that the right word? He moved each item with such care, and only paused when he must have realized I was watching.

"Sorry, I hope you don't mind me sitting," he offered, "but all the other tables are full."

"It's fine," I managed to get out, my cheeks tickling as a blush started to creep forward. "Really, no problem."

I assumed that would be the end of our conversation once he got up to plug his cord into an outlet on the nearby wall. He then set up his laptop and started clacking away, much to my disappointment. Well, at least I had something nice to look at while I waited for my flight. Grabbing a piece of pastry, I stuffed the sweet bread in my mouth and returned to my phone game, not caring if it drained my battery. I had all my numbers and contacts written down in four different places: I wasn't going to need my phone in Togo, and I definitely wasn't paying any long distance charges to use it.

"So where are you headed?" The handsome stranger posed the question just as I successfully conquered a level that had been giving my trouble for the last ten minutes. I smiled victoriously as I looked up, my mind still in the game.

"What?" A blush crept across my cheeks in full force this time, embarrassed to realize that I'd been so wrapped up in a game on my phone that I hadn't heard him.

Well, I had. It was one of those moments where there's a delay in your brain as someone talks to you. I'd heard what he said, but apparently my first response was, "What?" So elegant, Clara, very refined and genteel. Glad all those years of working in the corporate world had done wonders for my manners. Luckily, he seemed not to mind. In fact, he seemed slightly amused by my conversational blunder, his lips faintly upturned and the skin around his eyes crinkled. Like he was trying not to smile at me, maybe to spare my feelings.

Great. Sympathy from a stranger who was probably some famous model/actor that I wasn't aware of.

"Where are you traveling?" he asked again. I noticed his laptop had been pushed to the side, opening the space between us for conversation. My mom had gone on a huge rant about not giving travel details to random people while I was away, but this guy looked harmless...among many other things. Besides, he was obviously a traveler too; I could see his boarding pass poking out of the top of what looked like a leather-bound address book.

"Ghana," I told him. He held my gaze for a second, looked down to pull his boarding pass out.

"As in the 4 o'clock Ghana flight?"

My eyes narrowed a little as I read the bolded text on the paper, I nodded. "Now the 5 o'clock Ghana flight?

Apparently we were travel buddies now, waiting for the same flight.

"Delays," he groaned, rolling his eyes. He then tucked the ticket away and grinned. "Could be worse, I suppose... I anticipated a delay of at least an hour given the weather."

"Yeah." Okay, we were _not_ going to talk about the weather. After quickly shutting down the game of my phone, which was making cutesy little noises to entice me back to play, I extended my hand across the small table. "I'm Clara."

His hand was soft and warm as it enveloped mine, his long fingers making mine look like stubby midget digits. "Grant."

We both squeezed, neither of us pressing too hard, and my stomach did a fluttery somersault. He might have looked like a corporate guy, but I'd never seen one _this_ good looking around the office before.

"So what brings you to Ghana?" Grant inquired as we pulled apart, my skin tingling. I brought my hand beneath the table to rest on my lap, pressing my thumb into my palm hard to detract from the sensation.

"Vacation," I remarked, quickly deciding that he didn't need to know the whole truth about my travels. He nodded, and I added, "It's my first time there."

"Accra's beautiful," he insisted. "I love spending a few days there when I have the chance."

"Do you go for work?" Intrigued, I leaned in to the conversation, not caring how obvious I was being about the fact that I found him interesting.

"Sometimes," he answered. "Sometimes for fun, this trip is a bit of both."

"What exactly do you do?"

His smile turned to something a little more playful, teasing even, and he raised an eyebrow at me. "When did this turn into an interrogation?"

"Right about when you asked me where I was going," I fired back, ready to play. My eyes flicked to my phone's screen, noting that I only had fifteen minutes before I—we—needed to head to the gate. Grant could definitely help pass the time.

"I'm just a curious soul," he said, holding his hands up innocently. The skin around his eyes crinkled when I laughed, his smile growing into something more genuine now. "I like hearing people's stories too."

"And dancing around questions, it seems."

He exhaled softly, looking rather attractive if not somewhat flustered.

"I'm an engineer," he said, and suddenly the fancy clothes and pricey laptop and leather notebook made sense. "I travel a lot for work."

"Bet that's nice," I chuckled. "I wish my work paid me to fly to exotic places."

Though I could never be an engineer. From my university days, I remember their crazy workload and chaotic schedule. PR was hard work, but it was nothing compared to the stress my few engineering friends endured.

"And what's work for you?"

There was no way I was telling a successful engineer that I'd been fired for not following instructions. "Public relations mostly."

"Ah." He seemed neither impressed or put out; instead he started packing up his laptop. "I don't think I could do PR work... People are so frustrating."

I let out a short laugh, thrilled with his reasoning. People _are_ frustrating. "You can say that again."

"I don't want to be presumptuous," he said as he started to stand, still packing his things away, "but would you care to accompany me to the gate? I think they'll start boarding soon."

"Why sir," I chuckled, thrown by the formality of his request. "I'd be delighted."

I didn't have much to put away, but I did chug the remainder of my coffee and stuff the rest of the pastry in my mouth. After disposing of the trash, I threw my backpack on and strolled beside him out of the café. I felt small beside him, which was a rarity.

I had always been at that height where I wasn't exactly tall, but I still towered over all my friends who were of "average" height. I hadn't worn heels on a date in years, worried that I'd breach the six foot marker even though I was still a few inches under. Grant was a head taller than me, obviously in the six foot plus range, and now that we were next to each other, I noted that he wasn't huge—broad was a good word, I guess, but there was a sleekness to him that I liked.

It must have been the fancy clothes. I had dressed for comfort, and looked like a total slob next to him. I wore my old university sweatpants and a plain crew-neck t-shirt. I had a sweater rolled up at the bottom of my backpack, as planes tended to get cold, and I'd chosen an old pair of sneakers to bring with me—no need for high-end shoes where I was headed.

We kept our conversation light as we strolled to the gate, commenting on the airport's shopping venues and the way people rushed to and fro. Once we'd reached our destination, he pointed to the sign.

"Business class can board now, apparently," he noted, nodding a bit. "I hope you don't mind if I..."

He trailed off and pointed a thumb toward the attendants manning the entryway. Of course he was flying business class. Smiling, I shook my head and tucked some hair behind my ear. "Not at all."

"It's nice to have met you..." He extended his hand to me again, and he seemed to be struggling to recall my name. Just as I was about to help him out, a sarcastic, snippy tone on the tip of my tongue, he said, very softly, almost appreciatively, "Clara."

I took a deep breath, willing away the color in my cheeks, then grabbed his hand. "You too."

We both held on a little longer than necessary—anyone watching us could see it. I pulled back first, my palm tingling again, and nodded to the gate. "Hope you enjoy your fancy meals and your cushy seats."

"They're not much cushier, I promise." He almost seemed embarrassed to admit it, which was kind of endearing. My eyebrows shot up, and I let out a snort.

"Uh huh," Like I'd ever believe a business class seat wasn't better than an economy class one. I mean, why would people pay thousands of dollars more to sit in seats that weren't any better?

We held one another's gaze briefly as a woman's voice called for all business class passengers to check in. I nodded toward the gate once more.

"See you on the other side, maybe," I offered, giving him my most genuine smile.

"Yeah." He nodded, lingering still, until he seemed to work up the resolve to pivot on his feet—which were wrapped in shiny, polished black shoes—and make his way toward the counter. I waited, and then waved when he turned back on the other side of the gate to smile at me.

Once he was gone, my heart rate finally slowed. I sought out an uncomfortable blue chair with the rest of the commoners, waiting my turn to board, all the while knowing there was a very small chance of seeing him again, on the other side or otherwise.

# Chapter Five

You know, if anyone had ever told me that my plane wouldn't be flying because of an engine failure, I would have been relieved. But here I was, stuck in a small airport hotel in Accra overnight, twiddling my thumbs until it was time to go.

The flight from home to Ghana had been calm, cool, and collected. Sure, there were a few crying babies here and there. Yes, the food hadn't been great, but then again, when was airplane food ever supposed to be good? I watched a lot of movies, dozed for a good four hours, and tried not to touch elbows with the guy sitting next to me, who'd been keen on territorial expansion between our two seats. I had a bunch of books to read, but the cabin pressure gave me a constant headache, making it downright impossible to focus on any words. I probably should have expected that, considering I can't read any of the buses, trains, or cars. All in all, it was an uneventful flight.

I was able to easily grab my bag off of the carousel, and head to the custom counter. . The airport had been littered with travelers from all over the world—but not once had I seen Grant anywhere. As I'd predicted, our chance encounter before the flight was probably the last I'd ever see of him.

It wasn't until I'd reached the section of the airport where I needed to catch my connecting flight to Togo that I knew I'd be delayed—again. Apparently, the small aircraft had been experiencing engine problems since it landed after its previous flight. For safety, I'd been told my flight had been cancelled tonight. Pushed to tomorrow at noon, I was now stranded in a strange city, one Grant had called beautiful, with no idea where to go or what to do.

Luckily I hadn't needed to panic for long. The counter attendant handed me over a stipend and a pass to use at a hotel nearby that housed passengers from delayed and cancelled flights on a temporary basis.

I didn't want to just sit around in a hotel room. I wanted to see and do things—I wanted to be an adventurous traveler.

Unfortunately, the cab ride had been expensive and a little dangerous, which sort of dampened my yearning to try new things. Sure, the driver might have felt at ease whizzing through traffic, but I got to the hotel wanting to vomit on the back of his seat. Even though I'd come over here to find myself, I'd spent almost a full half-hour in the shower, then slept most of the afternoon away.

Here I was, jetlagged and bored. I still had books to read, a lot of them, more than six months' worth. So, really, I could have spent the night wrapped up in a good book.

"But where was the fun in that?" I said to myself.

Even though it was still a little sunny when I locked my room and wandered down to the main floor, I wasn't feeling brave enough to peruse a new city on my on at night. I mean, I was about to spend six months being adventurous; my restless spirit could wait another night before throwing itself out there.

Despite being an airport hotel, I actually liked the place. All the employees were friendly, and the hostess at the small restaurant recommended trying the bar food over the dining room, whispering that the better cook was in the bar section tonight when I arched an eyebrow at her. Nodding, I took her not-so-subtle hint and made my way to the bar. Located at the back of the hotel, it overlooked a grassy ravine, with some tables and chairs outside on a small balcony. It wasn't anything special in a decorative sense. In fact, as I settled atop a barstool and grabbed a small menu nearby, I couldn't help but think it looked like a bar you might find in an actual airport: franchised, without any special touches, and a little sterile.

Not that it mattered. My growling stomach wanted something greasy and fatty, and I could do with a beer or two after the day—night?—I'd just had in the air and on the ground.

After I'd decided on a burger and a plate of spinach dip, plus a local beer, I closed my menu and set it aside. The bartender was busy with two couples at the other end of the long wooden counter. Based on the faint conversation I heard over the music and the various TVs placed strategically around the bar, I guessed that they were British tourists.

I wonder where they were headed. I'd been told that I wouldn't be the only one traveling to Togo as a part of the volunteer effort, but when I was at the airport, I didn't take the time to look for my fellow out-of-sorts volunteers. I should have. We could have gotten to know each other at the hotel.

Drumming my fingers on the dark wood paneling, I nibbled my lower lip, wishing I'd brought my book with me. I'd look like more of loner reading a book at a bar, but at least it'd be a distraction while I waited for my food. I wasn't a sociable person; I had a decent group of friends and could easily talk to strangers. But I was out of my element here. With nothing familiar to grasp onto and no one making the first move, I felt uneasy approaching a stranger and starting up a conversation with them.

I must have been nervous, having worked retail and PR for most of my adult life, striking up a conversation with a stranger should have been easy.

I'll blame it on the jetlag.

Once he was finished taking care of the older British group, the bartender made his way over to me and I was able to place my order.

"Would you like it delivered to your room?"

I shook my head, patting the countertop. "No, I think I'll sit down here."

He nodded and disappeared without another word, just as I drew a breath to start some friendly banter. Damn.

"Well, isn't this a small world?"

I nearly fell off my chair when Grant climbed on to the barstool next to mine, a grin spread wide across his handsome face. He looked even fresher than I did, and my hair was still wet from the shower. Clean-shaven, his hair tousled just right, he looked like he belonged more in a fashion shoot than a sad airport hotel bar.

"No kidding," I chuckled, turning on the spot to face him. "It _is_ a small world."

"Please don't sing the song," he joked. He then ordered a beer, raising his hand to catch the bartender's gaze, and then turned his attention back to me. "So, how was the flight with the common people? Riveting?"

"Ha ha," I groaned, making sure he saw me roll of eyes. "It was beyond riveting, I'll have you know."

His eyebrows shot up, "That good, huh?"

"Better than you can possibly imagine."

When the bartender delivered our drinks, I snatched mine and took a big gulp. With my insides dancing and my heart racing, I had to wonder if Grant made every girl feel like she was having a stroke? I was so thrilled to see him that I didn't even bother to ask why he was at this hotel in particular. After all, don't engineers make heaps of money? Engineers who fly business class probably stay at five-star hotels in the city—not airport hotels surrounded by roadways and nothingness.

As we grabbed our drinks and headed for a table, I decided that it wasn't the fact that I saw Grant specifically that made me so happy. For some reason, he felt like a piece of home. He was the familiar face I wanted.

"Do you mind if I join you for dinner?" he asked once a bus boy dropped off a menu for him. "My flight doesn't leave until tomorrow, and I know for a fact that they make excellent nachos."

Tomorrow, huh? That's two coincidences for us. I couldn't help but wonder if there might be more. "Where are you headed?"

"Oh, here, there, everywhere," he told me with a slight wave of his hand and a chuckle. "Work never stops."

I wasn't offended that he wouldn't give me specifics. I mean, it made sense. Aside from our brief conversation at that café, we were absolute strangers. I could learn a thing or two from him about not divulging my life's story to strangers while in a foreign country.

"Well, same here," I said after downing the rest of my beer. Wow where had all the beer gone? These glasses were freakishly small, but he still seemed impressed that I'd managed to guzzle it down. Oh yeah, I'm a real classy lady, friend. "And I'd be happy for some company... I ordered the burger."

"Also spectacular," he admitted. "I love eating here. People don't give it enough credit."

I studied him for a moment, wanting to tell him that that was a nice thing to say. However, before I could get the words out, my spinach dip had arrived, along with a bowl of fresh bread to use for dipping. I noticed Grant eyeing the arrival, his menu grasped in his large hands, and I pushed the bread bowl toward him.

"Dig in, cowboy," I laughed. "We can always order more..."

"You're too kind." I could hear the teasing in his voice as he reached for the bread, and I tugged the bowl back quickly. My eyebrow arched at him, and he cleared his throat. "Thank you."

"Much better." I wasn't sure where my confidence had come from, but I was glad it had finally reappeared. After the bartender dropped off my second beer, I broke a piece of bread in half and dunked it in the green dip.

"Delicious," Grant said, wiping his dirtied fingers on a napkin. "Good choice, m'lady."

"Thanks," I remarked, smiling again at the pet name. "Now, Mr. Fancy Engineer... Tell me all about business class. I need to know what I missed."

# Chapter Six

"So here it is," Grant said dramatically, throwing the door to his room open and bowing low. "The piece de resistance."

I poked my head in, arms crossed, and nodded. "Wow."

"Isn't she something?"

"Yeah," I laughed, leaning into him when he straightened up and placed his hand on my lower back—it had been there since we left the bar. "It looks _exactly_ like my room."

"I've been told that before," he murmured, saying the words, his voice low and husky, in my ear. My skin prickled with excitement. I wasn't sure how we'd gone from discussing the pros and cons of flying with private seats (cue Grant's endless stories about all the amazing airlines he'd flown with) to touching and giggling and whispering on the way to his room, but here we were.

I definitely wasn't going to complain. I wasn't drunk; we'd spent a few hours chatting, and the effects of the few beers I guzzled when he first arrived had faded. I was left instead with a tingly feeling in my hands, a full feeling in my stomach, and a deliriously giddy feeling in my head. I'd never had someone as handsome as Grant, with his bright eyes and the effortless way he carried himself, focus his attention on me and me alone for so long.

I knew, in part, it was because we were two almost acquaintances in a strange place who had a small spark of connection. I bet if I'd chatted with anyone else and the conversation had been amicable and _they_ were sitting at the bar, I would have sat with them for dinner too.

But there was something about him... something that made me nervous, but in the best way possible. Maybe that same thing encouraged me to shift my chair closer, to not flinch back when our legs accidentally brushed against one another under the table.

I guess that "thing" also helped me find the courage to step into his room. As I crossed the threshold, I let out the small breath I'd been holding, trying my best to keep up the game we'd set in motion hours ago.

"As you can see," Grant continued as he shut the door behind us. He didn't lock it, perhaps for my benefit. I could appreciate that. "There is a lovely double bed... roomy without being obnoxious. A stellar bathroom with all the necessary amenities..."

I peered into the bathroom, which was to the immediate right as soon as I stepped into the suite. Exactly like my room, his countertop was the same faux-marble vanilla. Unlike my room, however, the space wasn't littered with toiletries. No, there was a single unopened black bag tucked neatly in the corner, and I couldn't help but wonder what I'd find inside.

"It truly is a spectacular sight," I noted, putting on my snootiest accent. He chuckled as I stepped away from the bathroom, his hands suddenly falling to my hips. Both hands, both large... warm hands. His fingers curved around me, and I couldn't help but stare. There was a brief pause in our game, as if he was asking me if this was acceptable, and I responded by leaning back against him again.

Standing so close, back to chest, I realized I'd almost forgotten how tall he was. I tilted my head back, my eyes wandering from his bright blues to his slim, kissable lips. Like every other part of him, they were beyond attractive. I licked mine instinctively, drawing in a tentative breath. He mirrored me exactly, but as I eased my face toward his, he raised his arm and pointed to the window.

"Have you seen the view?"

I arched my back as his other arm slid around my snuggly, pulling me back against his hard body—it was obvious where this game was headed.

"I like _this_ view," I murmured. While bright and blue as ever, it was like his gaze had darkened with desire, with need. I also felt both of those in the way his hips pressed up against my backside, a telltale sign of lust from him igniting something in me.

"Me too."

His words were cut off, muffled, as I tilted my head back and pressed my lips to his. The time for games was over. The time for polite niceties about our travel plans could wait. All I knew was that I wanted him, right here and now, and I wasn't going to leave until that happened. He responded in kind, hoisting me up once I'd turned in his arms, my hands cupping his face.

There was no hesitation from either of us. I realized I was trembling a little, but with anticipation, with want. Grant set me down on his bed, just as squishy and well-used as mine was, and I clung to the front of his shirt as I lay back, dragging him down with me.

"We don't have to do anything you don't want to do," he managed to get out between kisses, and I threw my head back with a moan in response. His lips wandered from mine to my jaw, then down my neck. His hands, those big, strong hands, roamed my body, pausing to pluck at my breasts through my shirt. He hesitated after brushing his parted mouth over my collarbone, my chest heaving with every gasp I drew. "Although, I guess I'd know if you weren't interested..."

"Shut up," I whispered, half-dragging him toward me for another hungry kiss. Our lips parted on impact, tongues testing the waters by lightly brushing against one another. This was happening. I wasn't the kind of person who enjoyed one-night stands. I'd always thought they were impersonal—sex wasn't fun when you didn't know the other person's body very well.

But this was different. Every time he touched me, electricity shot through me. It was like we'd been lovers for years, our moves in sync and strangely coherent, coordinated even. I went for the bottom of his shirt just as he flicked open the button on my jeans. Our eyes met, and we both let out nervous chuckles.

"Ladies first?"

My eyebrows shot up, and I nodded down to his shirt, "Nope."

Grant rolled his eyes with a small smile, and I inhaled sharply as he drew his shirt over his head. I don't know why I'm surprised that he'd totally ripped, but I guess a small part of me had hoped he wasn't a total and utter god: he needed some flaws, but I could appreciate the abs for a night.

I sat up and ran my hands over his abdomen, watching as he twitched under the touch.

"Ticklish?" I asked, holding back my giggles as he danced out of reach. I lay there, propped up my elbows, my legs dangling over the edge of the bed, as Grant stood between my knees. He gave no answer to my question, but instead grabbed my pants and started tugging. I lifted my hips to help, and for once, I wasn't shy about my nudity. Not even when he hooked a finger under the band of my underwear and dragged it down.

Thank goodness I'd kept everything tidy. I hadn't been expecting to be naked in front of anyone while on a volunteer trip, but at least I'd had to good sense to prepare. I yanked my shirt over my head, then unclipped the back of my bra. Both garments fell away, and a heated flush painted across my body, moving with Grant's gaze. It wasn't a leer. No, this was an appreciative study, as if he were a scholar examining fine art.

It was strange that I felt so... valued.

He crawled back over me, grinning, and I managed to push his trousers down as best I could with my limited reach. Our kiss was tender this time, gentle and unhurried, broken only when he nudged a finger into me. And then another. My body clenched, pleasure shooting out from my core as he worked me over. He was skilled with his hands, but I guess I shouldn't expect anything less.

I groaned, my hands digging into his shoulders, as I climbed nearer and nearer to that pleasurable crest, his fingers driving me crazy. Then, just before I could finish, he stopped. I let out a disappointed whimper and finally opened my eyes. He was in the process of shedding his pants, revealing toned thighs with light hair—and a prominent bulge that immediately caught my attention. I swallowed nervously. It had been a while since I'd been with anyone, and even with his boxers on, I knew he wasn't an average-sized guy.

"We don't have to do anything else," he told me as he fished his wallet out of his pants. I watched him grab a condom, holding it up between us. "I don't want to be presumptuous about anything—"

"Put that damn thing on before I rip it out of your hands," I ordered, blushing at the way he smiled at me. I lay back, listening to the crinkling of the wrapper, and drew in a shallow breath when he climbed back on top of me. Then, before I had a chance to react, he grabbed my waist and rolled us over, setting me on top of him.

From this position, I was in control. I reached back to rub him, my eyes widening at the girth. He licked his lips, a small groan slipping free when I squeezed. Not wanting to prolong either of our agonies, I lifted myself up and slowly slid down his entire length. There was no resistance: his fingers had given me a pretty solid warm-up. I moaned breathily, pleasurable jolts shooting through my body as he filled me.

We took it slow at first. Gentle rocks. The occasional swirl of my hips. His hands resting on my waist—sometimes lower. But then it became too much, too difficult to go slowly. I started to ride him, one hand on his chest and the other running through my hair. He thrust up and into me, matching my pace, our mingled grunts and moans uncensored.

It was probably pretty obvious what we were doing to our neighbors.

And I didn't care.

Grant rolled us over one last time, my arms locked around him, and pounded into me until I cried out, a powerful orgasm tearing through me.

Wow. Can't say I've ever seen stars before with a guy, especially not with a guy who I'd only just met. Hell, it took some old boyfriends months before I even peaked when we were in bed together, and here Grant was, getting me off on the first try. Clearly I needed to invest some more time in engineers.

He followed shortly after me, his hips stuttering against mine as he groaned into my mouth. I felt the way he flushed after, his heated skin pressed to mine. The hard kiss eased off, relaxing as we did, until we lay side by side, lazily kissing. Our hands roamed freely, and I didn't feel the need to cover up or make a mad dash for the door.

This was the best one-night stand I'd ever had, but I knew it was going to be my last one for six months. Why not make the most of it? Besides, once I left his room, we probably weren't ever going to see each other again. I had no reason to be shy. Why tailor anything about myself for a guy who wouldn't remember my name in a week's time? In the past, it might have bothered me. The thought of a guy getting in my pants with no intention of committing to at least a little dating wasn't something I hoped for, but what did it matter now?

Tonight was a write-off. We'd go our separate ways, him leading his glamorous lifestyle with his high-flying career, and me to volunteer in rural Togo. That didn't bother me. In fact, this was probably one of the few one-night stands in my life that I wouldn't regret.

Once we'd recovered, my hand wandered down his body, a mischievous look in my eye, and my kiss told him everything he'd want to know: I was ready for round two.

# Chapter Seven

My eyes shot open as the phone next to my bed trilled shrilly. Blinking the sleep away, I rolled over and grabbed the thing, bringing the receiver to my ear.

"Yes?" I sounded like a chain-smoking bullfrog.

"Good morning, madam," came a pleasant woman's voice from the other end of the line. "This is your requested wake-up call. There will be an airport shuttle arriving at the front doors in one hour."

I cleared my throat, hoping to get some of the sleepiness out of my voice. Unfortunately, my words still sounded scraggly and hoarse as I said, "Okay, thank you very much."

"You are most welcome, madam. Have a pleasant morning."

She hung up before I could say anything else, but I figured that was probably for the best. Groaning, I closed my eyes tight and buried my head under my pillow. On the other side of my flimsy curtains, the sun was blaring, but all I wanted to do was sleep the rest of the day away. "Stupid engine problems." I would have been wide awake and alert if we'd taken off last night, and I definitely wouldn't arrive at the volunteer meet-up location looking haggard and worn.

Showers and toothpaste fix all manner of morning-after sins, my mom had always said. I almost rolled my eyes at the thought, hating how her silly sayings actually had meaning here. This was the morning-after. I'd had a one-night stand with a sexy stranger, getting off three times—a new record—before we kissed good-bye at the door and I turned in for the night.

I didn't feel like Grant was kicking me out at the time, and as I slowly sat up and rubbed my sleep-crusted eyes, it felt like I'd made the right decision coming back to my own room. I mean, the front desk woman would probably send someone up if I didn't answer the alarm call, and I didn't need the whole hotel to know I'd found a different room to spend the night in.

Grant and I knew what last night was: a one-night stand and nothing more. We'd parted smiling, with no awkwardness or guilt. We'd had fun. He made me feel appreciated. He'd been a perfect gentleman, and I definitely hadn't been the perfect lady. Considering it was probably the last time I'd be having sex for the next six months (possibly longer, who knows, given my lack of romantic prospects), I'd wanted to make the most of it.

Three times. A personal best.

I slunk out of bed with all the weight that jetlag brought resting on my shoulders. My lady parts were a little sore, but it was a good kind of ache, one that was immensely satisfying. Once standing upright with no intention of falling back under the covers, I sauntered to the bathroom and hopped in the shower.

The brisk water managed to shock me out of my sleepy stupor. I yelped, instantly pummeled by a stream of frigid liquid, and cowered on the far side of the small shower until it warmed up a few degrees. When I realized it probably wasn't going to reach a comfortable temperature, I jumped under and did a quick scrub of everything.

I mean, I should probably get used to cold showers. Would the village even have running water? I stopped mid-shampoo rub, my eyebrows furrowing. Why hadn't I asked that? Had the volunteer coordinator talked to me about this before?

Whatever I shrugged, and continued to lather my hair up, fully aware that I'd already wasted some time lounging around in bed after the wake-up call. I could have probably grabbed a quick bite to eat downstairs, but I didn't want to miss the shuttle. As I dried myself off and brushed my teeth, I mentally ran through the plan for the day. Instead of eating at the hotel, I'd buy a sandwich or something at the airport, all the while hoping I'd be fed well once I arrived at the village.

After that, I had a quick flight to catch to Togo, then a drive with someone from the organization who would take me to my village. A panicky feeling descended on me as I got dressed. What if the driver just left me there? All alone, with no one to lean on... I bit the insides of my cheeks to distract myself from any stressful thinking. After all, I knew a long time ago what I was getting myself into. Some volunteers worked for two years, so I could probably guarantee there'd be someone else there who was also a stranger to the village.

Well, I could hope. I straightened up once dressed, my hands on my hips. No. It shouldn't matter. I was out here to grow as a person, and I couldn't do that by falling back on familiarity. I'd done enough of that with Grant; it was time for the real adventure to begin.

Dressed in a pair of knee-length khaki shorts and a dark green t-shirt; I pushed my feet into my worn running shoes. I did a quick sweep of the hotel room, then headed down to the main floor. After checking out at the front desk, I barely made it to the airport shuttle. I was joined by a few other overnight travelers. Some looked as sleepy as I did—one guy had his sweater over his face as he passed out on the window. Smirking, I settled in the seat behind him and took in whatever scenery I could get my eyes on, as the shuttle pulled away from the hotel.

I took a deep breath.... now for the real adventure.

****

Ugh. It seemed that no matter the time of day, the airport was always busy. I'd managed to get my bags checked in and ticket issued quickly enough, but getting through security was a slow, dragging process. Afterward, I found myself surrounded by people everywhere I went. All the bars were busy. The restaurants were full of families and singletons alike. Even the bookstore was lined with people, their backpacks knocking into one another as they navigated through the tiny aisles.

I stood at the bookstore entrance, looking between the sea of people ahead of me, then thought better of venturing into the crowd. I had enough books to read. I mean, no one can ever have enough—or so they say—but I wanted something to pass the time. My fingers were itching to crack open a magazine for some light, easy reading at the boarding gate. Unfortunately, that was out of the question.

Sighing, I turned on the spot and made my way toward the gate. I still had another forty minutes before we were set to board, but whenever a flight was concerned, I'd rather be unnecessarily early than cutting it desperately close. After all, I'd missed this flight yesterday because of mechanical problems—I wasn't going to miss it again because I was running late.

Halfway to the gate, I stopped, spotting something familiar in the crowd. Well, more like some _one_ familiar. I couldn't be sure, but as I squinted, I could have sworn I saw Grant making his way through the crowd. I mean, I couldn't be sure because his back was to me, but the man I saw bore a strikingly similar physical appearance—from behind. Same brown hair and broad shoulders. I wondered, briefly, if I'd left any reminders of last night on his back, courtesy of my overeager nails. My cheeks flamed at the thought.

I guess the thing that caught my attention more than his physique was the man's style. While everyone around me, for the most part, seemed dressed for comfort, this guy had a pressed shirt on, plus a pair of designer sunglasses resting on his head. I, like the rest of the sensible people, looked like I was ready for a safari, and my running shoes had seen better days. Grant oozed style and sophistication, and this guy had a similar vibe. I have to admitI was instantly turned on.

But of course, I blinked and he was gone. Lost in the crowd, my Grant lookalike wandered away at a brisk pace, eventually blending in with everyone else. I stood on my tiptoes, hoping to grab one last look, but that proved useless.

Oh well, I had _plenty_ of juicy mental images of Grant the Engineer to last me the whole six months away. I grinned. Oh yeah, definitely some good ones up there. Hand gripped tight around my backpack, I pushed onward. My gate loomed ahead, as did the beginning of a new chapter in life.

Grant—and his lookalike—was a thing of the past. He was a transition piece, helping me break away from the old Clara until I found the new. Maybe I should have thanked him. I mean, I could have left a note under his door or something. Sent up breakfast room service, the food billed to me.

But then again, the sex was probably thanks enough. I flushed again, grinning like an idiot until I made eye contact with a staring stranger. He returned the grin brightly, and when he seemed like he was headed toward me, I practically jogged the rest of the way to my gate, then locked myself in a nearby bathroom until I was sure he was gone.

****

My eyes narrowed at the miniscule charter plane ahead of me. There had to be at least thirty or forty people waiting to board. How are we all supposed to fit in there? Did we sit on each other's laps and pray for the best? I shot a glance back to the airport, standing on the tarmac with my hands clamped down on my backpack. After they'd checked all of our tickets, we were ushered outside with some of the ground staff to board, our plane too small to reach the usual airbus extenders.

That should have been a sign. Maybe yesterday's engine problems were a sign too. Maybe I should have just bought a ticket and headed back home.

No. I let out a determined puff of air, and waited my ticket stub growing damp in my sweaty palm. This was the last part before the adventure, and I couldn't chicken out now. When the guy in front of me moved forward, so did I, and soon enough, I was climbing the steep steps up to the plane. A smiling flight attendant greeted me, her uniform crisp and clean, her hair tied back, her hat slight off-center.

"Enjoy the flight," she told me, her heavily accented English music to my ears. I'd become a rarity since arriving in Ghana, though I shouldn't have been surprised. I initially thought it'd be easy to find fluent linguists who instantly understood me and vice versa, but I guess I just had to realize that I wasn't supposed to be in a comfortable, cushy position. This trip is not about having the comfort of home, it's about helping other people.

The plane seemed even smaller on the inside than it was on the outside. I bit the inside of my cheeks, ducking down a little to step into the seating area. There were two seats on either side of the aisle, and mine was at the back. I trudged along, pausing here and there to wait for people to get themselves settled, and only stopped completely when I spotted a familiar face.

Grant. On my flight, sitting in an aisle seat with his pricey sunglasses on his head.

Oh my god. He was the guy sleeping with his sweater over his face on the bus. I recognized his attire instantly. He was also the guy I'd spotted in the airport. It wasn't a lookalike—it had been the real deal back in the terminal. His eyes wandered up slowly, absentmindedly, and stopped on my face. A look of panic flashed over his features, killing my smile before my lips could even twitch.

Fine. Apparently this one-night stand hadn't ended as warmly as I thought it did. I looked down my nose at him, then pushed onward when the guy in front of me slid into his seat. My heart hammered in my chest, but at least his presence had taken my mind off the size of the airplane. What was he even doing here?!

I would have liked to ask, but I also wasn't one of those women who couldn't take a hint. If he didn't want to see me, as evidenced by the shocked and panicked expression on his face, then I could handle that. I'm a grown-up.

I didn't feel much like a grown-up, when I tripped over a woman's briefcase that was poking out into the aisle. I had to prevent myself from falling by grabbing the back of her seat. Her glare made my blood boil, but I bit my tongue and eased into the seat behind her. I was very happy that I had a window seat. Because, I wouldn't be able to see Grant and I was two rows from the bathroom. I crossed my fingers that no one would be sitting next to me, then I found a book to read. The flight would be over in a flash, and then I'd be on the volunteer bus headed for rural Togo—and far away from him.

Why was he so panicked? My brow furrowed at the thought, and I closed my book and stared out the window. We'd had a good time. We'd kissed before I left. I don't get it.

My hopes for sitting alone were dashed when an elderly gentleman in a suit plopped down beside me. His sigh sounded a little wet, and I shifted away from him, finding my window view infinitely more interesting all of a sudden.

"Excuse me?" My skin prickled as Grant's voice sounded beside me, and a quick glance to the side saw him speaking to my new traveling friend. "Would you be willing to switch seats with me?"

I raised an eyebrow when our eyes met, but said nothing. The older gentleman sighed again and gestured to the seat. "I just got comfortable."

"I realize, sir, and I apologize—"

"Go bother someone else," he snapped, brushing Grant aside with a wave of his hand, as if he were batting away a particularly troublesome insect. I almost smiled, but then looked away when Grant pulled out his wallet and presented my neighbor with a couple of folded bills. The man hesitated briefly, but I soon felt the telltale shuffling of his seat, followed by Grant's heavy presence in his place.

My stomach was in knots, almost to the point where it hurt. Now, not only was I nervous about the flight and the volunteer trip overall, but I had some weird man-drama to deal with in a tiny cigarette plane.

"Look," I started, twisting my body so that I could face him directly. "You don't have to—"

"I'm sorry," he interrupted, mirroring my pose, his laptop bag on his knees. "I think I came across as rude just now. When I saw you, I was just surprised. I didn't mean to make a face."

"Well, you did," I told him pointedly. For some reason, I couldn't bring myself to tell him that I didn't want to sit next to him. I should have told him to switch his seat back, but I just couldn't. The longer he sat there, the more the knots in my stomach started to work themselves out. "I didn't... follow you on this flight, or whatever. This was always my original flight."

"Mine too," he remarked. I watched the way his large hands gently set his bag on the ground, easing it underneath the seat in front of him. "I'm sorry. I _am_ happy to see you again. I thought"

"Thought what?"

He seemed surprised by my tone, but as he settled back in his seat, an easy smile touched his lips. "I thought I might not ever see you again... It wasn't a very pleasant thought."

I hummed in response, doing my best to keep my expression appropriately skeptical, despite the fact my stomach knots were slowly morphing into butterflies.

"Last night was—"

"Why didn't you tell me you were on this flight?" I asked, cutting him off and holding his gaze. He shrugged in a way that would have seemed disrespectful on anyone else, but on him, it made my knees weak. He was casual without being a laidback slob. Business casual. That was his whole aura.

He countered my question with, "Why didn't _you_?"

"I..." I trailed off, trying to find the right words, but unable to. Instead, I quickly licked my lips and pressed them together, a vivid sensory memory flashing through my head of running said lips over his muscular legs. He was obviously a runner. I tried very hard not to let my eyes dart down to his legs.

"We were both strangers," he sighed after a brief pause. I pursed my lips. We definitely weren't strangers anymore. "Neither of us were obligated to share travel details with the other... This is just... a happy coincidence."

"We seem to have a lot of those," I mused, and he nodded.

"That we do."

I leaned back in my seat, my eyes darting to the flight attendant and the passenger arguing about the size of her carry-on. The attendant insisted it ought to be checked in. The passenger half-yelled that she could make it fit under the seat. Everyone around them pretend they did not see or hear the ordeal.

"What are you doing in Togo?" I asked, speaking the question before I considered the consequences. "I mean, since we aren't strangers anymore, I figured you could tell me that much."

His head bobbed up and down again. "I'm working with a rural village... They need schools built, houses updated, water lines done. My company does a lot of pro-bono work. We partner with this volunteer organization, and I'm donating six months of my time to..."

I noticed his frown quickly matching mine, and he asked, "What is it?"

I gave the name of the volunteer organization that I was traveling with, then the name of the village. His face blanched—as did mine. We were headed to the exact same place.

"Wow," he breathed, and I placed a hand on my forehead. His voice had gone very quiet. "Imagine that."

"Another happy coincidence," I muttered, fiddling with the corner of my book. My eyes shot to him, hoping to catch an in-the-moment reaction to the news. He didn't look upset by any means. Surprised, yes. We were both feeling a bit of that, I think. swallowing hard, I drew in a deep breath, ready to tell him that he didn't need to feel like he owed me something—I could handle myself on my own—while we were at the village, but he beat me to it.

"Do you want me to switch my seat back?" asked Grant. His eyebrows arching in a way that was oddly adorable. It was like he didn't want to ask the question, but did so anyway. I shook my head.

"No. Stay." I didn't want him to leave. I wasn't sure how I felt about him beyond the fact that we had killer sex and his body was that of a god, but I guess we had time to figure out if there was the potential for a friendship in there. I mean, we had at least six months to be around each other anyway; a relationship of some kind, good or bad, was bound to form in that time period.

"Is this your first time volunteering?" he asked as both of us buckled up, as per the flight attendant's request. The plane rumbled, shifting jerkily as everything got started up. The cabin grew louder from the gears and cogs and mechanisms snapping in to place.

"I hope the damn engine is working now," I said, ignoring his question. He didn't need to know I was a newbie. I didn't want—or need—special treatment from him just because we had some awesome sexual history all of a sudden.

"I'm sure the mechanics know what they're doing," he replied. I froze when his fingers touched my hand, as if to reassure me. "Don't worry."

"I'm not," I lied, keeping my hand still as he patted the top of it. "I was just saying."

"Okay." He pulled his hand back, maybe realizing that he was touching me for a little longer than necessary.

Or maybe not long enough. Another hard swallow. I turned my gaze out the window, as if to watch us rumble down the tarmac. I might have been sassier than I needed to be, but I didn't know him. I didn't know how he'd react in this situation, how he'd treat me now that we were, in a way, working together in a foreign place. I wasn't sure if he'd feel obliged to stick by my side, but I'd hoped to express to him that he didn't need to do anything for me. He didn't owe me something. I didn't need to cuddle up next to him at night.

There was always the benefit of the doubt. I mean, he could have been a totally sweet guy who was genuinely excited that we'd be traveling together. Again, I didn't know, and I probably wouldn't know for a few more days at least—not until we were settled.

But still, despite my newfound worries, I couldn't ignore the flicker of happiness in my stomach. The knots had hatched into full-blown butterflies now, and they were making big arcs in there. Big, loopy arcs.

# Chapter Eight

Our destination was a miniscule airport on the edge of a stunning strip of thick forest. The landing was a little questionable, and neither Grant nor I said anything about the wrist clutching incident. I'm pretty sure my nails left some permanent marks on the underside of his wrist, which I had clutched when we made a particularly sharp drop toward the ground. Our little plane cresting over pockets of air in a way that undoubtedly had everyone concerned. Once the plane leveled off, I pulled my hand away and kept it squarely in my territory, mortified.

Grant barely reacted to the grab. He had a death grip on both armrests, however, so I guess it's safe to assume he didn't even notice the added pressure.

The airport was barely bigger than a warehouse, but given the location, it made sense. Most of the planes landing or taking off were smaller than ours, and I figured it was more for local short-range trips than big, cross-country ventures.

People were moving before the seatbelt sign was off, but I merely took a deep breath and wiped the sweat off the back of my neck with my equally clammy hands. Grant mimicked me, and I noticed a slight tremble in his hand when he brushed it through his hair.

"That was rough," I heard him mutter over the commotion around us. All I could do was nod. We were at the back of the plane, which meant we were last to leave—and it was going to take forever to get out of here. All I wanted to do was suck down a satisfying gulp of fresh air. I didn't care how humid or thick it was; I just wanted to get off this tiny death trap and onto solid ground.

With Grant, apparently.

We kept the short flight civil. I read my book, ignoring the way reading brought a twinge of a headache out behind my eye, and he read the in-flight magazine with more focus than it deserved. The air was still a little awkward between us, but I could only hope that that would fade in time. There was no way I could spend six months feeling uncomfortable around him.

Mind you, there was no guarantee we'd be spending all six months together. We hadn't talked about why we volunteered or what we were doing, but I didn't really get the teacher-vibe off him. But then again, I probably didn't radiate said vibe either.

I took another deep breath, my eyes briefly drifting closed.

"Clara?" Grant's tone was gentle, almost a delicate whisper, and my eyelashes fluttered as they opened. Most of the plane had emptied out at this point, and I wondered how long I'd been sitting with my eyes closed—not as brief as I thought, apparently—as I pressed a hand to my forehead. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I remarked, sitting up and tugging my backpack out from under the seat. He already had this laptop bag ready to go, its thick strap resting on his shoulder—a shoulder I'd clung to last night. I licked my lips and blinked the memory away. "Just a bit of a headache."

"It's stuffy in here," he offered, and I nodded. Using the seat in front of me to hoist myself up, I sidled out of the tight space after him, preferring to let him lead the way down the aisle. We were among the last to get off, and I was pleasantly surprised to see a small shuttle van waiting for us. After boarding, squished between Grant and the door, we rumbled along the tarmac to the airport.

By now, all this passport nonsense and security checks were a breeze. One of the upsides about landing at such a small airport was the lack of fellow travelers: I was waiting at one of three baggage tracks twenty minutes after landing. Grant strolled along the oval-shaped track, his hands in his pockets and eyes peeled for his bag. I, on the other hand, couldn't fathom moving much. My lack of sleep from last night was catching up with me fast, and I wanted nothing more than to curl up on the nearby metal bench and snooze the afternoon away.

I mean, sure, I was also bursting with excitement. I was one step closer to the village that I'd call home for the next six months— _of course_ I was amped. But also tired. The bags under my eyes probably told the whole world that I needed an extra six to eight hours before being a functional person again.

A jolt of wakefulness shot through me when I spotted the neon green tag I'd attached to my duffel bag. It was sitting on top of an old brown suitcase on the conveyor belt, moving at a snail's pace around the black oval. Whew. At least all my things made it the last leg of the air portion of this journey. I grinned and headed straight for it, darting around a few of my fellow travelers, eyes leaving it for only a second.

And a second was all someone needed, apparently. Once I'd maneuvered around a rather large, loud family, I realized my bag was gone. I stopped dead in my tracks, frowning. The brown suitcase was still there, but there was no sign of the bright green tag I'd chosen specifically to help distinguish my bag from the rest.

My eyebrows furrowed as I hurried around the crest of the belt. Gone. Grant was along the other side of the oval, his hands still in his pocket and his expression relaxed. I wanted to flag him down—two pairs of eyes were better than one—but I quickly discovered that wouldn't be necessary. I'd found my bag: someone else had decided to make off with it.

"Excuse me!"

I jogged after the man clutching the familiar handles. I could see where the pointed end of my hairbrush was poking out of the fabric. The green tag was still there, along with the small lock I'd added too. The man was only a young guy, probably in his early twenties, who looked like he belonged on any American college campus—surrounded by clouds of marijuana, that is.

"That's my bag," I said, keeping my tone friendly and civil as I pointed down at the duffel. He shook his head.

"Nah, that's mine," was all I got as he tried to step around me, his eyes darting up to the exit sign in the distance. But I stood my ground. I hadn't spent all these years in the corporate world without developing a brusque, thick outer layer.

"No," I snapped, my hand up to keep him from going anywhere. "It's mine. That green tag will have all my information in it."

"Not smart to just leave your info exposed like that," he told me, weirdly serious about it. "I got the same tag. Can you stop causing a scene?"

"What?" I wasn't causing a scene. I hadn't even managed to catch the nearby security guard's attention with my efforts to reclaim my bag. "Just open the tag and I'll show you—"

"Gotta catch a ride, man," he chuckled, and then managed to sidestep me with surprising speed. "See ya around."

My eyes narrowed, and before he could get more than a foot from me, I reached out and grabbed the back of my bag. "Nope."

"Let go!" He gave a decent tug, which made me stumble forward, but I managed to keep my grasp. My nails bit in to the black fabric. He wasn't leaving with my stuff.

"Is there a problem here?"

Grant's presence should have made me relax, but for some reason, I dug in more, as if I could handle this on my own.

"This bitch is trying to—"

"Hey," Grant barked, immediately blocking the guy's escape route. He towered over the kid, those glorious shoulders completely overshadowing him. I tried to hide my smirk. I'd never had someone intimidate another person for me before. "Watch the language, pal."

"This is my bag," I got out, cutting the guy before he could say anything else. "He's trying to steal my bag."

I grabbed the green tag with one hand and flipped it over. Sure enough, my name was there in big, chunky letters, etched in permanent marker by dear old dad the day of my flight. Grant's eyes widened, and he grabbed the guy by the front of his shirt. Now the security guards were looking. I noticed a few heads turn over Grant's shoulders.

"You have five seconds to drop her bag, or you'll be walking out of here with no bag _and_ no front teeth," he hissed, the threat plain as day. The thief dropped the bag instantly, and Grant gave him a shove in the opposite direction. I didn't bother to watch him flee. Instead, I clutched my cushy duffel bag to my chest, thankful I'd been around to catch the guy in the act. Surviving six months with no comfort from home would have been rough.

"Thanks for that," I offered, cradling my bag to me, my cheeks flushed. "I didn't really want to wrestle it out of his hands, but..."

"You look like you could use a little extra muscle." Grant watched the guy barrel through the last security check-point with a slight clench in his jaw, and the butterflies started to do their dance again. Once he was gone for good, Grant's shoulders relaxed a little, and he shot me a small smile before adding, "I didn't mean to step on your toes."

"You were a welcome addition to the duffel rescue effort," I assured him with a nod. Our eyes met for a few moments, holding one another's gaze, and I was the first to look away. Pretending to check over my bag for further infarctions, I nodded again when he told me he spotted his bag. In his absence, I let out a deep breath, one I hadn't realized I'd been holding, and hoped that this would be the last of the surprises for the day.

# Chapter Nine

I'd placed a lot of expectations on this trip, but I could have never anticipated the natural beauty of Togo.

"There are more marshes and lagoons the farther south you go," Henri, our French volunteer coordinator and driver, informed us as we rumbled along a half paved road. Every so often, red dirt flew out from under the tires, dusting the glass panes and obstructing my view. "The north is mostly savanna. You can expect a little bit of rain in the next month, then it will be a dry summer."

"It's amazing," I observed, practically pressed against the window to take in every inch of the landscape. Gentle rolling hills were covered in a yellow-green long grass, and I'd already seen dozens of exotic birds nesting in the roadside trees. Palms, coconut trees, and a number of other foreign-sounding titles bounced around in my head as my eyes danced across the greenery. I wanted to learn them all. By the time I left, I wanted to be able to identify a tree or bush or flower just by looking at the leaves.

Strange. I'd never had an eye for botany before. Grant already knew most of the plants, nodding along with Henri when he first began describing the setting. Our driver was the volunteer coordinator for the region, and after we'd loaded our things into his 70s-era white van, he told us that he liked to meet volunteers at the airport and drive them to their village—it was one of the highlights of his job.

I was grateful. Even if he was a Frenchman, Henri was a lingering sense of familiarity for me. As eager as I was to see the kids and try the food and everything else that this adventure entailed, I wasn't ready to be thrown up a creek without a paddle just yet. I wanted wanderlust. I wanted to be the fearless voyager. Unfortunately, I was also quickly learning that I needed to be eased into new situations, something I hadn't realized about myself until now.

Grant was the epitome of relaxation. Once we were in the van, he dispensed with his sweater, swapped his polished leather soles for comfy brown sandals, and had rolled the sleeves of his button-up shirt up to his elbows in that ridiculously sexy way... He was calm, cool, and collected. Sitting with one leg crossed over the other, his arm thrown over the back of our bench-like seats, he wore his expensive sunglasses and a million-dollar smile. He was quick to laugh suddenly, which I discovered was a rather infectious trait.

The combination of my anxiety and excitement melded with his giddy positivity, sending both of us on a high as we bounced toward our rural village.

When it seemed we'd finally exhausted all of our questions about the environment, Henri went for the radio. I tried to hide my smile as he hummed along with some local tunes, bopping his hands on the steering wheel, and a quick peek at Grant told me he was also trying not to laugh. Now that I was out of the airport (all of them, and their tiny planes), having Grant working alongside me didn't seem like such a bad thing. Sure, we had this awkward sexual history hovering over us now, but he seemed like a genuinely nice guy. He would certainly make the trip away from home easier.

"So what brings you out here?" I asked when he caught me staring at him, lost in my musings over what a nice guy he was. Damn it. I need to learn a bit of restraint or I'm going to be embarrassing myself a whole hell of a lot: it was difficult _not_ to stare at Grant. "I mean, I know you're volunteering just like me, but what motivated you to do it?"

Even his one-shouldered shrug was effortless. I nibbled my lower lip when he propped his sunglasses on top of his head, then swiveled in place to talk directly to me.

"I've been the head of my company for a number of years now," he explained, and I was suddenly hyper-aware of the way the frizzy bits of my hair brushed against his fingers on the back of our seat. I shifted so that they wouldn't touch anymore, and I could practically feel the butterflies' wings droop. "I really wanted to find a way to give back that wasn't just writing a check, you know? I mean, I specialize in agriculture and well drilling, and a friend of mine put me in touch with this organization, and I thought there was no better way to give back than to help people find a permanent solution to food shortages and clean water initiatives."

The corners of his lips quirked upward ever-so-slightly when he undoubtedly noticed the way my mouth was hanging open and I quickly pressed my lips together. Sexy, funny, _and_ community-oriented. Was this guy the total package or what?

"That's... That's amazing," I told him, stammering a little as my face dissolved into a look of stunned disbelief. "I've worked in the corporate world for a long time, and I can't think of any of the company heads I know who would give up their time and, well, money to do something like this."

"The economy's been good to me," Grant insisted, seeming a little embarrassed about admitting it. "I've always wanted to do something meaningful with me life... Heading into business after my engineering degree isn't exactly wandering the off the beaten path, you know? Volunteering gives me a chance to really help people _and_ satisfy my innate need to travel. So, really, I'm a bit selfish."

"Ha!" My single bout of laughter was so loud that Henri's eyes darted up to the mirror in surprise. My cheeks colored, warming to the touch, and I cleared my throat. "Hardly selfish. I volunteered because _I_ needed an escape... So, if we're talking selfish, then you're looking right at her."

I gestured to myself as Grant laughed, the skin around his eyes crinkling in a way that suggested he'd be riddled with laugh-lines when he was older. Cute.

"Oh, come on, it can't be that bad," he stated, raising an eyebrow at me. "What are you escaping from, if you don't mind me asking?"

Now it was my turn to shrug. What harm would it do to spill some of my more shameful secrets to the handsome stranger I'd had a one-night stand with? He didn't strike me as the judgmental type, but I couldn't say the same for Henri, who I'm sure was listening intently from the front seat.

"I got fired from my corporate PR job," I told him after a moment's hesitation. He gave me a knowing nod, his eyes kind, and I felt some of my fears fade. It had been hard to tell people I'd been fired. I mean, everyone wants to hear a good quitting story, but when you were forced to leave, when it wasn't _your_ idea to become unemployed, everyone gets weird about it. "I guess I just needed a break from everything. I wanted to do some good for others, since our company was the farthest thing from charitable, and I wanted to travel a bit too... So, really, if anyone's selfish, it's me."

We hit a particularly rough pothole suddenly, and I let out an undignified squeal. Henri laughed from the front seat, and I felt my blush worsening. It had been a long time since I'd seen any signs of civilization on either side of the van, much less another vehicle. The road had gone from mostly to sparsely paved, with the bright red dirt taking up the majority of the lane. The scenery hadn't changed: still beautiful.

"In my experience," Grant told me quietly, leaning in as if to share a precious secret. "People volunteer for their own reasons. You're far from selfish, Clara."

I tried not to shiver at the way he said my name, and we both exchanged somewhat shy smiles. Before I said something to make an even bigger idiot of myself, I turned away and busied myself with the landscape. There was always something to look at beyond the window pane. Chatting about trees was safe, easy. Pointing out monkeys and birds and the occasional gazelle-like creature was fun—and less dangerous than failed jobs and selfishness. He didn't need to lean in close to me in order to chat about our surroundings.

Though I wished he did.

****

"Those are officially the coolest houses I've ever seen," I informed my fellow van riders, pointing at a cluster of round, but oddly tall, mud huts with straw roofing. Henri chuckled, and I noticed Grant smiling at me, but not in a way as if to humor me. I felt secure in my giddiness, my sense of wonder, and it was a miracle the van's window wasn't covered with my nose prints as I strained to keep the cluster of houses in sight.

"You'll have one of your own while you're here," Henri told me. We'd slowed since entering the village limits, and I could have sworn I'd seen a few curious faces poke out of the scattered buildings as we passed. "It will be on the other side of the establishment with the rest of the volunteers. Smaller than those... those are for families."

Past the first cluster of small homes, we entered into what I could only assume was the central meeting place of the village. With the sun still high in the sky, people moved to and fro, many of them women, carrying long branches and baskets of plants with them. The children clustered around the van, tapping on the windows and smiling, and when I waved back, many turned to their neighbor and laughed. There were no frowns, no narrowed looks. It seemed they were all accustomed to volunteers cycling in and out, and I'm sure Henri's white van was a familiar sight.

"I guess this is it," I heard Grant murmur, and when I tore my eyes from the kids, I found him fiddling with his sunglasses, a hesitant smile on his lips. Without thinking, I reached out and placed my hand on his knee, giving it what I hoped would be a reassuring squeeze. Then, without waiting for his response, I popped open the door and slid out. It was easy to forget about Grant in the heat of the moment, and I soon found myself engulfed in a sea of children. They tugged at my shorts, my hands, and my backpack straps. My knee-jerk reaction was to

tense up and hope none of them had picked my pocket, so imagine my surprise when I learned all they wanted was a hug.

That was something I could happily and freely oblige. Some were shirtless, while the rest were dressed. Their clothing styles were a decade or two behind the American norm. One little girl with red barrettes simply stood beside me and held my hand, her finger in her mouth, she would only look at me if I wasn't looking at her—or so she thought, but I noticed her in my peripherals.

The kids scattered, however, when Henri waved them away. He spoke to them in rapid French, and most of the kids took off running and giggling. My little red barrette girl lingered, only letting go of my hands when Henri crouched down and spoke in soft, gentle French. She nodded, her fingers still in her mouth, and stumbled off after the rest of them without a word to me.

"You will learn to set boundaries with them," he told me, his accent a little stronger as he transitioned back to English. "They'll take up every second of your time if you let them."

"I don't mind," I assured him, adrenaline pumping through me. Grant had found his way around to our side of the van, his laptop bag strap resting securely across his broad chest. "They seem sweet."

"Remember you will be teaching them," he continued, almost chastising me. "They must respect you and your space."

"Do they only speak French?" Grant inquired, asking the question I'd been thinking. Henri shook his head, and I noticed the people around us continued on with their day—apparently the arrival of new volunteers only warranted unrestrained excitement from the kids.

"They speak decent English too," Henri told us. "Miss Clara here will be responsible for furthering their education... We'd like them to be able to move on and find jobs elsewhere, and being trilingual will only make them more appealing."

"Makes sense," I noted, and I suddenly found myself wishing I spoke French. I'd been able to have a mediocre conversation in Spanish up until my college years, and then I lost any and all language skills through lack of use. Maybe brushing up on languages could be my goal after volunteering, but first I should focus on the present.

"Why don't I show you to your respective homes?" Henri suggested. We grabbed our bags from the back of the van, then followed him through the village. The red-brown dirt carried on from the main road, coating my shoes and painting my socks.

Beyond the fields of crop and cattle sat eight little round houses, similar to the ones we'd seen on the way in. They were built strictly for volunteers, we were told, as a means to give us some privacy and space from the rest of the village.

"Many love working with the community here, but it can be tough at first for some," Henri informed me as we stood to admire the sun-dried mud—the round walls without a single crack—and straw roofs. "We built the dormitories here specifically to be separate... I'm told it's nice to have a place to recuperate sometimes."

"Oh." I couldn't think of anything else to say. Wouldn't it make more sense to put us in the thick of the village? We'd definitely make friends with everyone faster if we weren't so far away. Still, when I looked over my shoulder, sweat starting to trickle down from my hairline and across my face, I noted that we weren't terribly far from everyone. The village itself sat squarely on the other side of the plots of farmland and livestock, and I could see a few buildings that weren't houses, but their condition wasn't as pristine as our volunteer huts.

"Why don't you get settled in?" Henri touched my arm gently to draw my attention back to him. "There will be a big feast tonight to welcome you, and you can meet with the rest of the volunteers then."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Grant told him, and I nodded my shared sentiment. Suddenly, my bags felt really heavy. My feet seemed to sink into the ground, and all I wanted to do was shut myself in a dimly lit room somewhere and take a few deep breaths.

"Let's see, Grant we have you in bunk one," Henri said, conferring with something on his phone and pointing to the little house at the end of the row, "and Clara we have you in bunk five."

He gestured to the one directly in front of us, and I tried not to let my disappointment show over the fact that we were so far away from each other.

I shook my head. Buck up, Clara. You're here to volunteer, not mope like some high school kid because you aren't sitting next to the guy you like.

Wait. Not like. Well like, but not _like_ like.

Uh oh.

I squared my shoulders and pressed forward, determined not to let some strange guy I barely knew dictate what I got out of this volunteer experience. Still, as I strolled toward my new home for the next six months, my skin prickled. I could practically feel Grant staring holes into the back of my head, and the feeling didn't go away, not even when I'd opened the wooden door and slipped inside.

# Chapter Ten

"So how was the flight over? It's always my least favorite part about volunteering."

I held my hand over my mouth, which was full of food, then gave a quick nod. Yes, I agree, flying is terrible. The woman beside me smiled, obviously pleased we'd bonded over something, and then pushed some of her pita bread into the light brown mush that had a similar texture to hummus. Once I'd swallowed my mouthful, I added more to the sentiment, "I was happy once I had both feet on the ground for more than five minutes, that's for sure."

"Well, this place will definitely ground you," she told me. "Herb and I have been here for almost eight months, and it's the best place we've been yet."

I nodded again, in no position to doubt the claim. "That's great."

And you know what? I don't think there's any reason to doubt it. I'd only been there a couple of hours, and the queasy, nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach was finally starting to fade. Sure, I still felt out of place. Even standing next to Grant and Henri when we'd met with the other volunteers before dinner, it was like I shouldn't be there, like my vibe was throwing off the flow of the whole village.

That was crazy talk, of course. No one scowled at me, local or volunteer. No one seemed annoyed by my presence. In fact, everyone I'd met had been spectacularly welcoming—or so I assumed, given I didn't speak French. Some of the locals, mostly the younger generation, were eager to test out their English on me, but the elders, fluent in French and Kabiyé, were still a mystery.

"I'm sure we'll find a way to communicate," Grant had mused pleasantly. That was the last thing he'd said to me before we were swept off for our evening meal. Seated in a great circle around a roaring bonfire, my evening meal consisted of pita bread, shaved beef, my hummus-like mush, and dusty greens that tasted extremely bitter. The food was plentiful, with plates and bowls continuously making their way around the circle. Closer to the fire, clusters of children sat together, their parents and family watching on from the outer ring.

It surprised me that no one stepped in when the kids had added things to the fire. Every so often, a little one would grab a stick or rock and add it to the flames. Back home, someone would have charged the youngster and dragged him or her away, images of burning toddler flashing across the worried relative's mind. But not here. The kids were left to their own devices—or so I'd been informed, anyway.

My dinner companion was one of the other volunteers. Gloria, a retired British primary school teacher, had ventured to the village some eight months ago with her husband Herb. They'd apparently wanted to do some traveling before they settled in to a blissful retirement in their cozy English hamlet, and volunteering around the globe had seemed like the most meaningful way to do it. Gloria was chatty and bold, while her husband sat beside her, enthralled by the fire, eating every so often, his bare feet buried in the red dirt.

Two college kids were also volunteering. Tim and Barry were from Canada, and while I was here to teach English, they were here to work on mathematics and basic science with the kids.

Which, to be honest, was a major relief. I'd never been very strong in either subject.

And then there was Grant. Unlike the rest of the adults, he'd somehow found himself seated amongst the kids inside the circle. With his ceramic plate on his lap, he leaned in as one of the little girls beside him whispered in his ear, then tilted his head back in laughter.

"Did you two know each other before coming here?" Gloria inquired, and I suddenly realized I was smiling along with him. I cleared my throat and shook my head, embarrassed to have been caught staring.

"Just briefly on the plane. It was kind of a nice surprise that we ended up in the same place." I wasn't about to reveal our recent sexual escapades to the white-haired woman next to me. Gloria studied me for a moment, the twinkle of flames reflecting in her eyes, and then smirked.

"Ah, I see."

A clamor broke out amongst the children, punctuated by the sudden appearance of drums. Then, much to my surprise, song arose from the outer circle of adults, Herb clapping along with the drum beats.

"I left corporate America and all its politics to come here," I told Gloria, leaning in close so she could hear me over the swelling music. Much to my delight, a few kids had dragged Henri out of his seat and were encouraging him to dance with them. Grant too bobbed awkwardly in front of the fire. The music quickened. Gloria caught me staring at him again—I could tell by the devious little grin on her lips what she was thinking. "I'm not interested in hopping back into that world while I'm here, if you get my drift."

There. That ought to keep her satisfied.

Unfortunately, I must not have sounded very convincing, because she certainly didn't look like she believed me. "Of course, dear."

"Really—"

Before I could get my protest out, a strong hand wrapped around my arm. I flinched, surprised, and soon found myself staring up at Grant's shadowy features. He wore a playful grin, and a nod toward the fire told me exactly what he wanted.

_Dance with me_.

"But I..." I trailed off, my voice losing its fight. Oh, what the heck. One more night of flirting couldn't hurt anyone. I'd start fresh tomorrow. I'd focus tomorrow.

I swear I will.

Really.

All thoughts of concentration and focus vanished when his fingers laced through mine, and, surrounded by steady drumbeats and giggling children, we celebrated our first night in Togo, unable to leave each other's side.

And while I was aware that I couldn't stop smiling, I was also aware that handholding and dancing did _not_ bode well for my resolve to steer clear of distractions for the next six months.

S.M.S.—save my soul. I'm in trouble.

### Thank you for reading!

## Please visit your favorite eBook retailer to view the next books in the "Romance In The Jungle Series".
Journey To Love

by

Marie Roberts
Copyright © 2017 by Marie Roberts

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Journey To Love

All rights reserved.

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. No part of this work may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording and faxing, or by any information storage and retrieval system by anyone but the purchaser for their own personal use.

This book may not be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of Marie Roberts, except in the case of a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages for the sake of a review written for inclusions in a magazine, newspaper, or journal—and these cases require written approval from Marie Roberts prior to publication. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.

# Chapter One

The day before my life changed forever was a Friday like any other.

I was running around with a "to do" list a mile long, trying to fit in all of my errands before I had to pick up Olivia at preschool. There was the grocery shopping. I had to get Bradley's shirts from the dry cleaners. Pick up a package- probably a birthday present from Bradley's sister in Michigan- from the post office. I had to stop by the bakery to get the cake. The party store to fill the balloons I'd chosen with helium. And at least one other errand, too...I knew I was forgetting something.

At a stop light, I pulled out my phone and quickly scanned through the notes I'd made on the calendar. There were no more errands written down, but I still had that feeling that I had forgotten something. The phone system of entering reminders in was supposed to make me more organized, but I missed my old system of scattering Post-Its all over the refrigerator. We'd gotten a brand new stainless steel fridge a few months ago and Bradley didn't like how cluttered it made the kitchen look to have Post-Its all over the place.

It was funny how your life circumstances could change so much in just a few short years, I mused to myself as I pulled the minivan in to the parking lot of the dry cleaners. Five years ago, who would have thought that Bradley and I would have been in a position to care about the appearance of our brand new stainless steel appliances? We'd still been living in the small two bedroom apartment on Wheeler Street back then, just two high school sweethearts trying to cobble together a happy life.

We'd married young, right out of college. I'd finished a diploma in Early Childhood Education and found a position at a daycare, teaching in the toddler room. Call me crazy for wanting to spend my days with two year olds, but I loved it. Those little people were hilarious and insightful and full of such honest love that I knew without a doubt I wanted one of my own. Bradley was working in charge of a team at a call center and we were getting by, so we'd decided we were going to start our own family.

Finding out I was pregnant with our son had been one of the happiest days of my life. When we first saw his little heartbeat in the ultrasound, Bradley and I had clasped hands and gazed with teary eyes at the tiny little life we'd created. Here was family. Here was love. Here was happiness.

Our son, Henry Alexander Sutton, was born a few months later. We didn't have much money, but we had each other, and it still made my heart ache with happiness to remember those first few years of our marriage. The baby cuddles, the first steps and first words, the camaraderie that we'd felt as we dealt with spit up and diapers and waking up in the middle of the night. Little things, like Bradley making sure the bottles were all washed and ready to go for daycare the night before, suddenly seemed like the most romantic gestures.

And then it happened. Bradley's boss had left the company to spend time with his wife, who had been diagnosed with cancer. It was terribly sad, and I hated to think what we would have done in that position, but Bradley had been chosen as his successor. That promotion had meant everything to us. More benefits. More work. More money.

Things had been so good that we'd bought a small house, and decided that now was the time to have a second child. We'd gotten lucky, and before we knew it we were back in the doctor's office, holding hands and watching a second tiny heartbeat. Olivia Rose had been born almost exactly four years ago- four years ago tomorrow, in fact. Bradley's job had meant that I could stay home with the children and raise them, just like I'd always dreamed.

The last four years had been a happy blur of domestic bliss, for the most part- work had been going so well for Bradley, with a promotion to a comfortable management job at company headquarters and quarterly bonuses, that we'd upgraded to a bigger house in one of the upscale suburbs that had sprung up in the outskirts of our Ohio town. First Henry had started preschool, and then regular school, and then before I knew it Olivia had been ready for preschool, too. Suddenly I was faced with long days alone. I could have found ways to keep myself busy- the gym, keeping an immaculate house, all the little errands that seemed to build up- but I wanted to contribute somehow. I'd enjoyed staying home, but I missed having my own money and my own sense of self.

Bradley had been unenthusiastic about it. "You don't need to go back to teaching daycare, Julia," he'd told me, almost offended. "I can provide for our family. Anything we need, and anything we want, too."

"It's not just about the money," I'd tried to explain. "I just- I need to do something to contribute to society, to the community, to something other than our family. I need to find myself again. I've spent the past few years doing everything for Henry and Olivia and for you, and I love you all so much, but I need to do something for me."

"Why can't you volunteer at the animal shelter or something?" Bradley had asked.

I sighed. "I'm allergic to cats," I reminded him.

"Oh. Right."

In the end, I'd gotten out the fancy DSLR camera I'd received last Christmas and tried my hand at photography. I'd never been any good at painting or music or dance or anything artistic at school, but I discovered I really loved photography. Something about capturing a special moment in time for immortality really spoke to me. I'd taken a course at a local community college, and practiced nonstop on my two adorable subjects, and only then had I felt confident enough to try my hand at photographing other peoples' children.

Once I started, I'd found I had a real knack for it. Slowly, I built up a bit of a portfolio, passed my business cards around, and word of mouth got around. I wasn't going to get rich doing it, but I had built up enough of a following of loyal clients that I stayed relatively busy. And best of all, I had a purpose again- places to go, people to see, pictures to take. Bradley was outwardly supportive enough, but I suspected that he secretly thought my little side business was just a silly pastime.

I had a home filled with beautiful pictures of my children, though, and that was what was important right now. I'd taken a beautiful shot of Olivia at the park a few weeks ago, her hair blowing loose around her face as she closed her eyes and blew on dandelion fluff. I'd been planning to blow it up and frame it for guests to sign.

That was it! I almost fist pumped in line at the dry cleaners. The missing errand. I had to pick up both the picture and the custom mat I'd ordered for it so I could set it up at her birthday party tomorrow. Before I could forget, I whipped my phone out of my purse and added that to the list of errands I had to run this morning.

I collected Bradley's shirts, then I headed back to the minivan. I quickly swung by the post office to pick up the box waiting there (it was indeed a present for Olivia), and stopped by the craft store to get a photo mat and a fresh box of Sharpie markers for guests to use. Next up was the grocery store, and I hurried through as quickly as I could. My stomach was growling and when I checked the time I was shocked to see it was half past twelve. Where had the time gone? I had just a little over two hours to get everything done and then stop by preschool to get Olivia. Grocery shopping on a hungry stomach was a terrible idea, I had a list of food to pick up for the party, but I kept being tempted by treats I didn't need to buy. Cheese, muffins, a can of Pringles...my stomach rumbled at it all.

I focused on my list. Burgers, buns, fruit, the makings of a salad. My mom was going to bring over her famous pasta salad, and my best friend Megan had told me she'd bring over a plate of brownies. We were expecting around thirty people- my parents, Bradley's parents, my brother and his family, Bradley's younger sister, some of my friends, and a few of Olivia's preschool classmates. Better have some food left over than not enough, I decided, and added an extra five pounds of ground beef. A case of beer, and I had to make a punch too. Juice for the kids. Did we have enough pitchers? Maybe I'd get one of those beverage dispensers to sit on the table to make it easier for the kids to use. This party had a budget, I reminded myself. It was just a casual backyard barbecue.

After the grocery store, I was so hungry I had to go through the drive-thru to get myself something to eat. I turned up the music in the car and spent a few minutes alone, just enjoying the greasy goodness of a burger and fries by myself. This might be my only chance at relaxing today.

I pulled up my phone to see if there were any messages from Bradley. Often we'd text each other during the day- silly jokes, random observations, a cute picture of the kids, a flirty message- but there was nothing. I sent him a quick update: _Out running errands, just finished @ supermarket. About to head to get cake and balloons. Need me to pick up anything for you while I'm out?_

I waited a few minutes in the car to see if he'd text me back, but I didn't get a reply. Well, it was over his lunch break- sometimes he had lunch meetings he had to go to. If he really needed something, he'd reply.

I debated getting cake or balloons next- obviously the less time the cake spent in the hot car the better, but I didn't want to be driving around with a backseat filled with helium balloons any longer than I had to either. I decided the cake was the lesser of the two, and I could always crank the air conditioning up as high as it would go. I usually preferred to keep the windows rolled down and have fresh air circulating since the air conditioner gave me a headache after a while, but I'd make the sacrifice for Olivia's cake.

Inside the bakery, I admired the three dozen cookie favors and _Frozen_ themed cake I'd chosen. It was beautiful- two layers of shimmery blue fondant with icicles and candy snowflakes dripping down the sides. Figurines of Anna and Elsa stood on the top, bookending the words _Happy Birthday, Olivia!_ She would go bananas for it and I couldn't wait for Bradley and I to watch her little face light up with joy.

"She'll love it," I told the young baker's assistant, handing over my credit card.

"Would you like some help carrying it to the car?" asked the girl. She carried the box of cookie favors while I balanced the cake carefully, placing it on the floor of the passenger side. I wished I'd thought to bring pillows to tuck around it to stay safe, but I was almost done with my errands. I'd drive carefully and once we got home, the cake would be safe.

I checked my phone again once I had buckled my seatbelt, to check if there were any messages from Bradley. There was nothing, but he was very busy at work these days. There was one hour left before I had to go pick up Olivia at preschool, followed by Henry at his elementary school. I made a quick stop to pick up the print I'd ordered of Olivia's picture, and then I made my final errand stop at the party supply store. We had most of the supplies we needed for a _Frozen_ themed party at home already- party hats, blowers, plates, napkins, cups, plastic cutlery, goody bags for the children, balloons and crepe paper streamers- but I couldn't resist picking up a box of sparkly snowflake pinwheels to add to the goody bags. I smiled again at the juxtaposition of doing a _Frozen_ birthday party in the first heat of the summer. I'd asked Olivia a few times if she'd consider any other theme- the beach, dolphins, maybe a luau theme- but she'd been stubborn. _Frozen_ was what she'd been obsessed with over a year, and she was stubborn like her mama, so _Frozen_ it was.

I'd been prepared for transporting helium balloons, and had brought a heavy blanket to put over them so they didn't float around inside the minivan. When I checked the time after my final errand, I had one beautiful half hour of freedom before I had to make the run to preschool and elementary school. I stopped at Starbucks for a lemonade and sat in the parking lot again, windows up, music and air conditioning on, trying to clear my mind.

It was hard. I kept running through my to-do list for the party tomorrow, and wondering if I'd missed the deadline for signing Henry up for swimming lessons this summer. A week from today was the last week of school, and then I'd have both of them home with me full time. I'd tried my best to sign each of them up for a few activities and day camps, and my parents had agreed to take them for a week so that hopefully at some point Bradley and I could get away somewhere by ourselves. Nowhere fancy- we never did big fancy vacations- but a bed and breakfast in the country, or maybe a few days of museums and fancy restaurants in the big city a few hours away. I hated to admit it, but even though I loved him with all my heart I'd been feeling a bit disconnect in our marriage over the past few weeks. Months? It was hard to pinpoint when I'd first felt it. Either way, it would be nice to escape from the daily monotony of work and preschool and birthday party planning and soccer and karate and ballet and just be Bradley and Julia once again.

My wandering thoughts were interrupted by the _ping_ notification on my phone. I grabbed it, hoping to see a message from Bradley, but it was just Megan asking what time the party began. At eleven, I reminded her. She'd be able to make it, right?

"Of course," she replied, and I hoped she was right. Bradley and I had moved to the next town over when we'd bought our new house, but I was still friends with the same girls I'd been close with in high school. I was the only one who was married and settled, though, and so I felt left out of the girls nights they sometimes had when I couldn't get a babysitter, or Henry had the flu, or Olivia had a dance recital. I knew they didn't really understand the responsibilities that came with having a family, but for my baby's birthday party they'd all assured me they would be able to make it.

With a sigh, I turned the key in the ignition and headed off to do preschool pickup. My little girl was hanging out by the door, waiting for me.

"Mommy!" she cried, running over to give me a hug. "Did you get the cake for my party tomorrow?"

"I sure did, honey," I said, holding her tight. "You're going to love it. But it's a surprise; you'll have to wait until tomorrow to see it."

Olivia was so excited she started to hop up and down, and I had to calm her down enough to get her buckled in to her car seat. Then we headed off to pick up Henry from first grade, before we could finally head back home. I sent the children ahead in to the house while I made trip after trip from the garage to the kitchen, hauling groceries, beer, the juice dispenser, cake, cookies, the picture and mat for signing, and finally hiding all the mylar helium balloons in Bradley's office. I worried that they would have started to lose their helium-ness by the party tomorrow, but filling them today was the only way I could make it work unless, I delegated the task. Bradley was supposed to be golfing with client's tomorrow morning- he'd assured me he'd be back in time for the party- and my friends would have their hands full with just attending. So the day before it had to be.

Since it was a nice day out, and I didn't want Olivia hanging around the kitchen hoping for a glimpse of her cake, I suggested a bike ride. Sunscreen and bike helmets were found, and off we went for an hour around the neighborhood. Henry wanted to ride much faster than Olivia could keep up on her training wheels. I had to constantly go between the two of them, simultaneously encouraging Olivia to keep pedaling. All the while urging Henry to go slow down and look around him at the nature that could be found in our suburb.

There was still dinner to get through- Henry begged for hamburgers, no matter how many times I reminded him there would be burgers at Olivia's party tomorrow- and bath time, and stories, and bedtime. I checked my phone every few minutes for the time, or a text from Bradley, or anything. He usually came home sometime around seven, in time to help with bedtime a bit before we would eat together. If he was going to be late he'd typically let me know and I would eat with the kids instead of waiting for him. But I checked my messages at seven, seven-thirty, seven forty-five, eight o'clock...and there was nothing.

"Where's Daddy?" asked Olivia, as the three of us settled down with a story once the kids were in their pajamas.

"Daddy's at work," I said.

"I want Daddy to kiss me goodnight," said Henry. "Will he be home soon?"

I paused. I didn't want to lie to my son. "I'm not sure exactly when he'll be home," I said. "But not too long. If it's after you're in bed, he'll come in and give you a kiss while you're asleep."

Olivia stuck out her lower lip. "Daddy said he'd bring me a princess crown to wear at my party tomorrow," she said. "What if he forgets?"

I already had a birthday princess crown downstairs, so I just smiled at her. "I promise you'll have a birthday princess crown tomorrow. Now let's get to bed, and the sooner you fall asleep, the sooner it will be your party!"

Luckily, Henry and Olivia both accepted that, and I tucked them both into bed with a hug and a kiss and a promise that Bradley would come in after they'd fallen asleep. As soon as they were both in bed, I headed downstairs to pour a big glass of wine and call my husband.

His phone went to voicemail. I was starting to get worried, and called again. This time he answered. "Hello?"

"Where are you?" I demanded. "Why are you late? The kids have been asking for you. I had to cover for you. They wanted to see you before they fell asleep."

"Oh, shoot," said Bradley. "I didn't realize how late it was. I got caught up in some work and had my phone on silent in my jacket and didn't realize what time it was already. I heard it vibrating against the chair when you called. Sorry, Jules. I'll leave right away."

He hung up, but I felt like something was off. Bradley had people calling him all day long. Why would he leave his phone in his pocket and ignore his messages? I tried to push the thought aside. Tomorrow was Olivia's birthday party, a day I'd been working hard to plan for months. We could have a talk after that. Maybe even take our little reconnecting trip away sooner rather than later. It would work out. I'd been in love with Bradley Sutton ever since I was sixteen years old. We'd been voted Most Likely To Get Married and Live Happily Ever After in high school. We had too much history, too much of everything invested for us to be in trouble.

Still. I took another sip of wine, then called my best friend.

"Everything okay?" asked Megan.

"I think so," I said. "I'm really stressed about everything going well at the birthday party tomorrow. I've been planning it forever. I just have visions of the cake falling on the ground or everyone getting food poisoning or something."

"Relax," said Megan. "It'll be fine! It's just a kid's party, not the Royal Wedding. Hey, want to come over? Ashley and Becca were going to come too. We were thinking of going out to see a band play downtown."

"Hmm, I guess I could leave the goldfish in charge of Henry and Olivia for a few hours," I joked.

"Juuuules," Megan groaned. "I meant when Bradley finally gets home! Get out a little bit and relax. It would do you good."

I actually considered it- going upstairs right away to shower and change into something other than yoga pants and a tank top, putting on makeup, doing my hair, feeling beautiful- and waiting for Bradley to come home so I could breeze out past him. But then I remembered the goody bags that needed filling and the balloons that had to be blown up, and I wanted to connect with Bradley in some way as well. Maybe we could find a good show on Netflix and sit in front of it together while we filled the goody bags and blew up balloons until we got light headed, then have impromptu sex on the couch. It had been a while since something like that had happened.

"I've got to pass, I think," I said. "Birthday party stuff and I need to talk to Bradley."

"Well, okay," said Megan. "Offer's always on the table, you know. If he gets home soon you can always leave him on birthday party prep duty and come join us."

"Thanks," I said. "I'll let you know, okay?"

"Sure thing, girl," said Megan, and we hung up. I picked up my glass of wine and the bag of balloons that needed attention, and headed into the living room to wait for my husband.

# Chapter Two

I woke up on Saturday morning feeling hungover and exhausted. I'd drunk too much wine last night and the last thing I felt like doing right now was playing host to a children's birthday party. I wanted to drink a big glass of water and go back to bed for another hour or two.

Bradley had finally come home about an hour after I'd called him. He said he'd been tying up loose ends at the office before his golf "meeting" on Saturday morning. I'd tried my hardest and met him at the door in my robe with a glass of wine and 16 empty good bags that needed filling. He'd brushed me off and said that he was beat and just wanted to get some sleep because he had to be up early tomorrow morning to go golfing. We'd argued; didn't he care that tomorrow was his baby girl's birthday party? Of course he cared, he'd said, but if I was going to be going around planning elaborate birthday parties someone needed to earn the money to pay for it all.

I'd ended up making my way through the bottle of wine while I blew up balloons and filled the goody bags all by myself.

"Mommy. Mommy."

I opened my eyes to see Olivia standing next to my bed. She was wearing her pajamas with her princess crown and a huge smile. "What is it, honey?" I croaked out. I sat up and cleared my throat. "I mean, good morning, Olivia! Happy birthday!"

"Is today my birthday party?" she asked.

"It is!"

"I gonna be a princess today?"

"You sure are, sweetheart," I said.

"Is Daddy coming to my party?"

"Of course he is," I said. Under the covers, I gave Bradley a little kick. He was still lying with his head under the blankets. "Aren't you, dear?"

Bradley let out a kind of low moan that sounded like the death throes of a large dinosaur. I checked the clock beside the bed. Six-fifteen.

I sighed. When we were younger, weekends used to mean sleeping in. Kids didn't understand that concept, so up I got. Downstairs, I poured Olivia a bowl of cereal and turned on cartoons for her while I brewed myself an extra-large cup of coffee. I thought about texting Megan or my mom, but then I remembered that, like normal people without small children, they were probably sleeping in on Saturday morning.

Around seven Henry came downstairs, followed by Bradley. He actually helped me set out some folding chairs and tables in the backyard before disappearing back upstairs to change and get ready for his golf meeting.

"Do you really have to go, Daddy?" asked Olivia.

"Sorry, honey," Bradley apologized. "It won't be long. I've just got to meet some men and talk to them for a little while. I'll be back for your party."

"Promise?" she asked.

"I promise," he said. He gave her a kiss on the head, and hugged Henry, and then came over to me. "Sorry about the timing of this, Jules. I completely forgot Olivia's party was this morning when I agreed to go. You know how it is. It would look really bad for me if I backed out of this."

"You don't need to convince me," I told him. "I can hold things down here if this is what you need to do. I'm sorry we argued last night. We all appreciate how hard you work to take care of our family."

Maybe I was imagining things, but the expression on Bradley's face suddenly looked extremely pained. It was fleeting, though, and a minute later he was kissing me on the cheek. "Thanks, Jules," he said. "I love you all. I have a great family." With a wave, he was out the door.

Now that I was on my own, I called my mom and begged her to come over and watch the kids so I could decorate for the party. I knew Megan, Ashley, and Becca would be tired from their night out last night, and although they loved Henry and Olivia I knew they weren't always super comfortable around kids.

My parents both showed up half an hour later, bringing two kinds of pasta salad with them. "Just stick the bowls in the fridge," I directed, "and keep the kids out of the backyard."

"I can give you some help with set up," my mom offered. "Your father will hang out with the kids inside."

"Sure!" said my dad.

"Mom, I want to play golf outside," said Henry. "Just like Daddy does."

"Another time, Henry," I said, frazzled. "Go into the other room with Grandpa and you guys can play for a while. Grandma and I have work to do."

With my dad and the kids safely in the playroom doing some coloring, my mom and I went in to Bradley's balloon filled study to gather the balloons and tie them in to bunches. "It's too bad Bradley couldn't be here and help you get things set up," said my mom. "What did he have to do this morning, again?"

"Some golf thing," I told her. "I guess there are people in town from another branch and they all had to go golfing together this morning, or something."

"He sure works hard," my mom said carefully.

"I know," I said. "He works really hard to give Henry, Olivia, and I a comfortable lifestyle." My mom didn't reply to that, and I kicked myself. I'd spoken without thinking. Growing up, my parents worked so hard to keep my brother Josh and I fed and clothed with a roof over our heads. A birthday party like the one I'd planned for Olivia was far more elaborate than anything my parents had been able to give us.

My mom and I worked for almost an hour and a half constructing an intricate balloon arch that lead to the backyard, setting out food on the patio, and setting up an area in the backyard where Olivia's preschool classmates could run around and play. Bradley was due to arrive back home half an hour before the party started. At fifteen minutes before the party was supposed to start, he still hadn't come home. I couldn't wait any longer and told Henry and Olivia that it was time to get changed into their party clothes.

"Isn't Bradley supposed to be coming back soon?" asked my dad.

"Yes," I said, staring at my phone. I willed it to ring. Should I call? I'd called last night. I didn't want to embarrass him in front of his coworkers.

Dad waited to see if I was going to say anything else, but when I didn't he just offered to turn on the barbecue. "If Bradley's not back in time I can be in charge of grilling the burgers," he offered.

"Oh, thank you, Dad," I said, relieved. "I'm just going to- I think I'm going to call him and see when he expects to be home. It would be great if you could turn the grill on."

With Dad outside turning on the grill and Mom upstairs helping Olivia in to her party dress, I sat down at the kitchen table and called my husband. It rang three times, and I had almost given up and figured I'd be getting voicemail again when he picked up.

"Bradley! Where are you? Olivia's party starts in fifteen minutes. You're supposed to be here already. My dad has already said he'll take over grilling if you can't handle getting here on time."

Bradley sounded annoyed and only mildly apologetic. "Look, Julia, I'm sorry. There's not a lot I can do about it. Car trouble. I might be calling triple-A. I'll get there as soon as I can. Goodbye." And with that, he hung up.

I laid my phone on the kitchen table and stared at it silently. What was going on? Why had my husband spoken to me like that? Against my will, tears filled my eyes. I couldn't cry, not now, not right before my daughter's birthday party.

The back door opened. "Hello?"

I'd never been so happy to hear my best friend's voice before. "Megan!" I yelled. "In the kitchen!"

She came through the doorway, holding her platter of brownies. She looked great- well rested and not at all hungover. Lucky girl. When she saw me sitting at the table, she immediately set down her brownies and came over to give me a hug. "Oh, girl," she said. "What's going on?"

I couldn't bring myself to look her in the eyes, so I just focused on my phone. "Bradley's not going to be able to make it," I said in as neutral a tone of voice as I could manage. "He had some car trouble and he's going to miss the party. The start of it, at least. Livvie's going to be crushed."

"Wait, what?" Megan sat down next to me. "He's not _coming_? Why isn't he here _now_?"

"He had some golf thing this morning," I said. "Some golf meeting thing. He said he'd be back in time, half an hour before the party started, but I guess he had car trouble. He's going to try and make it back as fast as he can," I added, not quite sure why I was defending my husband.

"Huh," said Megan. "Okay, we can do this, right? Everything's set up?"

"Yeah, my parents came over this morning and my mom helped set up while my dad hung out with the kids," I admitted. "I don't need his help for anything, just...you know. It's Olivia's birthday party. He should be here! I'm going to have to explain to everybody who comes where he is." I buried my face in my hands.

"Jules, don't even worry about it," said Megan. "You go upstairs and get changed. Then pour yourself a big glass of wine and go out to the backyard with Olivia and show her the party setup. I will stand by the front door and greet everyone and tell them Bradley will be joining us late. Okay?"

I opened my mouth to protest, to say that I could do it- that I could do everything, handle everything by myself like it seemed I always did around the house these days- but Megan shook her head and pointed towards the stairs. "Jules. Go change."

So I did. "Thanks, Meg," I said, but she shrugged and went to take up her position at the door.

I'd never been so grateful to have such good friends. Maybe we were in a different life stages right now, and even if she said she did, I knew she didn't fully understand why I couldn't just get a babysitter. And go hang out with the girls as much as I used to, but she was there for me when I needed her to be. That was more than you could say for Bradley right now, at least.

I showered quickly and blow dried my hair, put on a little bit of makeup, and threw on a maxi dress and sandals before looking in the mirror and deciding I looked presentable enough. I swung by Olivia's bedroom to pick her up and take her downstairs. She was in her party dress, with her princess crown perched on top of her wild mane of curls. "Is my party ready, Mommy?" she asked.

"It is," I told her. "We're going to go downstairs and see it. Grandma and I worked hard to set everything up. Now, Livvie, Daddy's not here right now-"

The instant the words came out of my mouth, Olivia looked at me and her face fell. I felt terrible. She had always been a bit of a daddy's girl, and she looked absolutely heartbroken. "Daddy not here, why not?"

I did my best to cover for Bradley, again. "Well, you know he had to have a meeting with some men this morning. His car is having trouble starting, so he's calling someone to come and fix it. As soon as it's fixed, he's going to hurry home to see you because he really doesn't want to miss your super cool birthday party."

Thankfully, Olivia accepted my explanation without any fuss, and we all went downstairs together. I covered her eyes as we stepped out the back doors on to the patio, and when she opened her eyes and saw the backyard- the balloon arch, the table covered in food, the chairs and tables set up for guests to eat at, another table covered in party favors- her eyes lit up. "Oh, Mommy, I love it!" she shrieked, and ran around in excited circles looking at everything.

I sat down in a chair and watched her, worn out from the busy morning I'd had. It was worth it. It had been a lot of work and stress and I was still worried about Bradley making it home in time, but it was worth it.

Ashley and Becca showed up then- Ashley was wearing big sunglasses and her voice sounded a little creaky for 11am, but I was happy to see them anyway. "What's this about Bradley ditching you?" she asked, ignoring my hello.

"Ash!" exclaimed Becca. "Geez. You can't just start in like that. The party looks great, Julia," she said to me. "The kids look like they love it. I would've gone nuts for this when I was a kid. Didn't our mothers just take us to the bowling alley with a Dairy Queen ice cream cake or something?"

"Yes, yes, food looks great, decorations are great, blah blah blah," said Ashley. "Now. Bradley. Where did he go? Why isn't he here? Megan just said he couldn't make it."

"He got stuck at a golf meeting thing this morning," I said. "Another branch was visiting and he had to go with them, or something. And then he had car trouble. He'll be here soon," I added with as much confidence as I could muster.

"That's so weird. That's not like him at all," said Becca. Like me, the girls had known him since high school. "He's always been such a family person."

"He's been working really hard lately," I found myself saying again. Why did I keep defending him when he hadn't sounded upset about missing Olivia's party at all? "He's been working really hard- we have the new house, we're supposed to take a vacation together this summer, that kind of thing."

"It takes pretty much zero effort to go to your daughter's birthday party, at your house, on the weekend," said Ashley. "All he had to do was walk outside."

"He couldn't get out of the work thing," I repeated myself. "Anyway. Let's just forget about it and enjoy the party."

Ashley seemed annoyed to have her gossiping thwarted, but I just couldn't bear to sit there and talk about why my husband wasn't there. I eventually got up and circulated around the party a bit talking to everyone, and at noon people began to eat. I got a text from Bradley saying that he was headed home and should be there soon.

_How soon?_ I typed. _Everyone is eating now. Cake will be after people finish up eating. Liv will want to wait for you._

_Half an hour I'd say_ , he replied.

_Half an hour???? The party ends at one and we still have to do presents_ _._

Sorry. It is what it is. Car can't fly.

That made me stop and think. How was he texting if he was driving?

Ok. Put your phone away and don't text while you're driving. Come home safely and catch the end of the party. See you soon. Love you.

Eleven minutes passed before I got a reply. _I'm using talk to text. See you soon. Give Liv a kiss from me._

The text exchange left me with a bad feeling in my stomach, but I tried to ignore it and enjoy my daughter's birthday party. I tried to encourage people to spend as long as possible eating, but Olivia was begging for her cake and soon there were fourteen other preschoolers shrieking for cake too. "Don't you want to wait for Daddy to blow your candles out?" I asked Olivia.

"NO," she said, and a dark look crossed her sunny face. "I just want my cake right now."

I relented, and went in to the kitchen to get the cake ready. I was mad at him now, too. What was going on? He wouldn't have dreamed of missing a birthday party a few years ago. In fact, he used to take personal days off work if one of the kids' birthdays fell on a weekday, so we could all spend the day together doing fun family activities. Over the last few months, ever since he'd been promoted and all kinds of new responsibilities at work, I was seeing a whole new side to my husband.

Glumly, I stuck a birthday candle shaped like the number four on top of the cake and lit it. My parents had gathered everyone on the patio to watch the birthday girl blow out the candles, and Megan opened the back door for me. As soon as I stepped outside, I used every bit of effort I could muster and plastered the biggest, happiest smile in the world on my face.

"Happy birthday to you," I started to sing, and the rest of the guests picked up the rest of the song. I carried the cake over and set it down gently on the table in front of my daughter. "Happy birthday, dear Olivia, happy birthday to you!"

Olivia took a deep breath. She closed her eyes theatrically, and with a huge puff blew out her candles.

"Good girl!" said my mom. "What did you wish for?"

Olivia looked down at the ground. "I wish my daddy was here," she whispered. My heart broke in a million pieces for her. Where was he?

# Chapter Three

Bradley strolled in while everyone was eating cake, flashing his charming smile and slapping my father on the back. Olivia immediately forgave him for being late and ran over to give him a cake-covered hug. I tried to find a quiet moment to talk to Bradley discreetly, but he always seemed to be somewhere else when I went to look for him.

Then the party was over, and there was cleanup, and my parents hung around for a while, and then it was dinnertime and we called for delivery, and then there was bath and stories and pajamas and kissing the kids goodnight, and then finally, finally Bradley and I were alone and could sit down together and talk.

"So," I said, pouring myself a glass of wine as we stood in the kitchen, "what exactly was wrong with the car? How much is it going to cost to fix it?"

"Don't worry about that," said Bradley.

"But-"

"No, I mean it, don't worry," he said. He sat down heavily at the table. "Can you sit down with me, Julia?"

Something was wrong. All of my instincts were tingling as I sat down across from him. Julia? He almost never called me Julia unless it was a hugely momentous occasion. And he looked too upset to be sharing the news of a promotion, or- oh, no, he hadn't lost his job, had he? Suddenly I felt sick. What if he'd been fired this morning? That was it. He'd been fired and had been too upset to come home right away, so he'd made up the story about the car. He'd had to come back to see the show of excess in his backyard. Birthday parties like that were something we couldn't afford anymore. I could go back to work at a daycare again. We could sit down and update his resume together. I'd start clipping coupons and only buy groceries on sale. We could-

"There's not easy way to say this, so I'm just going to say it," said Bradley. "I think that we've both noticed that things have been rough between us for a while now. The thing is- I've met someone else."

I didn't understand what he was saying at first. Had he met someone else who could offer him a new job?

Bradley was watching me closely. "Julia, did you hear me? I've met someone else. I didn't mean to- I didn't set out to do it, but I've fallen in love with her."

There was a rushing in my ears. It did not make sense. Bradley, and someone else? No. He'd been in love with me since we were sixteen years old. We had our old prom photo framed on the mantle, not far away from our wedding picture. When we had graduated high school, he'd given me a promise ring and told me he'd love me forever. How could that boy I'd fallen in love with have turned into this man sitting across the table from me, telling me he'd met someone else?

"No," I said flatly. "I don't believe it."

He looked taken aback. "What do you mean?"

"Fourteen years, Bradley! That's how long we've been together. You don't just meet some floozy at the bar or whatever and decide you're in love with her after a few days."

"That's not how it happened," said my husband. "It was just- well, you work with someone every day, you get close to them...it was hard to talk to you about work stuff. You changed. All you cared about was your photography, or trying to get Henry into the same karate class as his friends, or baking the best holiday treats for Olivia's preschool class- there was nothing to talk about anymore, you turned into someone else."

I bristled. "Well, God forbid I actually care to spend time raising our children," I said sarcastically. "I'm so sorry that the time I spent caring for our kids made you want to run elsewhere to get it. Those nights you worked late- you were fucking that slut while I stayed home feeding our kids and tucking them into bed, weren't you? God!" I pushed myself away from the table in disgust. "Who _are_ you, anyway? Who did I even marry?"

"It's not like that!" he protested. "I haven't...done anything about it. I just know I love her and to stay married to you would be living a lie. I can't do that. It's not fair to you, to me, to the kids."

"What's her name?" I asked. "Tell me her name. Have I met her? Has she been here?"

"You don't know her," he said quickly. "You might have said hello to her at the office Christmas party, I don't know. Nothing had started then. It wasn't until we worked on the big Fleischman project together this winter and started spending time together..."

"What's her name?" I repeated. "God, it's not your secretary, is it? Because that would be too much, really."

"No, it's not her," said Bradley. He hesitated, then said quickly, "Her name is Nikki. Nicole Wilson."

"And does she feel the same way?"

Bradley looked down. "Look, Julia, I know this is hard. It's not what I would have chosen, but it just happened. I think we should get a divorce."

I actually staggered backwards and had to grab on to the wall for balance. At least it could offer me some unwavering support. "Are you crazy?" I whispered. "A divorce? We can't do that to the kids! I'm sorry you're having a midlife crisis, Bradley, but you have two children to think of. You can't just throw your family away because some girl at the office suddenly understands you. Look, I know our marriage has stalled a bit. I really wanted us to have a chance to get away this summer together, to reconnect...maybe go to Chicago for a weekend. Or even a cruise or something like that. Just get away, the two of us. Counseling, maybe we can try that. I'll do some research tomorrow and see if I can find someone, we can find ways to start communicating better. Fourteen years, Bradley! We've been together that long. Almost eight years of marriage. You can't just throw that away."

"Look, I'm sorry, Jules," he said softly. "But I wouldn't have said anything if I didn't know it was what I wanted. I've been thinking about this for a while now."

He just had to twist that knife in my chest a bit, didn't he?

"We can still do counseling," he offered. "With the kids, to get them used to the idea. It'll be tough for all of us, but we'll help them through it."

I just stared at him. Who was this man I'd married?

Bradley got nervous when I didn't say anything. "What's wrong?" he asked. "I mean, I'm sorry, Julia, I know this is a shock. But just- I'm just not happy."

"Then tell me," I said. "Tell me you're not happy and we'll fix whatever is broken. I know there are some things we can work on. Please, for the kids. Remember how happy we were? We can get there again, I know we can." I could feel the tears about to spill down my cheeks and I ducked my head down, embarrassed.

"It's not going to happen like that," said Bradley. "I'll- look, I'll give you whatever you want. We can do this amicably. I've been thinking about our separation- you can keep the house, okay? I'll get an apartment in the city at first. You'll have to go back to work eventually but I'll give you some money to help out so the kids don't have to go without. I'm trying not to be a jerk about this, honestly, Julia. I just- I just don't want to live a lie anymore. And I'm in love with someone else. I don't love you the way I love her. Maybe we were too young, maybe we never had the chance to really get out there and see what else was out there- I don't know. But I'm going to be filing for divorce."

My body was shaking. Was this what shock felt like? I considered throwing a chair at his head, flipping the table over, taking the wine glass and smashing it on the floor. My hands itched to throw something (preferably at Bradley), but then I remembered Henry and Olivia asleep upstairs- waking them by throwing a chair at their father, and having to explain, and calm them down, when I really just wanted to scream and cry.

"Fine," I hissed. "Go to hell, and take her with you."

I turned and made a mad dash for the door, grabbing my keys and purse off the side table as I went. I held my breath until I was safely buckled up in my minivan, in the garage. I rested my forehead on the steering wheel for a minute and let out a sob. How could he do this?

Out of the corner of my eye I could see the door out to the garage start to open. I wasn't going to let him catch me like this. I hit the garage door opened button, turned up the radio as loud as it would go, and peeled out of the driveway as fast as I could. There was only one place I knew I could safely go.

# Chapter Four

When I showed up on her doorstep in tears, Megan didn't understand at first.

"What?" she asked dumbfounded. "He said what to you? No. Are you sure?"

"He was pretty fucking clear," was all I could say, as I pushed past her inside.

Megan followed me down the hall to her living room. "But- but- you guys have been together for ages!"

"You don't need to tell _me_ that," I said. I threw myself down on her couch and buried my head in my hands.

"Hang on," said Megan. "I'm getting provisions." She went in to the kitchen and I could hear her slamming cupboard door, moving things around, and the ping of her phone as she received texts. I didn't even care who she told at that moment. All I could think about was that my life was over. My happy family- shattered. Everything I thought I knew about my husband was a lie. He wasn't who I had married. Maybe we had been too young when we'd first married, but we had been so in love! It had been bliss for the first few years. Maybe he had changed. Or maybe I had. Maybe we both had. Maybe-

"I hope you don't mind, I asked Courtney and Becca to come over," said Megan. She set down a bottle of wine and two glasses on the coffee table. "I don't have any ice cream in the freezer and this is the only bottle I have on hand so they're going to pick more up on their way over."

"I don't need that," I protested weakly.

"Shut up, yes you do," said Megan. She poured wine into one of the glasses, filling it almost all the way up. I gave a little yelp and made a 'that's enough' motion, but it was almost completely full when she handed it to me. "Drink up."

Numbly, I accepted the glass and leaned back into her sofa cushions. "God, you are so lucky," I said, looking around. "You have your own place. You can do whatever you want whenever you want. If you want to sleep in on the weekend, you can! You don't have to make sure people have clean clothes for school and lunches packed and all that. You can just do you."

"You need a break, girl," said Megan. "You need to just get away."

"I can't," I said. "I can't just leave Henry and Olivia; especially after Bradley tells them he's divorcing me...they'll think I'm leaving them. I have a photo shoot lined up for next week. I can't just take off a moment's notice."

"Yeah, I don't mean leave everything and go to the airport tomorrow," said Megan. "But seriously. You need a trip away. Just forget him! You were planning to go away with him anyway later this summer, just go by yourself instead. Or we'll take a girls trip. Blow off some steam. Light your wedding pictures on fire."

"We can't do that," I said, horrified.

"Why not? It'll be cathartic," said Megan. "We can have a bonfire on a beach somewhere. Throw all his shit on the fire. Maybe we could go to New Orleans. Or Miami. Or, like, the Virgin Islands or somewhere. No, I'm serious. I really think we should do a trip somewhere. What do you think? Vegas, that's what we should do!"

Just then Ashley and Becca showed up, laden down with shopping bags full of ice cream and cookies and chocolate and wine. "Oh, Jules, I'm so sorry," said Becca as soon as they came in. She dropped her bags on the floor and crossed the room to give me a hug. "I know you felt something was a little bit off, but I never imagined he could do something like this to you. What an absolute jerk!"

Ashley pulled a bottle of wine out of a shopping bag and picked up a wine glass from one of Megan's side tables. "Can I just say something?" she asked, pouring herself a big glass. "I've never liked that asshole. No, I'm serious. I've never, ever liked him. He set off my creep-o-meter. Even when we were in high school, he had this air to him that he thought he was so much better than everyone else and that he was the specialist snowflake there ever was. Everything was always about him. Remember when you got the chance to travel to Washington DC for that public speaking competition? Remember? He would go on about how proud he was of you, but you'd miss his final soccer game and that made him sad. Remember that? He never asked you to stay home but made you feel so guilty that you decided to not go on your own. He manipulated you into not going! He wasn't even any good at soccer, either, even though he talked about it like he was. He's always cared about himself more than anybody else. No, I have never liked him." She shook her head firmly. "I have always kept my mouth shut because I love _you_ , Jules, but believe me when I say this is probably going to be the best thing that ever happened to you."

I had to look down before I started to cry again. I didn't want to hear that, even if there was a slight ring of truth to some of the things Ashley was saying. It was true; he had gotten so upset that I would miss his final soccer game of his high school career to go to a public speaking competition in Washington DC. I'd never been one for joining clubs and activities, but I liked the confidence I got from making speeches. I'd felt on top of the world when I found out I'd qualified for that event, but in the end I'd chosen to be with Bradley. I remembered how he'd picked me up on the soccer field and kissed me after our team had won the championship. Back then, to my eighteen-year-old self, that kiss had been worth the competition I'd given up. Now I couldn't help but wonder what the experience in Washington DC could have done for me, but it still hurt to hear Ashley say those things about him. I was torn between wanting to defend him and picking up my pitchfork to go after him as well.

"Ash. Really," said Becca. She sat down next to me with her arm across my back and gave Ashley a dirty look. "Now's not the time for that. Julia, we care about you and we're so upset that he did this to you."

"He's a piece of shit," said Ashley definitively.

"We were just talking about how Julia needs to take a break," said Megan, attempting to steer the conversation away from what a piece of shit my husband was. I hadn't even told them about Nikki yet. "A girls trip is in order. Where to? New Orleans, Miami, Vegas, Virgin Islands? Somewhere else?"

"Not the Virgin Islands," I protested. "I could maybe do a weekend away. Somewhere close."

"Sure, when I want to cut loose and have a good time with my girlfriends after my dipshit husband announces he's divorcing me, Pittsburgh is exactly where I think of," said Ashley sarcastically. "Go big or go home, Jules.

"I don't know," I hedged.

"It doesn't have to be the Virgin Islands," said Megan. "I was just suggesting, you know, somewhere warm and sunny where we could lie on a beach and drink cocktails all day. Somewhere relaxing."

"She doesn't need to relax," argued Ashley. "She needs to drink her face off and dance on a table somewhere, while looking smoking hot in a brand new dress."

"It might be nice to get a change of scenery for a bit," said Becca, her arm still around me. "What do you think, Jules?"

Ashley was already refilling her wine glass. "I say we stop by her house and key his car," she announced.

"Ashley, cool it," said Becca. "We don't need to get arrested. Then we really couldn't go on vacation. I know he's a jerk, but it's not like he cheated on her."

I took a deep breath. "Actually-"

"Oh, hell no," said Ashley.

Megan's mouth gaped open. "He cheated on you?"

"He swears he didn't," I said hurriedly. "He swears nothing physical happened. But he told me he's in love with someone else. Some girl at work."

Becca gasped. "An emotional affair," she said. "When you start talking to someone else the way you might to your husband or wife, you can't stop thinking about them...it's almost worse than having sex, in some ways. Emotionally cheating. Oh, I can't believe he did that to you."

"I can," Ashley snarled into her wine glass. "You know what? We should find you someone else, too. You've been with this douchebag your whole life. You need to go out and have revenge sex with someone else."

"I can't," I said, overwhelmed. "I can't. Even with what he said, I don't hate him- I don't want to ruin his life- I don't want to sleep with someone else- I just want to wake up tomorrow and have this all be a dream."

"That's okay," Becca comforted me. "Guys, don't overwhelm her. She just found out hours ago! She's barely had time to process things. It's okay to feel like that," she added, speaking to me instead of about me this time. "It's okay to be in denial, or go through the grieving process, instead of going straight to revenge." She gave Ashley a pointed look.

"Well, I might go over and key his car then," said Ashley. "God, do I ever hate him now! What's her name?" she asked me.

I pressed my lips together, trying to keep it all in. It couldn't be real, could it? Just this morning, I'd been happily married and organizing my daughter's birthday party. Now I was crying into my glass of wine and listening to my friends plot out various revenge strategies. Sex with random men? Trips to Miami to drink my face off? Keying his car? I just wanted to wake up from this nightmare. If I said her name out loud, it would be real.

They were all looking at me, though. "Is it someone you know?" asked Megan gently. "Did he bring her around you?"

I shook my head slightly. "I might have met her at the office Christmas party. I don't really remember. He says it didn't start until later- January, February- when they worked on a project together."

"What's her name?" Ashley repeated. She pulled out her phone. "Tell me her name."

"Nikki," I whispered, so quietly that she asked me to repeat myself. "Nicole Wilson." There. It was out there.

"Is she from here?" asked Megan. "Did we go to high school with her? I don't remember her."

Ashley was furiously scrolling on her phone. "Um...give me a minute. Nikki Wilson. I think this is her. Oh, fuck him. He's Facebook friends with her. She liked a picture of your kids! I can't. Who does that? Oh, excellent, she's an idiot too. Her page is completely open." She started typing.

"What are you doing?" I asked her, alarmed. Ashley was on her third glass of wine at this point, and when she drank, she could go a little crazy. As if she couldn't go crazy enough on her own without alcohol helping her along.

"Just commenting on some of her pictures," said Ashley. "Calling her a slut. Homewrecker."

"Ashley!" I protested. "Don't. This girl is going to be- be my kids' stepmother or something." At that thought, I burst into tears again.

"You have to do something," said Ashley. "You cannot just sit back and let everything happen to you."

"But I want to take the high road," I sniffled.

"The high road?" Ashley rolled her eyes. "The high road is another word for being a doormat. You can't let him just go do whatever he wants while you sit there and wait for his lawyers to tell you how much you're going to get in child support. You need to do something. Okay, maybe you don't need to go out and have revenge sex with the first bathed man you see. But you need to do something. Megan is right. We need to take a vacation and get away from all this and just get your mind off things. Look, I can take time off anytime. I'm a self-employed real estate agent. As long as I don't have any showing booked, I can take off whenever. As long as it's a couple weeks out I'm clear. Becca, you finish school in a week or two too, don't you?"

"Next week is our last week," confirmed Becca, who taught third grade. "We have a couple days of meetings after that, but then I'm free too."

We all turned to look at Megan, who worked in accounting. "I'll have to request the time off," she said. "I'll have to see Monday at work what dates I'm free."

I almost told them not to bother. I almost told them it was okay, I'd just stay home and cry under the covers all day while Henry and Olivia were at my parents'. But just as I was opening my mouth to tell them no, don't bother, a very small "okay" popped out instead.

# Chapter Five

The first step was for Megan to book the days off. We picked a week at the end of June, a month away. Once she'd confirmed that she could get the time off, I called my parents and asked if they could watch Henry and Olivia while I went on a trip with the girls.

"Of course, honey," said my mom sympathetically. "You need some time to get away and have fun. We'll do our best to keep the kids busy. Where are you going?"

"Thanks," I said. "I think we're planning to go to Vegas. But also maybe a beach in Florida somewhere. Just somewhere we can go and not have to think about everything that's happening." I sighed. "I just- I never saw it coming, Mom, you know? I mean- things weren't perfect, nothing ever is. But I was happy, overall. I thought he was happy. We had our ups and downs and little fights, but no marriage is perfect, and I thought he was just preoccupied with being busy at work and adjusting to his new position. I figured things would calm down eventually- buying a house and moving is stressful, and once we got through that I figured that he'd get used to the new workload and the position, the kids would adjust, we could spend some time over the summer reconnecting...I just didn't see it coming at all."

"I'm so sorry, Julia," my mom sympathized. "I can't imagine what that's like. I don't know- from an outsider point of view, I've known Bradley a long time, and seen the two of you together for a long time. And I did think something changed. I don't know if you changed on your own, or if he changed and that made you change, or what, but when I looked back at who you are today, thirty years old, and when I look at who you were in high school...well, it's two different people."

"Of course it is, Mom," I said. "I was a teenager with no responsibilities back then. Now I'm a mom, I have a mortgage and a car payment and life insurance and a home to manage and kids to raise and a home business to try and run- of course I've changed."

"You didn't change together, though," said Mom. "That's what I meant. Of course who you are as a person evolves as you get older, but if you're lucky, you both change into people who still love each other and get along. You turned into someone, he turned into someone else. And those people might not get along as well as Julia and Bradley of eight years ago did."

I couldn't quite hear the 'I told you not to get married so young' in there, but I thought it was in the background. My parents had warned me, after all, not to marry so young- live on your own for a year, get the feeling of independence, my mother had urged me. Don't go straight from your parents' home to a man's. I hadn't listened because I was young and in love.

"Well," I said, "thanks. I think."

"I don't mean 'I told you so'," said Mom hurriedly. "Just- I've watched you lose your sparkle over the past while. I know it sounds cheesy but it's true. Just seemed like life- love- was getting you down. You weren't the same girl I remembered. So if you need to take a break from all this mess and go out there and find that sparkle, or get in touch with yourself and remember who you are- not as a mother, not as a wife, but who Julia is- you go out there and do it."

My mother's words echoed in my head for the next few days. She was right, of course- our mothers always are, aren't they? I could only vaguely remember what life was like before babies and husbands. There was joy in being a mother, but there was so much drudgery too. I needed this break. I needed to remember who I was.

Bradley hadn't moved out, but he was sleeping on the couch for the time being. I was trying my hardest to put on a good face for the kids and be as friendly and normal around him as I could, but when it was just the two of us I could hardly bear to even look at him. Ironically, now that he'd told me he wanted a divorce so he could be with this Nikki girl, he was coming home early more often and spending more time at home. The day after I'd called my mom, though, I waited until Henry and Olivia were in bed. Then I spoke in the most flat, unemotional voice I could manage.

"By the way, since we won't be going away on vacation together while the kids are at my parents' house, I'm going on a trip with the girls at the end of the month. Just so you know."

He looked up from the TV, startled. "Huh? What? No, you can't do that- who's going to care for the kids?"

I turned away so I wasn't facing him when I spoke. I concentrated on using the most even tone I could. "Like I said, they'll be with my parents. You won't have to lift a finger. In fact, it will make things even easier for you."

"Why, though? Why do you need a vacation?"

"Maybe," I said, "because my husband of eight years and partner of fourteen years just told me he is in love with someone else and no longer wishes to be part of my family."

"Knock off the melodramatics, Julia," he said, turning back to the TV. "You wouldn't just up and leave on vacation."

"Oh no? What makes you say that?"

"Because, that's not who you are. You won't just book a trip at random and go. You'll spend two months looking at all of the online reviews and comparing prices and features of the different hotels and call me over every twenty minutes until I want to scream and just not go after all. You'll print out a packing list for everybody and hover around and make sure that we pack exactly how you want us to. When you finally get to wherever you're going, you'll have a schedule to stick to. _Relaxing by the pool will take place from ten to twelve on Tuesday morning_ ," he mimicked my voice. " _After that there's lunch, yoga class, and then scuba diving, followed by showering for dinner, dinner, and then drinks at the beach bar_. You don't know how to take a vacation and it is NOT RELAXING going away with you." He exhaled. "There's something I've wanted to say for, oh, ten years now?"

I wasn't sure what kind of reaction I was expecting from him, but he was pissing me off. He was probably expecting me to cry. Instead, I glared at him. "You don't think I'm going to be able to go away to relax?"

"I don't think, I know," he said.

"And I'm sure Nikki's idea of a perfect vacation involves closing her eyes and throwing darts at a map," I said sarcastically. "Followed by landing at the airport with no clear idea of where she's going to stay or what she's going to do."

"You know what?" said Bradley. "It is. And we've talked about time after time, the trips we want to take together. Close our eyes and spin the globe and go wherever our feet take us. Hop on a plane with nothing but one suitcase and show up in a new city, pick out a hotel on the fly, just wander the city for hours and get lost together."

I closed my eyes and counted to ten, picturing my husband with this Nikki slut wandering hand-in-hand through some strange Middle Eastern bazaar, or Amazonian rainforest, or old European city. I shuddered. "Well," I said, as calmly as I could, "it sounds like you two will be very happy together."

Bradley rolled his eyes. "Cut the martyr crap out, Julia. You think it makes you look classy, like you're taking the high road? It makes you look pathetic." He shook his head in disgust.

Without another word, I stomped out of the room like a petulant teenager. I almost slammed the bedroom door, before I remembered my two kids were sleeping down the hall and I didn't want to wake them up. Instead, I had an idea. In the top drawer of the bureau was where Bradley kept his backup credit card. I pulled it out and stared at it for a good long while, turning it around and around in my hands. I memorized the number on the front and the three digit security code on the back. I looked at the expiration date and the name embossed on the front. Bradley M Sutton. My throat tightened. He was down there, living a weird parallel existence with me until we sorted out our separation, and he didn't care about me anymore.

I took a picture of the front and back of the card with my phone, just in case I had trouble remembering the number.

Then I sat down and started searching for flights on my phone. I'd book them right now, before I changed my mind. He was going to regret this. I was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and he'd be paying for this for years. I bought four return plane tickets, one for me and one for each of the girls. Then I called Megan.

"Screw Vegas," I said. "And Miami. I just bought us all tickets to Paris."

Megan screamed so loudly when I told her that I had to hold the phone away from my ear. "Are you FREAKING kidding me? PARIS? And you bought us all tickets?"

"Bradley is going to be footing the bill for us," I said, glancing down at the credit card.

"Are you serious? Whoa. Why? Does he feel bad or something?"

"Something like that," I said. "Um- don't tell Ashley, she'll go nuts, but I took his credit card. Well, I didn't take the actual card, but I took a picture of it..." I trailed off.

"You know what? Asshole deserves whatever he gets," Megan declared. "Well, damn. Now we're going to have to go shopping."

"Save the shopping for Paris," I told her. "Bring along an empty suitcase."

# Chapter Six

The time sped by and before I knew it, our departure date had arrived. I kissed Henry and Olivia goodbye and dropped them off at my parents' house. Bradley swore he would not have Nikki over at our house while I was gone, but he also had not yet discovered the credit card charges, so I figured I should take precautions. First I hid all the extra toilet paper in Olivia's closet and piled stuffed animals on top so when the current roll ran out, he'd go crazy looking for the stockpile. I stripped the sheets off my former marital bed too. Bradley was still on the couch, and he was too lazy to find clean sheets and make up the bed. I'd been doing it for the past eight years of our marriage anyway. I wasn't even sure if he knew where the linen closet was in the new house. Then, while I was waiting for the taxi to come pick me up and take me to the airport, I changed the wifi password. I hesitated on that last one- was it too harsh? Bradley would die without wifi. And it might possibly drive him straight out of my house and in to Nikki's.

I decided I didn't care. He hadn't shown any signs of second thoughts. I'd made it clear to him that if he wanted to try and save our marriage I would call a marriage counselor right away, but he wasn't interested and I couldn't make him. It would take two people to make this marriage salvageable, and in the meantime I sure as hell was not going to have another woman in my home. When my taxi arrived, I got in without any second thoughts.

The flights that I'd booked were first to New York, and then straight to Paris. I stood in line waiting to check in, looking around to see if I could spot any of the girls. I was there early, but wanted to get checked in right away. I had my purse and a small carry-on bag, and then my big suitcase that was half empty for all of the clothes I'd be buying on Bradley's dime. Served him right.

Becca arrived a few minutes after me, followed by Megan, and they both joined me in line. We chattered excitedly while we waited for our turn.

"We should have done something like this ages ago," said Megan. "I can't believe it took a crisis like this to for us to decide to just go."

"I changed the wifi password before I left," I confessed. "And stripped the sheets off the bed and hid all the extra toilet paper. I think Bradley thinks that stuff just appears out of nowhere when we get low. I'm not even sure he knows where the linen closet is."

Becca gasped, then giggled. "Oh my gosh," she said. "That's awful yet hilarious at the same time."

"I know," I said. "I thought it might be too mean, especially the wifi password. I mean...I'd die without it, and he's worse than me. But then I thought about it, and..."

"...Telling your wife you're not in love with her anymore is way worse," Megan finished. "Dude can live without wifi for a couple weeks. It won't kill him. Maybe he'll spend his spare time doing a lot of meaningful self-reflection on what drove him to seek an emotional connection with someone other than his wife."

"He'll probably just go to Nikki's house," I sighed. "Whatever."

Ashley showed up minutes before we were called up to the counter to check in, and we handed over our suitcases to be weighed, tagged, and sent off to the baggage handlers. We were given our boarding passes and sent on our way to security where once again we waited in line to take off our shoes and belts and produce our Ziploc baggies of tiny hand cream for inspection. Once we'd made it through security, we walked through a maze of hallways, escalators, and moving sidewalks to find the right gate and waiting area. I started to head towards the hard plastic seats, but Ashley grabbed my arm.

"Are you crazy? There's a bar right over there! Let's go grab a drink!"

"It's not even nine in the morning," Becca protested.

"So I'll have a mimosa then. Come on! We're going on a girls' holiday! We should start it off with a drink. Oh come on, for me?"

So we all went over to the bar and let Ashley order for us while we plopped down in the bar stools. I checked my phone to see if there were any emergencies from my parents or if Bradley had discovered the wifi password changed, but I had no new messages.

Megan noticed my phone out. "Put that thing away, Jules," she advised. "You'll go crazy if you spend the whole time staring at it. Your mom and dad are great with Henry and Olivia. Your husband's an asshole and deserves a couple weeks without toilet paper or wifi. If they need to get in touch, they will! Just relax. You don't want to miss Paris because you're busy staring at your phone, do you?"

"You're right," I admitted. I slid the phone back in my handbag. "I'll do my best to stop checking."

Ashley came back with four mimosas for us all and passed them around. "Cheers!" she cried. "Here's to an amazing two weeks." We all clinked glasses and drank.

"I can't wait to go shopping," said Megan.

"I can't wait to check out the nightclubs and restaurants," said Ashley.

"I want to visit some museums," said Becca.

"Boooo-ring," teased Ashley. "You're such a teacher, Bec!"

"Well, you can't visit Paris and skip the Louvre!" Becca protested. "What are you looking forward to, Jules?"

I thought for a minute. I wanted to do all the things my friends had mentioned- some shopping, checking out some of the restaurants and maybe going to a club or two if I could find something to wear while we were out shopping, and doing a bit of sightseeing during the day as well.

"Julia wants to find a hot rich French guy and have revenge sex with him all over Paris," said Ashley.

"You totally should," Megan agreed.

I blushed hotly. "No! That's not it. I just want to get lost in the city, I think. I don't know, find some narrow little streets and wander down there and find a cute cafe to sit in with a coffee or a glass of wine and forget about everything going on at home. Just- escape."

Becca patted my knee sympathetically, but Ashley rolled her eyes. "We're going to get you drunk and find you a hottie European to hook up with, mark my words. Another one please," she hollered, waving her empty mimosa glass at the bartender.

By the time Becca, Megan, and I had finished our first drinks Ashley was polishing off her second. We left the bar and popped in to the departure lounge's convenience store, buying gum, water bottles, and magazines for the plane ride. I almost pulled out my phone again, but Megan snatched it out of my hands and turned it off for me. "You'll have to turn it off on the plane anyway," she told me. "Might as well do it now, right?"

"You're right," I admitted. I opened a magazine instead and read all about the latest Kardashian drama until our flight was announced for boarding.

"Ooooh, Paris, here we come!" Ashley sang as we lined up to show our boarding passes.

"Well, New York, then Paris, but who's counting really?" asked Becca.

The flight to New York was a shorter one, about an hour and a half. We were able to find our second departure gate without much trouble, and boarded not long after arriving. As we settled in to our seats I wished I'd sprung for first class tickets. Megan and I were sitting next to each other by a window, with Ashley and Becca across the aisle from us.

Megan settled back in to her seat. "I can't believe we're really doing this," she said. She looked at me. "You okay? You look kinda sick."

"I'm okay," I said. "I feel a little queasy. Not motion sickness queasy," I added quickly. "Just a general, wow, I'm about to leave my kids and fly over an ocean for the first time."

"You'll be fine," she reassured me.

"I hope so," I said. "Listen. Um, I feel like I should tell you something. I haven't said anything to Becca and Ash, but...well...know how I booked our flights and said we'd be doing some serious shopping and I'd pay for it all?"

"Yes..."

"Well...that wasn't entirely truthful."

Megan looked confused. "What do you mean?" she asked. "I mean, I can pay my own way of course, I don't mind, I have savings for vacation and all-"

"No, that's not what I meant," I interrupted her. "I meant, I'm not paying for this. Bradley is."

Her eyes widened. " _Bradley_ is? How'd you convince him to do that?"

"I didn't," I said. "I- well, I guess I can't show you because my phone is turned off, but I took a picture of his backup credit card. He said some really awful things to me and I got so mad, I just wanted him to feel the way I do. I wanted him to just get the rug pulled out from under him from nowhere, just a total shock he didn't see coming- I want him to know how I felt."

"Shut. Up." Megan's mouth gaped open. "I can't believe you had the guts to do that! Wow. I mean good for you, girl, but wow." She shook her head, then giggled. "Let's book a massive hotel suite and order all the room service. Should we tell Ashley and Becca?"

"We'll tell them later," I said.

"On the way home Bradley should upgrade us to first class," said Megan, looking down at the foot and a half of space between her seat and the seat in front.

"Bradley will definitely be doing that," I agreed.

When we landed in Paris, it was just past ten PM local time, but it felt like suppertime to our American-adjusted bodies. We got our passports stamped by immigration, collected our suitcases from the luggage carousel, and then stood around in a tight cluster.

"Soooo," said Becca hesitantly. "Where now? Do we have a hotel?"

"This is an adventure," I told her. "It came to my attention that any time I travel, I have to spend hours researching reviews and comparing prices and features, so I decided that this time everything we do, we're doing on a whim."

"You take the lead, then," said Ashley. "Which bridge shall we sleep under tonight?"

Immediately, I felt silly and a bit self-conscious. Maybe Ashley was right and Bradley had been wrong. Maybe planning everything in advance was the way to go. After all, here we were standing around in the Paris airport without a clue where to go. I didn't have the slightest idea what to do. Catch one of the trains I saw signs for? Or a cab? But where would we go?

Megan rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on, Ash. There has to be some kind of guest services guest that can help us find a hotel."

Relieved, I smiled at my best friend. "Guest services," I repeated. "Right, let's find them."

Between the four of us, we remembered enough vocabulary from high school French to figure out which direction we had to go. I was nervous that at this hour any desk would be closed for the night, but to my relief we found a guest services kiosk with a woman standing behind the counter.

"We'd like some help finding a hotel for the night," I said, speaking slowly but clearly.

"For how many nights?" she asked, in perfect but heavily accented English.

I looked at my friends. "Are we going to stay here the whole time? Or visit somewhere else?"

"Seat of your pants," said Ashley, swatting my on the butt.

"Five nights," I said decisively. We had flights back two weeks from now, but now that we were in Europe, who said we had to stay in Paris the whole time?

"And do you have a preference for the area?" the woman asked.

"We'd like a suite," Megan added. "The nicest one available. Actually, the most expensive hotel you can find."

The woman tapped away on her computer. "I have two adjoining suites available," she said. "The price will be one thousand four hundred euros per room per night. Will this be by credit card?"

I gulped. Holy shit. I couldn't do that, especially since I wasn't one hundred percent certain of the credit card's limit. I thought it was fifty thousand, but with a few nights in a hotel like that we'd max it out in no time- especially if we planned to do any shopping.

"Actually," I decided, "we don't need the most expensive hotel available. We'd just like a big penthouse or two adjoining suites in a very convenient area for shopping and sightseeing. We'd like to be able to walk just about everywhere."

The woman nodded briskly and tapped away at her computer again. "I have a nice hotel for you here. It is a smaller boutique hotel, but very luxurious. It is right here." She turned the computer screen around and tapped a spot on the map she'd pulled up. "Just off the Champs-Elysees. A very short distance to the Seine and views of the Eiffel Tower. Five hundred euros per room per night."

I could hear the appreciative sighs from my friends. I felt dazed myself. "We'll take it," I said authoritatively.

We all crammed together in a taxi to the hotel, giggling in the backseat. We arrived at the hotel and were greeted by a man who offered to take our bags upstairs to our room. The woman who checked us in offered us all a complimentary glass of champagne. "Is this your first time visiting Paris?" she asked. We nodded. "Bienvenue à Paris," she smiled. "Here I have a map of the city for you. This is our hotel." She circled a spot on the map. "You will find many things to do nearby. The Eiffel Tower is a very short walk away, and to arrive at the Champs-Elysees and many designer shops you will simply walk down the street in the opposite direction from the Tour Eiffel. If you have any questions or wish for directions we are happy to help you."

"Merci," we all said together, just like we were back in Madame Leblanc's sophomore French class again. We walked upstairs to our rooms in a daze. I still couldn't quite believe we were here.

"Is this real life?" asked Becca once we were alone in our suites. We stood in a small group by the door, gawking around us. There were two king size beds in each room, along with a small divan in one room and a table and chairs in the other. There was a balcony that joined the two rooms together, with a small table and chairs so we could sit outside and enjoy a drink.

"Ahhh," said Ashley, stepping out on to the balcony. "I can sit out here in the morning with a coffee, croissant, and a cigarette!"

"You don't smoke," said Becca.

"So I'll start," said Ashley. "Paris just seems to call for a cigarette!"

"Did you guys see the bathrooms?" asked Megan, poking her head in. "Come here!" We all crowded in. The tile was so polished that we could see our reflections in it. Each bathroom had a large corner Jacuzzi tub, along with a soaker shower, and a huge sink and vanity. There were baskets filled with complementary products- shampoo, conditioner, soaps, lotions, perfume, moisturizers.

Ashley had wandered in to the other adjoining room. "Free wine in there," she said. "Two bottles. So I'm not tired at all right now- are we going out or what?"

Megan looked at me. "Jules? What do you say?"

"Oh, let's not," interrupted Becca.

"Party pooper," Ashley grumbled.

"Sorry," said Becca. "But I'm kind of tired from travelling all day and I'd kind of like to just stay in. It's eleven-thirty here- we can drink and watch a movie or something. Then wake up tomorrow all rested and do some shopping or sightseeing and go out tomorrow night. Isn't that a better plan?"

"Yeah, sorry Ashley, but I'm beat too," Megan admitted. "Let's open those bottles of wine and find something good on TV."

"Jules?" Ashley asked me hopefully.

"I'm all in for tomorrow night," I told her. "We can go shopping tomorrow and find something to wear out. I'm pretty sure I have nothing nice enough to wear out in Paris, anyway. Tomorrow, Ash. We'll get dressed up and go to dinner and then find a spot for dancing.

Ashley made a face. "Well, okay," she said. "But I'm definitely drinking this wine!"

"Go for it. We can even order room service," I said. I took a deep breath. "Girls- this trip is on me. Or rather...on Bradley."

Ashley and Becca stared at me. "What?" they asked in unison.

"Um- well, it's going to be a surprise to him," I said. "But yup, he's going to pay for what he did to me, one way or another. I have his credit card."

An evil smile spread across Ashley's face. "Find the room service menu," she ordered. "Bradley is going to live to regret the day he screwed Julia over!"

# Chapter Seven

We stayed up until 2 am local time, drinking and laughing and making outrageous plans to take revenge on Bradley. It was only 8 pm to our bodies so I thought I might take a while to fall asleep, but it had been such a long day and the bed I collapsed in was so luxurious, I had fallen asleep within minutes.

When I woke up the next morning, it was eleven already. I jumped out of bed and shook Megan awake in the bed next to mine. "Megs!"

She rolled over and groaned. "What?"

"It's eleven! Come on, we've wasted almost half the day!"

Megan sat up in bed, yawning, while I grabbed the plush hotel robe from inside the wardrobe. After an amazing shower with some wonderful smelling, free bath products, I blow dried my hair. Then I opened my suitcase to try and choose an outfit for a day of shopping in Paris. I suspected that no matter what I chose I'd be easy to pick out as an American tourist, so instead I went for comfort and decided on a cute sundress with flat open toed sandals.

As Megan shuffled towards the shower, I opened the door that joined our room to where Becca and Ashley were sleeping. Becca was sitting on the bed straightening her hair.

"Ashley's out on the balcony," she nodded towards the door. "We were thinking we could go somewhere for something to eat, then do some shopping maybe? And since the Eiffel Tower is so close, we could go there too. Then dinner tonight and go to a club or something."

"Sure," I said. "I can't believe we slept half the day."

"Well, there's the time difference," Becca pointed out. "Anyway, we're on vacation, remember? If we want to sleep in, now's the time to do it."

"Right. Go with the flow. No schedules," I reminded myself.

I walked over to the balcony door and stepped outside. Ashley was sitting on a wrought iron chair with her legs pulled up, wearing oversized sunglasses and holding a cigarette. On the table next to her sat a coffee and a plate with a half-eaten croissant.

"Where did you get that?" I asked her, amazed. "How long have you been up?"

She shrugged. "An hour or two. Where'd I get what?"

"The cigarette- you don't smoke. the coffee, the croissant, and the sunglasses."

"Bought these online before we left," she said, gesturing to the sunglasses. "The coffee and croissant are room service. I went down to the front desk and got the cigarettes there. The girl handed them over like mints. This is France, I guess."

"You don't even smoke," I echoed Becca from last night.

"I've had like two puffs," she said. "It's just nice sitting on a balcony in Paris with a cigarette. If I tilt my head at this exact angle and don't move, I can see the Eiffel Tower between those two buildings."

"Where? Let me see!"

Ashley stood up and let me sit in her chair. I imitated the tilt of her head and caught a glimpse of the famous tower in the gap between two buildings. I sighed happily. "I'm so excited to finally be here," I said.

After Becca and Megan were ready, the four of us headed out towards the Champs-Elysees. Paris's biggest street stretched out before us just like I'd always imagined it. High fashion boutiques, fancy restaurants and cafes, and jewelry stores stretched out on both sides. The sidewalks were so wide they seemed even wider than the street itself. A line of impeccably pruned green trees separated the sidewalk from the street. We headed down one side of the street slowly, heading down towards the Arc de Triomphe. We stopped to look in the windows of some of the shops, but I felt so overwhelmed that I was sure a snooty Parisian shop assistant would laugh at me and escort me out if I dared to set foot in the door of Chanel or Dior.

When we reached the end of the street, we stopped at the massive traffic circle and took pictures of the Arc de Triomphe. "Do you want to climb to the top?" asked Becca hopefully.

"NO," said Ashley. "Let's walk down the other side of the street. I want to find something to wear out tonight."

"We'll do tourist stuff tomorrow, Becca," I promised her. We crossed the street and headed down in the other direction until finally Ashley dragged us in to a Louis Vuitton store. I felt like I had to whisper, like I was in a museum or something. The saleswoman ignored us at first until Megan pointed out a beautiful leather purse to me.

"You should get yourself something like that," she said. "Honestly, even if it's not to get back at Bradley, you could carry that bag every day."

"You think?" I asked her.

"Of course. Excuse me- um, _excusez-moi_..." Megan gestured to the saleswoman, who came over with a doubtful look on her face. "My friend would like to see this handbag, please."

The saleswoman took it out and handed it to me. I put it over my shoulder and looked in the mirror. It was a beautiful bag. The leather was heavy but soft to the touch, and the style was so classic I could use it for years to come. "I love it," I admitted.

"Three thousand euros," said the saleswoman.

The old, practical Julia winced at the price. That was a few mortgage payments, or a new dining room set to replace the one that had gotten scratched in the move! That was summer camp for Henry and horseback riding lessons for Olivia. But the new, go with the flow Julia who sometimes took time to do something nice for herself, looked in the mirror and saw a beautiful handbag. "I'll take it," I declared.

After the saleswoman had wrapped it up for me and I'd handed over Bradley's credit card, we decided to get something to eat. A cafe was a few doors down; it was a cute sidewalk café, so ordered sandwiches and wine. I couldn't stop sneaking glances down at my new handbag.

Lunch was expensive, but with Bradley footing the bill I was able to relax and enjoy the atmosphere of sitting on a sunny sidewalk on one of the most fashionable streets in the world, watching tourists and Parisians hurry by.

When lunch was over we continued down the Champs-Elysees, mostly window shopping but occasionally going inside a store. We came across a shopping arcade, where we discovered a store that sold dresses that would be great for going out tonight. It was almost like high school again, as the four of us crowded in to the tiny dressing rooms, trading dresses, going back for different sizes, ooh-ing and ahh-ing and sometimes shaking our heads until we had each found a dress we were happy with.

"I can't wait to wear this out tonight," said Ashley, as we left the store.

"Where do you guys want to go?" asked Megan. "For dinner and dancing, I mean."

"I could Google-" I started to say, but Megan shook her head.

"Remember, Jules? No planning. Just let what happens, happen."

"Agreed," said Ashley. "We can ask at the front desk of the hotel a good area to visit, but once we're there, we just follow our noses and find a great spot."

It was four o'clock by that time, and I knew the French wouldn't eat dinner until late, so when Becca asked if we could walk across the bridge down the street from our hotel to visit the Eiffel Tower, we all agreed. We stopped in at our hotel to stash our shopping bags in our rooms, and then walked across the bridge spanning the Seine.

The Eiffel Tower stood in the middle of a huge garden, and the lawns were covered in tourists. Some were big groups- school groups in matching t-shirts, or a busload of Japanese tourists crowding in for a group photo- and others were smaller...families, couples, young college age kids. For a minute I felt jealous of the college kids, getting out and travelling the world before a husband and family came along. I'd married Bradley right out of college and we'd had Henry right away. At the time it had felt so right, and we'd been so happy to start a family. I didn't regret having my son, but I couldn't help but wonder for the first time what my life might have been like if I hadn't stayed with Bradley.

The lineup to buy tickets to the top was long, but it passed quickly as we people-watched and chatted about tonight. Ashley kept bringing up revenge sex, but I brushed her off. We inched forward in line until it was finally our turn to be crammed into an elevator with about fifty other people. We rode a series of three elevators all the way to the top, where we squeezed our way through the crowd until we managed to get a spot at the railing to look out over Paris.

"Look! That's where we were," said Megan, pointing to the wide Champs-Elysees and Arc de Triomphe in the distance.

Becca shaded her eyes. "There's the Louvre," she pointed. "Can we go there tomorrow? And Notre-Dame?"

"I'll probably be sleeping off my hangover until noon," said Ashley.

"I'll go with you, Becca," I offered, since it seemed a sin to visit Paris and not see the Mona Lisa.

"I'll go too," said Megan. "As long as we're not leaving too early."

"Is nobody else going to have a crazy good time with me tonight?" Ashley asked, disappointed.

"Of course we are," I told her. "That's what we're here for, isn't it? Let loose, relax, have a little fun."

"A lot of fun," Ashley corrected me.

"Museums can be fun too," Becca protested. Ashley laughed.

I tuned out my friends' silly argument and looked back out at the city of Paris. I'd dreamed of visiting here so often when I was younger- what little girl doesn't dream of Paris? I'd imagined standing at the top of the Eiffel Tower a hundred times before. It was just that in my dreams, it had always been Bradley standing up here next to me. I pictured his face the night of Olivia's birthday party, when he'd told me he didn't love me anymore, and tightened my grip on the railing. How could he have done this to me?

***

Back at the hotel, we took turns showering and doing our makeup and hair in the huge gilded mirrors in the bathroom. I zipped up my new body-hugging dress and took out my trusty black heels from my suitcase. I chose a necklace and some earrings to go with my dress, and went over to the mirror to see how I looked.

"You look great," Megan told me. "Only-"

"What?" I asked. "Did I leave a tag on my dress?"

"No, it's not that," said Megan. "It's just...do you think you're going to leave your wedding ring on?"

My hand flew to my ring automatically. It was a small, simple ring that had been all we could afford when we'd been fresh out of college. We'd discussed upgrading and getting me a new wedding set for our tenth anniversary, but I was sentimental about my little ring.

"I don't know," I said. "I'm not sure I can bring myself to take it off just yet."

"That's okay," said Megan gently. "Do you know if Bradley's taken his off yet?"

"Bradley hasn't worn his regularly for a few months. He said it was irritating his skin- he thinks he's allergic to it or something," I said. As the words came out of my mouth, I realized that I'd never noticed any rash or irritation on his hands.

My face must have changed, because Megan looked concerned. "What's wrong?" she asked.

I shook my head. "Nothing. Hey, I'm going to turn my phone back on, okay? I want to check in with my mom and make sure the kids are okay."

I went out to the balcony and turned my phone on. While I waited for it to boot up, I looked out over the rooftops of Paris and sighed. I was supposed to be coming here to escape, but it seemed that everywhere were little reminders of my old life.

My phone vibrated, indicating I had new messages. I picked it up and almost dropped it again right away when I saw the number of messages I had- thirty texts, five voicemails, and dozens of missed calls. Had something happened to Henry and Olivia at my parents' place? Without even checked the content of the messages, I called my mom straight away.

She answered on the third ring. "Hello? Julia, is that you?"

"Is everything okay?" I asked frantically.

"Of course," my mom replied calmly. "What's wrong? Did you get my text? I let you know this morning that the kids had a great night last night and are excited to be here. We're just sitting down to lunch now. Say hi, kids!" In the background, I could hear a chorus of 'Hi, mommy' from Henry and Olivia.

"You didn't call me a bunch of times and leave some voicemails?" I asked her.

"No, why?"

"Oh...no reason." I chatted with her briefly, and then said a quick hello to Henry and Olivia, before hanging up before I could go in to my messages and look at them. If it wasn't the kids, then it had to be...

Bradley. Bradley. Bradley. Every missed call, voicemail, and text- save the one from my mother letting me know the kids were doing great- was from Bradley. I listened to one voicemail and heard a stream of profanity directed at me. Somewhere in there I heard him mention "wifi password".

Ashley stuck her head out the balcony door that led to the other room. "Who's yelling at you?" she asked. "Sounds pissed."

"Bradley," I said.

"What's he so mad about? Begging you to come home and says he's learned his lesson?"

"No," I said, scrolling through the texts to see if they were all along the same lines. They were. "Before I left, I changed the wifi password."

Ashley's jaw dropped. "Are you serious?"

I nodded.

"Wow," she said. "Good for you, Julia! Honestly, I didn't think you had it in you. First the wifi password, then the credit card...maybe you're learning how to get even."

"I think I am," I said. I stood up and went back in to my room. In one quick motion, I took off my wedding ring and tucked it inside my jewelry case.

# Chapter Eight

"How do you say 'Cheers' in French?" Megan asked the handsome waiter who brought us our drinks.

"In French, we say ' _to health_!'" he replied. "So you would say, _Santé_!"

The four of us clinked glasses together and chorused, "Santé!"

Ashley had the grace to wait until he was out of earshot before she said, "That's boring. You should have asked him how to say 'Here's to a wild and crazy night!'"

"I'm starting to get kind of scared what you're planning," joked Becca. "We all know I'm not a very wild and crazy person."

"You can cut loose," urged Ashley. "We all can." She took a huge sip of wine. "We eat here and have a few drinks, then leave in search of a good time. I may not have danced on a table for a few years now, but I still have the moves in me."

"I don't know about on a table, but I'm looking forward to just doing some regular, floor dancing," I admitted. "I can't remember the last time I did that. Not in years."

"Well, we're all going to have a good time tonight," Megan declared.

"Remember," added Ashley, "no planning! Tonight we're going to go with the flow. Right, Julia?"

"That's right," I said, hoping I wasn't going to be getting in over my head.

Our food arrived soon, and the duck confit I'd ordered was heavenly. We'd ordered a bottle of wine for our table and it flowed freely- the waiter had to bring out a fresh bottle more than once. I lost count after the third bottle appeared at the table.

I thought I was stuffed full, but when Becca ordered a crème brûlée, I just had to have one too. "This is heavenly," I said, closing my eyes as I took a bite. "I can almost feel my pants not fitting tomorrow."

"Who cares," said Becca. "It's worth it!"

"Better than sex?" teased Ashley.

"I think so," I said.

"Bradley obviously hasn't been doing very well, then," she said. "Just you wait, Jules. We'll find you someone you wouldn't dream of comparing to dessert."

I rolled my eyes and took another bite of crème brûlée, Ashley's comment had stuck in my head and I couldn't help think about what she had said. Bradley and I had been together since high school. He'd been my first, and my only. I'd always felt satisfied when we had sex. I'd never thought that I was missing out on anything when my friends talked about some of the different guys they had dated. But Ashley's comment made me start to wonder- had I been missing out? Was sex with Bradley in reality just average? Could it be better? I used to be horrified at the prospect of being with another man. But to my surprise, for the first time, I felt somewhat curious about being intimate with someone else. Would he feel different? Would he try different things?

We finished our meal just before midnight and paid the bill- rather, Bradley paid our bill- and then set out in search of a place to dance the rest of the night away. The concierge at our hotel had directed us to an area with lots of fashionable restaurants and nightclubs, but we'd arrived in a taxi so I had no idea where we were in relation to our hotel. At any rate, we turned a corner down a narrow street and saw crowds of people lining up to get in various clubs. The thumping bass was so strong that if I put my hand on my chest I was sure I could feel my heart vibrate.

"Is this where we're going?" asked Becca nervously. "I'm not sure if I'm cool enough to get in to a place like this."

"Just show some cleavage and we'll get in anywhere," Ashley advised her.

"Which place do you want to go to?" asked Megan, looking around. "It looks like there's a line everywhere."

We stood in the middle of the street while fashionable clubbers hurried around us in both directions. I felt like it was the first day of high school again- had I dressed okay? Would the other kids laugh at my outfit?

"Julia should choose a place," said Ashley. "That place down there with the strobe lights looks cool, but it has the longest line. Or Club Techno, that one looks cool too." She pointed to the lineup nearest to us. "But I think Julia should pick. It's her night, after all."

I took a deep breath and looked up and down the street. Across the street, one of the lineups seemed to feature fewer teenagers and more people our age. Maybe that would be more comfortable for us- after all, I wasn't even sure if I liked techno music.

But that wasn't what this trip was about, I reminded myself. It was about pushing my boundaries and doing things differently. Creating new experiences. Who knew, maybe I'd end up liking techno music. "Club Strobe Lights," I said, pointing down the street at the longest line. "If the line is the longest, then I think that means it's the best place."

Ashley cheered, and the four of us linked arms as we walked down to get in line behind the velvet rope.

We waited for about fifteen minutes before we reached the front of line. I'd noticed a few people ahead of us hadn't been let in, which Ashley assured me was a good thing because it meant they had standards. When it was our turn, the bouncer looked us all up and down before he nodded and stepped aside. We paid the cover fee and entered the club.

It was so loud I couldn't even hear myself think. I was grateful when Megan grabbed my hand and pulled me after Ashley, who was heading towards a seating area just outside the dance floor. Despite the line outside, it wasn't very crowded inside. So we were able to find a seat. We had barely sat down before a bartender came by and asked if we'd like anything to drink.

"A round of shots," said Ashley.

"It's been ages since I've done shots," I protested.

"Up for anything, remember?" Megan reminded me.

I sighed and nodded, and when the bartender came back with a small tray of shot glasses, I took one and knocked it back just like I was back in college.

Since the dance floor wasn't yet full, we ordered fruity drinks and sat down for a while, talking. Since it was half past midnight at that point I was a bit worried I'd chosen badly and we'd picked a dud, but the girls assured me that things would pick up after one. "I must be old," I sighed. "By one, I'm just about ready for bed."

"Well, I'm not out every weekend like I'm twenty-one again," said Megan, "but we're on vacation, and it's kind of nice to go out like this, isn't it?"

I had to admit it was. I'd gotten way too accustomed to yoga pants and my minivan. It did feel great to be wearing a cute dress and high heels and sit down in a hot nightclub with a drink in my hand. It felt like I was living someone else's life for a minute instead of my own humdrum existence.

The girls were right and the club did pick up after one. People started filling up the dance floor, and once we'd finished our drinks we joined them. I'd always been self-conscious dancing, but somehow in this crowd of people I didn't care what anybody else thought and just let loose and enjoyed myself. It was noisy and crowded and I thought I didn't like techno music, but before I knew it I could almost feel it inside me, pulsing. We danced until our feet were sore, and we made our way back to where we'd been sitting before. Another group of people were sitting there, so we found some empty spots in a booth with a few other women.

"Mind if we sit here?" asked Becca, sliding down to an empty seat. "Um, excusez-moi..."

"Oh, it's fine, no problem!" said the woman with a big smile. I was relieved to hear she was American, since I knew there was no way I'd be able to remember any of my high school French when I was drunk.

"Thanks," I said.

"I'm going to go get us another round of shots," said Ashley, and she disappeared towards the bar.

"So are you having fun yet, Jules?" Megan asked me.

"I'm having a blast!" I exclaimed. "God, I haven't gone out dancing in forever. This was exactly what I needed. Just some drinks and dancing with good friends. And I'm excited to explore Paris a little further tomorrow..... in the afternoon, at least. I'm going to be paying for this tomorrow morning!"

"Is this your first time in Paris?" asked one of the other women we were sitting near, leaning in so I could hear her over the thumping bass.

I nodded. "We all came here together for the first time, on a- a sort of girls trip, I guess."

"Oh, fun!" she said. "We're here on a similar trip. My friend over there- Amy- she's turning thirty-five this year- we're on a trip for her birthday. We got here the day before yesterday."

"This was our first day here," said Megan. "We got in late last night, just did a bit of shopping today before we went out to dinner. I'm Megan- this is Julia and Becca."

"I'm Claire," said the woman, holding out her hand. "Besides Amy, that's Sarah and Nicole. What are you guys up to after this place?"

Becca and I exchanged a look. " _After_ this place?" I repeated. By my best guess, it was at least two in the morning. I'd already started imagining what my bed would feel like after a night of dancing in high heels.

"Yeah," said Claire. "It's Europe; things are only getting started!"

"Umm," said Becca.

"We haven't thought that far ahead yet," said Megan.

"I think we're having a bit of a party at our suite afterwards," said Claire. "Amy's arranging the whole thing. I don't want to sound weird, but you girls are more than welcome to come if you'd like!"

"Like...what kind of party?" asked Becca.

"Just a few of us, some other friends we've met here," said Claire.

Ashley showed up just then, her hands full of shots. "Shots all around!" she said cheerfully, handing the glasses to Becca, Megan, and I. "What're we all talking about?"

"We're just making new friends here," I said. I gestured to our new friend. "This is Claire- Claire, this is our other friend, Ashley."

"Hey!" said Claire. "I was just asking your friends if you guys had plans for after this place."

"After this place?" repeated Ashley, and I was relieved I wasn't the only one who hadn't thought about an after-hours party. "No, I don't think so, we don't have anything planned. We're just going with the flow tonight."

"Well, in that case, you guys should totally come," said Claire. "We're having some people over to our suite after this place closes down- at three, or whenever. I can give you the address if you're interested."

Unlike Becca, Megan, and I, Ashley didn't hesitate. "Sure!" she said, and pulled out her phone. "Here- just write the name of the hotel in here and a number we should call when we get there."

I stared at my friend in shock as Claire tapped away at the phone's screen. Was Ashley insane? Just meeting strangers at nightclubs and going back to parties at their hotel rooms?

"Are you nuts?" I whispered in her ear, once she had her phone back and had squeezed on to the banquette next to me. "Just going to hang out with a stranger like that?"

"It's not any different than a one night stand, really," Ashley shrugged. "Ohhh, wait. You've never had one of those, have you? Just Bradley....you poor dear." She patted me on the head, then gave me a little hug. "You just have to go with it sometimes, Jules. If we never talked to people we didn't know, how could we ever make new friends?"

She was right in a way, but she was also totally wrong. You met new friends at yoga class or chatting on the playground, not when a stranger invited you back to their hotel for a party.

We stayed at the club a bit longer- having another round of drinks, going back out to the dance floor, before we decided it was time to go and stumbled outside.

"I'm about ready for bed," said Becca, yawning. "I had a great time, but I'm tired."

"Me too," I agreed. "Sorry, Ashley, I just don't think I'm up for an after party."

"But that's not fair," said Ashley. "You agreed- whatever happens, happens! Maybe we'll have a great time. And hey, if it turns crazy, at least we'll have a great story, right?"

"Right, like waking up in a bathtub with a missing kidney," said Becca. "Ha ha ha, that was such a great time!"

"Don't be a party pooper," said Ashley. "Come on, it'll be fun!"

"I don't know," I said. "Megs?"

"I'm up for it," she declared. "Ashley's right- it could end up being a lot of fun. Go with the flow, remember, Jules?"

She was right. Becca rolled her eyes at us but came along anyway, claiming that someone would have to call the police when Claire and her friends tried to hold us hostage. I was tired, but couldn't help but feel a twinge of nervous excitement as we piled in to a cab on the way to Claire's hotel.

It was a large, fancy hotel, and when Ashley called the number Claire had given her we were told to get in the elevator and go right up to the penthouse suite. We crowded in together and when the doors opened, we were right in the penthouse suite.

I looked around. There were several chairs and small couches set up in a seating area, with a big open space in the middle. For mingling, I assumed, or maybe dancing. A bar was set up in one corner of the room and about ten other women were hanging out in the room.

When she noticed we'd arrived, one of the women broke away from the group she'd been chatting with and walked over to us with a smile. "Hi," she said. "I'm Amy- I'm hosting this party tonight. My friend Claire met you at the club we were at earlier, didn't she?"

We all nodded, and introduced ourselves. "Great," said Amy. "Once everyone gets here, we'll get started. Have you been to a party like this before? Did Claire fill you in?"

"She said it was a party," I said. "Is there more to it?"

Amy smiled. "Oh, you're in for a treat," she said. "We've got some great guests coming tonight. It's CFNM- clothed females, naked males. We're going to have some men here to serve us, there will be games and so on- really, it'll be a great time! No pressure to touch, but if you want to, it's up to you."

The elevator pinged its arrival again, with another small group of women, and Amy moved on to greet them. The four of us stood there in a tight cluster, looking at one another. Amy's reveal about the party's true nature had truly thrown me for a loop. Getting roofied and waking up with my purse stolen and no idea how to get back to the hotel- that had been the worst case scenario I'd imagined earlier. A sex party hadn't crossed my mind and I wasn't sure what to think.

"Did she say, naked males?" asked Becca. "I don't know about this."

"I don't know. I think it could be fun," said Megan. "Clothed females, that's us- we don't have to do anything we don't want to."

"I don't think I'm comfortable with this," I said. "I just- I know that if Bradley and I separate, I'll have to sleep with someone else, eventually. I'll see another man naked, eventually. But I don't know if I'm ready to do it now."

"Are you telling me you've never seen another man naked before?" Ashley demanded.

"Well- I mean, we watched porn together once or twice, but I know those guys aren't like in real life" I started to say.

Ashley interrupted me. "Oh, honey. We really do need to stay, then.....for your own education. There's a lot more out there than just Bradley. Look, we don't take our clothes off. If you decide you don't like it, you don't have to look. But you need to give it a try. No excuses, remember?"

I took a deep breath. "All right," I said. "Let's stay."

# Chapter Nine

We got some drinks from the bartender and decided to sit down together while we waited for the party to get underway. I looked around at the other women there and tried to get a read on them. Some of them seemed filled with nervous excitement, like we were. Others seemed totally at ease and circulated around, chatting easily with each other. I remembered Claire saying that she and her friends came here regularly and realized that they must do this kind of thing all the time.

Finally, Amy came out and stood in the center of the circle. "Ladies, if you wouldn't mind, it's time to take a seat," she said. "We're going to get this party started!"

The more experienced women let out whoops and cheers as they found chairs. Once we were all sitting down, music started to play. The bartender came out from behind the bar, opened a set of double doors that led to another room, and dimmed the lights. A spotlight stayed trained on the open area in the middle of the room. I couldn't help but crane my neck to watch as the bartender led a group of men- four or five of them, I guessed, compared to the twenty or so women waiting- to dance in the stage area.

I wanted to look away- I felt like I should look away- but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Once I'd attended a bachelorette party that had a male stripper, and at first it was like that with dancing men. They were doing a striptease as they removed their clothes. The other women in the room were clapping along with the music, whooping and hollering as they cheered the men on. I clapped along to the beat so I wouldn't look out of place, too.

I snuck a look at my friends to see what their reactions were. Ashley, as I might have guessed, was cheering loudly and encouraging them to shake it. But Megan and even Becca seemed like they were enjoying themselves, too. The men were definitely nice to look at, I had to admit. Their muscular bodies rippled under smooth, tanned skin. I tried my hardest to keep my eyes up on their faces, but every now and then I couldn't help but stare at their cocks. Aside from the very occasional porn film, Bradley's was the only one I had seen before. Next to the men in front of me, his was tiny.

After a song or two had played, Amy stood up and made an announcement. "For the rest of the night, ladies, these men are here to serve you," she said. "Drinks, food, a massage...anything you want. Don't be shy. Take some time to mingle, and we're going to have a little competition starting up in a short while!"

My friends and I turned to each other to touch base. "Well?" asked Becca. "What do you think?"

"This is amazing," said Ashley. "I'm so glad I made us come. What's not to like, ladies? Honestly? Naked men serving you drinks and giving massages...I'll take it! Who wants a drink?" She snapped her fingers and called out for someone to bring her a fresh drink. Not even a minute later, a naked man appeared with a fresh glass of wine.

"For you, madame," he said, bowing slightly. Ashley gave his buttocks a squeeze and dismissed him.

"I think it's kind of fun, too," admitted Megan. "I mean, we're on vacation, its Paris, everyone knows the French are the sexiest people alive...why not? It's not like any of us are cheating by looking at some other guys."

Becca stood up and I almost thought she was going to leave, but she just pointed to one of the men. "That guy is so unbelievably sexy. My feet hurt from dancing all night...I'm going to go make him give me a foot massage." I watched her walk over to him and had to make a conscious effort to keep my mouth closed from the shock. Becca- sweet, museum-loving Becca- was getting in to the vibe of Amy's party.

Megan stood up too. "I think I'm going to go dance with that group over there," she said, pointing to where a cluster of a few women were taking turns pressing up against a naked man and grinding.

"I'll go with you," said Ashley, tipping back her glass of wine. "Come on, Jules! It'll be fun."

I couldn't. I shook my head, feeling too embarrassed to even say a word.

Ashley frowned. "Oh, come on," she said. "It's just a bit of dancing. You had fun doing that at the club, didn't you?"

"I- I have to get another drink," I said. "Maybe later." Ashley shrugged, and followed Megan over to the group that was dancing.

I was only sitting by myself for a minute or two before Claire, the woman I'd been talking to at the club who had invited us all here in the first place, stopped by. "Julia! Are you having a good time?" she asked. "There's going to be some great contests we make them do coming up- and there _will_ be a ruler involved," she promised. "Want to come dance?"

"Um, that's okay, thanks," I said. "Actually, where is the restroom, if you don't mind?"

"Oh, sure, it's just through there," said Claire, pointing at the doors that the men had come through at the beginning of the party.

"Thanks," I said, and slipped away.

I took my time in the bathroom, which was the size of the master bedroom back in my house in Ohio and even more luxurious than the bathroom at our hotel room here in Paris. I reapplied my lipstick, and pulled out my phone to check if I had any new messages. (Two more angry texts from Bradley, who hadn't been able to find where I had hidden the toilet paper, so he was going to be staying at Nikki's and he hoped I was satisfied.) Feeling angry all over again, I sat down on one of the chairs in the bathroom for a few minutes playing games on my phone until enough time had passed that I thought the mingling session might be over out in the main room.

I opened the door to the bathroom and stepped out. I was in a bedroom with a king sized four poster bed and, lounging on it, a very attractive man. Unlike the other men out in the main room, he was dressed in linen slacks and a blue shirt. I was so surprised to see him that I did a double take.

"Oh, hello there," he said nonchalantly, looking up from a tablet. "What are you doing in here? Party's out there."

"It's...not really my thing," I said. "I came here with friends, and they're out there having a great time."

"I see," he nodded. "Same thing with me. I came with some friends, but you can't have a clothed man at one of these parties I guess."

"What made you come?" I asked, taking a step closer despite myself. "Wouldn't it make more sense to go back to your hotel? I mean, it's what-" I looked around the room for a clock and didn't see one, so I pulled out my phone- "after three AM. Wouldn't you rather be sleeping?"

"I'm visiting Paris with a few friends," he said. "Three girls, two guys. We were all going to go out but the other guy, he came down with food poisoning at dinner so it was just the four of us. While we were at a club my friends got invited to come to a party here. Guess the woman who invited them didn't realize I was with them. Imagine my surprise when I showed up here." He laughed. "Amy did say I was more than welcome to strip down and join the dancers, but it's not really my thing either."

"Oh, no!" My hand went to my mouth to cover up a giggle that was threatening to slip out. "I'd be mortified. I don't know how they do it."

"There's some kind of dick measuring contest going on," said the guy. "I don't feel up to subjecting myself to that kind of humiliation right now."

"I'm Julia," I introduced myself. "Do you mind if I stay in here and hang out with you while they continue their party out there?"

"Sure. I'm Matthew," he said. He looked to be around my age and had that wholesome, all-American look to him- blond hair, blue eyes, and a strong jaw. He patted the bed next to him, and as I sat down I couldn't help wondering what he might have looked like up there in comparison to the other men with no clothes on. "So what are you doing here in Paris?" he asked. "How do you like it?"

"Oh, I'm here on a girl's trip," I said. "We just got here the other day so we haven't really been out to see much. Just a bit of shopping on the Champs-Elysees and a trip up the Eiffel Tower, then out to dinner and clubbing tonight of course. But I love what I've seen. It's a city that so many people dream of, you know? I never imagined that I would actually be here one day and seeing it all in person. I want to- well, no, it sounds silly."

"Oh, you can't leave me hanging like that!" said Matthew. "Nothing's that silly. What do you want to do here?"

"I just want to find some old, twisty cobblestone streets filled with cute little stores full of hidden treasures, and tiny but delicious cafes," I admitted. "Just wander around by myself for hours and get lost and enjoy the atmosphere. I usually have a problem with over-planning vacations so I made a promise to the girls that I wouldn't do that, but I need to have some kind of plan to function- even if getting lost is my plan, you know?"

"I get it," he said. "You should check out Montmartre. We were there the other day- you start at the bottom and just kind of pick a street and walk up towards the top of the hill. It's a great way to spend a day doing pretty much nothing."

"I'll have to go there," I said. "How long have you been here? What else do you recommend we do?"

I leaned back against the soft pillows of the bed and relaxed for the first time all night. Matthew and his friends had been here a few days so far, but it wasn't his first trip to the city. He'd first visited it as a young college kid travelling Europe during the summer, like the backpackers I'd been envious of at the Eiffel Tower earlier today. He talked on for a while, telling me about the Louvre- I couldn't miss the Louis XIV rooms- and the Rodin Museum couldn't be missed either, and if the weather was nice some of the parks around the city were great to wander through.

On the other side of the bedroom doors, I could hear the music start up again. I found myself hoping that none of the girls came looking for me to drag me back out to watch the erection measuring competition. I was enjoying talking to Matthew much more than I'd enjoyed watching the spectacle out in the other room.

"You want a drink?" he asked, getting up from the bed and walking to the door. He peeked out through the crack. "I doubt anybody would notice if we snuck out there and grabbed a bottle of something."

I followed suit. "Let me go grab something," I said. "You'd stick out too much, being a man wearing clothes and all."

Matthew laughed and stepped back. "Okay, go grab us some drinks," he said. He opened the door and I slipped through the crack.

I scurried along the wall to the bar in the corner and ducked down behind it. I grabbed a couple glasses and looked for a bottle of wine. For such a small bar it was well stocked, but I didn't want to be grabbing ingredients for lots of different drinks. I held a bottle of wine and a glass in each hand, and tucked a third bottle of wine- opened, but not much gone- under my arm. I peeked up over the bar to make sure nobody was looking.

I had nothing to be afraid of, since a line of naked men were getting their erections measured. Five different women were standing up there too, holding measuring tapes. I recognized Ashley as one of them. I gave my head a little shake and hurried back to the door that Matthew had left open a crack. My friends didn't seem to be missing my presence at all. Well, too bad, because hanging out with Matthew and drinking some wine was more my style anyway.

Nobody noticed me as I dashed back in to the back bedroom with my loot. "Well done!" Matthew exclaimed, once the door was closed behind me. "Wow, I'm impressed. Three bottles of wine? That takes skill to carry all that back in here!"

"Thanks," I said, feeling strangely proud of myself. He accepted the glass I held out to him, and took one of the bottles of wine as well.

He poured both glasses full and took a sip. "So did anybody see you?" he asked.

"No, they were all pretty preoccupied," I replied. "I don't think my friends even noticed I was gone." I couldn't hide the disappointment in my voice.

"Maybe they thought you left and went home," Matthew suggested. "If they knew you weren't having a good time, that is."

"Maybe," I agreed. I took a sip of wine. "God, I haven't done anything like this in years. I was never a very wild kid in high school and in college, I had a- a steady boyfriend I spent most of my time with. I never went out to wild parties, that kind of thing."

"Sounds like a game of, _never have I ever gone to a wild party_ ," said Matthew, taking another sip of wine.

"Huh?"

"You've never played that game? Oh good, I'm so glad I met you tonight. It's a game, a drinking game...typically it's played at those wild teenage parties. One person says something they've never done, and if you've done that thing, you've got to take a drink. Let's play. Okay?"

"Sure," I said, feeling reckless. I took a sip of wine too. "As of tonight, I have gone to a wild party. Your turn."

"Hmm," he said. "I'll start easy. Let's see- never have I ever skipped school."

"You never did senior skip day?" I asked. I took a sip of wine...two, actually. I couldn't help but remember Bradley and I sometimes skipping class to make out behind the gym. Then I remembered the day he'd pressured me to skip class to be with him when I'd had an essay due, and I ended up handing it in late. I'd given things up for him. I'd made sacrifices. And this was how he'd repaid me.

"Nope," said Matthew. "Your turn."

"Never have I ever...lied on my resume."

"I'm not evil," said Matthew. "I've never done that. Never have I ever gone skinny dipping."

That summer during college when Bradley and I had gone camping and enjoyed a moonlit swim. I took a drink. "Never have I ever cheated on someone."

I waited, but Matthew didn't drink. "You're supposed to get me drunk," he said. "Stuff you haven't done, but everyone else probably has."

"You never know," I said. "Okay, fine. Never have I ever passed out after drinking."

Matthew took a big gulp of wine. "Never have I ever had a pet."

I sipped my wine, remembering the cat we'd had to give away when it was apparent he didn't like toddler Henry. "Never have I ever had a fake ID."

"If I'd grown up in France, I wouldn't have needed it," Matthew said as he finished off his glass of wine. He poured himself another, then topped mine up. "Never have I ever kissed a stranger."

# Chapter Ten

His voice had changed. It wasn't giddy from the excitement of stealing the wine anymore, or wistful like when he'd talked about his favorite places in Paris. It was low, expectant. I didn't move my glass of wine. I looked at him.

He took a step towards me, sipped from his glass, and then set it on a side table. Gently, he took my glass out of my hands and set it next to his. He took my hand and lifted it up to touch his cheek. "Julia," he said softly.

I ran my hand up through his thick hair, then caressed his neck. "Matthew," I whispered. I was standing closer to him than I had ever stood next to any man before, save my husband....my ex, soon to be ex-husband.

"I think you're going to need some wine," he said, and bent to kiss me.

Every objection I could think of ran through my head- I'm still married! I just met you! My friends are all out there! But as soon as his lips touched mine, I forgot them all. It had been a long time since Bradley and I had been intimate, too long, and as I tasted the wine on Matthew's lips I realized how much I had ached for someone to touch me the past few weeks.

His tongue lightly stroked mine as he ran his hands over my body. "You're so sexy," he whispered in my ear. "The second I saw you I knew I wanted you."

"I can't believe I'm doing this," I whispered back. "This isn't me at all!"

"That's what is so great about it," he murmured. "You can be whoever you want to be tonight."

He was right. I would never see him again after tonight, and I'd had just enough to drink that I knew what I wanted. I reached out to caress the bulge in his pants, and grew bold enough to undo the button. His cock was right there, thick and throbbing and ready to burst out if I hadn't undone the button myself. "It's too bad you didn't enter that contest out there," I told him. "I know you would've won."

He moaned gently and reached out against the wall to steady himself as I continued to stroke his shaft. "Oh, god, Julia...your hands are magical."

It gave me such a feeling of power to see a strong man like him succumb to me so quickly. I could feel myself getting wet between the legs, and I wanted him inside me. I glanced over my shoulder at the huge, pristine bed he'd been sitting on when I first saw him.

"Bed?" he gasped. "I need you."

"What if someone comes in?" I whispered.

"Too late for that."

I had an idea. "Come with me," I said, and, cock still in hand, led him towards the bathroom. I shut and locked the door behind us. There was a thick pile rug on the floor that I'd been thinking of, but Matthew had different plans. He reached out and pulled down the zipper on my dress. "Your turn," he told me.

I hesitated only a second before stepping out of my dress before I fell back in to him. He flicked my nipples with his tongue until they were erect, and I cried out. His mouth on mine was forceful and we staggered backwards until we fell into the armchair I had sat in earlier. I ground my hips in a hard circle against him as he slid one hand in my panties and gently entered me with his fingers. I made a sound I'd never heard before- Matthew was getting something out of me I didn't know I had. With one finger he pounded at the soft flesh while the other massaged my clit with such a gentle touch it was like two different hands.

"Ahhhh," I groaned, as I bucked and ground my hips against him as hard as I could.

Abruptly, he stopped.

"Keep going," I begged him. "Oh, God, what are you doing to me?"

"Get in the shower," he told me. "Come on!"

I didn't ask questions, just followed him. With one quick motion he turned the shower on, then grabbed me by the hand and pulled me in after him and pushed me up against the wall. The spray from the water hit my breasts and rolled down my stomach, where he gently kissed and licked them up.

"Careful," he warned, as he knelt and lifted one of my legs. He hooked it over his shoulder and gestured towards a shelf within arm's reach. "Better hold on."

I grabbed the shelf for balance and leaned my head back against the wall as Matthew's tongue darted in and out of my folds. The sensation of the cool tile pressing on my back mingled with the warm wetness coming from inside me and the spray from the water almost pushed me over the brink. The leg I was standing on buckled and I reached out to grab the first thing I touched- his hair.

"Please!" I cried out. "I'm going to fall down!"

He stopped then just long enough to lay me down on the floor of the shower before going back down. His tongue flicked and stroked in ways I had never felt before, and now here was a finger again rubbing hard against my clit. With one final stroke I felt a wave come over my body and, against my will, my back arched against the hard floor and I let out a howl of pleasure as I came hard and fast.

"That's it, baby," said Matthew, and he slid out of the spray long enough to grab a foil packet from his trousers and slipped it on. Then he entered me. With a few strong thrusts, I wrapped my legs around him and let him take me. Gliding and rocking with a frantic passion for what seemed like hours, he finally erupted.

Satisfied and panting, we laid on the floor and stared at each other. "That was amazing," said Matthew.

"It was incredible," I said. I'd never had sex like that before with Bradley. I didn't even know noises like that could come from me. I stared up at the ceiling.

Bradley.

***

Matthew had stepped in to the shower and was cleaning himself off. I wasn't sure how this worked now- did I join him? Showering together seemed such an intimate thing to do. I had to laugh a bit at myself for the thought.

"Here's a towel," said Matthew, getting out of the shower and handing me a thick, fluffy white towel. "Let's dry off and get dressed. We don't want the others to have to go looking for us."

"Sure," I said slowly. "Thanks."

We dried off and got dressed, and I got a look at myself in the mirror. I had eye makeup dripping down my face, so I tried my best to clean it up a bit. I didn't have any more to reapply and I looked oddly naked without any eyeliner.

Back out in the bedroom, Matthew picked up his glass of wine with a casual nonchalance, like nothing had happened between us. "Sounds like it's winding down out there," he said, nodding towards the door. "Should we take a look and see what's going on?"

"Okay," I said. I stopped with my hand on the doorknob and turned to face him. "Before we go out- I've never done this before. I don't know how it works, afterwards-"

"Don't worry about it," he interrupted, and leaned over to kiss me on the cheek. "You're one hell of a beautiful woman, Julia. I don't expect anything if you don't want it. It was a hell of a lot more fun than what I thought I'd be doing in this bedroom all night long. I hope you enjoy the rest of your time in Paris."

"Thank you," I said automatically. "You, too."

Matthew didn't mean anything malicious in what he'd said, but it left me with an uneasy feeling. I'd had sex with another man who wasn't my husband. It was true that my husband had told me he wanted a divorce, but we were still married and he was still my husband. We had a comfortable home, two beautiful children, and a happy life that we had both enjoyed up until the past few months. With a bit of hard work, we could get back to that place, couldn't we? Could that still happen?

I opened the door and walked out to join the rest of the party. The contests were over and the lights had been turned down and everyone was dancing and mingling again, although this time much more closely. I scanned the group for my friends, desperately wanting to go back to the hotel and sleep in my soft bed.

To my great relief, I spotted Megan dancing in a small group with one of the men and a couple other women. I didn't care if I was interrupting anything. I walked right up to her, grabbed her by the hand, and pulled her off to the side.

"Jules! There you are," she said, giving me a small hug. "We were looking for you. Figured you'd taken a cab back to the hotel. Where were you? Your hair's all wet."

I shook my head and could barely manage to get the words out. When I did, my voice wavered. "I think I've made a huge mistake."

### Thank you for reading!

## Please visit your favorite eBook retailer to view the next books in the "Journey To Love Series"
Cruise Away With Him

by

Carol Lewis
Copyright © 2017 by Carol Lewis

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cruise Away With Him

All rights reserved.

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. No part of this work may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording and faxing, or by any information storage and retrieval system by anyone but the purchaser for their own personal use.

This book may not be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of Carol Lewis, except in the case of a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages for the sake of a review written for inclusions in a magazine, newspaper, or journal—and these cases require written approval from Carol Lewis prior to publication. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.

# Chapter One

Glancing to my left, I couldn't stop the big smile that pulled gently at the corners of my mouth. Partly, I'm sure, that mawkish grin was thanks to the four glasses (or was it five?) of Pinot noir wine I'd had over dinner. But mostly, the schmaltz that enveloped me was caused by the man whose eyes were fixed on the road ahead.

My own mind wandered from his eyes to his dark hair, buzzed closely and neatly to his scalp. Then, slowly, I let myself take in his sturdy shoulders and the charcoal suit jacket that covered them. He cleaned up well, although he always hated wearing a 'monkey suit' as he gruffly referred to it.

With a mind of its own, my left hand sluggishly drifted forward and came to rest on his right knee. Tipsily I giggled as headlights from the oncoming traffic glinted across the solitaire diamond on my ring finger.

His gaze flicked briefly to me, his face stoic. "What?" he wondered, his attention swiftly moving back to the road ahead.

Shrugging what seemed to be very heavy shoulders, my hand crept upward, pausing when I reached the middle of his thigh. It wasn't quite as muscular as it had been during those years of high school and college football, but it remained impressively toned.

"Just thinking," I responded, that one or two too many drinks causing the words to move like molasses. "Do you realize, this time next month, I'll be Mrs. Andrew Parker?" I asked, rhetorically. "Isn't that crazy?"

He offered an affirmative grunt as he sharply clicked on the turning signal before making a right into his street.

"Mrs. Andrew Parker," I repeated, sighing as I tipped my head back and continued to drink him in with slightly sleepy eyes. "And can you believe that we've known each other for more than a decade?" I asked, that same sappy smile tugging at my mouth. "Grown up together, actually," I pointed out, thinking about how much we'd both changed.

At only sixteen, we thought we knew it all. Life, of course, quickly deprived us of that presumption. We'd both matured over the subsequent eleven years, but Andy was still pretty much the same guy I'd met as a giddy adolescent: intelligent, ambitious, and adventurous. He was calmer though, more contemplative than before – at least, he had been ever since he'd proposed. I suppose I had been similarly thoughtful, planning our future; imagining the children we might have, our home and the long years we'd share.

Slowing the car, Andy pulled into the underground parking lot of his apartment building and offered me a sideways glance. "Yeah," he mumbled, in an obvious attempt to stop my jabbering.

It didn't work. "You're going to be my husband," I pointed out, grinning broadly as Andy steered his black BMW to a stop. "Husband," I repeated gleefully, enjoying the way the word lingered on my tongue. It was exciting and a little bit intimidating all at once. Three weeks previously, my cousin Beth had wondered in astonishment if I was really ready at the age of twenty-seven to make a lifelong commitment. But the fact that Andy and I would be together forever was something I'd always known; married or not, I'd taken it as a given I'd grow old with him. Nevertheless, I did sometimes wonder about my ability to be a 'good' wife, whatever one of those was.

With a sigh of fatigue, he pulled the key out of the ignition. "Could you give it a rest for five minutes?" he grumbled, reaching for the door and clicking it open.

Frowning, I blinked at his back as he tugged himself out of the driver's seat. "What's wrong?" I wondered, genuinely confused by his dark mood. Perhaps, if I'd had less to drink, I might have been quicker to pick up the subtle signs that he was not in a talkative frame of mind. Instead, wine had blessed me with the kind of bright mood that blinds you to the possibility that it's not shared by everyone around you.

Andy shut the door firmly behind him and for a moment I was left alone in the heavy silence of the car.

"Hey," I called, still smiling. "C'mon," I chuckled, reaching with only a slight fumble for the door handle. "I know the planning has been stressful at times," I added. Clamoring with only a modicum of grace out of the passenger seat and swaying a little as I moved around to the trunk of the car. "But in less than four weeks, we'll be enjoying the best day of our lives."

Andy still stood by the driver's door, both of his hands stuffed firmly into his pockets and his face rigid. Unamused and unaffected, he stared at me as if I were a wearisome child.

"Why is everything always about the damn wedding?" he blurted, his deep voice echoing off the thick cement walls. "It's all anybody's been talking about all night," he huffed, turning on the ball of his foot and marching in the direction of the elevator.

"Well," I snorted, "it was our engagement dinner," I pointed out with just the merest edge of sarcasm to my voice. "What did you expect people to be talking about?" I followed him, planting my feet carefully with each step to avoid rolling my tipsy ankles.

Coming to a halt, my fiancé poked roughly at the elevator's call button.

"Our families are excited," I continued, the high heels of my shoes reverberating in the resonant space. "I'm excited," I added. "I assumed you would be too."

Without looking around, not even so much as a quick toss of his eyes over his shoulder, Andy stepped through the opening elevator doors. Taking two large strides, he reached the corner of the steel space and smartly whipped himself around to face me. "I am excited," he responded with only a pinch of enthusiasm. "I just don't want to talk about it all the time."

Reaching the elevator, I refrained from stepping inside. Instead, my feet drew to a slow stop and I dropped my head slightly to one side as I studied the distinctly miserable look on his face. "Second thoughts?" I asked, keeping any trace of emotion from the question. I wanted an honest and open answer, and knew I wouldn't get that if he thought a carelessly chosen word would send me into a fit of hysterics.

"No," he instantly replied, with a determined shake of his head.

Hearing the whirr of the mechanical doors, I smoothly lifted my hand and stopped their burgeoning movement by resting my fingers on the frame. "Then what is wrong?" I forged on, trying to remain calm and sympathetic.

"I..." he huffed, the side-to-side movement of his head slowing. "Nothing, I just don't want to talk about the wedding right now," he sighed, shrugging while his hands remained in his pockets.

I opened my mouth to object; to tell him that I knew something _was_ wrong and that he should just spit it out. However, I swallowed the impulse. My lips turning upward into a smile, I nodded. "OK," I relented, the hand that had been holding the doors sliding down and flopping to my side.

His face quickly creasing, for a moment Andy simply watched the resumed movement of the doors. Then, suddenly his own hand whipped out and pushed the sliding chunk of steel aside. "Are you coming up?" he asked, one of his jet black eyebrows arching in query.

"I don't know," I offered with a subtle shake of my head. "Maybe I'll just head home." We had never actually lived together – not technically, at least. As silly as it seemed, I wanted to buy our first home together as a married couple. It wasn't a matter of chastity, God knows that ship had sailed a long time ago! It wasn't even a case of being 'old fashioned', I simply wanted us to go into the serious business of binding ourselves together in property, _after_ we'd bound ourselves together in wedlock.

"What?" he mumbled, taking one large step forward until his feet blocked the threshold of the elevator. "Why?"

"You don't seem to want me around," I acknowledged, swallowing my desire to place accusation into the words. In truth, that wasn't so hard to achieve. Still a good sheet or two to the wind, I was merry despite Andy's bad mood and his unwillingness to talk to me. I managed to offer him a genuine smile, before taking a pace backward.

"And I have a busy day tomorrow," I pointed out. "So..." I left the 'o' hanging for a moment. "I guess, I'll grab a cab," I finally offered, turning to leave.

I didn't get far before Andrew's hand sharply grasped my wrist and tugged me back to face him. He examined my features studiously, his eyes moving over me with a quality that was difficult to place. I waited for him to say something, but he was silent.

"C'mon, Andy," I softly smiled. "It'll do us both some good-" I had been about to say, 'to spend some time apart', but the rest of my sentence was swallowed up as he lunged forward; his mouth swooping down and covering my lips with an intense kiss. It was a rarity in those days for my fiancé to catch me by surprise. After all, having known him so long, I often knew what he was going to do before he did. The kind of kiss that made me weak in the knees had also become rarer. The giddy excitement of new love had given way to something different; something comfortable and familiar, but no less lovely.

That night, in the chilly underground parking lot, I was surprised twice. First, by the unexpectedly passionate kiss. And second, by the heady rush of anticipation and need it evoked in me. As Andy's tongue slid longingly between my partly open lips, I heard a hungry groan swell deep in my abdomen.

Just as suddenly as he'd kissed me, he wrapped one strong arm around my waist and pulled me flush with his hard body. While my eyelids fluttered closed and the reverberation of his moan resounded in my keen mouth, he took a smooth step backward. Taking me with him, he didn't let so much as a sliver artificial light between us.

Inhaling shallow and sharp breaths through my nose, I playfully entwined my tongue with his, preventing his exploration of my depths. Aggressive spikes of desire began at my solar plexus and shot downward. That throbbing between my thighs caused my body to twitch and jerk as heat flushed my cheeks.

As Andy pushed me against the elevator wall, I was vaguely aware of the doors sliding before clunking quietly shut. Then, breathless, he tugged his lips from mine. "Jaime," he panted between concerted efforts to fill his lungs. "Jaime," he repeated, using my middle name as he always had. My first name was something he'd never really taken to. Truth be told, as a teenager, I'd hated it too. When you're an adolescent, anything that makes you stand out from other kids is to be concealed at all costs. My name came under that category, so I'd encouraged everyone I knew to call me 'Jaime'. That habit had gone with me into adulthood.

This time, as he spoke, Andy hastily grasped my right hand and pulled it to his swollen crotch. "I'm so hard," he growled through gritted teeth while pressing my palm to his pulsing manhood. He wasn't a guy who habitually talked dirty. The words and the force with which he spoke them caused goose bumps to rise on the back of my neck.

"Hmm," I lazily replied, a small smile twisting my lips. I noted the tension in his face, that 'look' he always got when he needed release right then and there. It was always fun, when he looked like that, to tease him a little.

"I thought you didn't want me around right now," I said quietly.

His thick fingers still covering my hand, he continued to use me to massage himself. "I never said that."

"Well, you don't want to talk," I countered.

"I don't want to talk about the wedding," he quickly asserted, a tiny muscle in his jaw spasming as his erection began to strain at the soft fabric of his pants.

"In fact," he added, his hips thrusting gently. "Right now, I don't want to talk...period."

With that, his face swept down to mine and his mouth prevented any comment I might have been tempted to make.

A sea of longing dampened my panties as Andrew hurriedly released his grip of my hand and reached for the hem of my dress.

# Chapter Two

He was the only lover I'd ever had. The only lover I'd ever wanted – beyond the realms of fantasy, at least. The first time had been... Well, it had been....different from what I'd expected. I suppose that's true for most women, and maybe some men, too.

To be fair to Andy, he did go through a lot of effort. He'd been patient in the weeks and months beforehand, as his raging hormones tested his self-control to the very limit. And then, when I finally decided I was ready, he'd gone all out to make that night as romantic as possible. Nevertheless, my abiding memories are of pain and embarrassment, which made me immensely glad that it was all over relatively quickly.

Things did get better after that first awkward night. Gradually, he'd been able to rein in his enthusiasm. Slowly, I'd become more secure in telling him what felt good and what didn't. And yet, it still wasn't as mind-blowing as I'd always imagined sex to be. Over the years, I'd come to accept that the version of physical love portrayed in movies and romance novels was not exactly accurate.

There I was, nine years later, pushed up against the cold elevator wall, my dress hiked up around my waist and my panties crudely yanked aside. This was a far cry from our usual mode of making love. Hell, it was a far cry from our _unusual_ style of making love. Neither of us had been prone to exhibitionism, nor had we expressed a desire to 'spice things up'. So, the flurry with which everything was happening had knocked me completely off-balance. Perhaps, if I'd been sober, my brain might have been able to catch a breath. I might have been able to pause and say, 'What if the doors open?' But, Andy's steely hardness was thrust deep inside me before I realized what was going on.

"Ugh," I cried out in surprise at his ferocity.

"Oh, yeah," he grunted, his lips, no longer attached to mine, were panting sweaty breaths directly into my left ear. "This was all I was able to think about through that God awful dinner," he moaned thickly.

Like a bucket of ice water had been thrown over me, I was acutely aware of exactly what we were doing, and exactly how vulnerable we were to getting caught doing it. "Andy," I gasped, both hands pushing lightly at his shoulders. "We can't...Not here..."

"Yes, we can," he countered determinedly, his hips pulling back a little. "We will," he added, jerking forward with a purposeful drive of his masculine length.

My previous excitement had left my body still willing under the pressure of Andy's presence, but my eyes were frantically flicking between the doors and the small electronic display above them. And then, another thought flashed into my head. "Jesus," I hissed, wide-eyed focus shifting to the upper corners of the small steel rectangle. "Are there cameras in here?" I blurted.

Andrew heard me, but he wasn't listening. His lower half was moving in a hurried uneven rhythm, breath leaving his lungs on a noisy groan each time his hips slammed roughly against mine. "Oh, baby," he gasped.

"Somebody might be watching," I said.

"Let 'em," he replied offhandedly, his brain only able to process the primal need of his lower regions. The rasping in my ear hastened. "You feel so good," he growled. And then, abruptly he stiffened.

Breathless for an entirely different reason, my primary concern, as I felt Andrew's orgasm spurt messily inside me, was the small box in the top right-hand corner. That, surely, was a camera. Some sweaty, middle-aged security man was probably smiling while he watched me and my fiancé from his bird's eye view.

"Shit," Andy muttered, oblivious to what was bothering me. His firm fingers slipped from my hips and he shifted slightly backward. His quickly softening shaft flopped slowly from me, leaving a trail of his juices dripping down my thigh. Taking a step back, he tucked his glistening member back into his pants and smartly zipped his fly.

Totally exposed with him no longer concealing my modesty from the security camera, I shoved haphazardly at my dress without even bothering to straighten my underwear.

"God," Andy sighed, taking another step back until his back was leaning on the wall opposite me. "That was intense," he quietly muttered, drawing a hand through his thick, dark hair.

Dumbstruck both by what had happened and the way my body had been left unassuaged of its earlier arousal, I simply stared at him.

Eyelids drooping, Andy tipped his head back. "I needed that," he breathed.

The swish of the doors announced that we'd arrived at his floor. Andy brightened. As if he'd been graced with a new lease of on life, he pushed himself from the wall and strode confidently out into the fifteenth-floor corridor of his building.

Finding a reserve of my own, I reached out to grab his sleeve before he'd stepped across the threshold. "For Christ's sake," I chided in hushed tones, "there's a camera in here."

The effects of his orgasm lingering, he grinned with a fine set of gleaming, white teeth. "It doesn't work," he replied calmly. "Hasn't for months, and the landlord doesn't seem interest in getting it fixed."

"Wh-" I stammered. "What if someone had walked in on us?"

Leaning into me with a devilish grin, his eyebrows danced mischievously. "That was what made it exciting," he whispered huskily. "Don't tell me you didn't feel the rush."

"I..." I mumbled, shaking my blurry head. "I don't...I..." Words refusing to form, I continued to babble fruitlessly. 'Rush' was an accurate description of what Andy had experienced, that much was certain. It had all happened far too quickly for me to feel even a small degree of satisfaction. And it was so unlike anything we'd done before that it almost felt as though a complete stranger was standing in front of me.

Everything about Andy's behavior that night confused me: from his sullen lack of enthusiasm over dinner, to a fierce arousal that flamed from nowhere. There was a lot going on in that brain of his that was a mystery to me.

"Come on," he said, with a cock of his head, as he snaked an arm around me and urged me out of the elevator. "I don't know about you, but I'm still horny as hell."

Too stupefied to say anything, I silently allowed him to steer me down the hallway to his front door. While we walked, his large hand slipped over my hip and grasped my right buttock possessively. The walls passed my peripheral vision in a blur, I briefly snatched a glance at him and found him staring dead ahead – a man on a mission.

When he hurriedly unlocked his apartment and pushed the door open, I seemed to come back to reality. "Andy, what's gotten into you?" I asked, grasping his forearm in an attempt to stall him.

He wasn't to be stalled, however, and shrugged me off. Staunchly silent, he strode into his center of his living room, spun around to face me and placed his hands on his hips.

Sweeping a loose strand of sandy blonde hair from my face, I gazed questioningly at his six-foot-two-inch frame. "You've been acting weird all night," I pointed out, holding my ground on the other side of his still open door. "Is something wrong?"

"Nothing that can't be fixed by you coming over here," he retorted, grinning smugly. Andrew had always been a confident man – handsome and athletic, he was almost universally adored during those formative high school years, and, unsurprisingly perhaps, that had left him with a very cocky attitude. Most of the time, it was just the right side of arrogant. Very occasionally, however, I'd see flashes of the more unattractive facets of his confidence.

"You know what," I sighed, shaking my head. "I'm not in the mood. Maybe I really should go home," I added wearily.

"Why?" he stated curtly, eyebrows crinkling together and deep lines forming on his brow.

"I just..." I shrugged, knowing that the conversation had the potential to descend quickly into an argument if it continued along the same track. "We've both been drinking," I pointed out, careful to stress 'both'. "And neither of us is in the best of moods, so..."

"I don't want you to leave, Jaime," he flatly replied, marching across the room. "I'm sorry that I've been out of sorts, but that doesn't mean you have to go home," he continued, his eyes losing that cold self-assurance of just moments before. His gaze softening, the man I loved became visible once more. "Can we forget about it, and enjoy what's left of the night?" he offered, taking hold of the door in his right hand and my wrist with the other.

A small voice of doubt caused me to hesitate as he gently began to tug me across the threshold. However, I was helpless to resist those pleading, gentle blue eyes – and he knew it damn well.

It was perhaps thirty minutes later that I found myself staring at his bedroom ceiling, listening to the soft sound of his snores by my side. Like the first time that night, his excitement had sprinted past my own, leaving me way behind while he raced to a completion that he enjoyed entirely alone.

In the seconds before he'd fallen asleep, he rolled off me and mumbled, "That was great."

Lying on the damp patch of the mattress, I considered getting up and going home, but quickly dismissed the notion. In a month's time, there would be no other 'home', and it wouldn't be _Andy's_ bed, it would be ours. Trying to brush off the events of the evening, I turned over and pulled the sheet up under my chin.

'Mrs. Andrew Parker,' I silently said to myself, the words rolling around my mind. They didn't conjure up the thrilled giggles that they had earlier in the evening, but they did manage to raise a small smile. He was the man I loved; the love of my life – nothing else mattered. One night of frayed tempers and a slightly disappointing roll in the hay wasn't going to change that.

# Chapter Three

The next morning, I awoke to find the other half of the bed still filled with my slumbering fiancé. Sprawled out on his stomach, one arm was draped over the side of the bed in complete relaxation. Turning to him, I carefully stroked his muscular shoulders before kissing the nape of his neck.

He muttered something unintelligible, but the sound was obviously a complaint. Heeding his muffled request for me to stop, I tossed off the bedclothes and hauled myself from the thick, feathery mattress.

April sun was just beginning to nudge its way between the gap in his drapes, as I crossed silently to his bathroom and placed myself under a steaming hot shower. Feeling refreshed and fully awake, I dressed in one of the pant suits I'd stored away in Andy's wardrobe, then strolled barefoot through to the kitchen.

Andy was leaning against the counter in nothing but his boxer shorts. He held a mug of coffee in one hand, while his free fingers massaged his forehead. It was then that I began to wonder whether he'd actually been a little drunk himself the night before.

"Feeling OK?" I asked, smiling at him.

"Not really," he grumbled back, as he cautiously blew on his hot coffee before taking a sip. "Must have been something I ate," he added.

"Hmm," I hummed skeptically. "Well, I hope you feel better," I told him, turning from him and striding into the living room.

"Where are you going?" he called after me.

"Told you last night," I replied, tossing the words over my shoulder as I reached the door and began to unlatch the locks. "I've got a hectic day, starting with an early morning meeting with a new client."

Refusing, or perhaps unable, to remove himself from the kitchen counter, Andy remained propped against it. "Oh," he quietly said, nodding as though he vaguely remembered some mention of that fact.

"And don't forget," I added, swinging the door open and slipping into the shoes I'd left just inside. "We're meeting our mothers for an early dinner, they want to talk about final wedding arrangements."

"What?" he whined. "What arrangements?"

"Um, flowers and table décor," I shrugged. "That kind of thing."

"Do I really have to be there for that?"

Not lifting my head, I continued on my mission to leave the apartment. I did manage to holler a good-natured, "It is _your_ wedding too, you know," before stepping out into the hall and closing the door firmly behind me.

***

My first stop was home, where I swept through like a tornado, picking up my laptop and the files I needed for the new client. The Public Relations field was, I'd always assumed, quite a glamorous job. The reality of it was rather more boring. Not once in the six years I'd been working for my current employer had I been introduced to a celebrity. Instead, my clients were mostly businessmen, some of them with less than appealing companies, who needed help in improving their public image. Of course, I didn't go into that line of work because I wanted to run in famous circles – I held no secret ambitions for glitz, I point out the lack of it simply because everyone makes an assumption when they hear my line of work.

When I reached the office, it was exactly 8 o'clock and, the first few hours of my day were mostly uneventful: my boss stopped by briefly to remind me of the meeting.

I met with our potential new client; and later my boss popped back in to congratulate me on a great pitch, which was arguably the highlight of the morning – compliments from him were hard to come by.

By the time lunchtime rolled around my assistant, Mike, a nineteen-year-old, who was working to pay his way through college, stuck his head in through the open door. "You want anything from the deli?" he asked, grinning with a pristine set of teeth.

"Err," I hesitated, wondering whether to go out for lunch or simply sit at my desk and wade through a small stack of emails. "Yeah, I think I will," I eventually nodded, offering him a grateful smile of my own. "Just a bagel or something," I added, not feeling a particular penchant for any particular food that afternoon. "Or surprise me," I added.

With an efficient one fingered salute, Mike's head disappeared as quickly as it had emerged and I was left staring at my email inbox.

It seems funny to me now, but, at the time, I was relieved when the phone rang. Only too happy to be distracted from the tedious task at hand, I scooped up the handset and with a subtle shove of my keyboard, leaned back in my chair. "Hello," I said, trying to put a cheery greeting in my tone.

"Hey," came the familiar reply. His tone, however, was not so cheery. In fact, it sounded rather ominous. Gone was the arrogance of the previous night, and gone was the hungover sullenness of that morning. In their place, was a shifty awkwardness, as though he half wanted to admit to something.

"Hi," I breathed, dropping the false smile that I would have kept in place for a client. "What's wrong?" I added, unable to ignore the reluctance that dwelt in his voice.

For an awkward second, he was silent. "I..Uh...," he falteringly began. "We need to talk," he cryptically and quickly concluded.

"I'm no expert," I responded with a chuckle that I hoped would lighten the mood, "but I think we're already doing it."

"You know what I mean," he countered, his voice steady and serious.

As my brain filtered through a variety of things that could be bothering him, I nodded. "OK, so let's talk."

"I don't really want to do this over the phone," he grumbled. "Can you meet me in half an hour?"

Eyes flicking to the left wall of my office where a clock hung next to a photograph of Andy and I at my company's Christmas party, I released a slow breath. "No," I apologetically told him. "I'm swamped here. Can it wait until after work?"

"No," he flatly announced. "Because after work we're supposed to be meeting with our moms, right?" The reminder was caked with a thick frosting of sarcasm that I couldn't account for.

"Oh, right," I agreed, not picking him up on the combative tone. "Well, then we'll talk about it after that," I suggested amiably.

A long slow puff of air left his lips and traveled down the line into my ear. "That won't work," he insisted. "In fact, I won't be meeting you or our mothers later," he mumbled. I could almost picture him anxiously rubbing his forehead just as he'd done that morning.

"Why?" I wondered, concern for him beginning to override my curiosity. "What's wrong?"

"I can't do this, Jaime," he almost shouted, exasperation causing his voice to crack ever so slightly.

Slow to comprehend the meaning of his annoyed outburst, I mutely chewed on my bottom lip as my free hand stroked small circles on the surface of the desk. "You can't do....?" I slowly prompted.

"This wedding thing, OK?" he blurted. "I thought I could, but I can't."

"Look, Andy," I smiled, "if you don't want to spend the evening talking flowers, I can understand that, it's not exactly my-"

"No," he abruptly asserted, cutting me off. "Listen to me, I can't do it. I can't marry you."

Another thick silence descended on our conversation. Although his words were unmistakably clear and they echoed in my head with astounding clarity, I felt sure I had misheard. It was too surreal to be true. The man that I'd loved from the moment I knew what love was couldn't possibly be bailing on me. Yet, that was exactly what he'd said. 'I can't marry you.' The phrase continued to pound my brain with the relentlessness of crushing waves. No, there could have been no error in my hearing or my comprehension of the words.

"Jaime," he nudged, sounding annoyed by my lack of response. "Are you still there? Did you hear what I said?"

"Yes," I whispered, clutching the phone so tightly that I worried it might crack under the strain. "Yes, I heard you. I'm just...I'm not sure what you mean. I thought you wanted to get married? You were the one who asked me," I reminded him carefully.

Tapping something, possibly a pen, he inhaled deliberately. "I thought it was what I wanted," he conceded. "But the closer this thing has gotten, the more I've realized I can't go through with it."

"You've met someone else?" I prompted, certain his change of mind could not be apropos of nothing.

"Oh, for God's sake," he groaned. "It's got nothing to do with anyone else," he curtly stated. "I just don't want to get married."

I didn't believe him, but knowing it was pointless to pursue that track any further, I altered course. "So, what about us?"

"I've got to go, Jaime," he swerved effectually. "We can talk about it later."

"No, we'll talk about it now or not at all," I argued, my own temper beginning to flare in a way that it never had before.

The tapping of Andy's pen grew louder. "Later," he said with finality.

"I'm not-" I began to say, but the click of his phone stalled me. "Andy?" I asked, knowing that there would be no response. "Andy, are you still there?" I continued, pointlessly. My own phone took a slow descent from my ear, while my eyes stared fixedly ahead. Refusing to focus on anything particular, my vision of the entire room was a blur that matched the view I now had of my future.

I don't know how long I sat there, with the phone still clutched loosely in my hand. At some point, Mike emerged carrying a small white paper bag.

"I didn't know whether you..." he began, the rest of his sentence muffled out by my own torrent of thoughts. The next thing I can distinctly recall him saying was, "Are you OK?"

Forcing my gaze to shift, my rather glazed eyes met his face. "Yeah," I responded automatically.

"Sure?" he probed, his head tilting to one side with skepticism.

"Yeah," I repeated.

Mike inhaled as if he meant to say something more. Apparently, my attempt at an approximation of 'OK' had failed miserably. Nevertheless, he seemed to reach the conclusion that it was best not to push the subject any further. "I got your lunch," he eventually smiled, holding aloft the bag in his right hand.

"Thanks," I nodded, trying to muster up some enthusiasm, which felt just as hollow as my previous protestations. "Just..uh...put it down," I requested, as I seemed to suddenly realize I was still clinging to the phone. With a rapid movement, I popped the receiver down.

Shuffling awkwardly as he placed my bagged lunch on the corner of the desk, Mike pointed his thumb back at the door. "I'll be..." he half said. "If you need me," he added.

"Thank you," I numbly uttered, watching him as he swiveled on the heel of one foot and gradually strode from the office. The lunch, whatever it was, and my work lay untouched for the rest of the afternoon.

# Chapter Four

To this day, I can't say what happened over the remaining course of that day. I must have found my way home, although whether I drove or was offered a lift, I can't say. All I do know is that I was sitting on my couch, staring at the cream colored wall just above the television when a soft knock resonated from the door.

Mind still stuck somewhere in the realms of oblivion, I lifted myself from the seat. And then, finally, as I peeled open the door and was met with the soft, smiling face of my mom, I burst into floods of tears.

"What's the matter?" Mom asked, snaking a worried arm around my shoulders and pulling me toward her.

Willingly I went, burying my head in the crook of her shoulder. However, the weeping was far too violent to allow me to answer her question.

"It's all right," she cooed, urging me back from the door and shutting it behind her. "It's all right," she repeated, rubbing a soothing hand down my back as she steered me to the couch and gently pushed me down into it.

Unashamed, I continued to cry allowing the torrent of emotions (from disbelief, to anger, and heartache) to cascade from me like the waters of Niagara Falls. The realization struck me and it struck me hard: Andy was breaking up with me. After everything we'd been through together, and all the plans we'd made, he was walking away from it all. He was walking away from me. And why? That was the big question, and it was one that I hadn't received a satisfactory answer to.

As my shuddering sobs began to give way to pathetic sniffs and hiccups, Mom's hand still rubbed carefully over my upper back. "All right now," she hushed, leaning her head gently against my temple. "You want to tell me what's going on?"

Hesitantly, I managed to recount what had happened that afternoon. But, she had a barrage of questions, none of which I could answer.

"So, he wants to call it off altogether? Did he give you a reason? When are you going to talk to him again?"

With shrugs and shakes of my head, I silently told her that I didn't know. "I don't..." I muttered before clearing my throat and swiping the back of my hand over my damp cheeks. "I don't know what went wrong," I admitted, still tearful.

"It's not your fault," she said, her gray eyes steeling over as she seemed to barely conceal her own anger. She wanted to have a few words with Andy of her own, that much was clear, and I loved her for it.

Gratefully, I placed a hand on the loose linen pants that covered her knee and offered her a feeble smile. "It's something I've got to handle myself," I stated, not needing to say that I knew only too well what was on her mind. "Andy and I need to talk. Maybe he's just got cold feet; maybe he'll change his mind again."

Chewing the inside of her cheek, she thoughtfully nodded. "Yeah, maybe," she reluctantly acknowledged.

"I mean, it is a big step. Perhaps the plans are moving too fast for him," I continued, finding myself strangely comforted by those thoughts. If my assertions were right, then the future wasn't necessarily as dark and desolate as I'd first thought. "It happens to lots of guys," I added, no longer sure if I was talking to Mom or simply offering myself a pep talk. "It could all blow over."

"There's a chance," she said, tipping her head and exposing the slightly graying roots of her brunette hair. "But I do think, more than anything else, you need to talk to him," she urged, sounding much more confident in this sentiment than she had the one before it. "You need to find out what's going on in his head, and then decide where to go from there."

Agreeing with a definitive nod, I swiveled in the seat and reached for the phone which sat on the table behind the couch.

"You're gonna do it now?" Mom wondered, straightening her posture.

"Why not?" I shrugged. "No time like the present, right?"

"Do you want me to go?" she asked, preempting my reply by standing up and taking a step for the door.

Reaching up with my free hand, I took hold of her fingers and shook my head. "I think I'd rather have you with me," I admitted, tapping my thumb across the digits of the phone and then taking a deep breath before pressing 'call'.

As I waited for his voice, I hurriedly rehearsed my opening phrase. Should I be casual? Should I let him know that I wasn't going to be trampled over? Should I demand answers, or be understanding of whatever fear it was he might be going through? Over and over these questions tumbled, none of them seeming like quite the right approach.

And then, instead of his voice, a computerized female tone asked me to leave a message after the beep.

"Um, Andy, it's me," I said, my throat constricted with the effort of trying to suppress the welling of yet more tears. "Just thought we should talk about what happened earlier. There are some things we need to clear up. So...call me."

"He didn't answer?" my Mom asked, although it was really more of a statement than a question.

Tapping the phone on my thigh, I shook my head. "No," I breathed. "No, he didn't."

"That's not like him," she observed, trying to tread carefully but refusing to let me blind myself to the wrongs that I was subject to.

"No," I admitted quietly. For as long as Andrew had had a cell phone, he'd kept it perpetually by his side. It didn't matter where he was, or what he was doing, he would answer the call. In other words, he was deliberately avoiding me. "I guess he feels awkward now," I pondered softly. "I don't think he meant to say everything he said this afternoon, and now he doesn't want to face it."

"Coward as well as an asshole," she quipped. "Good to know."

My lips parted and it was on the tip of my tongue to defend him again, but this time I chose not to. She was right: he was being a coward...and an asshole. The very least he owed me was some kind of explanation, and he seemed to have no intention of doing that.

Slumping back into the couch, I lifted my eyes to the ceiling and wondered how everything in my life could have been ruined so fantastically with such incredible speed. And then, out of nowhere, I began to laugh.

"What is it?" Mom asked, seeming even more concerned by my sudden change of mood.

"Nothing," I mumbled, shaking my head. "Just realizing how stupid it is to pin your happiness on someone else, because you can never really know what's in someone else's mind, can you?" With a quick blink, I twisted my face toward hers and continued. "Even someone you've known for years can do something so unexpected that it rips your heart right out of your chest."

She didn't contradict me, but she didn't overtly agree, either. I suppose, in retrospect, she didn't think my wallowing was a healthy path to take. "So what are you going to do now?" she nudged.

Staring apathetically into the middle distance, I shook my head. "I don't know," I responded as honestly as any question I'd ever answered in my life. "I need some time," I added. "I can't just-"

"You need to get your mind off it," she insisted, leaning back in the opposite corner of the couch and crossing one of her slender legs over the other.

She had a point, I knew that. It still seemed an awful lot easier said than done, though. "How am I supposed to do that?" I asked. "For a start, I've got a lot of phone calls to make. And canceling wedding plans isn't going to be as fun as making them," I muttered sarcastically.

"Let me handle that," she offered directly.

"All the guests, the minister, the photographer...." I forlornly listed. "They can stop adjusting the dress," I added. "And the honeymoon can be scrapped."

"No, wait, wait..." Mom hurriedly uttered. "Maybe it doesn't need to be canceled."

Unsure what she was thinking, I shook my head. "You think there's still a chance he'll change his mind?"

"I think you should go alone," she stated, a nascent smile pulling the corners of her pink lips.

"I...I..."

"You could certainly use a vacation," she added, staving off my attempt to argue. "And it'll definitely help you get your mind off things here."

The first part of her point was well-founded. The second part, however, had a glaring flaw. "How am I supposed to get my mind off Andy while sleeping in the hotel room we should have been sharing?" I grumbled, propping my elbows on my thighs and dropping my face into my palms. I could just imagine walking along a Seychelles beach alone, when I'd envisaged doing it hand in hand with my new husband.

"No, no, no," she insisted, with a brisk shake of her head. "You wouldn't go on the same vacation, obviously. But maybe we can get it switched to something else. Where do you want to go?"

"Mom, I can't just-"

"Yes, you can," she urged.

"But, what about money?"

Again, my attempt to put some kind of sensible, adult logic into the conversation was shot down. "Your dad and I will be able to get a refund on most of the wedding stuff," she glibly replied. "And we're more than happy for you to use that."

I was quickly running out of reasons why this was a bad idea. In fact, even I had to admit, it was starting to look like a very attractive idea. A week or two, maybe even a little longer, away from Andrew and all of the things that seemed too overwhelming to even contemplate. Could I really do it, though? Was a capable of something rash and spur of the moment? Could I temporarily leave all my cares and responsibilities behind?

"Anywhere in the world," Mom chuckled, seeing the change in my expression. She knew she was winning me round. "You name the place and we'll book it."

"I really don't mind," I admitted sheepishly. The fact of the matter was, I was a very untraveled person. I'd never been further than Canada before. "I mean, there's so much of the world I'd like to see," I added, smiling slightly.

With a pensive hum, Mom's eyes glittered. "I've got just the thing," she said, determinedly shooting out of her seat and scanning the room for something. "Where's your computer?" she asked.

"Err," I hesitantly replied, trying to remember where I'd last seen my laptop. "Kitchen table, I think," I breathed.

In a flurry of movement, she whipped out of the room. When she returned, she already had the laptop open and was tapping at the keys with one hand while she carried the thing in the other arm. "Uh huh," she grinned nodding. "Uh huh," she repeated, her feet slowing as her gaze became more absorbed in whatever it was she saw on the screen in front of her. "I've got it!" she declared gleefully.

"Got what?" I queried aloud. As my impatience mounted, self-pitying thoughts about Andy and our conversation that afternoon filtered away into the background. And, even if I didn't realize it then I know it now: I was actually excited. Maybe that makes me sound fickle, perhaps it seems as though I didn't really love Andrew in the first place. I don't suppose I'm the best person to comment on either of those things, because I was simply too close to it to be able to see things objectively. All I will say is that I've learned that emotional turmoil can do strange things and it is, therefore, not a good time to make judgments...or life-altering decisions.

# Chapter Five

Eventually, after a week of waiting for my ticket to arrive, during which my mom staunchly refused to tell me what she'd booked. I discovered that she'd planned a luxurious world cruise. Despite my best efforts to tell her that it was far too expensive a gift, she insisted that a pack my bags, meet the boat and have a good time.

In that week of waiting, I didn't hear anything from Andy. I tried once more to call him, and again I left a calm, reasonable message suggesting that we should talk. I went through a strange roller coaster of emotions throughout those days; sometimes hoping that he would call; other days relieved that he hadn't; one hour feeling confident that this was all just a minor blip in our otherwise good relationship; and the next hour certain that our romance was dead and buried.

By the time my bags were packed and I was in a cab on my way to Los Angeles to meet the grand ship that promised to whisk me away from all my troubles, my head was a mess. I could only hope that a few days at sea, followed by some fresh culture and, hopefully, some sun would rid me of the constantly seesawing thoughts that _always_ came back to Andy.

The ship was awesome in the truest sense of the word. I had never seen anything quite like it in my life, and I sincerely doubt if I ever will again. When people talk about 'once in a lifetime' vacations, this is exactly what they mean.

The Pacific Princess was like a floating town. It was almost 600 feet in length and was capable of carrying nearly 700 passengers. As well as offering a striking three deck with pools and bars, it contained a spa, a casino, a theater, restaurants and lounges. It struck me that, even if I never left the ship, there wouldn't be enough time to explore it all. With the excursions ashore, I'd be lucky if I learned the route to my own room, much less anywhere else aboard the Princess.

My room wasn't the most luxurious onboard. Nevertheless, it was a stateroom and it was stunning. The open plan space was split into a sleeping and living area. Furnished with a sleek white leather couch, glass coffee table and a bar with three stools. The living room boasted a forty-inch TV, a Bose sound system, and sliding glass doors that opened up onto a small balcony. The bedroom also had windows along the entirety of one side. These didn't open. However they were, as I was reliably informed by one of the stewards, tinted, so while I could enjoy the ocean view, no one could spy on me. The long, thick curtains were simply there to block out the light.

As I shuffled toward the thick double-paned glass and looked out at the sunlight dappling across the calm water's surface, I silently decided that the drapes would be left open at all times – even if the glare of the moon or the ship's lights kept me awake all night. This was a sight far too beautiful to be blocked out.

For several minutes, I stood motionless, my arms folded around my slender waist while I tried to absorb the size of the ship and the enormity of the wide open water stretched out around me. It was enough to make me feel minuscule. What is one life in the face of the gargantuan world? Looking at it from that perspective, we all seem no different from the tiny insects that we deem insignificant. I wasn't sure whether I found that thought reassuring or depressing; in a weird way, I suppose it was both.

A knock on the cabin's solid oak door tore me from my musing, and the voice of a cheerful young steward announced, "I've got your luggage, ma'am."

***

After I'd unpacked and freshened up in a bathroom that didn't let the side down – with it's corner tub, shower cubicle, and granite counter tops – I dressed for the first night's dinner in the club restaurant which, a leather bound guide on the coffee table informed me, would be a black tie affair.

I felt more than a little self-conscious as I wandered down the broad hallways in my floor length, figure-hugging red dress unaccompanied. I passed (or was passed by), numerous couples along the way. Some were very young, perhaps on their first vacation together. Others were elderly and I guessed celebrating some great milestone in their marriages. It seemed to represent all that I'd lost, both in my past and in my future. And, for the first time since I'd boarded, I found myself thinking of Andy. Although, as I approached the massive double doors that opened into a vast space filled with chandeliers and pristinely laid round tables, I couldn't help but wonder if what I felt was loneliness – no more and no less. Despite considering myself to be relatively independent, I wasn't used to being alone.

"Good evening, Miss," the balding maître d' smiled, dipping his head in greeting. "Welcome to the club restaurant, may I take your name."

"Morna Berry," I replied, knowing my mom had booked the trip under my real first name. As I spoke, I clutched the small purse I held in my right hand and nervously pushed at a loose strand of blonde hair with my left.

"Miss. Berry," he repeated, he grinned as his eyes traveled down the list of names in front of him. Once he'd found mine, his gaze smoothly lifted again. "This way, please," he continued with a subtle gesture of his hand.

I followed him as he weaved gracefully between the tables, and I tried not to gawp about me like an unsophisticated rube, although at that moment that was exactly how I felt. Eventually, we stopped beside a table that had just one empty seat. The maître d' carefully pulled it out and with an open palm invited me to sit.

Thanking him as I did, my eyes moved around the three faces that watched me. The first was a middle-aged man, who peeked up only briefly over the ridge of his reading glasses before once again staring hard at the menu before him. On his left was an attractive brunette woman, who I guessed to be about my age. She wore a strapless black dress and she was tastefully decorated with teardrop diamond earrings and a matching pendant. Unlike the man by her side, she smiled as she looked at me.

"Hi," she greeted warmly.

"Hello," I replied, my attention shifting to the other man at the table, the man on her left, who I supposed must be her boyfriend or husband.

He was a handsome and impeccably dressed man. Not one of his black hairs was out of place, and he looked remarkably comfortable in his tuxedo, almost as though he lived in one. A little older than me and the woman next to him, he had his hand familiarly resting on the back of her chair. "Good evening," he uttered, with a creamy depth to his voice. He offered me a half smile that was no less genuine for being small.

"I'm Rachel," the woman continued, forcing my attention back to her dark doe eyes.

"Pleased to meet you," I replied. Nervously trying to find something to do with my hands, I placed my purse on the table and reached for the wine glass filled with water that awaited me. "I'm Jaime," I managed to say before sipping from the glass.

"First time?" the man beside her asked, leaning forward a little and allowing his hand to drop from the back of Rachel's chair.

"Sorry?" I mumbled.

"The cruise," he chuckled. "Is it your first time?"

"That obvious, huh?" I self-deprecatingly wondered. I was used to getting dressed for swanky occasions; black tie affairs for clients was not uncommon. But this was different: here I felt that everybody's eyes were on me, and that they somehow knew I didn't quite belong.

"No," he replied calmly, his hazel eyes unashamedly meeting my face.

"And this is Daniel," Rachel continued, her long, slender fingers toying with the chain of her necklace.

Daniel, meanwhile, continued to look at me from behind dark eyelashes that most women would be envious of. "You're here alone?" he wondered, his question unencumbered by any sense of awkwardness.

"Er...yes," I acknowledged quietly.

"How come?" The query wasn't laced with anything other than genuine curiosity. He didn't seem to be judging me. But, who could tell for sure?

"Um..." I stumbled, not entirely sure how to answer. Should I just shrug it off and claim that I wanted to vacation alone? I certainly didn't want to get into the dirty details of the 'almost wedding' that had prompted me to want to run away from it all.

"Leave her alone, Dan," Rachel grumbled, poking him in the abdomen with one of her pointy elbows. "She didn't come here for an inquisition, she wants to enjoy her meal."

He flashed the woman at his side a quick glance before his face whipped effortlessly back to me. "I'm sorry," he offered. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"It's OK," I assured him. Finding the weight of his eyes a little unnerving, I followed the middle-aged man's lead and placed my focus on the menu.

"Oh, and this is Uncle Eli," Rachel added, quickly gesturing to the silent gray-haired man, who offered a grunt of acknowledgment but did not look up. "We're here celebrating my parents fortieth wedding anniversary," she continued, "they're up there on the captain's table somewhere," she concluded with a tip of her head.

The mention of wedding anniversary caused a leaden ball of anger and sadness to settle in my stomach. However, I tried to ignore it. Offering her a smile, I asked her to give them my congratulations and then lowered my eyes once more to the menu.

# Chapter Six

Thankfully, as the evening wore on conversations about marriage and about why I was vacationing alone quickly dropped by the wayside. As I suspected, Rachel and Daniel had clearly been on numerous cruises before, and were very happy to regale me with several stories. I was more than content to listen to the two of them, partly because it meant very little conversation was required of me, and, in truth, they were an entertaining pair - sometimes disagreeing about when or where a particular thing had happened and descending into a viciously good-natured argument.

Their company was pleasant, the food was good. And, after a glass of wine or two, I was beginning to relax. I eventually told them a little about myself; my career and the fact that I lived in California. After a satisfying meal, the quiet Uncle Eli excused himself and went back to his cabin, while Rachel and Daniel determined the night was still young.

"Why don't you come with us?" Rachel asked, nodding gratefully to Daniel as he draped her wrap around her shoulders.

Unwilling to be a third wheel, I shook my head. "No, thank you," I said pushing myself up from my chair. "I think it's time for bed."

"Come on," Daniel insisted, flashing me a warm, broad smile as he pushed his chair neatly under the table and slipped his right hand casually into his pocket. "It'll be fun," he added.

"I'm sure it will, but-"

"Good," he determinedly cut me off. "Then, let's go," he urged.

Chuckling, Rachel rounded the table and looped an arm through mine. "Come on," she grinned. "We'll have a couple of drinks, and then you can call it a night if you really want to."

Seemed reasonable, and the two of them had been so friendly that I didn't want to offend them. "Well...OK," I shrugged.

Daniel, however, wasn't waiting for my reply. As far as he was concerned, the matter was already a settled thing. He was striding smoothly through the mostly empty tables, which diners had long since left. I watched his back, the broad muscles of his shoulder shifting beneath the fabric of his jacket, and quickly berated myself. Yes, handsome he may have been, but I should not have been eyeing him – his girlfriend (I'd concluded they weren't married because neither wore a wedding ring), was right next to me, for God's sake!

If she was aware of the location of my gaze or the direction of my thoughts, she didn't make it known. Instead, she talked animatedly. "You know, I think it's so great what you're doing; vacationing alone. Because when you think about it, happiness can only really be found within, can't it? What I mean is," she gabbed, "you can't rely on anyone else to make you happy. So, it's best not to rely on anyone else period."

I think I mumbled a noise or two of agreement, but I was only barely paying attention. Instead, my eyes were on her boyfriend, who stood by the door, his cheeks dimpling as he smiled and thanked the maître d'. As he handed the balding man a tip, I couldn't help but notice how large Daniel's hands were. I was also captivated by the smoothness of their skin and the refined way in which they moved.

When Rachel and I came within a couple of feet, he glanced up and used both of those skilled hands to adjust his bow tie. "Ready?" he asked casually.

"Yes," she replied quickly. "Let's take Jaime to the club bar."

With Rachel one side of me, Daniel strolled along on my left not quite close enough to touch me. I was glad that they were leading the way, because as we rounded one corner after another in the labyrinth of the Pacific Princess, I had no clue where we were.

After a few minutes, we approached a set of closed doors, with two well-dress crew standing beside them. The men saw us, nodded and, in perfect unison, grabbed a door each and pulled it open. As soon as the thick, heavy doors parted, the pulsing of dance music met our ears.

This part of the ship was a cross between a nightclub and a wine bar, with tasteful seated sections, stainless steel counters and stools. And then there was the dance floor, with throbbing lights and gyrating couples. It had been a long time since I'd been to a club, but the last one I went to certainly didn't have men dressed in tuxedos and women in evening gowns. It was an incredulous sight.

With her arm still entwined with mine, Rachel took me to the corner of the room, where a couch and two armchairs sat around an incredibly clean glass topped table – it definitely wasn't like the last club I'd been to!

"I'll get us some drinks," Daniel said, lifting his voice to be heard over the thumping base line that was reverberating through my feet.

"No, it's all right," Rachel replied. "I'll go." Slowly releasing her hold on me, she took hold of his lapel and tugged his face closer to hers. Then, speaking directly into his ear, she said something I couldn't hear.

Whatever it was, it made him roll his eyes and toss both hands up at her. "Go on then," he shouted, cocking his head in the direction of the bar.

Not wasting time, Rachel grinned and made her way across the crowded dance floor.

Daniel watched her for a few moments before finally swiveling to face me. "She's seen someone she knows," he offered loudly. Taking a step closer, he placed the palm of his hand nonchalantly on the small of my back. "Take a seat," he offered gentlemanly.

I felt a shiver move through me and panicked that it would be obvious enough for him to have felt it. Desperate to get his fingers off me before he realized what effect they were having, I quickly dropped myself into the couch.

If he had felt the quiver that shook me, his face didn't betray it. As cool and calm as he'd been all evening, he slowly lowered himself into the couch, sitting so close that the length of his thigh was pressed against mine.

In an effort to take my mind of the proximity of him, my eyes began to search the club for Rachel. I found her leaning on the bar, laughing heartily at something the bar tender had said.

"You know," Daniel said, suddenly leaning close and startling me. "You're incredibly beautiful," he said, so near that he could whisper the words and still be heard. His breath caressed my cheek and as I slowly inhaled, my head was flooded with the musky, masculine scent of his cologne and the sweetness of the chocolate torte he'd eaten for dessert.

"I'm sorry, what?" I mumbled, snatching around so I could look at him properly.

"You're incredibly beautiful," he repeated, unashamedly. Attractive as he may have been, my own view of him was plummeting. Infidelity could make even the most charming of men entirely unalluring.

"I..." I stammered. "I...What about Rachel?" I blurted.

"What about her?" he asked, his face still just a breath from mine. His hands were closer still, the tips of his fingers brushing my knee through the fabric of my dress.

"She's right over there," I argued, swiftly taking hold of his inquisitive hand and slowing its hypnotic movement.

"So?" he chuckled, his brow creasing as he looked questioningly at me.

"I...I..." I babbled, wondering whether the two of them had one of those 'open' relationships. "She's...I..." I continued, my mind quickly jumping to another possible explanation: they were into more adventurous exploits. Could that be why she was so friendly toward me, were they warming me up for something else they had in mind?

Resisting the hold of my fingers, Daniel shifted his hand higher, inching up my thigh until his long fingers caressed my hip. "She's my sister," he whispered, lifting his free hand to my cheek and brushing the pad of his thumb across my soft skin.

"Huh?" I stupidly responded.

"Rachel is my sister," he repeated, his full, thick lips quirking in a smile as he drew closer and closer. "I'm single," he added.

"Oh," I breathed, finding myself unable to inhale again once that word left me. He was so incredibly close, his scent was engulfing me, the heat in his eyes was burning relentlessly into me, and the warmth of his breath was so intense I could almost taste it.

"Single," he echoed, "and incredibly attracted to you, Jaime."

"Oh," I stupidly said again. Unable to say anything else, and unable to move, I simply gawped at him like a guppy. I was melting beneath his intense focus. Was it possible that this man; this handsome, sophisticated man, who I'd known less than four hours, felt the same way about me as I did about him.

"I love an articulate woman," he chuckled before his face calmly closed the gap between us and his soft lips slowly merged with mine.

It was soft, it was sweet, it was considerate and careful. Nevertheless, there was a searing heat behind it that prompted me to whimper against the fire of his mouth. As I mewled plaintively, his tongue ventured forward. But it didn't dive into my mouth as I'd expected it to. Instead, he simply licked playfully at both of my lips, sampling my taste with just the tip of his tongue.

Everything around us, except the perpetually hard beat of the music, faded away as I lifted both hands and grasped his shoulders. With reckless abandon, I focused only on him and the desire he was stoking in me. That was made all the easier when he deftly sucked my lower lip between his teeth and sucked longingly on it. That one very simple, but highly erotic, action sent a rush of heated blood to my core.

Whether a moan or whimper gave me away, or whether he just instinctively knew what he was doing to me. I felt Daniel smile as his right hand slid back down to my knee and, with a nudge that parted my clenched thighs, he gradually began to work his way up my inner leg.

Pulling away from my mouth, he took my lip with him, stretching it a little before finally releasing his hold. "I was thinking about this all through dinner," he said, his voice dark and sultry.

Those words floated in my mind trying to find an anchor, and then the similarity between them and the ones Andrew had spoken that night in the elevator struck me like a violent blow to the gut that made me feel almost physically sick.

"I've been imagining kissing every inch of this sexy skin," he said, his hand moving suggestively up my leg once more. "I've been wondering what it tastes like."

I was no longer listening to his seductive spiel. At any other point in my life, it would have been highly arousing, but right then and there, with the remembrance of Andy so vividly lodged in my head, I couldn't focus on anything else.

"What is it?" Daniel asked, feeling me stiffen beneath his touch. "What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry," I muttered, unable to meet his eyes. "I'm sorry, but I don't think I can do this."

Hands sliding lower onto my legs, but not leaving me entirely, Daniel's thumb stroked my cheek once more. "It's OK," he offered calmly. "I'm sorry if I was rushing things," he added. "We can take it slower."

An enormous part of me wanted to go back to kissing him, even with Andrew present in my thoughts. I wanted to show him that there were men who _did_ want me; that another man could find me attractive. And I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to cause him as much pain as he'd caused me.

"Jaime," Daniel murmured, his fingers curling around my knee. "Are you OK?"

"I'm sorry," I restated, shaking my head. "I can't...I just..." Unable to stop the impulse, I shot to my feet and bolted from the club as quickly as I could. I don't know whether he tried to follow me or not, because I was soon lost in a corridor full of people and pushing my way through the crowd.

Silently chiding myself for running, I continued to move. And, no doubt taking a long, lingering path, I finally found my suite.

After shutting the door and firmly locking it, I undressed, got into the tub and slowly tried to sooth the ache between my legs with my own fingers. "Damn it," I muttered, closing my eyes. The evening could have ended so very, very differently. It didn't have to be my fingers trying to elicit a response from me. More importantly, I could have taken that first important step in moving on and leaving my ex-fiancé behind me.

Yet, I'd let fear drive me away from Daniel. I hated myself for that. And I hated Andrew even more. Not satisfied with ruining the happiness I could have had with him, he was, apparently (albeit unconsciously), going to ruin any happiness that I sought with someone else, too.

My thoughts far too oppressive and self-loathing, I never managed to relieve the longing in me that night. By the time I got into bed, I reminded myself that before I would be able to find any kind of new life, Andy had to be banished from my mind once and for all.

# Chapter Seven

I'd be lying if I said I was completely able to forget about the mess back home, but the cruise was definitely making it easier to try to forget. And by the time we reached our first port, which was six days after my disastrous night with Daniel, I was feeling more relaxed. I had, at long last, at least stop blaming myself for Andy's decision. What Rachel had said about relying only on ourselves for happiness struck a cord with me. I could continue to wonder 'what if' I'd done something different, or I could accept that my fiancé was a grown man, who had made his own decisions. He was doing whatever he needed to find happiness. I had to do the same.

For two or three days, I wavered over whether to track down Daniel (or Rachel), and apologize to him. After all, there was a chance we could have picked things up where we left them. But, in truth, I was too embarrassed. And I'd had quite enough embarrassment recently to last me a lifetime. In the end, everywhere I went on the ship I was praying that I wouldn't run into either of them. I know that was idiotic and childish, but, at the time, I managed to justify it to myself.

Anyway, with the hope of better and brighter things in the future, with the future, as far as I was concerned, only extending as far as that afternoon – I figured it was best to look only that far ahead. I deboarded the ship at Honolulu and enthusiastically threw myself into discovering all that Hawaii had to offer.

For the first hour or so, I stayed with a small cluster of fellow passengers, who were being shown around some of the popular tourist spots by a local guide. However, I wasn't particularly taken by the shops and the markets, or the modern highrise buildings. It seemed to me that there was so much more to the city and, indeed, the whole island. So, determining to explore nature and the rustic charms Hawaii had to offer, I drifted away from the tourist group. For a while, I simply walked along the busy streets, until I came across a small shop that sold maps of the island. Throwing myself wholeheartedly into the 'vacationing alone' experience, I picked up a map before heading down to the beach to plan the rest of my day.

Plopping myself down on the white sands beneath a swooning palm tree, I was sure that, as long as I kept my back to the urbanized Honolulu behind me, I was in paradise. Listening to the sound of laughter from a group of young women several yards away, I slipped out of my sandals and buried my toes in the soft sands. Then, tilting my face up to the sun and taking a luxurious breath, I unfolded the map and spread it out across my lap.

It quickly became apparent that aside from all the hotels, restaurants, bars and shops, O'ahu had a lot to offer. There were several forest reserves, wildlife refuges and state parks. I have never been very good at estimating distances, but I'd learned from the elderly guide, who had been showing our group around the thrumming streets, that the island was around forty-four miles in length. I figured, therefore that it would take a little more than an hour to get from one end to the other. In other words, O'ahu was my oyster. And, fortunately, we were docking for two days and two nights, which meant it was a simple matter of choosing how best to make my way right round the island.

"Diamond head," I muttered to myself, my forefinger of my right hand tracing in an anti-clockwise direction from my current spot. "Hanauma Bay," I added, quietly.

"It's beautiful," a deep voice uttered, reverberating smoothly and shattering my attempt to concentrate.

Dragging my eyes from the map, I glimpsed a large pair of sand-coated feet. My focus sliding upward, I was met by broad sun-kissed legs; a pair of aqua blue board shorts that were adhering to an eye-watering impressive bulge. Yanking my eyes higher, there was a trim waist; washboard stomach with a long silver scar that ran from the base of his ribcage to his hip; and muscularly pronounced pecs. Higher still, and my gaze found a smooth, chiseled chin; dimpled cheeks; coal black eyes and jet hair that was dripping beads of water that rolled over broad shoulders and began a trail back where my own eyes had just come from.

"Excuse me?" I feebly mumbled, the words catching in my throat.

"Hanauma," he smiled, the dimples getting deeper, "it's really very beautiful."

Unable to stop staring at the handsome stranger with coffee colored skin and a perfectly proportioned physique, I just nodded – my mouth hanging open slightly.

"Um, this may be a little presumptuous of me," he said, as he lifted one broad hand and swept it through his damp, messy hair. "But, if you want, I could take you there and show you around."

Barely registering what he was saying, my attention had been drawn to the play of muscles in his arm and the thick, black tattoo that enveloped his right bicep.

"I do work as a guide," he added, seeming to think there was some resistance on my part.

There was little if any resistance; I wasn't worried about his credentials (or lack thereof), but I also couldn't imagine appreciating all that Hawaii had to offer when I was appreciating...well, what Hawaii had to offer!

"We can walk up to the office," he offered.

"No," I blurted. "No, that won't be necessary."

"Oh," he responded, the broad grin he'd worn from the moment I clapped eyes on him faltering for the first time.

"I'd be happy to have you show me around," I added.

The cute dimples returning with a vengeance, he brightened instantly.

"That is, if you're not already busy," I continued, pointing to his dripping body.

"Just been swimming," he offhandedly responded, his thumb jerking over his shoulder toward the crystal blue ocean behind him. "My jeep is up there," he added, this time indicating where he referred to with a tilt of his head. "We can be down in Hanauma in about twenty minutes."

"Uh...don't you wanna get dressed?" I replied. My brain was at war with itself over the question: part of me desperately wanted him to stay in his state of undress. The other part of me thought I might explode if the distraction of his masculine form wasn't soon concealed.

That first part of me was very disappointed when he shrugged, "I've got clothes in the car. So, are you ready?"

Eagerly picking myself up off the beach and dusting my butt free of sand, I nodded.

"I'm Kaiko, by the way," he side, smiling a little wider as he offered me his quickly drying hand. "But everybody just calls me Kai."

"Jaime," I replied, not bothering to mention my real first name. There was something very drab and homely about 'Morna'. And if there was one thing I didn't want this Hawaiian hunk to think it was that I was some sort of frump.

***

True to his word, it took only a little over twenty minutes to reach Hanauma Bay. And, true to his word again, Kai had a pair of jeans and a black A-shirt that he slipped on as soon as we reached his red, open-topped jeep. The shirt did very little to hide his obvious attributes, but with him no longer half naked, it was easier to concentrate. And, for most of the journey, I was able to enjoy the luscious scenery all around me.

The bay itself was like something out of a movie. Unlike Honolulu, it wasn't urbanized, nor was it surrounded by soaring skyscrapers. Instead, it was a quiet corner of the island that was a big draw for beach-goers and nature-lovers.

Throughout the drive down, Kai told me all that he knew about our destination. "It's one of the most popular spots for tourists," he said. "We've been known to see up to three million people come through here every year. Of course, that comes with certain implications for the environment and the marine life. So, we're doing all we can to reduce the effects so many visitors have."

I listened quietly while he told me that more than four hundred species of fish call Hanauma Bay home and that its a hot bed for Green sea turtles. He went on to tell me that the reef, which is now protected to such an extent that tourists are asked to avoid touching it, was partially blown up in the mid 1950s to accommodate telephone lines linking O'ahu with the west coast of the States.

Nevertheless, to an outsider, Hanauma looked largely unspoilt by the modern world. First, Kai took me along the bay's beach before suggesting that we snorkel. I had never done any kind of underwater swimming before, and more importantly, hadn't brought any swimming clothes with me.

"All right," he replied, not to be put off the idea. "We can come back tomorrow."

"Oh...well...I..." I mumbled, not realizing that I'd booked him for two days.

"Only if you want to," he quickly added, seeming to sense my panic. "If you've got other things to do, or if you're planning on going with the rest of your group, that's fine."

"Um, no," I admitted, "I've got nothing planned."

"Well, neither have I," he amiable announced. "So, I'm all yours if you want me."

It was almost too tempting an offer to resist. My insides turning cartwheels, I felt my hands begin to tremble. It was like being a teenager again; it was exactly the way I felt when I first started dating Andy. I hadn't felt that way in a very, very long time – I'd begun to think I never would again. It was foolish, it was adolescent and I was letting my imagination run riot. But, for some reason, I didn't care about any of those things. I enjoyed being around Kai, and I had no problem admitting to myself that I was incredibly attracted to him. Hell, if he was offering to spend another day with me, I'd have to be crazy to turn him down.

"Sounds good," I eventually breathed, the words coming much more huskily from my constricted throat than I'd intended.

"OK," he responded with a pleased tip of his dark head. "So, what do you want to do with the rest of today?" he asked, spreading his arms wide, as if the entire island was available to me. "We could keep traveling along the coast," he suggested. "And if there's something you want to see, we'll stop."

"Yeah," I smiled. "That seems like a good plan to me." It was on the tip of my tongue to add, 'I'll go anywhere as long as you're taking me', but it remained unsaid.

So, as the sun was reaching its highest point, Kai and I climbed back into his jeep and we drove further up the coast. For several long hours, I enjoyed the most amazing land and seascapes. I also enjoyed the charming, funny and warm man by my side.

# Chapter Eight

Later that evening, once again back in Honolulu, Kai and I wandered along the beach for some time, watching the sun as it slowly sunk toward the water in the distant horizon. I wasn't keen to leave his side, but the evening was slipping away and I gradually realized that it was time to head back.

"I'd better go," I murmured reluctantly, my eyes glided toward the large ship.

"Do you have to?" he asked, equally quietly.

"Well," I hesitated, unwilling to leave him but not quite able to figure out where that reluctance had come from. After all, I barely knew the man. It wasn't like me to form attachments so quickly. "I..."

"You could have dinner with me," he suggested, not waiting for me to conclude my feeble attempt to pull myself from him. "If you'd like to," he added, "it's OK if you'd rather go back to the ship."

"No," I replied, smiling as I shook my head. "No, I'd love to have dinner with you."

"I know this great little place," he offered, tipping his head back in the direction we'd just come. "Do you like seafood?"

"Sure," I shrugged. The truth was I hadn't really tried much in the way of seafood, but I was game. "Shouldn't I go and change, though," I wondered, my eyes dropping to my white camisole top and my short jeans with their frayed edges.

"No," he chuckled. "It's casual, you're fine just the way you are."

We walked back, in no hurry it seemed – that was true of everything and everyone on the island. Soon, he was leading me away from the soft white sands and back up to the main street. The restaurant he'd chosen was just a short journey on foot and was called the Oceanarium, which was exactly like it sounds. The walls were peppered with tall, broad glass that allowed us to look in on a huge aquarium. Kai peered at me as my eyes widened at the sight.

Obviously a familiar face there, Kai was greeted warmly by a waiter and we were quickly led to a table situated right next to one of the portals into the underwater world. "Wow," I breathed, sitting down even as my gaze became transfixed by a stingray that lithely slid through the water.

"Pretty cool, huh?" he smiled, sitting in the chair opposite me and thanking his friend.

"Very cool," I acknowledged, grinning broadly. "I've never seen anything like it."

"Ah, stick with me and I'll show you all sorts of things you've never seen," he stated. There was no overt innuendo to it; he wasn't trying to be smutty, but my mind went there nonetheless.

Feeling my cheeks flush a little, I met his smoky black eyes and my mouth went instantly dry.

"So, what will you have to drink?" he asked, mercifully changing the subject. But, unmercifully, slipping off the white linen shirt he wore and displaying his muscular arms in nothing but the black A-shirt. As he tossed his outer clothing over the back of his chair, I watched the soft play of muscle and sinew beneath his brown skin and the black ink of the band around his bicep.

I suppose my silence must have prompted him to look up and, when he did, he noticed the direction of my gaze. Much to my relief, he misinterpreted my fascination. "It's a turtle shell," he offered, pointing to the circle that decorated his outer arm. "It's considered a symbol of longevity," he explained. "And these are shark's teeth," he added, the fingers of his left hand following the circle of arrowheads that formed a wide ring surrounding his impressively broad upper arm. "They're supposed to protect me from enemies and threats."

I was held captive by both his explanation and the glorious masculinity of his body. "Does it work?" I asked, managing to tear my eyes from his muscles long enough to meet his face.

With a wry smile, he placed both elbows on the table and leaned forward. "Not always," he admitted.

Desperate to ask a follow up question, I remained silent momentarily, hoping he would elaborate. But he didn't. And, mindful that he might not want to, I chickened out of requesting more information on that particular subject. Before I got the chance to say anything more, our waiter returned with his pad and pencil poised.

"Can I get you some drinks?" he asked.

"Clipper-tini," Kai responded, his focus moving questioningly to me.

"Um, same," I shrugged. I didn't know what a clipper-tini was, but I was in the mood to try whatever the evening threw at me. In fact, that was probably a little too true to be healthy.

Kai and I talked about the island and he enthralled me with more interesting stories, while our waiter fixed our cocktails. Upon his return, I discovered that a clipper-tini was, essentially, vodka and passion fruit, which was a wonderfully sweet and intoxicating mix. Thankful for its relaxing effect, I was feeling much looser by the time Kai turned the conversation around to me.

"So," he began, his honeyed voice oozing warmth and charm. "If you don't mind me asking, are you on vacation alone?"

"Yes," I confirmed, with a subtle nod and another sip of my drink.

"That's very brave of you," he noted. "Not many women would travel around the world on their own."

With a small chuckle, I set my elbow on the table and propped my chin into the palm of my left hand. "Not really brave," I corrected him. "I'm running away."

"Running away?" he repeated curiously.

"Hmm," I affirmed lazily. "I...um..." I began, acutely aware that I didn't need to say anything else. Kai wasn't asking for details. Unlike Daniel, he didn't seem surprised that I was on the cruise by myself, and I was certain he wouldn't push it if I simply shut my mouth.

I don't know whether it was him or whether it was me. Perhaps I was just desperate to tell someone, anyone, what had happened. Although, I'm inclined to think it was something about him that made me want to open up. Who knows, maybe it was just the vodka? Regardless, I found myself talking. "I was supposed to be getting married in a little over two week's time," I began. "And last week, my fiancé called it off. So, rather than face all those disappointed relatives and all those well-meaning, but inquisitive, friends, I left it all behind and....well, came to paradise." I chuckled, recalling what I'd already concluded about the island.

Kai was unexpectedly silent and still for a moment, then slowly he moistened his lower lip before lifting his face. "I'm sorry," he sighed sympathetically.

"It's not your fault," I dismissed quickly. "Besides, you have definitely been helping me to see a sunnier side to life," I added, tipping my glass at him in a semi-toast before draining the last of the cocktail.

"Still," he said, his usually smiling mouth in a taut, thin line. "It's not right; what he did to you."

"No," I agreed, "it's not." Inhaling slowly, I shook my head and found a smile drifting unbidden to my lips. "But it happened, and now I have to get over it."

"And you will," he confidently stated. "You are a strong woman."

Blinking, I cocked my head at him. "How do you know?"

"I know," he announced, unshaken. "Just like I know that the man you were going to marry is an idiot."

My smile growing wider, I found his eyes sparkling with some fire that I couldn't name and had never seen in any other man's features. It was as if that body of a god really did contain a god or, at least, a force not quite of this Earth. It was hypnotic and arousing in equal measure.

Leaning forward, Kai reached across the table and wrapped his smooth, long fingers around my forearm circling it with ease. "You have nothing to feel ashamed of," he whispered. "He is the one who should feel embarrassed by what he's done."

"I guess," I halfheartedly muttered. Logically, I knew that was true. When I looked at the thing with cold, clear eyes, I knew that I had no control over what Andrew had done. And yet, there was still a small, but persistent, voice that told me I might be responsible for his change of heart.

"I mean it," he urged. "Now, let's forget about him, huh?"

"Sounds good to me," I quipped, placing my glass back on the table and allowing my focus to drift back to the underwater scape that was just inches from me.

Kai ordered us another couple of cocktails before recommending that I try the baked opah, otherwise known as moonfish, which the islanders believed brought good luck. Figuring I could use a little change in fortune, and trusting him when he said that it would be the nicest fish I'd ever tasted, I agreed.

Creamy, baked to perfection, and apparently caught that morning, the opah was without doubt one of the best things I'd ever had the pleasure of putting in my mouth. And over the meal, in the spirit of helping me forget my own troubles, Kai was gracious enough to let me ask about his life.

"Have you always lived on O'ahu?" I wondered, before taking a bite of my meal and an unbidden hum of pleasure escaped my closed lips.

His rich eyes smiled at the noise. "Good?" he asked, rhetorically. "Err, no..." he added without waiting for an obvious reply from me. "I was born on Maui, and I went to college in Arizona."

"Really?" I blurted, swallowing my mouthful. "I can't imagine anyone wanting to leave here."

"I was young," he chuckled, "thought that was so much else to see. And I thought I wanted to do something big and important with my life."

"But?" I prompted, sensing there was one coming.

With a broad grin, he shook his head. "I quickly came to realize that I belong here."

"And now you make a living showing mainlanders like me the beauty of your home?" I continued, mirroring his smile. "Seems pretty important to me."

"I do a lot of part time work," he admitted with a shrug. "I figured out that 'big and important' isn't necessarily the route to happiness." As he spoke, Kai lowered his knife and fork to the plate. "I spend the rest of my time doing what I love, surfing, fishing and soaking up this incredible scenery."

I hummed in agreement at the wonderful picture he was painting, it truly was an idyllic life.

"I'm never going to be rich," he conceded. "I'm not going to be able to afford anything more than by one-bedroom apartment, but that's OK by me."

I couldn't help but wonder whether he ever thought about the future; did he imagine himself getting married and having children? Those responsibilities would necessitate a shift in his perspective. I didn't ask, though. I'd thought about nothing but the future, and look how that had worked out for me. As far as I could see, Kai had the right idea.

"Carpe diem," I whispered.

"Carpe diem," he echoed softly.

Perhaps it was just me, but that definitely seemed to prompt a change of gears in the atmosphere between us. No longer lighthearted and full of giggles, we were both suddenly sober and incredibly quiet. Was he thinking what I was thinking? There was a diem that I desperately went to carpe, and I knew without question that if he had made a move, I would have been unaccountable for my reckless actions.

So, I was more than a little disappointed when he broke the silence to offer to walk me back to the ship. On the way, that same tension hung over us and I flirted briefly with the idea of inviting him to my suite. But I balked at the idea; I'd never been that forward. I especially hadn't been that forward with a man I'd known for less than twenty-four hours. 'You screwed things up with Daniel with those kind of thoughts,' I silently told myself. Yet, the humiliation of possible rejection held me petrified in its grasp.

"Well," he eventually sighed, peering up at the gargantuan craft, "this is you, I guess."

"Yep, this is me," I smiled, tearing my eyes from his beautiful face to follow the direction of his focus.

"Thanks for having dinner with me," he added, I quick flick of his neck causing those striking pools of light to bore into my soul.

"No, thanks for inviting me," I hurriedly uttered.

With a gentle grin pulling at the corners of his mouth, Kai leaned forward. With bated breath, I waited. Closer and closer his face came, and is it did my eyelids drifted shut. It felt like an eternity until I felt the crushing disappointment of a light peck on the cheek. Eyes bolting open once more, I tried to cover the letdown with a smile.

"Goodnight," he bid quietly, his face still just a breath from mine. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Goodnight," I repeated, while mutely screaming, 'Kiss me!'

But no kiss came. Slowly, he shifted back and, placing his hands in his pockets, he smiled before turning to retrace his steps along the dock.

If I'd been able to sleep that night, I'm sure my dreams would have been filled with him. But, instead, I spent endless hours staring at the ceiling; replaying every glorious second of the day, and hoping fervently that I would get the opportunity to seize the moment rather better than I had that night.

# Chapter Nine

Though plans had been made and I distinctly remembered Kai saying that he would see me again the following morning, I worried that he wouldn't meet me at the dock. I'd said a lot the night before – too much maybe. And through the haze of two or three clipper-tinis, it was possible I'd neglected to notice my own whiff of brazen desperation. As we'd been saying goodnight, he must have sensed the vibes. Therefore, there were good odds on him deciding to steer well clear of the emotional train wreck of a recently ditched bride-to-be.

He surprised me. Not only was he standing dutifully at the bottom of the ships ramp, but also he wore a genuinely enthusiastic smile. "Ready to get going?" he asked, running a hand through his silky black hair. Unlike the day before, he'd not taken a swim, and his dry locks were in a deliberately disheveled, but neat style. However, he was still wearing board shorts; a black pair this time that had Hawaiian floral print on the right leg. His shirt was a short-sleeved button-down linen, which was partially see-through.

With a better feel for what the weather held in store, I had dressed in a pair of white denim shorts and a light cotton blouse, the sleeves of which I'd rolled up to my elbows. In a small beach bag I carried on one shoulder, I'd packed an extra shirt and a bikini in preparation for the much-hyped snorkeling Kai had promised.

Flashing him a slightly nervy and embarrassed smile, I offered him a wave. "Morning," I greeted. "And, yes," I added, forced to tilt my face upward to meet his as I reached his side. "I'm ready," I informed him, tapping the bag on my arm. "Swimming clothes packed."

"Cool," he nodded, his soft, almost boyish, cheeks denting. Then, without warning, he looped his broad arm around my shoulders and began to guide me along the dock as if we were old friends. "I thought we might start at the other end of the island today," he added conversationally. "As it's your last day, I want to make sure you see as much as possible."

Aware of the way my heart had lurched when he touched me, I nodded. "I trust you," I replied. "I mean," I quickly adding, second guessing the words even before they'd completely left my lips. "I trust your judgment." That was fine; any possible misinterpretation had been cleared up. But I couldn't stop there. "About where to go on the island," I continued trying to explain.

The greater my discomfort, and the more I visibly squirmed, the more amused he seemed to become. "I knew what you meant," he chuckled. "So," he breathed, unraveling his arm from me as we reached his jeep. "What I was thinking was," he continued, automatically wandering around to the passenger side and opening the door for me, "start with the forests up in the north east and then work our way around."

"Thanks," I softly uttered, clambering up into the car and yelping when my skin met the sun-scorched seats.

"You OK?" he asked with a knowing smile.

"Yeah," I responded, not looking up at him. "Startled me more than anything," I admitted.

Placing a sympathetic hand on my bare knee, he grinned before closing the door and striding to the driver's side. "There are plenty of beaches and bays we can stop in on along the way," he said, resuming his plan right where he'd left it. "And we can do a little swimming and diving in as many of them as you like."

Happy to let him lead the way, I gave him an eager nod as I fastened my seat belt.

Our first stop was Makua Kea'au forest, where a light drizzle hung in the air. It was a refreshing sensation, especially as Kai informed that a hike was the only way to truly enjoy the stunning valleys and hills. However, as the rain dampened his shirt, it became completely see-through, and I was forced to make constant efforts to avoid the distraction of his dark, and very erect, nipples.

Soon, Hawaii's landscape came to my rescue. As I struggled to draw breath on the walk, my mind became less preoccupied with the torso of my guide. Gasping for air, I faltered, coming to a stop. As my feet shuffled to a standstill, I picked my head up and looked around me. Instantly, my mouth dropped open as I surveyed the lush, but jagged hills that surrounded me on all sides.

"How's it going?" Kai asked, pausing by my side and slipping the backpack, which he'd had already packed and ready in the jeep, off his shoulders.

"I'm not..." I began breathlessly, "....really used to this kind of workout."

"You city gals," he chided playfully. Apparently unaffected by the trek, he unzipped his bag and produced a bottle of water that he smoothly offered to me.

Accepting it, I smiled. But I did wonder whether there was a degree of seriousness to his teasing. Maybe he really was internally rolling his eyes at me; the pathetic California girl, who most definitely was not the outdoor type.

"You're doing pretty well," he added, extending a hand toward my face. It was done with such familiarity and ease that I didn't have time to register what was happening. In the blink of an eye, his fingers were grazing my cheek, brushing a strand of damp hair that was holding fast to my skin.

My throat parched, I tried to thank him, but it came out as a feeble wheeze. It wasn't the walk or my breathlessness that had rendered me speechless. His touch was so warm, so gentle and considerate. At the same time, there was a sensuality to it that spoke of suppressed passion – or maybe my imagination had added that. Whatever the case may be, despite the warmth, I noticed my arms were covered in gooseflesh as I rapidly lifted the water bottle to my lips.

His hand fell as easily away as it had reached for me, and I felt a bizarre mixture of relief and disappointment at the loss of his touch. For a few quiet moments, as I sipped heartily on the cold drink, I tried to determine which emotion was the greater. It wasn't until he spoke again that all doubt was removed.

"Are you feeling ready to keep going?" he asked, his kind smile illuminating even the light gray sky above.

Yes, it was definitely a disappointment. I wanted that man's hands on me, and I wanted them on more than just my face. Did he know? Was it obvious in the way I stared at him? Did the distracted gaze as my eyes travel repeatedly and inexplicably to his chest give me away? If it did, Kai was incredibly good at concealing his feelings on the matter. There was no arrogance or knowing glint, nor was there embarrassment or a hint that he might be offended by my ogling. In many ways, that made the tension between us all the more pronounced, because I simply did not know where I stood. Was he feeling the same frisson that I was?

***

Much of the rest of the day was passed in that same limbo of attraction. I overanalyzed every smile, every glance and every accidental brush of hands. I watched carefully when he spoke to other people, and felt a pang of jealousy when I noticed he was just as warm toward any woman he encountered. The signs were all pointing to the fact that Kai was just one of those kind of guys: laid back and friendly, with an unforced charm that made anyone around him feel comfortable. Well, what I was feeling couldn't quite be described as 'comfortable', but what I felt was certainly a pleasant sensation.

By the time we reached Kawela Bay, on the northeast tip of the island, I had concluded once and for all that Kai was no more interested in me than he was with any other female on the island. It was a disheartening realization, but accepting out relationship was purely platonic also came with an element of relief. After all, fantasizing about this Polynesian hunk was one think – if he had _really_ been interested in me, what would I have done about it?

It was ridiculous to assume that anything would come of it; I was only going to be on the island until the following morning. So was I actually contemplating, for the first time in my life, a one-night stand? No, it was much better to leave things as they were. He was a gorgeous man, who I'd loved spending time with. But it was crazy to think that I could take it any further than lustful daydreams. The fact that he didn't feel attracted to me, was something I should be grateful for.

At Kawela, Kai told me more about the flora and fauna of the small stretch of beach. It was much quieter than Hanuama, which he explained was because this bay was largely concealed from the highway. In fact, with the exception a few local children who paddled several yards in the distance, Kai and I were the only ones standing on the soft, white sand.

"Do you want to go for a swim?" he asked, already unbuttoning his own shirt.

"Um, sure," I agreed, placing my bag on the sands. "I need to..." I murmured, peering around me. "I just need to get changed."

Without hesitation, he lifted his right arm and pointed to the thick, lush trees that were no more than fifteen or twenty feet back from the water's edge. "You'll have no trouble finding some privacy in there," he assured me calmly.

I was somewhat wary, but with another glance up and down the almost empty beach, I decided he was probably right. Nevertheless, after enveloping myself behind the thick green, with my heart pounding in anticipation of being caught, I hurriedly and surreptitiously stripped down before slipping into a plain white bikini, with boy-shorts bottoms.

Feeling fairly confident that I'd been entirely alone and unseen, I tossed my bag over my shoulder and wandered out to the open sands. Kai had his back to me as I approached. He was staring almost adoringly at the water.

"It's like heaven," I noted quietly, as I came within a pace of his sun-kissed, shoulders.

"Hmm," he agreed, turning at the waist. And then, throwing me into a mess of uncertainty, his piercing eyes found me and took a slow, deliberate path down the length of my body. The corners of his mouth rising in an appreciative grin, he nodded. "Yeah, it's beautiful."

My limbs feeling suddenly very weak, I thought my legs might give way beneath me as he continued to unashamedly regard my body. Unable to move and unable to speak, I stood in awe of the immense power that his gaze wielded. I wasn't imagining it; I couldn't possibly be. There was much more than just friendly interest in his obsidian eyes. After a long moment, however, he tore them away.

"Ready?" he asked, quirking his head toward the water.

With a nod, I dropped my bag beside his discarded shirt and walked to his side. He waited for me before slowly padding down to the lapping waves. During that short, quiet stroll, I found myself examining him in much the same way he'd examined me. His body was slightly more familiar to my gaze, but I was no less fascinated by him. In particular, my focus was pulled to that scar, which I guessed to be at least ten years old. It was about six inches in length and should have marred the otherwise perfectly chiseled abdomen. But, in a strange way, that flaw in his skin only served to make his torso all the more attractive. I suppose it spoke of his rugged manliness – silly, I know, but my subconscious certainly latched on to it.

As was to be expected, he was a strong and lithe swimmer, grace and power wrapped up in one phenomenal package. I struggled to keep up with him, but made a valiant effort, as I was keen to dispel his notion of me as a 'city gal'.

The water was luxuriantly warm and entirely transparent. Coupled with the tranquility of the bay, and the company by my side, it made for one of the most incredible afternoons of my life. Temporarily giving up the struggle to keep up with him, I rested for a while and floated on my back. I could, I decided, stay right there forever. I had been wrong. It wasn't _like_ heaven. It _was_ heaven.

It wasn't until my fingertips were wrinkling that I finally agreed to Kai's suggestion that we leave the calm, soothing water and head back up to the beach. I followed just a space behind him, enjoying the way rivulets weaved their way over his shoulders and back, all the way down to the waistband of his shorts. It seems too ridiculous to be captivated by something so small, but the movement of ocean water on his skin fairly cried out to be touched...to be licked.

Noticing that I wasn't beside him, Kai paused seeming to wait for me to catch up. "You OK?" he asked, smiling.

"Yeah," I replied. "Thanks so much for bringing me here," I added. "I'll never forget this."

"Glad to hear it," he countered, tipping his face toward the sun. "And it was my pleasure."

"Um," I began, feeling a little awkward, "that reminds me, we never really talked about your fee."

As though he weren't really listening, he bent to pick up his shirt and my bag. "Huh?"

"How much do I owe you?" I explained. "We never talked about when and how much I would pay you."

"Oh," he breathed, nodding his understanding. "Well, we can talk about that later," he said dismissively, turning to face me and allowing his eyes to travel down and back up the length of my body once again.

I wasn't sure what his words, combined with his assessment of me, meant. "I don't..." I began, suddenly feeling less happy about the appreciation I noted in his features. "I'm not..."

Aware of what he'd been doing, or perhaps just able to pick up on the meaning of my incoherent half sentences, Kai quickly shook his head and pulled his wandering eyes back in check. "No, no," he insisted. "I didn't mean anything like that."

"Oh," I breathed, smiling nervously.

"I'm sorry," he added. "I didn't mean to..." Rather than complete the thought, he simply gestured with the hand that clutched his shirt toward me. "It's just, you're very..." he continued, but once again never finished. And this time, the movement of his hand gave nothing away.

Self-consciously, I peered down at my slender form. Andy had always said I was too skinny, he pointed out my lack of a significant ass or hips. And once, he'd not so subtly asked whether I'd ever considered breast enlargement. Until that moment, I hadn't. But, since then, I'd always looked at my breasts with mild disdain. I wasn't flat chested, but a cup or two sizes bigger wouldn't have gone amiss as far as my future husband was concerned – my ex-future husband.

"That looks good on you," Kai eventually said, tossing my bag over his own shoulder. "Shall we?" he suggested, with a grin. "Lots more to see."

Pushing my wet hair away from my face, I smiled. It was the compliment that had prompted that unconscious movement of my lips. "OK," I murmured. "Let's go."

# Chapter Ten

The sun had already set by the time we got back to Honolulu and he pulled the jeep up by the dock. Without the sun's rays, it had gotten chilly, but he seemed comfortable in just his shorts and shirt.

"Here we are," he grinned as the car slowed to a stop. "The street where you live."

Once again dressed in the clothes I'd worn when he picked me up, I brushed my hands over my bare knees, reluctant to leap out of the vehicle. After all, the ship would be leaving port in the morning – I'd never see him again. "So...err..." I muttered, trying to think of something to say, anything that would delay the inevitable. It was foolish to have grown so attached to him so quickly. But the way he'd looked at me up in Kawela Bay gave me reason to think it wasn't only me who felt an inexplicable connection. "Money," I suddenly blurted. "We were going to discuss how much I owe you."

"Oh, don't worry about that," he said with a staunch shake of his head. "I meant it when I said it's been a pleasure showing you around."

Diving for the bag that sat between my feet, I refused to take 'no' for an answer. "You've got to let me give you something," I insisted. "This is your livelihood," I pointed out, opening the bag and rifling through in search of my wallet. "You wouldn't catch me working for free," I added with a chuckle.

"Really, Jaime," he replied, placing a hand on my mid thigh to stall my search. "I'm not going to take any money from you. Spending two days with you wasn't work." His tone softened until his deep voice was barely audible.

"But..." I breathed, straightening in the seat. "But..." I tried again, my attention grasped by his hand on my leg; the way his long fingers curled around my inner thigh, and the subtle movement of his thumb on my outer leg. Although I had been a little cold, I was suddenly very, very hot. That heat emanated from the place he touched me and shot upward to my core.

"I tell you what," he said almost conversationally, as if he were completely unaware of what he was doing to me. "Why don't you have dinner with me?"

"Um...all right," I managed to mutter. "I'll pay this time, though," I added. "I know it's not even close to what-"

"Actually," he interjected, the grasp of his hand tightening over so slightly. "I was hoping that you'd agree to come back to my place."

My lower lip falling away from its partner, I gaped at him. "Sorry?"

"Just dinner," he chuckled. "I thought it might be nice to eat somewhere quiet, where we can talk and relax. I'm not making any assumptions, Jaime," he added sincerely.

"No...it's...err..." How could I tell him that he was free to make assumptions? While I would have been deeply offended by any request that I 'pay him in kind', it was clear that wasn't what was on his mind. Moreover, I think I was so aroused in that moment, that I probably would have agreed anyway. "I'd love to," I simply said. In my head, there was much more than just a reference to dinner in there, but I wasn't brazen enough to say that out loud.

***

Kai's apartment was on Birch Street, the building was sleek, modern and white, as was the interior. As he pushed open the door and invited me to enter with a broad gesture of his arm, I noted that there was a distinct lack of furniture. In the open plan living room and kitchen space, there was just a two-seater couch and round dining table with two chairs. The floors were bare wood and, following his lead, I kicked off my shoes before stepping onto them.

"How long have you lived here?" I wondered.

"About three months," he replied, closing the door behind us and walking into the kitchen. "It's not much," he admitted. "But I've only got a year's lease."

"Uh huh," I nodded. "And then what?"

Opening the fridge door, he flashed me a grin before peeking inside. "I don't know," he responded. "I've always kind of flown by the seat of my pants."

I'd already gathered that much from the conversations we'd had over dinner the previous evening. But I was no less curious about it – mostly, I suppose, because it was so very different from the way I'd lived my life. "But you'll stay in Honolulu?" I wondered.

"Who knows?" he shrugged, reaching into the fridge and pulling out a plate of food covered in Saran wrap. "Salmon?" he asked.

I nodded and walked through the small living space to join him. "You don't think about the future much?" I quietly asked, wanting to know how he managed it. I rarely stopped thinking about the future, and, for the most part, it had succeeded in making me miserable.

Setting the plate aside, he dove back into the fridge and removed a selection of ingredients. "The way I look at it," he said, "there is no future."

Crinkling my brow, I peered at him in confusion. Kai chuckled in reply before closing the refrigerator and turning fully toward me. "What I mean is, it's not real," he explained. "Tomorrow isn't real; we think it's coming, but we can't be sure of it. The only thing that _is_ real is right here and now. So, I try to focus on that, I focus on what is real."

Seemed very much like we were talking about seizing the day again, and it almost emboldened me enough to tell him how I felt; how I'd felt from the second I saw him, and how that sensation had just grown more intense the longer I'd known him. But something stopped me: fear and a stupid sense of what 'good girls' did and didn't do. Good girls didn't admit to being aroused by men they barely knew.

"So," I sighed quietly, "the only thing that's real right now is you and me, in your kitchen, about to cook dinner."

"It's the only thing that's real to us," he agreed, smiling. "What's real for the people who live upstairs, or old Mrs. Palakiko downstairs, is something different," he admitted. Turning to his counter, he unwrapped his salmon before reaching for a griddle and placing it gently on top of the stove.

"You think we all experience reality differently?" I probed, genuinely intrigued by his outlook.

"Don't you?" he countered, with a subtle laugh.

I had to admit, if Kai and I compared notes of the previous forty-eight hours, we would probably have very separate accounts of our time together. "I suppose so," I whispered.

"It's a little bit like our perception of color or taste," he continued. "We all see things slightly differently; we all experience things slightly differently." Turning the flame up on the stove, he picked up the salmon and placed it carefully into the center of the pan. "So, I think all we can do is be true to ourselves, and to our version of reality," he concluded, tossing his face over his shoulder and gracing me with one of his warmest smiles. "Nothing else really matters."

Drawn to him, I stepped closer. A force I couldn't explain or control prompted me to lift my right hand to his back. At first, it simply remained still, enjoying the warmth of his skin beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. However, soon that wasn't enough and I stroked downward. The firm, powerful muscles across his shoulder blades tensed fractionally as my fingers glided all the way down his spine and paused once more at the small of his back.

The salmon had begun to hiss gently, as Kai turned away from the stove. My fingers automatically fell away from him as he moved, but his own hand quickly grasped hold of mine. "What's real to you, Jaime?" he asked, lifting our joined fingers to his chest and pressing my palm to his sleek, hard pec.

Struggling to force words past a large lump in my throat, I was mute for several long moments. "The..." I started weakly. "The last two days, the only thing that's been real to me is you." I responded breathlessly.

"Why does that frighten you?" he asked, his heavy, black eyebrows pinching together.

Feeling completely naked and vulnerable, I wondered if he'd been able to see my fear all along or if he was recognizing it for the first time. Whatever the case may be, it was unnerving that he could read me so easily. "I...I don't know," I replied, my voice trembling.

"Yes, you do," he calmly returned.

I'll be damned if I'll ever know how he could strip all the layers away and see right into my soul, but, apparently, he could. And he was right. I did know what was frightening me. "This is all new," I wheezed. "I've never felt this way about anyone other than Andy. And...and the truth is, I never felt quite like this with him, either."

Cocking his head to one side, Kai studied me. "Love?" he prompted.

"No," I answered, much more quickly than I'd expected to. "No, it's not love. I...I just..."

"You just what?" he urged, sliding his fingers away from mine and grasping my hips with both of his hands. "This?" he whispered, his face drifting languidly down to mine.

I didn't speak, I didn't even make any effort to. It wasn't necessary. I waited, closing my eyes as his soft, warm breath caressed my lips before, finally, his mouth claimed mine in a kiss so much more fervent than his approach had been.

My response was as fast as it was visceral. Unhesitatingly, I threw my arms around his neck and deepened the kiss with a long, languid moan. His tongue stroked hurriedly over mine, sparking a fire that was soon raging. Feeling the familiar, and yet wholly new in its intensity, restlessness between my legs I unconsciously pushed my lower half flush with his strong, broad body.

It wasn't until the smell of singing fish met my nostrils that I came back to myself with a jolt. What the hell was I doing? My eyes suddenly wide open, I tore my mouth from his and stared up into his confused face. "I...I can't do this," I gasped.

"Wh...?" Kai began, before hurriedly releasing me just long enough to push the pan off the hot stove and turn off the flame. And, just like that, the fire in me was also turned out. With an expression of surprise and concern, he turned back to me, his chest moving with more effort than it usually took him to breathe.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, shaking my head. "I...I...I think I ought to go," I announced, the panic reaching fever pitch. Quickly, I moved, my bare feet spinning easily on the shiny kitchen tiles.

# Chapter Eleven

But I didn't get far. Kai's hand was almost instantly gripping my wrist and firmly but carefully tugging me back to him. Placing one hand beneath my down-turned chin, he coaxed my face upward. Refusing to speak until I had met his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he uttered fervently. "I'm the one who should be apologizing, not you."

Pathetic and mute, I shook my head.

"I mean it," he continued. "I told you that I wasn't expecting anything when I invited you over here, and then I go right ahead and take advantage of you."

"Take advantage of me?" I blurted. "You weren't taking advantage of me. I was the one who made the first move."

"I was the one who kissed you," he countered.

"But I touched you," I argued, rapidly.

"OK, OK," he sighed, the ghost of a smile returning to his lips. "This is getting us nowhere," he continued. "The point is, I am sorry for whatever it is that is making you want to run out of here. And I promise not to do it again if you'll agree to stay. Please," he added earnestly.

Moistening my dry lips with a tongue that still tasted of him, I shook my head. "It's not you I'm running from," I softly tried to explain. "You didn't do anything wrong. It's me...I'm just...I'm so confused."

Unfurling his fingers from their clamp of my wrist, he soothingly rubbed his hand up the length of my forearm. "You want to talk about it?" he offered.

Scoffing, I rolled my eyes. "You don't want to hear about it," I informed him.

"Try me," he shrugged.

"Really?" I said, almost on the verge of hysterical laughter. "You want to hear about the fact that my ex is the only man I've ever slept with, but I look at you and I'm more aroused than I've ever been in my life?" Not pausing for breath, let alone to allow him to digest what I'd just thrown at him, I forged on. "You want to hear about how I thought about you last night as I laid in bed, and fantasized about you all day? You want to know that I've been driving myself crazy wondering whether you want me, too?"

I could have sworn I detected a slight blush in his cheeks, but if it was there, it was too slight and gone too quickly to be certain. "OK," he carefully uttered, "so, what's the problem?"

The rush with which my confession left my lips had faded, and I now peered up at him with eyes that pleaded him not to make me expose any more of myself to him. "I don't...I..."

"It's difficult to trust again?" he offered in answer to his own question. "After what he did."

"Partly," I agreed in barely a whisper.

"And you don't want some meaningless fling with a man you barely know?" he suggested.

Swallowing, my eyes fell from his and settled on the bow of his pink lips. "No," I corrected him softly. "That's just it, I do want a fling." Not daring to look up and see the potential disgust in his face, I carried on before the coward in me prevented me from finishing. "I don't expect this to turn into anything, Kai. And I recognize what I feel for you for exactly what it is: lust." For a moment I was silent, and when he didn't fill the void, I felt compelled to. "That's what's new to me," I insisted, urging him to understand. "I know that tomorrow I'm going to leave, I know that there's no way for this to turn into a relationship. I know that it could only ever be about tonight. And, despite knowing that it's wrong, I want it anyway."

"Who said that it was wrong?" he asked, his voice seeming a shade darker than usual. As my eyes darted back to his, I found his pupils swollen and his lips fractionally parted.

"Kai," I breathed, the backs of my legs beginning to quiver. "My fiancé is the only man I've ever slept with. I'm not the kind of girl who..."

"Go on?" he probed, propping his hip against the counter top and weighing me carefully in his gaze. "What were you going to say?"

"I'm not the kind of girl who screws around," I said, not averting my eyes from his.

His gaze dipping thoughtfully to the floor, he swept a hand through his hair, which was still tacky from our swim. "Who said you would be screwing around?" he asked, a somber wrinkle in his brow.

Not sure I quite understood the question, I gawped uselessly back at him.

"To me," he offered, lifting his hand to my face and softly rubbing the backs of his fingers over my cheekbone, "screwing around is jumping into bed with someone whose name you're going to forget in the morning. Screwing around is having sex with someone you don't care about and who doesn't care about you."

Conceding his points with a nod, I remained silent, still unsure where he was going.

"I care about you, Jaime," he breathed, his fingers twirling a strand of my hair between them. "I'm not going to forget your name."

"But it's still..." I muttered. "It's still a meaningless fling, and although that's what part of me wants, I know that deep down, I don't want that."

"Well," he said, with a half-smile. "All I can tell you is that it wouldn't be meaningless to me. I've grown very fond of you, Jaime. It's not just a physical thing anymore. But you have to find the man who can help you get over this Andrew guy. And maybe that's not me."

I felt the tears swelling in my eyes and angrily tried to cough them back. "I..." I began shakily, forcing back the emotion that I did not want to offer freedom. The truth was, I didn't know whether I would ever find a man who could help me get over Andy. What if Andy really was 'the one', was I then destined to spend the rest of my life celibate or jumping from one bed to another? Feeling suddenly claustrophobic, I stepped away from Kai and bolted for the large doors that opened onto a small balcony.

Seeking the refuge of open space and fresh air, I breathed deeply as I grasped the thick steel railing and unseeingly stared at the busy streets and high-rise buildings – it was a very different place from the one I'd spent the day discovering.

Kai didn't follow me right out, choosing instead to give me some space, but he did make his way to the windows. "I didn't mean to upset you, Jaime," he offered sincerely. "I shouldn't have said that."

"It was the truth," I told him, not bothering to turn around. My eyes still looked glassily out on the paved paradise. "I do need to get over him, and that's partly why I shouldn't have come here."

"Why?" he wondered.

Swiping at the stray tears that had spilled onto my cheek, I pivoted to face him. "Because one of the reasons I want you is to get back at him," I admitted. "See?" I scoffed. "You weren't taking advantage of me at all. I was the one taking advantage of you. I was the one who had an ulterior motive."

"I think you're being far too hard on yourself," he soothed, stepping out onto the balcony and standing by my side. He was careful to keep a small distance between us, whether that was in deference to me or because he could no longer stomach touching me, I didn't know. "This whole thing with your ex has really messed you up," he continued calmly. "And like I told you last night, that's his fault, not yours."

"Yeah, but I should be dealing with it on my own, not dragging someone else into it," I argued strongly, sniffing back the remnants of the tears that still dwelt in my lower lids. "The point of this trip was for me to find myself, not bury my problems by having sex with the first gorgeous man I meet."

He chuckled lightly easing some of the tension. "Well, if that man is willing to help you, why don't you let him?" he asked tentatively.

"He doesn't know what he's getting himself into," I replied flatly.

"Yes, he does," Kai responded. "And maybe you would be helping him, too."

The obsession I'd had with myself and my own problems was swept away by that cryptic remark. Turning to look at him, I set about getting more information. "You need help?" I began, skeptically arching an eyebrow. "Someone like you needs help?" It seemed incredulous to me that Kai would ever need anybody for anything – he was so capable, he was a man's man; the kind of guy who could do absolutely anything he set his mind to.

"I know what you're going through, Jaime," he offered. On the face of it, it seemed like a non-sequitur, but he made a tremendous amount of sense to me. "I wasn't engaged to Alana," he added somberly, "but we'd talked about marriage and a future together."

"I'm sorry, Kai," I mumbled.

"It's OK," he sighed. "It was nearly six months ago now, so it's not as fresh as yours...but there hasn't been anyone since."

I found that exceptionally hard to believe, and something in my face must have betrayed that fact.

"When you think you've found the one you're going to be with for the rest of your life, it's difficult to imagine yourself with someone else," he shrugged. "And I knew I wasn't ready to get into another relationship. It wouldn't have been fair just to use a girl for sex."

"I'm sure there are plenty of women who would have been happy with that arrangement," I muttered under my breath, but it was still plenty loud enough for him to hear.

He hummed in acknowledgment. "But I didn't want to go to bed with someone who meant nothing to me, and who I meant nothing to," he explained, and suddenly everything he'd said in the kitchen began to make sense. He hadn't just been trying to talk me into his bed. He'd been talking about himself; his feelings and his perception of a _meaningful_ fling.

"So..." I sighed, lifting my hand to his face and brushing my fingers across his cheek in mirror of what he'd done to me just minutes before. "Six months is a long time," I noted, with a mischievous smile.

"It's not about how long it's been," he responded, his features sober. "It's about meeting someone who's awoken things in me. I've been thinking about you, Jaime; dreaming about you."

My gaze shifted down to his shorts and the slight stirring that lay beneath the fabric. My feelings toward him were affectionate and sympathetic, but there was also something deeper, something primal, and it made me want to rip his clothes off.

"But if you're not sure about this," he added hurriedly. "If you want to leave, I'll let you. I'd much rather you stayed and ate dinner with me," he chuckled. "But there's no pressure, I swear. Nothing has to happen tonight."

I smiled, grateful that he was so considerate of me. "What do you want, Kai?" I asked.

"I told you-"

"No," I stalled him. "I mean, what do you _really_ want."

I noticed the significant movement of his Adam's apple as he swallowed. "I..." he began, faltering for the very first time since I'd met him. "I want you, Jaime," he breathed.

"Do you really?" I asked, not seeking reassurance for its own sake, but genuinely confused as to why this man, who could go out and have his pick of women, would choose me.

"Yes," he responded with a definitive nod of his head. "I want to touch you," he added, his hand lifting to the small of my back and drawing a small circle with the pad of his index finger. "I want to kiss you," he breathed. "I want to know what it feels like to be inside you, Jaime." His eyes intently burning into mine, he swallowed again. "The only question is, what do you want?"

Feeling the intense heat of his focus, I parted my lips to reply, but no sound emerged.

# Chapter Twelve

Kai led me to his bedroom, my hand held loosely in his much larger one. The room was light and airy, thanks to large open windows, covered by gossamer drapes, that let in a subtle breeze, and the white walls, which were simply decorated with three enlarged photographs of gargantuan waves. In one corner stood a yellow surfboard, and against a wall stood a chest of drawers. With the exception of the spacious bed that was dressed in plain white cotton sheets, there was nothing else in the room.

Silently, he drew me toward the bed and stopped at the foot of it. Without a word, he turned to face me and smiled one of those beautiful smiles that was as warm as the Hawaiian sun. Nothing needed to be said. We both knew what the other was thinking; we both wanted the same thing.

Gradually untangling his fingers from mine, he lifted both hands. My eyelids fluttered as his warm palms cradled my face and his thumbs stroked tenderly at my lower lip. Any lingering concern I might have had was obliterated by the soft smile he graced me with, because in that instant it was so abundantly clear that I could trust him.

Sweeping his thumbs out of the way, he replaced them with his lips, molding them carefully to my own in a sweet, sensual massage. The earlier fire I had experienced returned with a vengeance and I almost instantly opened myself to his invasion.

Kai was equally swift to respond, sneaking his tongue into my moist cavern and teasingly working it back and forth. Apparently an expert in the art of kissing, he knew exactly how much to give – not so much that it made me gag, but enough to show me that he was in charge. And he was in charge; in charge of me and masterfully in charge of his own desires.

His tongue continued to slide over mine, in and out, mimicking and preempting what was to come. A moan drifted up from deep inside me, and he replied by pressing himself more firmly against me.

The heat from his swelling groin brushed against my abdomen and I instinctively grabbed his waist to increase the pressure. With a deep, masculine chuckle he disengaged from my mouth and peered down into my face with eyes gone raven with lust.

"Now you know how much I want you," he observed wryly.

Breath shallow, I chewed on my lip as I nodded. And then, without shame, I began to unbutton the light cotton blouse, that was clinging to my skin. The movement of his gaze told me he was aware of what I was doing, but he made no attempt to rush me. On the contrary, he languidly returned to stroking my face with his gentle fingers.

Even after I had peeled the shirt from myself and dropped it to the bare wooden floor, Kai didn't immediately react. I stared up at him pleadingly, and he blinked as he took in the twin swells of creamy flesh that were left uncovered by my bra.

"Touch me," I begged, almost panting with barely restrained need.

As cool as a tall glass of water, he allowed his hands to drift from my face. Then, with deliberate movements, he placed his right hand high on my chest, just below my neck. Gliding down my sternum, his fingers caused tingles of pleasure through me, electrifying my breasts and stiffening my nipples. Slowly, he traced the curve of one breast and then the other before reaching around me to unclasp the bra.

I shifted my arms, helping gravity to drag the underwear from my body and expose myself to him. For a few gloriously frustrating moments, he simply admired my body. And then, as if a compulsion in him had to be satisfied, he dipped his head and tenderly brushed his cheek across the outer swell of my left breast.

"Oh," I whimpered, finding the subtle touch more erotic than anything I'd ever experienced before.

Spurred by that noise, or perhaps still moved by a force of his own, he carefully pressed a kiss to that same spot. His lips and tongue soon began exploring the whole of my left breast, tasting every inch of that soft flesh, until all that was left was the painfully hard peak of my nipple.

"Ugh," I groaned as he finally drew that bud into his warm mouth and lovingly lapped at it with his skillful tongue. My hips involuntary jerked, and as his hot spear jabbed at me from behind his clothes, I felt a sudden lascivious flood of warmth that drenched my panties. My body had never felt so restless and wanting in my entire life. It was too much to bear.

Hurriedly, I grasped Kai's hand; the one that was busy massaging my otherwise neglected breast, and guided it down to the waistband of my shorts. Sucking in a breath, I urged his fingers into the gap between the fabric and my skin. From there, thankfully, he didn't need any further directions.

Gasping for breath, he lifted his face as his fingers moved over my mound and slid lower. "Wow," he muttered, his fingertips stilling as he came to the sopping wet patch of my underwear.

"And now you know how much I want you," I whispered, my face flushed with a fire that I felt in every cell of my body. I felt confident my cheeks were blazing with a hot pink, but it wasn't embarrassment that prompted me to blush.

Kai nodded, then swiftly pulled his hand from inside my shorts. I opened my mouth to protest the suddenness of his departure, but as he grasped the hem of his shirt and yanked it over his head, I quickly swallowed any disgruntled thoughts.

Fascinated by the sight of his perfectly imperfect torso, my hands moved inquisitively over his pecs, to that long silver scar, and then explored the ridges of his highly defined abs. Eventually, I reached the low waistband perched on his hips, which left so much promise of what lay beneath. Barely able to swallow, my trembling hands worked to push the elasticated shorts off his hips.

Kai breathed a grateful sigh as some of the constriction around his engorged manhood was relieved. Emboldened by that small noise of approval, I edged his shorts down further still, until they fell around his ankles. My right hand cautiously caressed the bulge in his black boxer shorts, feeling his shaft quiver slightly beneath my touch. His breathing was becoming more ragged, and his hands moved restlessly across my back, shoulders, hips and buttocks.

Holding my breath, I hooked my forefingers in the waistband of his underwear and pushed them determinedly downward until they joined his board shorts. It came as no surprise to me that Kai was generously proportioned, but he was so much more than that. His penis was, like the rest of him, a work of art. His beautifully rounded tip was a rosy shade of pink, small light blue veins ran the length of his thick shaft, while that one main central vein throbbed with pulsing blood. He had a subtle upward curve that caused the tip to point toward my face.

Mesmerized by the sight, and overwhelmed by the size, I carefully wrapped the fingers of my right hand around him, as if weighing the chances that I could get it all inside me.

Kai closed his eyes as I worked my hand slowly up and down the length. A small drop of perspiration broke out above his temple and began to zigzag down his face. "Jaime," he groaned in a mixture of pleasure and pain.

With complete trust in him, I relinquished my concern over his length and girth. "I want you, Kai," I stated, grabbing my shorts and tugging both them and my panties off in one hurried shove.

His hands were on my naked hips in a blur of motion and I was pushed backward onto the bed. My legs had parted automatically as I'd landed and Kai was between them. His mouth rapaciously attacked mine as he shifted his lower half. And then, I felt it. His monstrous manhood slipping into my waiting entrance.

But it was just the tip. He didn't push anymore, he simply rocked his hips a little. Teasing my; testing me, he allowed my body to gradually open. I lifted my hips from the bed, arching to encourage him further, but he held firm.

Mumbling into his mouth, I wriggled and squirmed until finally he lifted his face. "I need you, Kai," I panted.

"I'm here," he responded with a soft smile.

"No," I breathed, shaking my head. "I need you now. Right now. Please..." I gabbed. "I need to feel all of you inside me."

"You will," he assured me, his lower body staunchly unmoving and just the bulging tip of his manhood breaching me.

"No," I grumbled, desperation mounting. I didn't know how to explain it to him, I didn't even know how to explain it myself. All I knew was I wanted to feel his powerful body demanding compliance from mine. Perhaps it was a desperate attempt to relive my first time; to ensure that it was a more memorable experience. Maybe it was dormant desire to be dominated. I'm no surer now than I was at the time. But one thing was unequivocal: my yearning to be impaled by him. "Now, Kai!" I almost screamed. "Please, fuck me!"

He moved swiftly, hooking both hands under my knees and pulling my legs up and outward until my body was opened up to him like a blossoming flower. And then, his eyes staring intently into mine, he drove forward with deeply masculine grunt of effort.

"Ahh," I cried, my head tossing wildly. I threw my hands back and gripped the pillow tightly until I thought my nails might rip the fabric. My body flexed and pulsed in a bizarre, unfamiliar blend of pain and ecstasy. It was like losing my virginity again – only so, so much better.

"You OK?" he asked, his voice husky but no less sincere.

My eyes clamped shut, I focused on the sensation of complete fullness. It was almost as if Kai had broken me; ruined me for any other man – ruined me for Andy that much was certain. The thick head of his shaft must have been slammed right up against my cervix, but it felt more like it was somewhere in my stomach.

"Jaime," he said, sounding concerned. "Are you OK?"

"Don't stop," I panted feverishly. "Please don't stop."

Usually such a gentle and controlled man, it added to my arousal to see a different side of Kai. A wild, passionate, aggressive side. He wasn't interested in being rough in order to satisfy his sexual pleasure, or to make him feel like a man. There was certainly nothing for him to prove on that front. No, he was giving into that base animal instinct that lies in all of us, because I'd asked him to. He was doing it for me.

Unleashed, Kai began a rhythmic dance that's as old as time. Again and again, he pulled his hips back only to slam them against mine. His body, well-lubricated by my excitement, moved with minimal resistance, sliding back and forth like a piston.

Each time he made us complete, he released a groan of approval that was accompanied by my cry of contentment. I writhed and bucked beneath him, the pleasure within me swelling until I felt sure I couldn't take anymore. Then, in a flash, everything stopped – the whole world went black, my brain ceased functioning altogether. And, just as quickly as it had closed around me, it passed with an overwhelming flood of electricity, lights and heat that set my whole body trembling. Muscles went stiff, my mouth hung open, the breath was trapped in my lungs as my hips bucked repeatedly against his.

"Jaime," Kai moaned, driving into me again with renewed ferocity. "Damn...feels so good," he whispered. "Oh, God!" he gasped, his own climax seeming to catch him off guard.

I was just drifting down to my body again when I felt his entire form quake and spasm. And with too many explosions of warmth to count, he came inside me.

"Oh, Jesus," I panted, my limbs flopped out with no strength in them whatsoever. My core pulsed with residual pain, and I ached all over. Despite that, or maybe because of it, it was the best sex I'd ever had. Kai had opened up a whole new world to me, and he'd successfully banished any misgiving I'd held about making love with anybody other than Andy. In fact, I was left with the sobering reality of what I'd have missed out on if I had married Andy.

"Jaime," Kai mumbled, lifting his head. "Are you all right?"

"Hmm," I purred. "I'm just fine," I added. I didn't think I'd be up for another round any time soon, but I didn't need to tell him that right now. "Thank you, Kai," I mumbled sleepily. "Thank you so much."

"It was my pleasure," he chuckled, pulling his softening body from mine and carefully lowering himself onto the mattress beside me. Not bothering to pull the sheet up over us, he nestled by my side and laid a gentle hand across my abdomen. "You think you're over him now?"

"Over who?" I countered, turning on my side and burying my face into his sweat covered chest.

"That's my girl," he said with an evident smile in his voice. "That's my girl."

"How about you?" I wondered quietly, hoping that the experience was as good for him as it had been for me. "Are you over her?"

He laughed, a deep rumbling low in his chest. "Let's put it this way," he sighed. "I don't think I'll be thinking about anyone else for quite some time."

"Good," I laughed, turning my face to his chest and kissing his smooth skin.

### To be continued...

### Thank You for Reading

## Please visit your favorite eBook retailer to view the next books in the "Cruise Away With Him Series"
Escort in the City

by

Rachel Henry
Copyright © 2017 by Rachel Henry

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Escort in the City

All rights reserved.

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. No part of this work may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording and faxing, or by any information storage and retrieval system by anyone but the purchaser for their own personal use.

This book may not be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of Rachel Henry, except in the case of a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages for the sake of a review written for inclusions in a magazine, newspaper, or journal—and these cases require written approval from Rachel Henry prior to publication. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.

# Chapter One

"I feel like leaving this godforsaken place!"

Janet Burns was tired of working her tail off and still could not make ends meet. To her, the life she had was dull, uneventful and going nowhere. There was no room for promotion and she had expenses, which she could not ignore.

At twenty-three years old, she was a hard worker who sometimes took double shifts so she could help her mother. She was strikingly beautiful with golden blond curls which hung midway down her back. Her blue eyes, accentuated by long lashes, were deep and showed her emotions easily. Sensuous lips and a button nose with tiny freckles enhanced her features.

She stood at around five feet seven inches and was slender, with a small waist and curvy hips. She was often mistaken for a model and often times was approached by scouts looking for fresh faces. She always turned them down because it would mean travelling all the time and leaving her sick mother.

Her voice had risen louder than it should have and some of the patrons turned to look in her direction. Rod was sitting a few feet away and he stared at her in his usual creepy way. What's with him, she thought, why does he always stare at me?

The guy was greasy looking in Janet's mind. He had dark hair that hung loosely around his neck, almost touching his shoulder. It was slicked back with hair gel. His dark eyes seemed to bore holes into her whenever he looked at her. He'd asked her out a couple of times, but she refused. He just wasn't her type, plus she was too preoccupied to even think about dating.

Janet was modest girl who was often surprised when people complimented her looks. She wanted more than what the average man often offered. She wanted to make something of herself, and if possible go back to school. However, working double shifts in Dineo's Diner in Newark Valley would never pave the way to success.

She'd just cleared table three when she realized how frustrating her life was. She held on to that job because she lived in the Valley and there was nothing else to do. She was also at her wit's end, trying to figure out a way to deal with her current situation.

"Where would you go?" asked Sara, her friend and co-worker. "What about your mother?"

Both questions were reasonable but to be honest, the only reason she stuck around _was_ because of her mother. Barbara Burns, Janet's mother has been in and out of the hospital for years, suffering from various ailments. Just when mother and daughter thought that things were turning around another bombshell hit.

They had gone for a routine checkup at the Newark Valley Memorial Hospital. Janet began to get an uneasy feeling when the doctor suggested her mother stay overnight. He told them they were running a few more tests that would require her to be monitored.

She had gone back to work at the diner when the call came in that she return to the hospital. So many thoughts ran through her mind. At one point, she thought that maybe her mother had died, but she quickly dispelled that and hurried to her mother's room.

The doctor was there, standing by the bed looking quite sheepish. Janet stood in the doorway, a bit relieved to see her mother, but anxious as to why she was asked to come in.

"Miss Burns, glad you could return," the doctor said. Janet greeted him and kissed her mother.

"Is everything okay? Are you sending her home now? Is that why you sent for me?"

"Honey," Barbara's voice sounded far away and she took her daughter's hand.

Janet looked at her mother. Her greying brown hair splayed on the pillow like angel wings. She noticed that her mother had taken the time to make up her face, splashing on scarlet lipstick and blue eyeliner, the one that matched her electric blue eyes.

She didn't need all that makeup, Janet thought. She was beautiful the way she was. Her lips curved at the corners as if she was smiling all the time and her skin was still soft and smooth, except for a few squint lines around the eyes.

"Yes mom," she answered, stroking her mother's hand.

"Come sit beside me," her mother requested.

"What's going on?" she inquired, looking pointedly at the doctor.

It wasn't the physician who usually tended her mother. This one was much younger, in his mid-forties, thick-rimmed glasses with a balding head. His brown eyes flickered from Janet to her mother. Janet's eyes traveled to his nametag on the left of his jacket, it said, "Dr. M. Fowler." Fleetingly she wondered what the 'M' stood for.

The man cleared his throat and took on a serious expression. "Your mother, Mrs. Burns...we ran some tests and they came back positive," he started.

"What tests?" She'd gotten white as the blood drained from her face. She feared the worst as the thought of cancer entered her mind.

"Your mother has been having symptoms consistent with a rare illness. The test shows that she has what is called Myelodysplastic syndrome," he informed her.

As Dr. Fowler spoke, Janet felt her mother cling to her hand. She'd heard the news already, Janet could tell. She looked down at her mother and touched her forehead affectionately.

"What is that doctor? Is it some kind of cancer?"

He sighed as if he'd been holding his breath for a while, "It's a very rare blood disorder where some blood cells are not produced efficiently. This can lead to more serious problems. We need to run more tests to see what stage she's at. We feel she needs to stay in the hospital for an extended period."

* * * *

That was two months ago. The results were not good. It was confirmed that her mother was in an advanced stage of the disease. There were no one-hundred percent cures and without effective treatment she would die within a year.

Janet was determined not to let that happen. Her mother was all she had. Her father walked out on them when she was only four years old. There was no way she could let her mother just wither away and die, she had to do something.

After the diagnosis she had a talk with the doctor about treatment options, "I'm afraid there's no high percentage cure at the moment. We can make her as comfortable as possible," he told her.

She left the hospital determined to find a way to save her mother. The library was the first place she stopped, where she researched what Myelodysplastic syndrome was. What she found was not good at all. According to the doctor, her mother was in an advanced stage of the disease and that meant she was showing signs of Leukemia, which would only get worse if untreated.

The following day she returned to the hospital to visit her mother and decided to have a talk with the head nurse. She told her the same thing, there were no realistic cures. Desperately she went to see Dr. Fowler.

"What do you mean there's no cure. How can you say that? You're a doctor!" her voice had raised a pitch.

"Miss Burns...," his gentle tone seemed to pity her.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell, not at you anyway." She said.

"I understand," he hesitated. Janet noticed it was a trait of his whenever he had bad news. "There is a treatment. It has not been approved yet which means it's still in development stages. You do understand that this is an experimental treatment."

"Where is this place?" she'd asked, hopefully.

"In Canada," replied Dr. Fowler.

He gave her the name and address of the facility and a doctor she could contact in Toronto. Janet took the information with the hope that they could help her mother. Though the treatment was only experimental, she was confident that her mother would recover.

* * * *

Frustrated at her helplessness, Janet began clearing the other tables. By the time the tables were cleared so was the diner, except for Rod. He was engrossed in something on a tablet he held in his hand. The breakfast crowd had left the place in a mess, so she and Sara were making the place spotless.

"Have you called the clinic in Canada?" Sara asked.

"Yes, that's what so hard. It's expensive," she told her friend. "It's fifty-thousand. Where am I going to get that much money?" Janet's said her voice rising in pitch.

Suddenly, upon hearing their conversation, Rod's head shot up. His interest was piqued. "Hey J, I can help you out," he was sitting at a table near the window.

"Go away Rod, I don't need your help," Janet replied, turning her back and ignoring him.

Sara rolled her eyes and asked, "What about insurance."

"They said it doesn't cover experimental treatments. Argh! I feel like hitting somebody. Why does this have to be so hard?" She said.

Rod got up from his seat and strolled over to where the girls were working. His six feet frame towering over them.

"Hey baby, I can take care of you if you just give me a chance." He told them.

"Hey, beat it; she doesn't need your kind of help!" Sara said as she stepped between Rod and Janet.

Sara was around the same height as Janet, but she was afraid of nothing. Rod held up his hands in surrender, winked at Janet and walked out of the diner.

"Ugh, I feel like I want to hurl," Janet said in mock nauseousness.

Sara was her best friend. They practically grew up together in the valley. She was the rock, the voice of reason at times when Janet wanted to give up. They both worked in the diner and mostly the same shifts, so it was easy to talk to her while they worked. They were very close and Sara always acted as her protector. There was nothing the girls wouldn't do for each other and often covered for each other when they got in trouble.

A wisp of dark hair fell loosely along Sara's temple. Her brown eyes studied her friend and saw the frustration etched in her face and eyes. She could always tell when something was wrong, because Janet's eyes would change color to a dark purplish hue.

Sara was a very attractive girl with a bit more curves. She also got her fair share of attention. Her hazel eyes were very captivating, but what stood out was her aggressive type of personality. This scared men away and she was content with that.

Sara felt sorry for Janet because she knew the situation and how hard her friend worked to take care of her mother. They lived in a small house in the valley and it was Janet who paid all the expenses since her mother could no longer work. Sara lived a few blocks away in a tiny apartment.

"Maybe you could ask "D" for a raise," Sara supplied.

The owner of the diner was Dineo Batelli, but everyone called him "D". He wasn't a mean man, but he could sometimes be quite harsh if you got on his nerves. Asking for a raise seemed very risky, so no one ever had the courage to ask.

It was rumored that his grandfather use to be part of the mafia. No one knew for sure if the rumors were true, but word on the streets that his father was killed on an 'assignment' for the boss, Dineo's grandfather. Indeed, the man was scary looking and had a very bad disposition. No one messed with him and his employees felt safe; because if anyone messed with his workers, they would have to deal with him.

"No way!" Janet said.

"It's worth a try," Sara encouraged.

"'D' would never agree," Janet wasn't about to risk agitating Dineo. His voice rolled like thunder when he was mad. His wife insisted he stay out of the dining area and manage things from his office at the back of the diner. He wasn't even allowed in the kitchen anymore.

When Dineo opened the Diner almost twenty years ago, it was just he and his wife. He was the cook back then and his wife, Bella, served. It was hard work and when she got pregnant, they hired their first employee. There were no shifts. The diner would open for breakfast and closed to prepare for lunch and then it would close after lunch to prepare for dinner.

Twenty years later, it was a twenty-four hour establishment with over a dozen people on staff. Bella now worked at the cashier station; there were two cooks, dishwashers and the servers.

Sara and Janet finished clearing the tables and started counting their tips.

"Think about it. It may not be much, but it's a start. What other options do you have?" Sara said.

Janet counted thirty dollars in all. By the time she went off her day shift she may end up with one hundred and fifty.

Janet hated when Sara made sense, but that's why they were so close, she could always rely on her friend to be the voice of reason and she badly needed that.

"I'll think about it." Janet responded.

Her idea was to find a better paying job, but that meant moving to the city. That was out of the question as long as her mother was home. If she could only come up with the money needed to send her mother to Canada, she would be able to work in New York.

It was beginning to stress Janet out that she was unable to do anything, but she did not give up. She decided that, as soon as she left work, she would continue her search for alternative treatments and a better paying job.

At one point she even thought of taking the insurance company to court but that would take years before a resolution might be met, and time was against them. If she didn't come up with the money in the next few months, her mother would die.

It was at these times that Janet resented her father for walking out. If he had been around things may have been easier on the family. In her mind, he was a coward for leaving them and running off with God knows who. She hoped he was suffering as much as they were.

After a short break from the morning crowd, the diner started filling up again with early lunchers. By eleven, there was hardly space to seat anyone. The food was excellent and the last couple of years, after Dineo suffered a mild heart attack, they began serving a healthy menu.

The menu consisted of the usual greasy fries, onion rings and burgers. There was the chicken potpie, which was one of the crowd favorites, but what surprised everyone was the egg white omelet, which was on the healthy menu and fast becoming the bestselling breakfast. During the summer, there were salads and sorbet added to the menu while winter service were stews and soups. The BLT was the lunch favorite, especially for the female patrons.

The diner was busy that day and Janet put talking to her boss completely out of her mind. There was no way he would give her a raise and it didn't make sense asking for extra shifts. So by the end of the day she had no real solution to her problems.

She headed straight to the hospital after work. She was informed that the insurance wouldn't last much longer so they had to figure out something before it ran out. This made Janet really upset.

At such a young age, she didn't have time to do what normal girls her age did, such as dating, hanging with friends and just having fun. Her mother felt guilty about not providing the life she wanted for her daughter and was thinking of going back to New Jersey, where her family home was, to die.

There was no one there. Barbara's parents were dead and her only sibling, Robert, lived in California. They had no idea how he was doing financially, in addition, he wanted nothing to do with the old house in which he grew up. She wasn't sure if it was still standing or if it needed repairs, but that didn't matter, she would die in a few months anyway.

When Janet arrived at the hospital Barbara wanted so much to tell her that she shouldn't worry, but she got scared. All they had were each other, and she didn't know how her daughter would react to her taking off, especially in her condition. She didn't want her daughter thinking she didn't need her, so she kept quiet while Janet told her about the diner.

"Sara thinks I should ask 'D' for a raise, but I don't think so," Janet said. She knew it was small talk, but she knew it kept her mother alert. It also made her feel involved in her life as well, which made her feel needed. "I'm going to try getting a loan Mom," she added.

"Do you think that's a good idea? I won't be able to help with payments," Barbara said.

"Don't worry about it mom. I'll put up the house. I may be able to get a third of the money. The house must be worth at least fifty thousand. I should be able to use it as collateral for a small loan."

Barbara fell silent. She knew her illness was causing her daughter a lot of stress and she wished there was something she could do to ease the pressure. Each day she got weaker and nauseous. The insurance was about to run out and what little savings she had was already used up for medication.

What made it worse was that lately she was in constant pain. She decided that Janet was going through enough and she made the doctor promise not to say anything. It was something she felt she needed to deal with because her daughter already had enough on her plate without having to worry about her in pain.

Janet was also considering selling the tiny house they occupied, just in case they didn't get the loan. It was just a little bigger than a trailer, but they could maybe get the entire fifty thousand for it. While her mom was in Canada, she would stay with Sara and save up for a small apartment for when her mother got home. She didn't mention selling the house to her mother because she didn't want to upset her.

It reached the point where Barbara could hardly get out of bed. She was looking frail and her baby-like skin started to wrinkle. She wasn't producing enough red blood cells and appeared quite pale and somewhat ashen. She was in pain most of the time and when she wasn't, she was drowsy from the pain medication.

There were times when nothing stayed down or she was too weak to eat. Janet struggled to come to terms with what may turn out to be inevitable. Somehow she refused to accept defeat and determined to save her mother's life, even if it meant taking a job she abhorred.

Someone told her that there was a place she could earn huge tips but she wasn't much of a dancer and the job entailed taking her clothes off in front of a bunch of horny men. She thought that maybe she would check it out and see for herself.

Before they finished their conversation, her mother fell asleep. She stayed a while, just lying beside her mom, trying to give her strength. She left the hospital that night with a heavy weight on her shoulders.

# Chapter Two

It was Saturday and she had the day off. Her plan was to clean the entire house before visiting her mother. Janet was going crazy. She's researched every possible way to get the money for treatment and came up empty. The job in the strip club was looking more and more enticing, but she held off, hoping to find a different way.

No matter how many shifts she worked or how many tables she waited, it would still not be enough for the treatment. Her meeting earlier that week with the bank didn't go so well. The house was basically falling apart and they refused her a loan. The realtor said it would be near impossible get the house sold, not in that neighborhood anyway. In addition, the house needed extensive repairs before she could even consider selling it.

While cleaning, she made notes of things she could do to make the house look better. Replacing the shingles would make the roof look new; changing the light fixtures and splashing some paint on would add character to the place. It would cost her some money to do it, but it was doable.

She was clearing her desk drawer and thinking about the repairs when he eyes caught something. She'd totally forgotten it was there. Janet picked up the white and gold plastic business card and ran her fingers over the words, which were embossed. The letters felt good under the fingers and she ran them over the words again.

It was a business card she had gotten from a patron at the diner. The woman had come in and sat quietly, looking around the place as if she'd lost something. Sara was busy with another table and even though it was her break time, she'd taken the order.

"Hello, may I take your order?" She had said.

The woman looked at her for a long time before replying. "You are such a beautiful young woman."

"Thank you," she beamed. "Would you like to order now?" Janet asked, again.

"Will you bring me coffee and a slice of you best pie?" she replied without looking at the menu.

When the woman left, Janet found a big tip beside the bill. She was back the next day and left another hundred-dollar tip. Janet was curious about her and inquired of her what she did. The woman smiled and handed her a card.

"I run a 'modeling' agency," she replied with a wink.

Janet surmised that this wasn't an ordinary modeling agency but rather an exclusive club of some sort.

"If you ever need to make some real cash, call me," the woman had said when she handed her a card.

It was made of plastic with red and gold embossed letters. On the card were the words "Intrigue" at the top and "Modeling Agency" at the subtitle position. Her name and address were in the lower right-hand corner.

Janet registered the name Lilith Hamilton and noted that the address was in the metropolitan area of New York City. She had pocketed the card out of politeness but had no intention of using it.

For one reason, she could not leave her mother and the next reason was that escorting was akin to prostitution, just that it was more discreet. She had no desire to trade herself like that so when she got home that night she dumped the card in the desk drawer and forgot about it.

She ran her fingers over the card absently once more, remembering the last time Lilith was at the diner. Janet believed she had been scouting for new 'models' at the time. The last tip was well over three hundred dollars and Sara almost went bonkers.

"Who tipped you this time?" she had asked.

Jane motioned her head towards the woman sitting at table two. She wore a white skirt suit, brown hair brushed back into a bun and expertly applied make-up. Sara nudged her and they giggled, "What _did_ you serve her?"

Staring at the woman, Jane could not help noticing the way her hips swayed as she left the table. The woman headed towards the restroom and their eyes followed her. Her clothes looked really expensive, Jane thought.

"She's so--so--," Sara stuttered.

"Sophisticated?" Jane offered.

"Yes!" Sara agreed.

Lilith was indeed beautiful. Her soft brown eyes smiled at Jane as she passed the counter where the girls were. It was her lips which betrayed a hardness that contrasted with her flawless face. Before she left Lilith gave one more plea for Janet to consider coming to join her 'agency' in New York.

"Just think about it," she said before disappearing through the diner door.

Janet was one of the diner's best servers, but it was rare that anyone left such a great tip. It was three months since Lilith came into the diner and Janet wondered if she would remember her. For a fleeting moment she thought of calling the number but instead, dropped the card in a drawer. She didn't know why she saved it but being an escort was not how she intended to support her mother.

After her cleaning, she went to pick up some groceries and fruits for her mother. Barbara was on a strict diet so she had to be careful what she bought. She was opening the front door, groceries in both hands when the phone started ringing.

Hurrying to get the bags inside, she tripped and almost fell, "God damn it!" She'd stubbed her toe on the side of the sofa.

It was the house phone and nobody called that except for the hospital. She hopped towards the phone on one leg, nursing her other big toe. Her heart started beating wildly in her chest and she had to take a few deep breaths to calm herself. Inhaling deeply she held her breath for the count of three then expelled it before picking up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Miss Burns?"

"Yes," she replied. Her voice sounded shallow to her.

"It's about your mother. She asked that you come to the hospital, it's urgent."

"Is she okay?" She asked the nurse.

"I'm not able to answer that. I think you should come quickly." The nurse politely hung up, leaving Janet feeling weak in the knees.

Leaving the grocery bags on the counter, she made a mad dash for the door. There were many thoughts gathering in her head. Had her mother taken a turn for the worse? Or more than that, is she... Janet could not finish the thought. She refused to let her mind get that far.

Stubbed toe forgotten, she was out the door and about to get in the beat up old Corolla her mother used to drive when Sara showed up. She took one look at Janet's face and knew something was wrong.

"What's going?' she inquired.

Janet sighed, "The hospital called. I've got to go."

"Let me drive. I don't think you should be driving around in that state."

"I'm okay," she insisted but Sara was not convinced. Sara took the keys from her hand and she reluctantly got into the passenger seat.

All the way to the hospital she kept wringing her hands. Sara stole an occasional glance at her but said nothing. Janet did not tell her what the hospital said and she never asked. She thought it best she waited until she got there to hear what was going on.

Janet got out at the hospital entrance and ran all the way up the stairs to the floor her mother was on. She didn't stop until she was in her mother's room where the woman was propped up on the bed, half asleep.

As soon as she entered the room her mother opened her eyes. For a moment, she hesitated before breathing a sigh of relief. "Mom!"

"Come baby," Barbara beckoned. "We need to talk."

"What's wrong?" She asked.

There was a soft knock at the door and both mother and daughter turned to see Sara's head popping around the door.

"Sara, come," Barbara called.

The young woman walked over to the bed and kissed the older woman on her cheek, "Hi Mrs. Burns, sorry I haven't come before."

"Don't worry about that, you're here now. Sit," Barbara replied, motioning to the chair beside the bed.

There was silence in the room for a few minutes and then Barbara took hold of Janet's hand. She could feel a slight tremor in her mother's hand and she held it tightly. Her heart started beating heavily as she anticipated what her mother was trying to say. She knew it wasn't good news from the seriousness in her eyes.

"Jan," Barbara started. "There's nothing more they can do for me here."

"You can't give up hope mom," she sought to reassure her mother.

"Listen to me. The insurance ran out."

"I'll work and pay for the meds, mom. I'll talk to the---," Barbara interrupted her.

"You will do no such thing. Do you know how expensive it would be to keep me here?"

"But mom---."

"I want to go home, to New Jersey," the older woman announced.

Confusion etched on Janet's face. "What are you talking about mom? I don't understand."

"I don't want to die here. I want to die in the house I grew up in," Barbara told her daughter.

A large part of her felt selfish for telling her daughter such things, knowing how hard Janet was working to make things better, but she didn't want to burden her any longer. She had worked it all out. Her friend Mary was willing to come with her. That would give Janet her freedom. She just had enough money left to live on for another couple of months. At the rate the disease was progressing she doubted she had that long.

"Mom, who will take care of you? You can't go there alone. I'll come with you then."

"No, you stay here."

"Mom."

"Mary is coming with me. She offered to come with me and stay with me."

Janet was getting upset. How could her mother do this? "Mom, I don't want you to go. I want to take care of you," she pleaded. They were still holding each other's hands and tears formed in the corner of her eyes. "You're not going mom, either that or I come with you," the last statement was made firmly.

Janet stood to her feet and wiped the tears that had trickled down her cheek. All the while Sara sat listening, not saying anything. She walked to the window of the tiny hospital room. It was the first time she was noticing how small the space actually was.

It couldn't be more than eight feet squared, maybe less. There was only space for the hospital bed, a small nightstand pushed into a corner and the chair, which Sara now occupied. There was hardly any space between the night table and the window. The closet was a tiny hole in the wall where her mother's belongings were kept.

It was still light out and she could see over the hospital courtyard. There was an ambulance pulling in while several people were milling around. When she turned around her mother was looking at her expectantly.

"Don't do anything just yet. Give me a couple days to sort something out. If I don't come up with anything in a few days, then I'll come with you to California."

"What will you do?" Barbara asked her daughter.

"Don't worry about it, mom. I have a few ideas."

Sara also was wondering what Janet had on her mind. Was there something she wasn't saying? Did she get the loan?

Sara noticed a difference in Janet as they walked out of the hospital and into the parking lot. Her shoulders were rigid and her jaw clenched tightly. Her eyes had a weird glow to them and her lips were set in a very tight line.

"Jan, what are you going to do?" Sara finally asked her.

"I don't know yet. I have something in mind, but I have to check it out first, okay."

Sara knew she wasn't going to get anything else out of her so she let the subject drop. She was still worried that Janet might do something drastic to save her mother's life. It crossed her mind that maybe she found her father and contacted him for help, but she knew Janet would have told her. Or would she? She began to wonder if there was something Janet was hiding that she could not tell her.

Janet dropped Sara off and headed home. She packed away the groceries, hoping the meat and milk hadn't gone bad. The fruits she'd bought for her mother was still there. In her haste, she'd failed to take them from the grocery bag so she put them in the fridge. Maybe she would take them the next day.

She was exhausted and had little appetite. Though her stomach churned she doubted she could eat a morsel. She poured herself some orange juice and turned on the television, but quickly turned it off as the noise irritated her.

Downing the juice in one gulp she poured another, placed the glass in the kitchen sink and headed for the bedroom. The house had one bathroom sitting between two tiny bedrooms. A large room served as living and dining, with a small open kitchen separated by a counter.

The house was like a two bedroom apartment, no bigger. The furniture was worn and fading, but the house was kept neat and clean. She remembered her mother always saying that even though they were poor they were not slobs and cleanliness brought good luck.

At that very moment, Janet wished that luck would come her way. She knew that what she was about to do was risky but it was the only way. The only problem was making the first move. She would toughen up and take whatever she had to do. It wouldn't be forever, just until she could make enough to pay for her mother's treatment.

Slowly she pulled the drawer open and picked up the business card. Taking a deep breath, she picked up the telephone receiver and listened to the dial tone. "No!" she cried into the empty house and replaced the black receiver into its cradle.

She walked back to the fridge and poured a glass of cold water. She sipped the liquid and allowed it to cool her. The summer was upon them and it was more than ninety degrees out. There was no air-conditioning in the house so inside was a bit humid.

She took another gulp of the water and placed the gold glass to her cheeks, "I can do this!" she told herself.

Her temperature had more to do with her working herself into a frazzle than it had to do with the atmosphere. Her skin was flushed and had turned pink. She walked back to the room and picked up the phone once more where she quickly dialed the cellular number.

As a female voice answered she took a deep breath, "Hello, Intrigue." The voice said. Janet had no idea what to say so she kept silent. The woman said hello once again.

"Hello?" she finally replied.

"How may I help you?" Lilith asked over the phone.

"It's Janet. I don't know if you remember me? From the Diner in the Valley?"

"Yes, so you finally called," Lilith sounded pleased. "So what can I do for you?"

"Can we talk somewhere?" she asked the woman.

"I can come to the diner---," Lilith started to say.

"No, not the diner. Somewhere discreet."

"Oh, I see. You want to _talk,"_ she stressed the last word as if to imply that the talking meant something important. "Where is best for you?"

"There is a coffee shop near Memorial Hospital, can we meet there?"

"I know the place, how about tomorrow? Say three, will you be free?"

"Yes, I can get someone to cover for me for a couple hours," Janet replied.

"Okay, see you then." The conversation ended there and she plopped herself down on the bed and expelled a breath she didn't realize she was holding.

She took a shower and decided to fix herself something to eat. Though she had no appetite and her stomach had taken in some butterflies, she had to keep up her strength, at least for her mother's sake.

She opened a can of meat sauce and boiled some pasta. It took her less than ten minutes to make her dinner. Added to her plate was some lettuce, tomatoes, Parmesan and dinner was served. She ate without tasting the food, but she did clean the plate. She put away the balance in the fridge for the next day's dinner, had another glass of water and tidied the kitchen.

She stood in the tiny living room and envisioned fixing up the place, or getting something bigger. If she was going to do this might as well make it worth the while, she thought. At first, she thought that maybe working enough for her mother's treatment was enough but she needed more.

Janet went to bed feeling quite calm. She'd made up her mind and there was no turning back. Well, she didn't give herself room to even think about changing her mind. It was the only way to save her mother and maybe make some extra cash in the process.

She fell asleep wondering what escorts really did and if she could handle all that it entailed.

# Chapter Three

Lilith arrived at exactly three. When she got there, Janet was already seated in the far corner nursing a coffee. Lilith immediately noticed how piques she looked. She was flushed and fidgeted nervously with the hand of the mug.

When Janet saw her, she waved her over. The older woman seated herself across from the young women and greeted her warmly. "Hi, nice to see you again."

"Thanks for meeting me," she replied. She tried her best to stay calm, but her chest felt heavy, she barely slept the night before and to make it worse she could hardly keep herself from bursting into tears.

Lilith could sense that something wasn't right, but she kept silent. She wanted to reach over and take Janet's hand bit she didn't know the girl well, so didn't know how she would react. "So, what can I do for you?"

Her throat constricted a bit and she had to swallow to get the words out. "I want to work with you," her voice cracked.

Lilith looked at her for a minute before replying. "Are you sure, you don't seem like you want to."

That did it for Janet. The tears started streaming down her cheeks without notice. A lump rose to her throat and she felt like she was sinking into an abyss. When Lilith saw this she didn't hold back, she reached over and covered the girl's hand with her own,

"What's wrong? You can talk to me," she cajoled.

It was like a dam bursting open. Janet found herself venting with tears and telling the woman she hardly knew about her mother and money problems. She told her if her mother didn't get the treatment she would die and she'd tried everything, but nothing was working in their favor.

Compassion came over the woman and she felt for the beautiful girl sitting across from her. A waiter came over, but Lilith sent her away, asking for privacy.

"Okay, we'll start you at the top, with the best clients. You'll have to sign a contract. When do you want to start?"

"I'll have to hand in my notice tomorrow. My boss is going to flip, but he knows my situation." She dried her tears and tried to get some control over her voice. It was as if a weight had lifted from her shoulders.

"So you'll start on Tuesday. This requires you to live in the Metro Area most of the time. You may have to find an apartment there," Lilith told her.

"I can do it. I'll do anything for my mom," she replied. "Thank you."

"No, thank you. You are going to be very popular. You're beautiful. Men will fall all over you," she paused. "Come to this address on Tuesday first thing. We need to get you ready."

"What do you mean?" she asked Lilith.

"I need to brief you on how things work. Have you ever, you know," Lilith made her gesture with her head but Janet didn't follow.

"I don't understand," she replied.

Lilith leaned across the table and whispered, "Have sex."

Janet flushed and lowered her eyes before answering, "Yes."

It was five years ago on her prom night. Randy was the school jock and they had been dating for two years. It was a silly thing to agree to because most of the other couples planned on doing it. She broke up with him right after and hasn't dated since.

"Good. Can you do your makeup?"

"I'm not very good at that, why?"

"You're a beautiful girl but I can't send you out looking like that. You need to get some clothes, do your hair and I'll show you a few makeup tricks," Lilith told her.

"Oh," she hadn't realized she needed to transform herself. She was so preoccupied with her mother that she hadn't thought through the entire process. She had a few hundred dollars saved up, she would use that to make herself presentable. "I'll go shopping in the morning and do my hair before I get there."

"Okay, you take care of those. I promise, within a couple of months, you'll have all you need to send you mother away."

"Okay," she agreed.

The atmosphere became lighter as the two women got to know each other. They ordered coffee and sandwiches, and Janet had no idea she was so hungry. She woofed the sandwich and ordered a slice of apple pie and another coffee.

She left the café much better than when she came. Her only problem was letting her boss know she was quitting. The best thing would have been to give him notice but under the circumstances she could not wait two weeks.

She also didn't know what she would tell her best friend. It wasn't something she wanted to disclose and thought that maybe keeping it to herself was the best thing for the time being. She also had no idea what Sara would think. She had a feeling she would disapprove and she was not in the frame of mind for a lecture from her.

* * * *

She was right, Dineo wasn't happy, but when she told him she found another job he understood. He knew her mother was ailing so that was what saved her from his wrath. He gave her double her salary and told her he would have given her a raise had she asked.

She also had to tell Sara something.

"You found a job?" Sara was in disbelief.

"Yeah," she replied.

"Doing what?" her friend prodded.

"Er, a companion of sorts,' she replied. That's as much as she would give.

"Oh, you'll be like a nursemaid?" Sara sounded excited. "I heard it pays well, but will you save the money in time for your mom's treatment?"

"Hmm."

"Wow. You lucky girl," Sara playfully punched her shoulder.

She felt awful for misguiding her but she could not tell her the truth. She'll tell her soon enough, she thought, but not now. They hugged and promised to call each other at least once every week. Janet promised she would come visit as often as possible on her days off. Leaving the Diner where she'd worked for the last five years was sad and she knew instantly she was going to miss it, a lot.

She spent the rest of the afternoon at the hospital with her mother who was pleased with the news. Barbara cried tears of joy and sadness at the same time. She was happy that her daughter had found a way to get her to Canada; but she was saddened that they would not be able to see each other every day because her job meant a lot of time in the city.

She left the hospital feeling much better. As far as her mother was concerned, she also believed she was going to be some old person's companion in the city. The hospital was discharging her mother because the insurance had run out. Janet had hoped that she would remain there until she came up with the money, but they said there was nothing they could do. It was now left up to her to work her magic.

It was around seven that Monday when she kissed her mother goodbye, promising to come home on her days off. A tiny hand of fear gripped a corner of her heart, telling her that she may never see her mother again.

At home, Janet went through all her stuff to see what would be good enough to take with her. She had no idea where she would be staying but she had enough money just for some clothes, her hair and maybe two nights in a hotel, if needed.

There wasn't much she had that would make her look the part. She dumped a few underwear, sleepwear, a couple books and her passport in an overnight bag. Before she left the following morning, she turned off the heat, the gas and locked up. Barbara would turn them back on when she got home. There wasn't anything to steal, but you can never be too careful.

She left her car parked out front and took a taxi to the mall where she had her hair done before boarding the train. Janet felt like she was entering another dimension where she was a total stranger. Having no idea what awaited her, she resolved her mind to her fate, whatever that was.

# Chapter Four

By the time she got to Lilith's townhouse it was close to eleven o'clock that morning. She hadn't yet shopped so she hoped to do that after the makeup session. Her makeup skills were disastrous and she was glad for the opportunity to learn from someone with experience.

After the session, Lilith told her she could stay at the townhouse for a few days while she found a flat close by. She told her she hardly used the place because she had an apartment over the office and she spent most of her time there. That's where they headed next, after which she dropped her off at the Manhattan Hall.

Situated across this vast shopping center was Macy's and little further was the Empire state building. Janet was in awe, she hardly ever left her home in The Valley and was always amazed at the how different the city as. She found a few items on sale and bought four outfits in total, with matching accessories.

New York proved to be very expensive, she hardly had money left over for travel. Her first job was scheduled for that evening and she wanted to look her best. She thought about going back to the townhouse to get ready but decided on Lilith's office instead.

By the time she got there, it was almost six and her date was at seven. She quickly took a shower and changed into a blue cocktail dress, one that matched the color of her eyes. She had straightened her hair and trimmed the ends. It hung loosely about her shoulders and glistened from the luxurious treatments the stylist used.

Her one treat to herself was a bottle of Abercrombie perfume for almost two hundred dollars. She'd never splurged on herself before and thought she needed something that would make her smell as good as Lilith did, rather than the cheap eau de toilets she usually used.

She was ready by six thirty and Lilith gave her the address. It was the Langham Place Hotel on Fifth Avenue. As she rode the taxi, she realized her palms started to feel clammy. She had been so busy all day that that she didn't realize how nerve wracking the whole experience was turning out to be.

There was no face to the name she was given. No information about her date. All she knew was that he was a very profitable client, and maybe a big tipper. By the time she reached the hotel she felt like she needed a paper bag to breathe in.

"Here we are Miss," the driver announced.

She paid him and step onto the pavement in front of the skyscraper called a hotel. Her knees felt weak and her stomach quite queasy. Added to that, she hadn't eaten all day and felt a slight light-headedness. Taking a deep breath she ventured in, each step a burden as they got heavier, the nearer she got to her fate.

* * * *

Several suits were strewn across the king-sized bed. Every few seconds Matthew picked up a tie and matched it with a different color shirt. Not satisfied he threw them back on the bed each time. It was ten minutes to seven and he hadn't chosen an outfit. He was clad in his undershirt, boxers and socks.

For the umpteenth time, he ran the brush through his sandy brown hair. Green-grey eyes stared back at him in the mirror of the dressing table. "What am I doing?" he questioned, hearing his voice echo in the empty hotel suite.

He stood at six feet two inches, broad shoulders with biceps that flexed when he moved his arms. His angular jawline and ample sensual lips made him quite eye catching. He finally decided on the silver tie with white shirt and black suit.

Quickly he threw everything back in the closet and just had enough time to slather on some after-shave before he heard a knock at the door. He'd ordered dinner which would be served in the suite so he wasn't sure if it was room service or his guest. He answered the door with a heart that was beating way too fast.

She stood there looking up at him with eyes that were as blue as the ocean. He looked at her from head to toe and noticed how the blue dress clung to her curves. Her legs were long and slender, but she seemed uncomfortable in her three-inch heels.

"Hi," she greeted with an outstretched hand.

Matt took the hand offered to him and returned her greeting, "Hi. Please, come in."

His voice was rich and smooth, and his hand warm. Timidly she pulled her hand away and stepped into the luxurious suite. Her pulses had quickened at his touch which she thought had more to do with her nerves than anything else.

"Please, this way," Matt guided her towards the main area and offered her a seat. "Would you like a drink?"

She opted for the red wine and sat on the plush beige sofa. The suite was very spacious with a sidebar and small area that could be used as a kitchen. Off to the left was a door which Janet construed to be a bedroom.

The wine warmed her stomach and somewhat offered a calming effect on her nerves. She stole little glances at her host as he prepared his own drink, which was mineral water with lime. She couldn't help noticing how his suit fitted him perfectly as if tailor-made for him. She could see his thighs moved beneath the dark fabric of the pants as walked towards her.

Her breath caught a little when he came and sat opposite her. "I'm sorry, I'm Matt...Matthew, my friends call me Matt."

"I'm Janet, my friends call me Jan," she offered, for want of something better to say. As she spoke, she looked away shyly, or rather nervously. All she wanted to do was get up and bolt through the door, but her debt kept her buttocks rooted to the sofa.

"It's your first time too?" she heard Matt ask. Her eyes lifted and they both breathed a sigh of relief.

"Yes," she softly responded. "This is your first time, I mean getting a ' _date_ '?"

He knew exactly what she was asking and he responded by nodding. Matt was a software developer who owned his own company. When he was only seventeen, he created an app which made him one of the wealthiest teens in the state. At twenty-seven, he was worth millions.

Getting a date through a service was new to Matt. After he caught his fiancée with another man he almost went off the deep end. It took some doing to get to the point where he started taking meetings again or showing interest in his business. His best friend, after seeing him lose control, shoved a business card in his pocket and told him to use it. It took him nearly two months to make the call.

He had no idea how things worked and was hoping to get some guidance from his date. However, it was a welcome relief to find out that Janet was also new at this. "I took the liberty of ordering dinner. I thought it would be a good place to start. I hope you don't mind."

"I don't mind," she replied.

Janet found herself relaxing. She didn't know if it was the wine or Matt. His voice was soothing enough, and the fact that she was his first escort was a pleasant surprise. When she was on her way to the hotel she had no idea what to expect, but she always thought that only old men chartered dates. It was a shock to see a handsome young man opening the door.

At first there was awkwardness between them but they soon started to relax when they learned they were both novices. Matt offered to refill her glass, but she refused, telling him she didn't want to get drunk.

The dinner arrived half past the hour. They'd spent most of the thirty minutes before having small talk, nothing personal. Matt sent the waiter away and served the meal himself. The coq au vin was accompanied by parsley potatoes, buttered green beans and strawberry sorbet for desert.

Matt picked up the conversation by asking Janet about herself. She told him the story behind her becoming a 'model' and how she met Lilith. He was very impressed. There was something about her that made him sit up and pay attention. He hung onto every word as her soft silky voice washed over him.

By the time dinner ended he was captivated by her. He turned on the sounds of Bach and walked over to the window. He could feel the tension building inside him as his needs awakened. It was strange for he thought an encounter like this would be purely physical, but something about Janet evoked other emotions.

She knew it was approaching that time and she wondered if he dreaded it as much as she did. Was he avoiding her by standing by the window? His back was turned and he seemed to be in deep thought. She stood and made a step towards him. If nothing happened she wouldn't get paid and she would not be able to send her mother to Canada.

She'd made one step when he turned. She stopped and stared at him as he moved towards her. Without a word, he wrapped one arm around her waist and held her hand with the other. Oh, he wants to dance, she thought.

He led her slowly to the sound of the orchestra. She felt his heat through this jacket. His aftershave was intoxicating and she closed her eyes, inhaling his musky make scent. A pulse throbbed out of control at her throat. She felt his heart thud against her and she smiled.

Slowly his head descended and her face turned towards him. Their lips met hesitantly, then pulled apart. They met again in a soft kiss that deepened gradually. Their tongues met as their bodies closed the small gap between them.

Finally they pulled apart just long enough so Matt could kiss her neck before trailing his lips along her cleavage. He then reached behind her and unzipped her dress, which fell to the floor in a soft thud. A tremor escaped his hand as he unclasped her bra, revealing high firm breast with small button nipples. He was in awe of how beautiful she was and he stood transfixed for a few minutes.

It had taken every ounce of courage to get the ball rolling. He was the conqueror type and had never been with a woman he'd just met, but he had needs and better a beautiful woman than not. There was chemistry between them, which made it easier to make love to her.

He was staring and Janet began to feel self-conscious. She tried not to show how nervous she was by standing still, but he just stood there. A shutter came over his eyes and he moved forward and swept her up in one movement. It took him about five strides to reach the bedroom and placed her on the bed.

The room smelled of aftershave and that musky male scent he had. The smell awakened her senses and her pulse began to leap. He started removing his jacket and she closed her eyes, briefly. Curiosity made them open them again. He was removing his shirt. She gasped when she saw his chiseled chest and lean arms. The six bulges on his torso was revealed as he dropped his pants to the floor.

The only thought that came to mind at the sight of Matt was magnificent. She'd never seen a man looking so good except for those in magazines or on television. There was one on his left rib cage that looked like a surgical scar.

Her breath started to come in shallow gulps watching him remove the rest of his clothing. She was right, his thighs were muscled. His boxers were the last to go, exposing his pride. At some point she thought it would be scary but on the contrary, she had the greatest urge to touch it.

Matt closed the distance between them. Lightly he kissed her cheeks, followed by her eyes and finally her lips where he lingered for a while. His hand came up to cup one of her breasts. It fitted perfectly in his palm and he gently rubbed his thumb across the nipple. Wanting to taste her, his lips came down on the other nipple. Gently he sucked and licked its tip until it became taut.

She arched her back as sensations ripped through her unexpectedly. Never had she felt such electric shockwaves. It was like being hit with a thousand lightning bolts. Her body wanted things she'd never imagined and it was a total stranger doing that to her.

When his finger touched her clit she jumped. She was wet and she knew it. His fingertip ran over her clit and a gush of sticky substance escaped her opening. He stroked her again and again which made her groan in pleasure. He came and covered her body with his. The heat of his skin on hers shocked her, but she liked the way it felt.

The tip of his shaft was touching her opening, she began to throb. He moved his hips and it slipped in just a little. He withdrew and then slid in just a little more. She twined her arms around his neck and brought his lips down to her hers. Her legs came up and wrapped around his, hugging him completely.

Finally, Matt plunged into her cavern, filling her to the extreme. Then, they slowly started to move together, dancing to the rhythm of the music still playing on the stereo. Gradually the tempo increased as their bodies rocked back and forth.

Janet felt herself rise. Her body tightened around Matt. She arched her back and thrust her hips up to meet his grind. It happened nothing like she imagined. Another volt of electricity ran through her body, the hair on her head stood on ends and something deep in the pit of her stomach burst open, then it flooded her mind and body.

Her scream was muffled by Matt's kiss as a warm fluid coated his manhood and she gripped him with her walls. No longer could he maintain his control, the coil untwined inside his belly and shattered in his groin. He stiffened as his release came. A feral sound escaped him and he made one last thrust deep inside her before his trembling arms gave out.

They lay there for about ten minutes, trying to steady their breaths before Janet decided she had to leave. She escaped to the bathroom to dress and figure out what the hell...or heaven just happened. Was it supposed to be like this? Wasn't this supposed to be reserved for couples, people in love? Because that's what it felt like.

When she came out, she saw a pile of cash next to her purse. She knew it was her fee but somehow she felt weird so instead of counting it there she stuffed it into her bag and said Matt goodbye.

"Thank you," he said and kissed her.

It wasn't until she was safely in the townhouse that she emptied the money on the bed and counted it. Her jaw dropped open when she counted five thousand dollars. She didn't know how to take that, but what she did know was that she had only forty-five thousand more to go.

As Janet took a shower before bed, she remembered how her body reacted to Matt's lovemaking. Coming into the escort business felt dirty to her. She had prepared her mind for the grimy feel it would give afterwards, but this was unexpected. She didn't feel dirty with Matt. She wished that he were her only client. She knew that wasn't to be and was not looking forward to it at all.

### Thank you for reading!

## Please visit your favorite eBook retailer to view the next books in the "Escort in the City Series"
Romancing The White Billionaire

by

Sasha Franks
Copyright © 2017 by Sasha Franks

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Romancing The White Billionaire

All rights reserved.

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. No part of this work may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording and faxing, or by any information storage and retrieval system by anyone but the purchaser for their own personal use.

This book may not be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of Sasha Franks, except in the case of a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages for the sake of a review written for inclusions in a magazine, newspaper, or journal—and these cases require written approval from Sasha Franks prior to publication. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.

# Chapter One

"Remember the first time we came here?"

"I do," I said as I looked around at the dark field. There was a large oak tree off in the distance, I could just make it out among the large man-made lake that some of its branches shadowed.

"Remember our first kiss?"

"Yes, of course Ethan! What is this about?" I asked impatiently.

Today was just a normal ordinary day. I got up, got dressed in my usual attire as an accountant, and later came back to my apartment.

I hadn't planned anything besides heating up the leftovers that I had from last night, having a long conversation with my boyfriend via Skype, and eventually turning in for the night after a relaxing bubble bath.

So when I got a knock on my door at a quarter to seven, I was definitely not expecting Ethan to be standing there with roses in hand, and an invite to walk down memory lane.

"Be patient my love, just wait," He assured as we continued to walk towards the tree.

"Okay, I'll be patient."

"Good. Remember what I told you that first day under the Oak tree, you know, the night of our first date?" he asked as his arm wrapped snugly around my waist.

"Like it was yesterday," I said closing my eyes momentarily as my mind went back to those words.

"I love you like I've never loved anyone before," he whispered softly in my ear in the present just as he had in the past.

"I can't believe that I found you at such a young age," I said truthfully as we were now standing under the branches.

"Me neither, baby," he said through that beautiful smile that I'd grown to love.

We stood there, just gazing into each other's eyes as the water from the lake lapped at the man-made shore. The grass was plush like carpet under the soles of our feet, and the soft breeze helped in the creation of goose bumps rising on my long brown arms. He reached his dark chocolate hand up to run it through my loose black curls as they tickled my shoulder blades.

His full lips held a smile that lit up his deep brown eyes. His chiseled jaw was lightly dusted with facial hair; something that he knew heightened his sex appeal.

"I could get lost in those honey brown eyes." he told me before leaning in to gently kiss my forehead.

My eyes shut tight at the warmth of his kiss, and my heart continued to pound deep in my chest. God I loved this man so much. He was my everything, my world, my...

"Ethan?" I asked abruptly as he loosened his fingers from my locks and began to kneel. I was taken by surprise, so much so, that I couldn't believe what was going on around me.

As if on cue, a thousand little lights began to make their presence known among the branches of the tree, and after getting a closer look, I could see that they were soft white Christmas lights.

When I looked back down to Ethan, I gasped. In his hand, was a little black box that he opened to reveal a small but stunning diamond ring.

"Marry me, Jaida, so that we can add this memory to our very own special place."

"Ethan..." I said through the tears that were welling up behind my eyes.

"Jaida...Jaida! Ms. Jaida!"

I hadn't realized that I'd drifted off into la-la land when my boss walked in through the door. I immediately straightened my posture and organized my desk in the appropriate manner as she walked further into my office.

Folding my hands neatly in front of me, I looked up and into the eyes of Mrs. Gallagher. She was a tall woman with hair the color of the warm sunset. Her eyes were as vivid blue as the sapphire necklace that I never saw her without.

She was a thick woman, and dressed herself to accentuate her curves in the most professional way. I smiled as she pulled out a chair in front of my desk to sit, and waited patiently as she sifted through a crisp manila folder. She was making me extremely nervous.

First she catches me daydreaming, next she's firing me a week and three days before my wedding. I really needed to get a grip, I swear Ethan's pre-wedding jitters are contagious; he'd been pretty jumpy lately. But most men were right before the wedding; it's what I expected.

"Daydreaming again Ms. Jaida?" Mrs. Gallagher asked interrupting my thoughts yet again.

"I'm so sorry, I just have a lot on my mind lately; I'm ok, anyway, did you need something?" I asked as I forced myself to relax a little.

"You can relax all the way now, I'm not in here to fire you," she reassured, laughing slightly as she saw my noticeable change in posture.

"Oh, thank goodness," I breathed.

"Am I really that much of a hard ass?" Mrs. Gallagher asked she finally found the paper she had been rifling through that folder for.

"Of course not! No, I just-I'm so distracted and I really did not want that to reflect on my work here at the firm..."

Mrs. Gallagher dismissed my worries with a wave of her hand.

"Relax; I know how stressful planning a wedding around work can be. That is exactly why I am giving you this to sign and date," she said handing the sheet to me.

I noticed immediately that it was my pay stub. I was a little confused; I didn't get paid until Tuesday, though it was Monday, it was still unexpected. I began to fold it and put it away in my desk like I normally did, when I heard Mrs. Gallagher pointedly clear her throat.

When I looked up at her, I noticed an almost complacent grin on her small red lips. Looking back down at my pay stub, I noticed that my vacation time that I had put in for had been approved. Not only that, but an extra week had been added on, fully paid, and starting...

"This week? But it's only nine in the morning and I have so much to do today..."

"I'll see you in two weeks Ms. Peterson," Mrs. Gallagher said as she stood up and extended her hand.

"Thank you so much, I really appreciate this," I said as I took her hand in a friendly shake.

"You deserve it," she said with a nod, and with that, she was out of the room. Cleaning up my desk and shutting down my computer didn't take long. With a glance at my surroundings to make sure that I hadn't left anything behind, I turned around and made my way to open, and then lock my office door behind me.

My evening went normal as per usual, save for the fact that my fiancé didn't last for too long on Skype. I tried to see him earlier today with lunch in hand, but he was too busy with a patient. It didn't bothered me too much; he was very busy with his new medical career. At thirty-two, Ethan had graduated from medical school, and started working immediately after.

He'd already been offered a job at one of the best hospitals in the state of California; and was making a good living. I, on the other hand, hadn't gotten the ball rolling as well. I barely made it through school, and finding a job was tough. Luckily for me, I happened to know one of the women who worked in the firm I currently work for. She put in a good word for me with Mrs. Gallagher.

Ethan didn't live too far from here, but he did live far enough away from me to spend at least one hour in traffic to get to me. And even though that is a lot of time spent back and forth in a car, it's my preference. I'm old-fashioned in that sense. Though I'm not a virgin, I did want some things traditional.

The moment we get back from our honeymoon, I will be moving out of my little nest to live in his palace. Looking around at the plush beige furniture, the vivid yellows and purples of my flowers and the modernized style of my apartment, I began to feel a pang of sadness. This place was all my own, and in a matter of a little under a month, I would no longer call this place my home.

I took a deep breath and sank deeper into the comfort of my couch. The sound of the alarm going off on my phone gave my heart false hope when I noticed that it wasn't a call from my Ethan. I wondered what he was up to; he seemed like he had a lot of things to do. I hoped that it wasn't going to keep him up too late.

There was no use worrying myself over it too much. Taking a deep breath as I soaked in a few extra seconds on the couch, I reached over and switched off the light before proceeding down the hall to bed.

***

It had been such a long time since I'd woken up on my own free will. Typically the alarm clock would have woken me up with its violent screaming by now. The malleable plush of the memory foam, that formed to make my queen sized bed, hugged my curves oh so well as I stretched my muscles to relieve the ache of a long night's sleep. A moan escaped my throat as I rolled over on my stomach; my hair forming like a cumulus cloud around my head.

The light from late morning barely made its way around my thick bamboo blinds. My head still against my pillow, I reached beneath it to find my phone. I knew that it was bad for the battery, but I'd kept it close to me all night, just in case Ethan called. My eyes hadn't fully adjusted to the light, making it hard not to shield my eyes from the bright light of my screen.

"Ethan called me last night?" I said aloud as I immediately called him back.

The phone rung for a few seconds before I heard his voice. Unfortunately, it was the sound of his voicemail. Pulling my phone away from my ear, I checked the time and noticed that it was nine.

Ethan should be at work; better not bother him with one thousand calls, texts, and voice messages. I felt so desperate, but it was because I was missing my fiancé. I figured that maybe I should go back to sleep and wait for Ethan to call me back, but before I could get comfortable, I heard a knock at my door. I checked the time again in confusion...I wasn't expecting anyone?

Was it one of my brothers? I thought as I walked down the hallway, smoothing my hair out as I neared the door. Looking down at myself to make sure that everything was in place, I lifted my gaze to the door before opening it.

"Ethan!" I said forgetting my composure as I wrapped my arms around his neck.

"Good morning, baby," he responded with a swift kiss to my forehead. He seemed a little tense.

"How are you? I missed you so much," I said giving him a tight squeeze before backing away to study him. He seemed different, as if something had changed.

"Go get some clothes on, let me take you to breakfast."

"Are you sure? Don't you have to work?" I asked.

We were now standing in my living room an arms length away from each other.

"Aww, are we going somewhere special?" I asked as I set out on my task.

"That's for me to know and for you to find out, babe, so go get ready," he said with a wink before I turned around and walked to he bedroom with a skip in my step.

# Chapter Two

I love how Ethan spoils me. Though he's been distant lately, I realize now that it's purely just the wedding jitters. During our drive I brought up the arrangements for the wedding a couple of times, and he seemed sort of jumpy, so I let it go while we were still in the car. When we finally stopped, it was at our favorite restaurant, the one we used to frequent while he was in school.

Everyone there knew us by name, what they didn't know is that we were recently engaged. When the owners caught wind, they immediately offered to pay for our dinners, and a complimentary bottle of champagne.

I noticed how Ethan looked at me when I told them of our news. He seemed shocked, almost as if it were a secret. I noticed that he was also a little more subdued during the meal. He didn't seem like he was as hungry as he should be, being that he had a juicy sirloin steaming in front of him.

When it was time to leave, the owners congratulated us once again before we headed off into the night.

"I can't wait for us to be married," I said reaching over to cup the back of his neck in a warm embrace. He tensed just a little before relaxing and giving me a small smile.

"Yeah," he said looking back to the road and giving a nod.

"What's wrong?" I asked, noticing his change in demeanor.

"Nothing baby, nothing, let's just...talk about something else," He said reaching over and forcing a smile as he patted my thigh. I nodded my head in compliance before looking ahead of me.

These pre-wedding jitters were really getting the best of him.

***

It was now three days before the biggest day of my life. We'd had our rehearsal just a few hours ago, and now we were on our way to the rehearsal dinner. Though the ride was short, we still didn't say much to each other. Boy I've never seen him this tense; not even for his medical exams. I decided to let it go whenever he would get tense like this, especially after that first time he asked me to talk about something else.

I figured that he needed time to deal with this on his own. As we arrived at our destination, Ethan opened the car door for me and held my hand in his as we made it through the doors of my Uncle's restaurant. It was a small place, but it was decorated beautifully. He'd reserved the place entirely for us, and as we sat down at our designated table, our family began to come in.

I looked to my right at Ethan; I couldn't quite describe the look on his face. I could describe how much I didn't like it though. It made me feel uneasy. I reached over to squeeze his leg; he didn't look over at me, though he did smile.

I smiled as well, and even though I wanted more, I decided to let the evening happen. As my family began to fill their seats, and the champagne was poured, I relaxed after a small flute. The champagne was very sweet; just the way I loved it. The vibe overall was great, and the toasts that were made brought tears to my eyes.

I looked over at Ethan; my eyes were brimming with tears to see that he was already looking at me. He was smiling, warmly for the first time in days. I could see and feel the love in his eyes as he stared straight through mine and into my soul. I knew he could see his mate in me. Our emotions were mirrored so perfectly, it was like a fairytale.

# Chapter Three

I realized in an instant that something was wrong. I was in my car when my phone rang. I noticed that it was Ethan and instantly my heart started thrumming in my chest. It was the day before our wedding and I was supposed to be on my way to my best friend's house for my bachelorette party. But Ethan seemed urgent; he couldn't tell me over the phone and had asked to meet in person.

"Just meet me by our tree!" he'd said when I tried to ask him for further information.

"Okay, Ethan...I'll be there," I had said before he hung up the conversation. As I drove on towards our favorite little spot, my mind kept racing. I could not for the life of me keep my thoughts quiet, nor could I keep them positive.

I wanted to think romantically; here Ethan was on the night of his bachelor party and he wanted to see me. But on the other hand I couldn't. He seemed so anxious, so...frustrated with me, and I hadn't even done anything.

Nearing the corner, I slowed down just before the road ended and the gravel path started. Parking my car off to the side, I carefully got out, and proceeded down the half-lit trail. Making my way further towards my destination, I took off my heels and let my bare feet touch the dew-soaked grass.

I could barely make out a tall, dark figure in the distance, but I knew that it was Ethan. As I came closer, he noticed me, but didn't come towards me. The only light that guided my path now, was from the full moon. Though there were no other lights, I could still see pretty clearly. I could see clearly enough to notice that Ethan was troubled. I stopped a few paces in front of him.

He hadn't looked up at me since I neared him. I knew him too well to think positively at this moment. There was something wrong, something terribly wrong. The wrinkles he was creating in his forehead were so prominent that I felt they were permanent. As I looked closer, I couldn't believe my eyes. His face was tired, over tired, like he hadn't gotten any sleep. I noticed the bags that I had never seen before had moved in under his eyes.

"You've been stewing over whatever this is for a long time," I stated simply.

"I don't know how to tell you this. Jaida...I still love you..." he said, though he still hadn't looked at me.

"Ethan, look at me..."

"Jaida! Just let me think!" he said cutting me off.

Though they were only words, they cut like a knife. It wasn't the words that hurt, it was the inflection. The tone that he threw at me. The volume of his voice.

"I've been thinking about this for about two weeks now...Jaida...I don't want to marry you."

"What..." my voice broke off, and came out as a pained gasp.

"I'm sorry Jaida," he said, his eyes on his feet.

"Look at me," I demanded softly.

"Jaida..."

"Look at me!!" I screamed.

He flinched at the sound of my voice, but he did as I asked. He looked at me. That's when I saw it. That's when I saw the guilt, the pain, and most importantly...I saw that he was not as upset by this as I was.

"Ethan why? Why are you doing this to me the night before our wedding?" I asked; the tears were pouring down and creating mascara lines in their wake.

"I don't think that's important..."

"I deserve to know why the love of my life is calling off our wedding! Ethan tell me now!"

"Come on Jaida, I'm just not ready! Why do you need to know so badly?"

"Damn it Ethan! We have been in a relationship since high school, there is no way you're not ready!" I said becoming exasperated with the conversation. He was jerking me around, and I knew it. It pissed me off so much that all I could think about was hitting him across the mouth.

"I cheated on you...twice."

I wanted to hit him, but he beat me to the punch. His words were so harsh that they knocked the wind out of me. I took a step backward and nearly stumbled; the shock from his words made me clumsy. My hand came up to wipe at the stains of my tears as I turned around. I couldn't look at him; I couldn't even bare to be around him at that moment.

"It was a mistake, but once I did it I couldn't take it back. It was with two different women," he said quietly behind me, causing me to sob.

"Two..." was all I could muster.

"Jaida, I didn't want to hurt you."

I wiped at my tears once more before turning around to face that man who I'd never hated so much in my life. He went from high school sweetheart, to piece of garbage in two seconds flat.

"When did you do this?" I asked him.

"Back in college, and then the night of our engagement" he said causing me to moan as if he'd hit me again.

I turned around to leave; I couldn't stand there any longer. I couldn't bear to hear any more from him. I made it only a few steps however; he'd grabbed my arm to stop me. I tried to jerk free, but he wouldn't let me go.

"Let go!" I screamed before turning around with all of my strength, and punching him in the face.

Normally I wasn't violent. But I'd had part of my childhood and the beginning of my adult life spit in my face as if it meant nothing to him. His head jerked back from the impact of the hit, and he stumbled backward while holding his jaw. I didn't want to hurt him, but at least he let me go.

"We are done! Do you understand me? We're done! I _never_ want to see your face, hear your voice, or read your sorry ass messages! You will not call my phone, you will not come to my home, and you definitely will not be a part of my life anymore!" I said as he stood there watching me in shock.

He wasn't expecting the hit, although he's the one who threw the first punch. His lip was bleeding a little amount of blood, but he'd heal. The wound he left on my heart was something that I would never recover from. As I walked away from him, I heard him say that he still loved me before I picked up my pace until I was running towards my car. My shoes were knocking together violently in my hand as I ran faster and faster towards my vehicle. My breath was ragged as I reached the car.

Unlocking my door was harder than it should've been as I fought to see through the blinding tears. When I finally got the door open, I got in my car, cranked the ignition and shot off down the road. I heard a ring on my phone that I'd left in the car. I thought it might have been him so I hesitated. It finally went to voicemail but then picked up once again. Reaching over into the passenger seat, I grabbed the phone and answered it without looking.

"Hello?" I answered with my voice full of emotion.

"Jaida, honey what's wrong?" I heard my best friend ask in a worried tone.

"Nothing, I'm fine," I lied.

"Girl! You better tell me what's wrong right now!"

"I'll tell you when I get there," I said, turning off the exit to change direction. I was already halfway home when I remembered that I still had my bachelorette party to attend. I knew that I wouldn't be up for the party, but my best friend was who I really needed right now.

"Okay girl, I wish you would tell me now, but I can wait. I'll let the girls know too, all right?"

"Ok, thank you, goodbye."

My best friend's house wasn't too far from me, actually the exit I took put me right next to her neighborhood. Coming up on her neighborhood, I drove a few yards down before I came to her house. There were a lot of cars, but I could see some of the girls were leaving.

I drove past them, hoping they wouldn't recognize my car. I didn't want anybody to see me like this except my best friend. I decided to pull up on the grass at a neighbor's house and waited for the rest of the girls to leave. Once they were gone, I pulled up and parked in her driveway.

She knew right away when she saw me. She knew those tears, she'd felt that same pain. When we were in high school she too had a sweetheart, but he cheated on her with her sister. She'd remarried since, but she had severe trust issues. Her husband was quite the man to put up with it, but that's why we all admired him so much. The most awkward part about it was that my now ex fiancé and my best friend Josie's husband, were best friends in college. He was actually at the bachelor party, or he was supposed to be. I wondered, as I walked into her living room and sat down on her couch with a glass of red wine, if Ethan had called off his bachelor party as I did.

"When did it happen?" Josie inquired.

"The first time or the second time?" I asked in response. Josie rolled her hazel eyes and sucked her teeth.

"I should've known his big black ass was cheating. All those muscles and those straight white teeth!" Josie could always make me laugh.

"Josie! I am trying to be mad," I said after a chuckle.

"I'm for real, Jaida, that man has always had hungry eyes," she said seriously.

"Yeah but I thought they were all for me. At least I got to hit him once," I said massaging my knuckles.

"Shut up! No you didn't!" she said genuinely surprised.

"It just came out of me, I feel bad about it...but at the same time I don't. I felt hit when he told me, it was like a punch to the kidneys," I said leaning back as I reached down to touch my sore feet. I hadn't put my shoes back on, and rode all the way to Josie's house barefooted.

"Girl, you let him off easy! You remember what happened with my break-up after I caught Daryl cheating on me?" she stated rather than asking the question. God knows I would never forget that day.

It was on a Saturday afternoon, and Josie and I had just gotten our nails done. Ethan was still at school, and I was off that day. At the time, I was actually living with Josie while I scraped by through college.

We hadn't planned on going back to the apartment; we were supposed to go straight to a movie. Josie had forgotten her movie card, and decided that since we were going to pass our place on the way there, we might as well stop.

"These neighbors always have people over; they never heard of guest parking?" I remember Josie saying as we passed her taken parking spot.

"Ugh, I live here and I never would park in your spot," I said as Josie unbuckled her seat belt.

"Exactly. I'll be right back, girl," Josie had said before jumping out of the car to go into the house.

I remember admiring my nails and relaxing against the car seat as I waited. The sun was bright and sunny, the wind was blowing softly, and the birds were singing my favorite melodies. And then out of nowhere, I heard a scream that ripped through my serenity and straight into my heart.

Jumping out of the car as fast as I could, I ran up the stairs leading to the door, and slammed through it. The entry way was connected to the living room, which eventually led to the kitchen/dining room area. Turning left, I found the stairs that lead to the master bedroom where I heard the scream come from.

As soon as I was in the room, I too couldn't help a little shout of my own. There Daryl lay naked in the bed, holding the sheets to cover his manhood, while non-other than Josie's own sister stood covering her breasts in the corner of the room.

"Are you serious? My sister?!" Josie screamed through furious tears as she took a step further in the bedroom.

"Jo, just hear me out okay?" Daryl said while he still clutched their sheets.

"Shut up! You're a lying cheating bastard! I can't believe you would do this with my sister!" she said as she took another step.

By that moment, I knew that no one else knew I was even there. It was almost as if I were only visible for that one shocked scream I let out, and then no more as the situation escalated. I didn't realize it before, but Josie was walking purposely towards the closet. I didn't understand why at first, but then I suddenly remembered.

And by then, so had Daryl, but by the time she pulled out what she was aiming for, it was too late. Daryl shot up from the bed and stood in front of Josie's sister Amelia. It was something so simple, yet so stupid. This fool had just been caught cheating, and just as his distraught girlfriend pulled out a gun, he goes to protect the woman he was cheating with? I still couldn't understand to this day how he could be so stupid.

"Are you protecting her? You love her Daryl, is that it? You love this little conniving bitch!" Josie had spit that last word out like it was poison.

"Josie, put the gun down," he'd said as he began to walk closer.

"Wrong answer Daryl."

"It was like they knew you were about to shoot," I said to Josie in the present. She smiled and tossed her light brown hair back over her shoulder.

"Come on now. Daryl was stupid but not that dumb," she said as she raked her fingers through her hair at the crown. I noticed that she did this when she felt proud of herself.

"I am though. I should have known."

"Hey, I should've known, it had been going on as long as the relationship of two years. I didn't though, and it is not my fault that he cheated on me. It's him; he's the one that's wrong," she pointed out with such compassion.

"Thanks, Josie."

"Listen girl, you can stay here tonight, I'll run you a nice bubble bath, we'll drink some wine, and then stay up all night eating ice cream and watching chick flicks."

"That sounds good, but I need to go home. Since there's no wedding tomorrow, I'll be going to work. I need to drown myself in it so that I don't think too hard about Ethan," I said.

"I understand. Just call me if you need anything okay? And be safe driving," she said as she walked me to the door.

"I love you Josie," I said giving her a hug. She hugged me back in a way that only she could.

"I love you too Jaida, I'll see you soon, bye hon."

***

Needless to say, people were shocked to see me at work. Not only was it supposed to be the day of my wedding, I looked like a garbage bag. My hair was scraped back into a curly bun type hairstyle, I had no makeup on, and my clothes were wrinkled. This was so unprofessional and so unlike me, but I didn't feel like me since last night. I felt like a human vessel filled with pain and sorrow. As I unlocked the door to my office, I realized after the second and third unsuccessful attempt to get it open, that I was using my car key. Waking up, I finally got the right key out, and made it into my office.

This was so not like my bubbly personality. What had I let this man do to me? Five minutes after I sat behind my desk my boss walked in and closed the door behind her. She walked only a few steps in before she stopped and stared at me. She looked worried, a little angry, bust most of all confused.

"He cheated on you didn't he?" She asked. What the hell?

"How did you...?" I started.

"Don't worry about how I know," she said cutting me off, "What's important is that you don't lose yourself to the cruel actions of some jerk off. Listen you need to keep your vacation, as a matter of fact, I'll add a few extra days as long as you promise me one thing."

"And that is?" I asked.

"Get your ass up, get it on that plane, and enjoy your honeymoon," she said.

"Honeymoon...I'd forgotten all about that. I can't go without him."

"Nonsense! You're to go on that trip or you're fired," she said with a wink as she turned around to walk away.

"Thank you, Mrs. Gallagher," I said before she had the chance to leave.

"Put on some lipstick and remember that no man is strong enough to break your heart. You're welcome Jaida, I'll see you when I see you" and with that she was gone.

And after a few moments of shock, I made the necessary arrangements over the phone, and left the office.

# Chapter Four

The Gran Malia in Rio Grande, Puerto Rico was the most beautiful city and place I had ever visited. The people were gorgeous, the smell was inviting and the climate was just the way I liked it. The sun kissed my skin, and naturally lightened my usually darker curls. As soon as I got to the hotel I was greeted by a beautiful woman with a thick Spanish accent.

I couldn't help but thank God that Ethan wasn't here; he'd probably lay her for all I knew. I had to concentrate on the positive, and force Ethan out of my mind. This was still my honeymoon and I wasn't going to let him ruin it.

The receptionist at the front desk looked puzzled when I said that my husband wouldn't be joining me, on account of the fact that he's a cheating bastard and I refuse to marry him. I could've left that part out, but I didn't.

Almost immediately after I'd gotten to my hotel room, I'd fallen asleep. When I woke up, it was eight. Though the room was absolutely beautiful, I couldn't stay here. I threw on a deep purple sundress, took my hair down out of its tangled bun that I'd been donning since yesterday at work, and made it look more presentable. I wasn't runway ready, but I wasn't looking to impress anyone either. Right now, I was looking for a strong Bahama Mama at a bar to drink away my sorrows.

***

When I finally got back to my hotel room, it was by the grace of God, and also the receptionist at the front desk. The one that I'd told my life story to. Turns out her name is Sonya, and she's the sweetest lady I'd ever met. She helped me onto my bed, and out of my sandals, and even left a glass of ice cold water beside my bed with the instructions to drink two before falling asleep. Before she left, she placed two Tylenol on my bedside table next to my glass of water. My lamp was still on, but the light was dim enough for me to be able to fall asleep within a matter of minutes.

I knew I was dreaming the moment my hand slipped into Ethan's. His smile was bright and exuberant while he looked into my eyes. I saw that he had no bags under his eyes like he did the last time. I also noticed that he had no facial hair. His hand was smaller, along with his stature.

As we ran, I noticed that the field we ran through was bright and vibrant in color. The clouds were white and fluffy, and the sky was as blue as a robin's egg. The temperature was what changed first. It went gradually from entirely warm to chilly, until it was downright freezing. The sky had shriveled into a depressing gray, and the field was covered in dirty snow. When I finally noticed Ethan, he looked the way he did when I left him. Older, sadder, and tired.

I woke up with a jolt. That dream was not something that I wanted to experience again. I had a hard time controlling my tears, and my head was throbbing against my skull. I felt like it was fighting to get out. I immediately grabbed my drink and spilled some in the process of grabbing the medicine that Sonya had left me.

Throwing them to the back of my throat before downing the entire glass, I slammed the cup down and flinched at the sound of it.

"Jaida? Ms. Jaida? Are you still sleeping?" I heard a thick Spanish accent call through the door.

"Oh thank God!" I said to myself, "I'm awake, I'm coming!" I said as I gingerly made my way to the door.

"Aye dios, you look terrible! Did you drink the water last night?" she asked. I instantly felt guilty.

"I just did this morning, I'm sorry!" I said closing and locking the door behind us.

"Oh, I figured you wouldn't have. You were so tired, I felt so sorry for you," she sympathized while trying to fix my hair for me.

Studying her carefully, I noticed a small scar on her forehead and her lower jaw. I didn't want to get caught staring so I focused on her eyes. They were dark, but gray and beautiful. They were like I'd never seen before. Her hair was a dirty blonde which cast a great contrast against her dark skin.

"I will make you something for hangovers, okay? You get yourself fixed up and I will be back."

"Oh, you don't have to do that, you're probably working right?" I asked as I started looking through my bags.

"Oh no honey, my papa owns this place, I work here when I feel like it. I'll be right back," she said with a wink, and was off before I could say anything else.

Figuring that I might as well get myself together, I went through my luggage to find something to wear before I went to the bathroom and hopped in the shower. I figured that a hot steamy shower should do the trick. It always made me feel better when I was suffering from a hangover. Plus whatever Sonya had in store, I should be feeling great by this afternoon.

It worked the way I thought it would. After my shower, I already felt ten times better. I still had a little bit of a headache, but I didn't feel dizzy and nauseous anymore. I did still feel weak though, so I took it easy when getting out of the shower. I figured that I should probably wash my face and moisturize my hair with some leave-in conditioner and some old-fashioned H2O.

My hair was usually a tangled mess in the morning after not wrapping it up, but when I woke up, I noticed that I was laying on the same side I'd fallen asleep on. I promised right then and there that I would never drink that much again.

I decided to throw on some perfume. Though I instantly regretted it. It was too strong and brought back a wave of nausea. I found a window not too far from the mirror that I stood in front of, and walked over to crack it open. The breeze gently caressed my face as it brought in the smells of Rio Grande. A small smile reached my lips as I turned to face the bathroom. I felt that everything, since last night, had been a blur of alcoholism and drowning my sorrows in it.

I never took the time to appreciate my surroundings. The bathroom, that I was standing in, was the color of the sand on the beaches of Puerto Rico. The mirror was the perfect size with lighting that made every swipe and application of make-up perfect.

As I walked out and into my junior suite, I noticed that the colors spilled from the bathroom and decorated the room nicely. The room was furnished with sturdy mahogany that glowed in the light let in through my personal balcony. I'd dressed myself in a short but flowing floral dress that showed my knees

As I opened my balcony door, I heard a knock at the main one. Turning away and deciding to save that for later, I made it towards the front door. As I opened the door, the smell of coffee and lemon awakened my senses.

"Room service!" Sonya said as she walked in with coffee.

"Oh, you are a life saver!" I exclaimed excitedly.

"Where should I put it? I found a spot," she said answering her question as she took a seat. Taking the seat next to her, I welcomingly accepted the cup of coffee she offered and blew on the steaming brew before taking a sip.

"Oh, this is so delicious!" I exclaimed as the first sip hit me like a burst of sweet fire. It was seasoned with cinnamon, honey, and some other seasoning that I couldn't name. Either way, this was going to have to be an every morning thing.

"Thank you, and trust me you don't need to have a hangover to enjoy. My mama used to make this for me until I got pregnant," she said offering me a slice of lemon. I took it and added it to the concoction.

"How old is your little one?" I asked her.

"He's three, he'll be turning four on the sixth."

"Oh, after Independence Day," I commented.

"Yes ma'am, you'll enjoy what the resort has planned for the fourth. It's a very festive event."

"I'll bet," I said after taking another sip of coffee.

"So, I remember you said that you were alone..." Sonya mentioned casually.

"Oh, right...that. About that, I'm really sorry for blurting that out at you," I said hiding my shame behind my mug full of spiced coffee.

"Don't worry, I wasn't surprised," she suddenly realizing how that sounded and began to turn red, "What I meant by that is we get a lot of solo honeymoons! Sorry!" she said.

"No don't be, I understood what you meant. I guess I'm not the only who has heartbreak," I said placing my empty cup back down.

"You definitely aren't; there's a man here on his own. He's very handsome and I think he's single," she said prodding me.

"Oh please! No, no, no! Never again!" I said swearing off all men.

"Okay, but don't say I never did anything for you," she said smiling.

"Leaving?" I asked as she collected my mug.

"Yes, I promised to take Matthias, my son, to the park for the resort today."

"Oh, that's nice, well you two have fun. Thank you again for the help last night; I really appreciate it," I said while she walked up to the door.

"Not a problem, you should go to the Yhi Spa; it is heaven on earth!" she said as she stood in the hall.

# Chapter Five

Being that it was already the middle of the day, I'd already missed the opportunity to watch the sunrise. I always liked to travel, and my biggest delight was taking photos of the sunrise in different cities and countries. I figured that I would just make sure that I went to bed a little early tonight so that I could catch it.

Getting my phone, I ventured out of my room and onto the resort. The breeze was so fresh and sweet that I could almost taste it. The climate was perfect; humid but not like I was going to drown in it. As my sandals clicked against the pavement as my feet carried me onwards, I noticed how different the hotel was.

It went from grand and regal to still beautiful but relaxing and tropical. I soon found my feet crunching on the beige gravel as my steps were covered by the shadows of palm trees. As I walked further, I noticed there seemed to be structures that I soon found out were little day beds. "Prefect." I thought as I made my way towards one of them.

I saw a movement and out of the corner of my eye, I saw something green flash. I'd reached the bed by now, and was holding on to the side as I watched a large sized Iguana emerge from the shroud of vegetation.

"Godzilla," I whispered before I heard a soft chuckle next to me. Jerking my head in the direction of the sound, I noticed a very tall man leaning against the opposite side of the frame. His hair was jet black and his same colored brows framed his steel blue eyes like perfection. His smile was pink and full, and his jaw was chiseled and outlined in sexy stubble.

"Hi, my name is Axel," he said extending his hand, showing off his large bicep. I really needed to get a grip, I wasn't even attracted to white guys...right?

"Hi, I'm Jaida," I said as I took his large hand in mine. Where was my voice? Hell, where was my hand for that matter? It nearly disappeared in his warm grip.

"Those iguanas pop up out of nowhere. Or, should I say, those Godzilla's," he said with a wink and a smile.

Damn this man was to fine for his own good. It just wasn't fair. I was only five foot five, but he easily towered over me by a foot. His shoulders were broad and strong, his chest was sturdy and chiseled beneath his v neck shirt, and his body tapered perfectly into strong legs. He was built like a superhero, and damn if I wasn't a damsel in distress.

"Yeah, look at the size of that one!" I said pointing in the direction of where I last saw the monster. Just my luck, the iguana played me like a fool and disappeared, making me look delusional in front of Mr. Sexy.

"What are you talking about?" he asked me in a joking manner. I couldn't help but smile; his grin was so contagious.

"Hey, I know I'm crazy to a certain point, but I know I saw Godzilla," I joked back. His chuckle rumbled deep within his chest as he straightened up and came closer to me. My heart skipped a beat as he took a seat on the bed next to where I was standing.

"Care to join me?" he asked as I stood there, nearly frozen in place.

I smiled before I took a seat next to him, though not too close. I smoothed out my dress as I sat down with a smile in his direction as he returned a dazzling one of his own. I dare not think that he was as attracted to me as I was to him. I never thought I was an ugly girl by no means, but there was no way this GQ model would go for an accountant like me. Besides, I'd already sworn off all men.

"You think a lot don't you? And fast too...is that part of your job?" he asked. Had this man just read me?

"Um, I'm an accountant at a law firm, so, I guess you could say that I need to think fast and often," I said confirming his suspicion as he nodded his head.

"I guessed that. My mom was an accountant, she often had that look on her face when she pondered things."

"Aww, that's sweet."

"What do you mean?" he asked a little confused by my comment.

"I mean, a lot of men don't remember such small things. You're very observant," I commented.

"I enjoy being able to sit back and just watch people's mannerisms. I almost got a job with the government but decided to go with technology."

"Oh yeah? That's cool, what company do you work for?" I asked knowing how much it costs to come here. Ethan and I saved up for a few months to afford this place.

"I own my own company," he said simply.

"Oh, good for you," I said.

"You actually seem congratulatory," he said a little surprised.

"I'm one of those few people who enjoy seeing people happy and thriving," I said with a shrug and a chuckle.

"That's very refreshing to hear," he said as he studied my face.

"What is the name of your company?" I asked feeling shy under his piercing gaze.

"FrostFire Industries," he stated.

FrostFire Computers were considered to be the most technologically advanced computers currently on the market.

"I actually work on a FrostFire," I said with a chuckle.

"Do you? Awesome, that's good to hear. How does it run?" he asked genuinely, as if he didn't know the answer.

"Amazing," I said matter-of-factly.

He laughed genuinely with his head back and his hand on his stomach. The sound was melodic and strong. I found myself laughing along with him as it died down. I noticed an unruly curl that liked to make its presence known in the middle of my forehead every once in a while, pop back up and tickled my brow. Tucking it back, I noticed that his eyes watched my every movement. I should feel uncomfortable, but there was something about his gaze. I truly felt admired.

"My hair likes to grab my face every once in a while," I said, pushing back my curly bundle.

"You seem to have a lot of it," he said leaning forward, his deep voice closer than ever before.

"Since birth; full head of crazy curls," I said as I looked into his gaze.

"So what brings you here?" he asked me suddenly sitting back.

"Oh...just vacation," I said continuing to smooth my locks; my eyes were now on the lush vegetation before me.

"I won't prod," he said winking at me as I looked over.

"What about you?" I asked directing the conversation towards him.

"Just vacation. I needed a break from the company, from the computers, and from the people," he said.

Although I couldn't boast about my observation skills, I felt he was telling the truth.

"So here you are basically giving me your actual excuse for being here and I have fallen short," I said leaning against my right arm.

"Like I said; I won't prod. Besides, I'll be here for a week, if you feel you want to tell me by then, you can be my guest," he said as he pushed himself up from the seat. My eyes ran up the length of his impressive body as he turned to look at me full on.

"It was nice to have met you, Jaida. This might be forward, but, would you mind joining me for dinner tonight? There's an Asian bistro on the resort that I have been dying to check out," he offered.

"I'd love to. What time?" I asked.

"Does six sound good?" he asked; I'd never seen a smile so bright.

"Sure, I'll meet you there," I responded.

"I'd rather escort you," he offered, completely throwing me off guard. I thought all men were pigs?

"Oh."

"We could meet in the lobby so that you don't feel like I'm only trying to figure out what room you're staying in," he said with a wink. I chuckled slightly; was it that obvious?

"That sounds fine. That's kind of nice actually," I admitted as I continued to hold his gaze.

"Great, I'll see you then," he said.

"I won't be late," I said maybe a little too excitedly.

I felt embarrassed, but he soon extinguished that feeling as he reached for my hand. Placing it in his, I nearly blushed as his lips met with the back of my hand. The contact caused heat to rush from the spot his lips connected with, down through my core.

"I know you won't," he said softly before he turned around and walked away.

What had just happened? I just broke up with the love of my life only three days ago, and here I was going on a date with this stranger? Axel, the owner of FrostFire Computers, to say the least.

***

It was about four when I heard a knock at my door. I had my flat iron gripped in my hair as I slid it down my blown out curls. Finishing up that section before I made it towards the door, I smiled a greeting towards my new friend, Sonya.

"Hey, good to see you! I was hoping that you would come by, where's Matthias?" I asked as we walked into the bathroom.

"Oh, he is with his papa. We met up at the park today," she answered as she voluntarily began to help me with my hair.

I was about to object; only Josie knew how to do my hair the way I liked it. But Sonya seemed like she knew what she was doing. Actually, she seemed to know more than I did. The way she used the hair care products in conjunction with the heat tools made me feel like she did this for a living.

"I got my certificate for cosmetology in France," she said simply.

"Well, by all means, but I have a date at five-thirty," I said batting my eyes animatedly.

"OH! Mirate! Look at you!" she translated in English.

"Yeah, I know how much of a hypocrite I am."

"Don't worry, I don't judge. If you're going out with who I think you're going out with, I totally understand," she said with a slight pucker to her lips. Josie did the same thing when she was speaking matter-of-factly, especially when it came to gorgeous men.

"His name is Axel Frost," I said remembering the story behind the company logo. Fire was his father's personality while Frost was their last name. He'd lost his dad not too long before he launched his first line of computers and decided to change the name of the company from just Frost Computers to FrostFire Computers.

"Oh, that is Mr. Sexy!" she said.

I laughed at the name she'd chosen for him, being that I'd already deemed him Mr. Sexy myself. "Great minds think alike, I gave him that name the moment I saw him!" I said laughing as she put the finishing touches to my hair.

"Wow, my hair looks great! Good thing you showed up when you did, I could never get it to look like this. Then again, I'm not some super fancy cosmetologist!" I said causing her to laugh at my compliment.

"Don't worry, while you're here, I'll teach you some things."

"Thank you for being so nice. Having someone cheat on you after so long is the hardest thing to deal with," I said as I looked down to pick out some makeup.

I noticed though that when I looked up, her face was a little somber, like she was thinking about something. Maybe she had been through the same thing I had? Before I could say anything to her, her face had brightened up when she saw my makeup.

"May I do the honors?" she asked.

Admiring what she did with my hair, I obliged.

# Chapter Six

When I reached the front lobby, I was exhausted from the trip. This resort was huge and the walking was a plenty. But every step was worth it. It was such a beautiful escape from San Francisco. The palm trees, the flowers, even the iguanas were welcome in my company.

Though I was tired, the jitters would not allow me to keep still. So I started wandering around the vast lobby, stopping every now and again to touch a flower here, and to read a brochure there.

It wasn't that Axel was late; I was early. Fifteen minutes early to be exact. I left earlier to give myself time to decide whether or not I wanted to stay. Axel seemed like a great guy, but I just went down that road. Just to be cheated on at a pit stop. Suddenly my mood changed.

I felt saddened, broken, and just awful. Like those emotions from that night came up and slapped me in the face. I tried to fight back tears, and nearly lost the battle when I remembered my boss's words. "Put on some lipstick and remember that no man is strong enough to break your heart."

I needed those words at that moment. They are what helped me fight back these tears. I smiled as I rummage through my clutch for some red lipstick. Using the mirror that was built in, I smoothed the lipstick over my full lips before closing the tube and resealing the clutch.

"Jaida?" I heard him say.

I could see him out of the corner of my eye before I turned my head to take him all in. My God, he was dressed to the nines in his steel gray dress shirt and black dress pants. His stature commanded attention as he glided down the lobby towards me. And as he came closer, I could tell that he was equally impressed by my look. I was wearing a long royal purple dress that swayed to reveal a deep slit that bared my toned legs. It hugged my curves sensually as the quarter sleeves were made up of intricate lace. My hair was down to the middle of my back in soft romantic curls, and my makeup was subtle complimenting the almond shape of my eyes.

"I'm stunned, you're even more beautiful now than when I first saw you," He complimented softly.

"Thank you, Axel. You look incredible yourself."

"Do I?" he asked in such a goofy manner I couldn't help but to laugh.

"Sorry, I have a tendency to lose my composure around gorgeous women," he said offering his arm to me. I found myself admiring the way his muscles rippled underneath his slightly hairy arm. The same black silk that adorned his crown.

"Well that's okay, I have the tendency to babble about nothing when I'm around a gorgeous man," I said as we began to walk to our destination.

"That's alright, we'll be good buffers for one another," he said looking down at me as I looked up at him.

This man would be the death of me. He smelled like pure ecstasy, I found my breasts tightening as his gaze roamed over my body. I didn't make it apparent that I could see him, and I wasn't going to. It felt so good to have someone admire me. Ethan would look at me every once and a while, but never with a hunger like this.

Had I really been that oblivious? Now that I thought about it, Ethan hadn't been as affectionate or caring as he used to be. It stopped being magical about two years back, but I just felt that we were getting accustomed to each other. I should've seen it coming.

"You're thinking way too hard, Jaida; we're on vacation remember?" Axel said interrupting my downward spiral. If this wasn't going anywhere far, Axel was a seriously good distraction right now.

Like a gentleman, Axel pulled out my chair and pushed it in before taking the seat next to me. We were sitting behind the fanciest Teppanyaki grill I had ever seen. The menus were so extensive with sushi and so many different Asian cuisines. I decided on a roll that was dressed with fancy ingredients and colorful sauces on top of the Teppanyaki steak and shrimp on the grill.

Axel went with the filet minion and lobster special.

The food was prepared excellently and the sushi roll that I had was the best that I'd ever had in my life! It was absolutely delicious. Axel had eaten just about everything on his plate. I was impressed with his appetite being that he was very fit. I was glad that he didn't have the chef trim the fat. Something about a person, male or female, that could enjoy the guilty pleasures in life was incredibly sexy to me.

"Wow, dinner was fantastic," he said wiping his chin with his table napkin.

"Amazing isn't even the word, my friend," I said patting my belly.

"How was that roll?" he asked taking a sip from his cup while the waitress came around with the bills.

"I've never had anything that delicious."

When she got to us, she handed me my bill before handing Axel his with a smile. Checking out the damage, I didn't feel as bad as I thought I would. It was fifty dollars, but it wasn't going to break me. Reaching below the table for my clutch, I straightened up with my card in hand when I noticed that my bill had disappeared. I looked to my right thinking that possibly my hair had swept it off the bar, but it hadn't.

"You guys have a great rest of your night," the waitress said, as she placed a card and a few receipts back on the bar. I went to ask the server to print me up another ticket when I heard Axel chuckle.

"Axel, I was going to pay for that. You didn't have to," I actually felt that maybe he didn't believe me for a second.

"I know. But I asked you on this date; I fully expected to pay," he said as he smoothed my right sleeve. His touch sent goose bumps up my arms and down my spine.

"Thank you, Axel," I stated genuinely. I was very grateful for his act of kindness. Though he made more than I did, Ethan was always okay with me paying for our dinners. I thought I didn't mind until Axel just paid for mine.

"You're welcome, Jaida," he said as his gaze locked with mine.

I felt so impelled to take his mouth in a kiss. His lips were so inviting and full. I tried so hard to stop my eyes from breaking contact with his so that I could stare at his lips. But his eyes were so mesmerizing I found myself leaning closer before reality hit me.

I suddenly readjusted myself to make it seem that I'd leaned purpose for that purpose alone. I didn't want him to think that I was desperate. I mean, he was incredible to look at, and he did just buy me a meal, but what if he just wanted to get in my pants? I couldn't deal with that on top of everything else.

"Are you ready to go?" I asked softly.

"Ready when you are," he said standing up and extending his hand down towards me. I took it in mine and stood.

When we made it back to the lobby, it was only eight at night. Still fairly early, but I decided to turn in for the night so that I could wake up in time for the sunset with my camera at the ready.

We were nearly silent the whole walk back, but I found that didn't bother me; his company and his presence soothed me enough to where I didn't feel the need to talk.

Axel was now facing me, his hands behind his back, giving him a more authoritative stance as we waited for the next move. I didn't know exactly where to start, so I just waited for him.

"Well, I would walk you back, but I don't want you to feel uncomfortable. Although I would prefer to, just to make sure you make it back safe," he said.

"You can walk me back," I stated; in that short time I'd grown a little more trust in him.

He smiled and nodded as he again took my arm in his.

The walk back seemed shorter than the walk I took to meet him. Probably because I didn't want the night to end so soon. Part of me honestly wanted to tear his clothes off with my teeth while the other part just wanted to sit up and talk. I knew that I couldn't have either, not without inviting sex into the equation, so I decided to say goodnight at the door.

Before he left, I stopped him by placing my hand on his shoulder.

"You really are quite the gentleman, Axel."

He brought the back of my hand to his lips before smiling and walking away.

Sleep was going to be hard to come by tonight.

When I woke up, it was to the alarm on my phone. The sun was still sleeping, giving me enough time to go to the bathroom and get dressed. I threw on some short denim shorts and a white scoop neck t-shirt before I headed outside with my camera in hand. I already knew where I wanted to capture the sunrise, and it was at the secluded beach on the resort.

I needed to hurry before it was too late. Though I had plenty of time, I still felt as though I should speed up. That's when I thought to myself. _What am I doing? I'm not at work! I'm on vacation!_ I needed to let go of my everyday life this week, and that's exactly what I was going to do.

Deliberately slowing down my pace, I took the time to appreciate the foliage and the smells of the flowers. I took in the sweet and salty smell of the sea as its scent sailed through the breeze. I made sure that I stopped to stick my toes in the soft sands of the Caribbean before I readied my camera for the perfect shot.

As the sun began to slowly rise and peak above the horizon, I found myself thinking about Axel's eyes. As the warmth from the sun's rays began to touch my skin, I remembered Axel's warm kisses on my hand. I found myself wishing that he'd given me even more.

As I snapped the first picture, I found myself chuckling slightly at the memory of Axel's goofy demeanor. It was just as sexy as his serious mannerism. By the time the sun was above the horizon, I'd taken about twenty shots. I felt that was more than enough to add to my gallery, and began to make my way back to my room.

I figured I'd take a nap, being that I woke up before the sun. Also because there was no way I could ever do this back in San Francisco. My eyes were on the path ahead of me, until I found them directing my hands to open up my camera. The pictures were even stunning the second time.

"You're going to run into me if you don't look up," I heard a deep voice warn playfully.

"Oh sorry...," I apologized as I looked up, but smiled when I saw who it was, 'Axel.'

"Good morning Jaida, did you get your pictures?" he asked before coming to stand beside me as he looked down at my camera.

"I got at least twenty of them. I have a collage on my wall at home of the places that I've been. Every year I try and get a few pictures of the sunrise in different places. Here's a picture of my wall at home," I said as I clicked through the pictures on my camera.

"That's impressive," he said honestly as he nodded his head in approval.

"Thank you. I started when I was twelve and my dad took me on my first trip to Italy. I couldn't sleep because I was so excited to be in another country that I stayed up. He'd bought me a camera especially for that trip, and our view gave me the perfect opportunity to take a few pictures."

I turned my head to look up at him to notice that he was already looking at me. He smiled a beautiful smile which coaxed one of my own. Just like at dinner, I found it hard not to look at those lips.

Again I looked away. I wanted him, but I shouldn't. I turned my attention back to my camera, trying hard to hide my shame. He was smart and intuitive enough to know what just happened; I felt too embarrassed to say anything.

"Have you eaten breakfast yet?" he asked softly.

"Um, no, I was actually thinking about taking a nap," I said, the embarrassment causing my "stick-in-the-mud" persona.

"You could take a nap," he said shocking me with two fingers under my chin as he lifted my eyes to connect with his, "But I wouldn't be able to spend the time with you that I wanted," he finished with a smile.

My heart was pounding in my chest so hard that I could feel it in my throat. If his fingers were any lower, he would've felt it too. My breath was coming out a little quicker than I wanted it to, and I could feel my nipples tightening as his breath polished my lips.

"Let's get some breakfast," he said close to my lips.

"Yeah, sounds good."

# Chapter Seven

After I had changed into more formal pants and a blouse, Axel and I decided to dine at one of the resort's beautiful cafes. I remembered seeing it on the brochure. It was so regal but not intimidating as it was painted the prettiest blue I had seen in a restaurant. Axel pulled my chair out again before taking his seat across the table from me.

We ordered a light but delicious breakfast that didn't fill us but satisfied us none the least. When the bill came, I offered to pay, but Axel smoothly declined and sent the waitress on her way with his card in tow. He was now shaking his head at me in a playful manner.

"I believe in chivalry. I know you were used to footing the bill in your previous relationship, and I know we aren't an item, but I'm old fashioned in the sense that a man should pay the bill."

I was taken aback slightly by his accuracy. His intellect was impressive, but it did bring up feelings that I was trying to suppress.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings," he said sincerely as he leaned forward, his hand reached out to touch my elbow as I brought my hand to my mouth.

I didn't realize how his words would hit me until they were spoken. It wasn't as if he were intentionally trying to hurt me. I was just super sensitive; it did just happen this week. Taking a deep breath and collecting myself before I gave in to the tears that were building pressure behind my eyes, I put on a smile and faced him.

"I know. It's just fresh...I...I'm sorry Axel, I have to go," I said and abruptly stood. I hit the table with my legs and caused water to spill in his lap, but I only said sorry as I retreated to my room. I was almost running by the time I got to my door, it was as if I were going to throw up, but in actuality, I was only coming in here to cry.

I threw myself on my bed and immediately began to sob. All the tears that I had kept in came pouring out like raindrops as they streaked my cheeks and soaked my pillow. I grabbed the pillow and held it close as I wrapped my arms around it.

I thought about Ethan. Instead of pushing him to the back of my mind, I thought about him. I recalled every little detail about him. The way he smelled, the way his lips tasted and the way he talked to me. I remembered how he was in our relationship. I remembered how caring he seemed and how sweet he was.

I then thought about how our relationship used to be when we were truly happy. Before the first woman and before the second woman or however many there were. I thought about the happiness we shared and he threw away over some other women I thought about everything that we'd ever built together and how he didn't feel that it was as important as I did.

As I sobbed, I then started to think about all the little things that used to annoy me about him. I thought of the stupid way he would chew, how sloppy of a kisser he could be during sex, and the fact that he very rarely ever footed the bill. And this was well after he was hired to work for the hospital and making six figures.

I remembered how he was only affectionate during sex, but after he would just roll over and go to sleep. He has never kissed the back of my hand, never once had he pulled out my chair for me, and he definitely wasn't a gentlemen. Axel was though, and I had just run away from him after splashing a drink on his lap. Good thing it was water, but it was still just as insulting. He'd just paid for my breakfast for goodness sakes!

A gentle knock on my door caused me to jerk upright; I wasn't expecting any visitors. I figured that it would be the maid service, or even Sonya. But it wasn't either of them.

"Oh, hi...uh-Axel," I said looking down at the ground. I tried my best to cover my face. I hadn't even dried my tears.

"I probably should just stay in here for a while to give myself a chance to calm down..." My voice trailed off as all I felt were two sturdy arms wrapped around me. The door slammed shut, and all I could feel was warmth. I'd collected myself, but only for a few moments before I instantly started sobbing again. My arms came up to wrap around his body as he smoothed his hand over my hair. He held me so tenderly I felt as though he actually cared. This man, that I had known for only a few days, showed more concern in this embrace than Ethan ever had in the entirety of our relationship.

This hit me, and I began to sob harder. I buried my face deeper into his sturdy chest, breathing him in with every sob, holding him closer with every beating of our hearts. His fingers made their way from the tendrils of my hair to my cheek to dry my tears. He wiped them away so gingerly, so tenderly...so sweetly.

At that moment, I grew closer to him than I had to Ethan in the years we'd been together. I'd stopped sobbing as soon as his fingers caressed my cheek. My hands were wrinkling the back of his shirt I was gripping it so tightly. As I lifted my head, I notice that the front of his shirt clung to his chest being that my tears had soaked them. Navy blue looked so good on him, especially against his gray slacks and beige cardigan.

He dressed so sharp, and he smelled like a fantasy come true. As I looked further up, I noticed that his chin was tilted; his eyes were on me, but did I dare look up? As I felt his breath against my forehead, my eyes clamped shut as I felt his soft lips against my skin.

My breath caught in my throat because my heart started beating so rapidly that I could barely remember to breathe. The second kiss came just like the first; soft and sweet as it landed on my cheek. He kissed me there twice before I finally lifted my head to look at him.

His lips were on the tip of my nose for just a second before he pulled away. My heart was beating so fast I knew there was no way he couldn't feel it. My eyes trailed from his hairline down his strong, sturdy nose, to his lips, and finally to connect with his eyes.

His eyes were darker as I looked into them. They were dilated and spoke a clear message as they bore into mine. I kept his gaze, inviting him, coaxing him, as I titled my head back slightly; my lips were there for the taking. I wanted him to kiss me so bad that I could almost taste him.

Slowly he bent his head; his lips grazed mine so softly I could've mistaken their presence for the slight whisper of his breath. His lips pressed against mine so tenderly, so gingerly it was almost as if he'd never kissed before. Not that it didn't seem like he didn't know what he was doing, it was more like tasting the forbidden fruit. He wanted it with all of the lust in his body, but he knew that it was not his for the taking.

This made him crave for it more and more as he deepened the kiss. His tongue began to prod and tease before I accepted it in my mouth. It swirled and danced with mine sensually as his hands began to roam. They were sick with wanderlust as they roamed every inch of my body. I felt them down my back, over my shoulders, and over the swell of my ass. I pressed my body against his as he began to tease my nipples. I gasped at the intensity of the sensations that pulsed through my veins making my blood grow hot. He was driving me crazy, I wanted more of him, and I could tell by the stiffness in his pants that he craved me as well.

I moaned into his mouth as he began to caress my breasts with such vigor that I started to quiver internally. He began to walk forward, leading me backward to the bed before we fell down in a heap of black and white. Our arms wrapping around each other, our hands exploring, and our lips locking as our tongues tasted. This was going so fast that I didn't even realize that my pants were unbuttoned.

My eyes opened slightly as I felt Axel begin to pull my pants down past my thighs, over my knees, and down my calves. I bit my lip as he came up to place his lips on my smooth stomach. I sucked in my breath at the feel of his lips against my skin as they connected with the flesh of my breasts. My shirt was above my head, off, and across the room with one flick of the wrist.

He paused for a moment to admire my skin. His hand came up to touch it softly as though my body was beautiful marble. He took time to appreciate and remember each and every curve. He admired every inch of me, as he seemed to taste and caress each spot. I'd never been admired like this before; never.

He finally turned his attention back to my lips as he sank his into mine. His lips passed over mine over and over again as I writhed against his body. I craved him and I ached for him as he kneaded my breasts firmly. I lifted his shirt above his head and had to take a moment to admire the intricate pattern of his washboard abs. His hands were beginning to unbutton his pants before he stopped to reach into his pocket.

"What are you looking for?" I asked as he searched through his wallet. I don't know what he was looking for, but I knew he couldn't find it. Closing his wallet his hands came down on either side of me as he hung his head in shame.

"The missing condom," he said.

"Oh..." I said feeling the disappointment crawl up through my abdomen. It's not like we couldn't get one, but the moment was over.

"I'm sorry, Jaida. I would really love to rip those panties off with my teeth but, we don't have any birth control."

"Yeah, I haven't been on it for a while now. Ethan and I were supposed to have a baby after we got married..." I stopped talking and cleared my throat. "Nothing, sorry," I mumbled before turning away and crawling up the bed towards the pillows. I immediately flipped the soaked plush over to hide it from Axel's scrutiny.

"So, Ethan is the name of the man who put those tears on that pillow," he said as he came up to sit next to me. I felt like a child as I crossed my arms underneath my breasts and turned my head slightly away from him. How could I just blurt that out like that?

"Why are you so observant?" I asked trying not to laugh but ultimately failing. He laughed along with me before wrapping his arms around my waist as he pulled me into him.

"I was really nosey as a kid," he said with a chuckle as I leaned my head against his bare chest. His heartbeat was so melodic I could get lost in the rhythm of it.

"We were supposed to get married and have three kids," I said quietly as the laughter died down. Axel just listened to me as I began to talk.

"We met when we were freshmen in High School. We were such nerds, small and feeble. We looked out for each other when we could. We always got picked on; I had braces and he had glasses and braces, so we weren't the popular ones in school. Then as we got older, our bodies started changing. By sophomore year I had boobs and he started bulking up; we also realized that we had feelings for each other. He was my first kiss, my first boyfriend, and my first lover."

I snuggled closer to him as I wrapped my arms around his torso. I smiled slightly when his hand came up to reach my hair as he gently stroked it. He didn't say anything but I knew that he was listening.

"There came a point in high school when we were the popular kids. A lot of girls tried to hit on him, but he never batted an eye. He only saw me. Two eight years after our graduation, Ethan proposed to me. Two years after that we started planning our wedding. Ethan wanted to be established in his career before we were married; he wanted to be able to provide for our kids and not struggle like our parents.

"The night before our wedding he calls me to the same place he proposed to me, and tells me that he cheated on me with two different women. He calls off the wedding, and I put an end to our lives together. The next day, I pack my bags, get the 'ok' from my boss, and hoped on the flight that we were supposed to take together. Now I'm here," I finally finished with a sigh.

"I'm a very understanding person, but some people just baffle me. I would kill to be able to have a woman loyal enough to stay by my side for so many years," he said with such sincerity.

"Axel, why are you single?" I asked as I picked my head off of his chest to look into his eyes. My hair was falling down in front of my face, and smoothing it back, I tossed it to the side as I waited for his reply.

"I'm thirty five years old, I think I am attractive, I'm educated, and I love to cater to the woman in my life. But when women see me, they are only interested in the fact that I'm wealthy."

"Oh, right. You're having a hard time finding someone who's there for you and not you money. I get it," I said looking away and at the sun as it peeked through the balcony doors.

"But then there's you," he said causing me to stare back into his eyes.

"Me?" I asked perplexed.

"You. When you first saw me, you didn't recognize me. But when you finally did, you weren't star struck. You didn't seem like it mattered to you that I was featured in Forbes magazine. When you saw me for the first time, you only saw what was in front of you, not what was in my pocket," he said, easing my confusion.

"I have my own money. I'm not a billionaire, but I don't have to be. I have more than enough to live comfortably on my own without help from anybody else," I said simply.

"Spoken like a real woman," he said causing me to smile proudly.

"Well..." I said animatedly shrugging my shoulders like it was no big deal.

"You know, this might make you feel weird but, I've never dated anyone...like you," he said simply.

"You mean...short?" I asked giving him a little wink.

"You know exactly what I mean, I'm trying not to sound offensive here!" he said giving me a little poke in my side.

"You mean somebody who is black?" I asked him as the word 'Bingo' all but appeared in big red letters on his forehead.

"There you go. Good, now I don't have to say it."

"What? You were nearly in my cookie jar and you were afraid of telling me you'd never had chocolate chip?" I asked putting my hands on my hips. He chuckled, embarrassed at my brashness.

"I have never been romantically involved with a black woman. Not by choice, but by circumstance."

"That's okay, I've never been with a man who wasn't Ethan and Ethan was pure chocolate," I said as I came close enough to him that if I leaned forward I could easily peck his lips.

"So are you normally attracted to white men?" he asked complacently, though I could tell that he seemed a little uncomfortable.

"To be honest I'm not. But, I think it was more along the lines of I just wasn't really looking. I had my mind set to one person; I treated the rest of the world as though they were off limits. But, to tell you the complete truth," I said as I leaned close enough to the point where we were sharing breaths, "I've never felt this attracted to any man before. It's like you're the forbidden fruit," I said softly against his lips.

Licking his lips before he spoke, I could tell that he was fighting himself to keep composure. But if he'd had a condom, the look he gave me told me that he would've torn me apart right then and there. He reached up to touch my bottom lip softly.

"The feeling is mutual," he said seductively.

I smiled against his caress and closed my eyes as his lips replaced his finger. He was slow and passionate as his fingers roamed my scalp and tousled my silky locks. As the kiss grew deeper, I knew that we were in the danger zone. But so did Axel, and before the kiss lead us any further, he broke it off by placing his hands on either sides of my face.

"Jaida, do I need to go to the store?" he asked.

"Maybe," I said as I began to straddle his lap, "I'm finding it hard to resist you, Axel," I said before nibbling at his bottom lip.

"How about we go to lunch, and then we go to dinner, and then you come back with me to my hotel where I can taste that brown skin all night long," he said reaching up to smack my ass, shocking me at the intensity of the hit.

"Damn that felt good. If you keep that up I might not be able to last until dinner."

"Get dressed, I'll meet you back here after I change. I still have a wet spot that I walked all the way back from the restaurant with," he teased while standing up.

I sat back and admired every muscle as they rippled beneath his smooth skin. Something as simple as buttoning his jeans was so sexy as the action caused his biceps to bulge. I found myself missing his abs as he pulled his shirt down over his head to conceal them. A smile was on his face as he picked up his cardigan; he knew I was watching his every move.

"You're watching me like I'm a movie," he noted as he came over to plant a kiss on my lips.

"You're better," I said with a smile.

"Get dressed, I'll be back in fifteen," he said before running his fingers through my hair and disappearing out of the doorway.

I instantly felt a moment of glee that caused me to throw myself back on the bed with a squeal. The excitement was tenfold and I couldn't stop the raging feeling of lust as I replayed our little visit. I felt like I was in a teenage dream. This feeling isn't something that I have experienced in a long time.

As I collected my discarded clothes, I decided on my bathing suit and sheer cover up. Its design was dark blue and wrapped around my body perfectly. The contrast of my tribal print white and black bikini set it off seamlessly. My hair was swept back in a messy ponytail that sat on top of my head as I went to the door to find my sandals.

Just as I reached it, I heard a knock and a familiar voice. When I opened the door, it was Sonya with a pleased look on her face. No doubt she saw Axel leave the room, and looking at the sheepish grin on my face, she knew exactly what went down. Only she really didn't being that we hadn't done anything.

"So...how was it?" she asked as I let her in.

"We didn't go that far," I said as we took a seat in the living area of the suite.

"Oh sure you didn't, a man doesn't leave a room that happy if he hasn't sampled the goods, but that's ok, I won't pressure you into telling me anything," she said as I rolled my eyes with a smile.

"Whatever! How is Matthias?" I asked remembering his play date yesterday.

"Cute and fat," she said with a giggle.

"Can I see pictures?" I asked her.

"Of course," she said as she snatched her phone out of her back pocket and flipped through her photo gallery.

Matthias looked nothing like his father who was standing behind him in the picture. He was all Sonya. From the dirty blonde hair to the dark gray eyes. Maybe his father carried a little extra weight, that or Sonya kept in the gym. That was the only thing that I could say was anything like his father.

"Wow, what does he get from his father? He's all you," I said handing her back the phone. She grew silent for a moment, almost as if I had struck a nerve. Clearing her throat, she looked over at me with a sheepish look on her face.

"Nothing. That's not his father," she said with an ashamed look on her face.

"Oh, is that your brother?" I asked trying to figure it out.

"No, that is my Ex-husband. He and I split when Matthias was two."

I knew what she was telling me even though she didn't say it. Matthias didn't look anything like her husband because she'd had Matthias with another man. What made it click was the shame written all over her face. She'd conceived Matthias with another man _during_ their marriage.

"I know you probably think that I am a terrible woman. Who does things like this? I had a choice, but I chose wrong," she said somberly.

"Sonya..." I started but stopped. This woman had been so kind to me. From making sure that I made it back to my room alright, to stopping by to check on me, to fixing my hair up before my date with Axel.

Though what she did was wrong, I felt that I couldn't hold it against her. Here she was trying to live better and away from her past. I felt that I shouldn't judge her wrongly.

"Don't worry, though I've been cheated on myself, I don't see you any differently. You're still a good person," I said with my hand on her shoulder.

"He reminds me of it every time I drop off Matthias."

"Why do you drop him off to your ex-husband if that's not his son?" I asked confused at the whole setup.

"He loves that little boy with all his heart. Even after I told him the truth he still said that no matter what, that was his son. We have joint custody; I have him three days his father has him three days and on Thursday we alternate. Whoever's parent's house he slept at on a Wednesday, he slept with the other parent Thursday night," she said.

"Is that what you agreed on?" I asked thinking that was so unheard of.

"It is. I wanted to be fair because I had been unfaithful and tore our family apart."

The room was quiet for a few moments before a knock at the door alerted us of another presence. I knew that it was Axel, but I didn't want to let him in until Sonya felt comfortable. I placed my hand on hers and gave it a squeeze before she smiled.

"You have a great date, don't worry about me. Worry about that hunk outside your door," she said with a smile as she greeted him.

It was obvious that he wasn't expecting the receptionist and his expression of shocked confusion caused all three of us to laugh.

"Don't worry, you're at the right room. I was just leaving, you two have a wonderful evening, call me if you need anything. Hasta luego, see you soon." she said with a wave over her shoulder as she walked away.

# Chapter Eight

As I bit into my sandwich, I noticed that his eyes were on me. I tried to pretend that I didn't see him, but I couldn't; my smile gave me away like an alarm. He noticed, and reached across the table of the poolside cafe to pinch one of my cheeks. I playfully jerked and shielded my cheek away from any more teasing pinches. Straightening up and finishing the last bite of my sandwich, I washed it down with a few sips of my mimosa.

"What do you have in mind for dinner?" Axel asked before biting into his sandwich.

"I don't know; we'll leave that up to you," I said.

"How about you decide dinner tonight since I've chosen the last three outings including this one."

"True," I said taking another sip of my citrusy drink.

"You need another?" He asked noting my glass was almost empty.

"No, I think I'll stay sober. Besides it's hot out here, I need to stay hydrated," I said just before flagging down a concierge and ordering two glasses of water.

"That's smart; you know how to take of yourself, don't you," he commented while taking a sip of his water.

"Of course. Back at home I don't have enough time to do a lot of exercise, so I make sure that I don't eat too many sweets or load up on the fatty fried foods. Of course every now and then I slip up and stuff my face with Philly cheese steaks and fried chicken," I said licking my lips in reminiscence.

"I understand. These vacations are the only times where I completely let myself go. I swear if I lived in paradise like this and let someone else run the company, I would get fat."

"It would take years," I said remembering his incredible body.

"You'd never believe that I used to be the fat kid in school," he said as I grimace in disbelief.

"I'm serious."

"Pictures, or didn't happen," I challenged him. He laughed, accepted, and once again left me speechless at the photos he showed me on his phone.

"See?"

"Wow, yeah...that really did happen," he looked like a completely different person.

"Remember when I told you that I wanted to work for the government? Well the position that I wanted had a weight requirement; I didn't lose the weight until then."

"So you've been a little sausage all of your life! I mean, oh I'm sorry, that was really rude of me," I said apologetically as I felt the embarrassment begin to rise up the back of my neck.

"Don't worry sweetheart, my mom still calls me her little sausage," he said with a wink.

I found myself squirming in my chair. The sensations he was igniting in my body even though he was not physically touching made put me on this roller coaster of sexual tension. I needed release, and I knew only one man could do it for me.

"What time is it?" I asked, realizing that I didn't have a watch or my phone.

"Still too early for dinner," he said knowing exactly why I was curious about the time.

"We need to do something to distract us; something fun," I said.

"We could drive a few miles into Old San Juan if you wanted. I've been here before, so I know a few spots that we could hit. Or, we could stay on the resort; there are plenty of things to do and see here as well."

"Hmm, choices..." I said looking at the phone that he'd placed on the table.

We'd now been sitting here for about an hour at the poolside cafe. I'd already finished my food and drinks as well as Axel as the sun grew hotter on our backs. Just at that moment, I thought, maybe we could enjoy the spa together. The heat was raging and I could feel myself start to sweat and get uncomfortable.

"You know we could go to the spa; I know how women are with their facials."

"You are quickly becoming one of my favorite people," I told him.

Our day at the spa was like a dream. A dream that I'd been awake in for a little over an hour. We'd gotten couple massages and facials. I tried yet again to at least pay for half, but he refused. It would take me some time to get used to that, but I was starting to enjoy his refusals. It made me feel taken care of and special.

It was about five in the afternoon when we decided to take a trip into Old San Juan. The smells of the Caribbean cuisine, the feel of the sun against my skin, and the taste of the ice creams and candy that we tasted was a Spanish dream.

When we made it to the store, it was already six in the evening. Axel ran in while I waited outside. As I waited, I heard the sound of a Spanish guitar in the distance. When I turned my head to the right, I saw a beautiful woman clothed in a flowing dress that tickled the sidewalk as she swerved her hips to the rhythm. She twirled around so beautifully that I found myself mesmerized by the movement.

Several people came to watch, sing, and praise the woman in the floral dress. They praised her like she was their goddess. I turned around to look at Axel as he walked through the doors of the convenient store. The moment he drew close enough, I took his lips in a sensuous kiss. It was slow, but hungry as he responded in the way that I wanted.

When I pulled back, I could see that he wanted it just as bad as I did. I smiled as he returned one of his own, softly and only for a moment before he pulled back.

"How about that dinner?" he asked reaching around to cup my bottom in his large paw.

"How about it?" I responded with a smile.

# Chapter Nine

When we got to our seats, Axel, without fail, pulled out my chair for me. I ordered a juicy rib eye while Axel decided on a nice sirloin, both of us had our steaks prepared medium rare. I noticed that while we talked over dinner that we found we had a lot of similarities.

By the end of dinner, I felt like I was getting a better view of Axel. Like he'd shown me such a vulnerable part of him. He was telling me things about his past that he hadn't told anyone. I was relaxed at dinner, but as we started walking back towards his suite, I felt the jitters rising in my stomach and into my throat. In few more steps, I would be in Axels' arms.

When we made it to Axel's suite, I was in awe. This room had its _own_ room. In comparison to my suite, this was a palace. It was decorated in hunter greens and regal oak furnishings. The place was a castle, and I was about to dine with the king.

"Would you like some champagne?" he whispered as he came up behind me.

"S-sure," I said suddenly feeling nervous.

Earlier today I was ready to go like a bat out of hell. Now I wasn't intoxicated by lust; I was hit by reality. Ethan was my first, and Ethan had been my only for a long time. No other man had ever seen my body but him.

"Here you are," he said handing me a flute of champagne.

"Oh, thank you. So, this is what the master suite looks like, huh?" I said walking further in.

I walked past the formal dining room table, and further past the sitting area until I was standing in front of the balcony window. Though I had an incredible view of the resort before me, I could only see Axel as he slowly walked up behind me.

His finger touched the back of my arm very gently before his fingers were against my spine. They traced a small line of goose bumps down until they reached the apex of my bottom. There he slowly palmed a handful, causing me to suck in air at his audacious groping.

My head tilted to the right as I felt his kisses against my neck from the left.

My heart was pounding rhythmically in my chest as the tempo picked up. I felt his hand slide from my bottom to my mid-section before it slid up even further to palm my left breast. My jaw clenched from the intensity of pleasure as he began to toy with my pebble hard nipple through my dress.

I heard the sound of glass touching the floor as he stooped over, but only for a moment before I felt his hand slide up my arm and take my flute. He set it aside with the other before moving me away from the glasses. Still facing the glass, I felt his hands roam and explore my flesh as he began to nibble softly on my ear.

Both of his hands caressed the soft flesh of my busts as he began to work kisses down my neck before he reached my shoulder. I could feel his rigid length rubbing against me and I was happy I had that effect on him. I slowly gyrated my hips in a way that caused him to groan against my cheek as he pulled me into him. He turned me around and claimed my mouth in a possessive kiss.

His fingers found their way through my curls, gently, slowly, and passionately before he gripped a handful. His grip controlled the movement in my neck as his other hand began to undress me. I could tell this wasn't his first time because, within a matter of seconds, my dress was around my ankles.

He'd broken the kiss to stare at my deep chocolate skin in admiration. I could tell that he got high off of the contrast of our skin as his fingers met with the flesh of my stomach. It roamed to the valley between my breasts before reaching down further and further until they met with the lip of my panties.

I bit my lip as his finger dove deeper until his hand created a bulge in my underwear. The sensations caused goose bumps and waves of ecstasy as he began his work against my sex. My head began to lean back when I felt him direct my head forward as he made me watch. His dominance turned me on even further as I nearly released then and there.

He suddenly stopped, released my hair, and picked me up in such a fluid movement that I gasped. My arms around his neck, we kissed passionately all the way to his bed. He placed me down before standing up to undress himself. Licking my lips, I sat up on the bed to help him.

My fingers reached the small buttons of his shirt as he worked on his tie.

Each button seemed to take forever as all I craved was the delicious muscles that lay in wait underneath. When finally he released his tie, I popped the rest of the buttons open with one quick movement. I could almost hear the angels singing as he stood bare-chested in front of me.

I ogled him for a moment longer before reaching out to unbuckle his pants. They came down with ease along with his underwear, his member now stood out at full attention. I was impressed by his size, although it was thicker than I was used to, it looked incredibly attractive.

He pushed me back against the sheets as he climbed in on top of me. Tasting my flesh, caressing my skin and undressing me completely. As he threw my bra across the room, I felt his tongue dart out and swirl around my sensitive bud. I gasped in ecstasy as my back arched. He began to nibble softly, teasingly, and sensually as he massaged the other with his strong hand.

I moaned into his mouth as he came up to kiss me. It was long and a bit rough but incredibly pleasing at the same time. My panties were gone in a flash as his thick erection prodded my opening. I writhed against it, tempting it and inviting it as his hands gripped the flesh of my hips. He pulled away from me suddenly almost as if he had to force himself away.

"Almost forgot," he said reaching for protection.

I smiled at him as he ripped one from the box, but before he could open it, I reached up and took the square package in between my teeth. I kept eye contact as I adjusted on the bed. My knees were supporting my weight as I ripped the edge of the packet with my teeth. Sliding the slick condom from the packet, I tossed the trash aside before I slowly smoothed the rubber over his shaft.

The look in his eyes, as I leaned back on the bed, told me that I was about to experience something wild like I never had before. It was almost a challenge that I readily accepted as I opened my legs for him, inviting him as he crawled on top of me. My heart was thrumming, my breath was heavy, and my forehead was beaded with sweat as I readied myself for him. He looked into my eyes for a long moment before he slowly bent down to crash his lips against mine fervently and forever it seemed, until he stopped to look back into my eyes.

He wanted to watch me and see my expression as he slid into me. He placed his hands on either side of my head before he pushed inch by inch into my flesh. My eyes fluttered slightly as I began to chew on my bottom lip. The first few inches felt so good as they entered my body, I could hardly keep my eyes open.

He paused as he gave me time to adjust to his impressive girth before pulling out slightly only to drive deeper into me. He was causing an array of erotic passion as he reached down to smooth his hand against my bottom. I moaned with pleasure as he began to slide in and out, in and out, in and out as he kissed me passionately.

My nails were against his back as he continued to thrust into me. I felt myself digging deeper as he picked up his tempo. The sound of our hips smacking together filled the room almost as much as my moans of praise and delight. His eyes were on my face as I bit my lips in pleasure; my eyes rolled in the back of my head as his thrusting became even quicker.

"Look at me," he demanded softly, but dominantly.

I looked into his eyes as he instructed me, and then I nearly gasped when he flipped me up to straddle his lap. Holding my hips securely, he lifted me slightly before he began to thrust deeper into me. Faster and faster until I couldn't hold it any longer. My orgasm came in strong waves that made my muscles convulse and my arms buckle. I slammed down against his chest, but that didn't stop him from thrusting over and over until he too came to a powerful orgasm.

Two more strong thrusts, and he was done. Our bodies were drenched in sweat as our breaths came out at the same time in ragged rhythm. His arms were around my body as he gripped me tight against him; my arms did the same as I came down from my incredible climax. It was like a high I'd never been on before, like a roller coaster that reached heaven and back.

I had this feeling in my chest, like something close to euphoria. Hell, maybe it was. But I instantly realized this; no matter how many times, how great it was, or how new it was, I had never felt this with any other man than Axel. I lifted my head up lazily to look into his eyes. The moment I did, I got lost in them.

There I was, one day before my wedding, about to marry a man I had never felt this level of excitement with. I'd never felt this type of happiness with any other man on the planet. At that moment, I'd instantly forgiven and all but forgotten about Ethan. Ethan was nothing compared to this man, and if he hadn't called off our wedding, I would've never met Axel.

I didn't know how he was going to affect my future, but I knew that he could make me forget about my past.

### Thank you for reading!

## Please visit your favorite eBook retailer to view the next books in the "Romancing The White Billionaire Series"
Confessions of a Stay at Home Escort

by

Susan Lewis
Copyright © 2017 by Susan Lewis

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Confessions of a Stay at Home Escort

All rights reserved.

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. No part of this work may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording and faxing, or by any information storage and retrieval system by anyone but the purchaser for their own personal use.

This book may not be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of Susan Lewis, except in the case of a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages for the sake of a review written for inclusions in a magazine, newspaper, or journal—and these cases require written approval from Susan Lewis prior to publication. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.

# Chapter One

Time With Friends

Paul and I had known Ben and Linda for a long time, long enough to make me feel 'old'. In fact, it was through us that the pair met. Linda had been a close friend of mine when we were both part-time clerks in an accountancy firm. She was working her way through college; I was expecting my first child.

Ben on the other hand was a friend of Paul's, they'd met in the gym and often played basketball together. Ben and Linda were eventually brought together when Paul and I threw a housewarming party. The rest as they say, is history.

"Why don't we do this more often?" Linda asked, as she offered to refill my wine glass.

"No, thanks," I politely declined. "I guess life just gets in the way," I added in response to her other question. Life really had gotten in the way, it had been over eighteen months since we'd seen Ben and Linda and in that time, we'd moved again; Paul's father had retired and Paul had taken over as CEO of the family business.

"I can imagine how busy you've been," she chuckled.

"You don't know the half of it," Paul chimed in. He was reaching for his own full glass and leaning causally back in his chair. His scarlet tie had been pulled loose enough for him to undo the top button of his shirt. The jacket of his charcoal suit had long since been removed and draped across the back of the chair. I tried to remember the last time I'd seen him that relaxed, but couldn't. He smiled broadly, that grin that never failed to light up the room. "You know, I thought life would be easier not harder once I was the boss," he added, the index finger of his free hand rubbing at his temple.

Ben laughed loudly, looping his hand over the back of Linda's chair and gently caressing her upper arm with the tips of his fingers. "I'm glad," he managed to blurt. "If being the owner of a multimillion dollar company is a walk in the park, then you're going to make me vomit."

Paul's laugh was muted, but he did shrug good-naturedly at Ben's teasing. "You're doing all right," he added, a touch defensively.

Ben tossed his bright blue eyes to Linda and they shared a silent smile. Eventually, he turned his attention back to my husband and nodded. "We're getting by. There are things I'd like to do, though," he added, his fingers stroking the stem of his wine glass. "I'd love to be able to treat Linda more. You know, I mean you can just whisk Julia away whenever, wherever. Money's never an issue."

"Yeah," Paul acknowledged, "money isn't the issue; it's time." As he shifted his left leg, his knee brushed mine and, even after almost fourteen years together, I felt a spark of electricity.

My face tipped towards his and I wondered if he felt it too. However, there was nothing in his face or his eyes that gave it away. Instead, he continued talking about how insanely busy he always is and the fact that he spends half his time traveling. I was tempted to correct him to three quarters of the time, but it seemed like a petty remark and I knew it would only anger him.

"That must be tough," Linda said sympathetically. "But you guys are such a strong couple," she added brightly. "I don't know anyone else who's still happily married to their high school sweetheart."

I smiled at her, before turning that grin on Paul. His eyes however were drawn to his glass, which he quickly drained.

We'd been sixteen, both starting our junior year, when I moved schools. At the time, I'd thought it was the worst thing that had ever happened to me. I distinctly remember hating my parents that summer. But in my very first class at my brand new school, I met Paul. I knew nothing about him, had no idea about his family business or how wealthy his parents were. All I knew was he was the most handsome guy I'd ever seen. Dark hair and deep brown eyes, tall, athletic, with a warm smile. The more I learned, the more I liked. He wasn't just a pretty face or a mindless jock, he had a brain too.

I, on the other hand, had issues. I was a bit too thin, a lot too flat-chested, ignored by the popular crowd and socially quite awkward. I'd felt sure that Paul didn't even know I existed. Little did I know that he had, indeed, been taking an interest in me. It wasn't until years later that he confessed to sneaking peaks at me during rehearsals with the dance team. Anyway, at the time, I was oblivious and so completely shocked when he asked me out on a date.

Those years had been magical, I was so in love with this man and giddy at the realization that he felt the same way. It was like every single one of those teenage romances I'd seen in the movies.

"I think it's wonderful," Linda commented, pulling me from my memories.

"Yeah," I agreed, nodding. "It is wonderful." Another glance at Paul found him examining the desert menu. "I mean, I know it's old fashioned," I added, "but I love that Paul is and always will be the only one."

"Hmm," he hummed in reply, his eyes still staring at the menu.

Giving up on attempts to get his attention, my own face dropped catching a glimpse of the cleavage that had been enlarged by three pregnancies. In many ways, I was physically more attractive than I had been at sixteen; my boyish figure now had some womanly curves, my breasts were significantly bigger and I felt much more comfortable in my skin. Wasn't that supposed to exude confidence and make me glow? Perhaps the problem was, I didn't feel very confident. Although I liked what I saw in the mirror, Paul always seemed to look right through me.

I'm not naïve enough to expect champagne and roses. I realize that the realities of day-to-day life don't lend themselves to the romance of teenage fantasies. There were other more important things; business trips to go on; a mortgage to pay; children to look after. I just wished that didn't mean my relationship with Paul had to come last on the list.

"Anyway," I sighed, suddenly feeling uncomfortable with the silence. "How are things at work?" I asked.

Linda nodded as she swallowed a mouthful of wine and replaced her glass on the table. "It's busy," she replied. "I've got two new clients and I'm trying to wrangle a good deal for them both." After studying literature at college, Linda had toyed with writing for a year or so. Eventually, she'd decided that she wanted to try something different and became a literary agent. A choice that turned out to be incredibly lucrative for her. "I'm thinking of slowing down a bit, though," she added.

"Really?" I asked, confused. I knew she loved her job and also knew that she and Ben were saving to build their own beachfront property.

"Yeah," she said, turning to her husband as if seeking permission. Ben gave no obvious sign one way or the other, but Linda could clearly read something in his eyes that I couldn't, because she grinned before gabbling, "We're trying for a baby."

"Oh," I smiled. "That's great."

"We've been thinking about it a lot lately," Ben offered, with a broad grin of his own. "We see you two with your little family and we just think..." he inhaled slowly, trying to find the right words. "Well, we want that too," he sighed.

I tried to smile, feeling instantly guilty for my rather self-pitying thoughts. What Paul and I had was enviable. I was in an enviable position, I had no business wishing things were different. "Well, I'm sure you'll make wonderful parents," I said.

Noticing Paul move out of the corner of my eye, I turned my face and watched him lift his glass, which now only had a small swill of red wine in the bottom. "Enjoy all that sex while you can, man," he joked, offering the glass toward Ben.

Ben laughed heartily tapping his own glass to Paul's. "Thanks," he chuckled.

Linda giggled too, her slender arm snaking around Ben's neck as she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. "It's exciting," she blurted, turning back to me and leaving a red lipstick print on her husband's face.

I guessed she was expecting a reply, but with a false grin plastered on my face, I couldn't help but turn Paul's remark over and over in my mind. On the one hand, I wondered if I was being oversensitive. On the other, I felt that he'd taken a very personal swipe at me in front of our friends. Maybe, I silently suggested, his poor attempt at humor is nothing more than a bit of bravado. After all, I'm not the one that seems to have lost an interest in sex. He's always shunning any kind of intimacy, because he's 'too tired', or he 'has to get up early in the morning' or 'one of the children might walk in'.

"It's crazy to think that you were pregnant with Lizzie when we first met," Linda continued. "And she's what now? Seven?"

"Eight in a couple of months," I replied, automatically. I'd been unaware of even processing what she'd said let alone formulating a reply.

"Ahh," she cooed. "Next time we meet up, you'll have to bring the kids along, too."

"Yeah," Ben agreed. "It's been far too long since we've seen them. And I'm willing to bet that Dylan's becoming quite the little football player."

Our son was four going on forty. Bright and precocious, he had such an adult view of life. He takes after his father in many ways and had already decided that he wanted to be a professional athlete. Which sport, he was yet to decide. He told me that he needed to grow into his body to find out what he'd be best suited to.

"That's the difficult thing about being away for days and sometimes weeks at a time," Paul said, tossing the desert menu to one side and joining the conversation fully. "Every time I come back, they've all grown so much. Especially little Kate," he adds, shaking his head in disbelief. "One minute she was a baby, now she's a toddler already."

"They must miss you when you're away," Linda offered warmly.

"We all do," I replied, turning my eyes on him and, for the first time that night, receiving some recognition from him.

He flashed me a quick grin, and I momentarily saw the man I'd fallen in love with. It's those precious seconds that I treasured. Those were the times when I knew that deep down he was still the same and, therefore, on some level at least, _we_ must be the same. He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something, but the words were never spoken. Instead, he was interrupted by the waitress, who asked whether anybody wanted desert.

Linda, Ben and Paul eagerly turned to her and ordered. I had no appetite for it.

# Chapter Two

Drunk

It was me that had to drive home, after Paul consumed another three glasses of wine and a small Scotch and soda. The journey was reasonably short and was passed in mostly silence. I tried to draw him into conversation, commenting on how nice it was to see them again and how happy they both seemed. However, all I received was a grunt of agreement or indifference – it was hard to tell which, perhaps it was a bit of both.

When we got home, he immediately headed upstairs. Leaving me to thank and pay the sitter. After showing her out and watching at the door to make sure she got to her car okay, I made my own way up the stairs. Turning left on the landing, I tiptoed down the hallway, checking on each of the children before finally retracing my steps and wandering into our bedroom.

Paul was sitting in the high-backed, antique chair in the corner. He was leaning back, his legs spread casually wide and swaying slightly. One elbow was perched on the mahogany arm of the chair, his head dropped against his fist. With drooping eyelids, he looked at me.

"Becky is worried she's done something to upset you," I muttered, tossing my purse on the dressing table and kicking my three-inch heels off.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because you walked right past her and didn't say a word," I explained frustrated that it was necessary for me to do so.

His head suddenly straightening, he leaned forward, resting both arms on his knees. "Come over here," he said, his voice rumbling deeply in his chest.

I turned to face him, my hand reaching for one of the oak poles at the foot of our four-poster bed. "Did you hear what I said?" I asked wearily, perching my free hand on my hip.

"Yeah, yeah," he replied dismissively, his fingers grabbing the loose knot of his tie and pulling it free. He left it hanging around his neck and unclasped a button on his shirt which revealed some of the silky smooth skin of his chest. "Now, get over here," he repeated, cocking his head.

"Paul," I sighed. "I like her, she's great with the kids and she's always been very accommodating when we've needed her at the last minute. I don't want to lose her."

He rolled his heavy eyes as dramatically as his sluggish movements would allow. "Don't you think you're overreacting," he muttered.

"What I think," I replied tartly, "is that you were incredibly rude."

"She's the hired help," he scoffed. "I don't have to be nice to her, I pay her."

Exhaling slowly, I realized I was getting nowhere fast and the conversation was bringing out a side of him that I found intensely unattractive. Releasing my hold on the bed, I swiveled on the ball of my feet and headed toward our en suite bathroom. I didn't get more than two steps before Paul objected.

"Hey, where are you going?"

"Getting ready for bed," I tossed over my shoulder, not bothering to turn around.

He must have been capable of moving much more quickly that I would have expected, because as I got to the door, his hand darted over my shoulder and slapped flat down on the hard wood.

Exasperated, I turned to face him. "What are you doing?"

"I don't want to fight about the stupid babysitter," he said, his voice pitched soft and a little lower than usual, while his eyes attempted to focus on me.

"Paul," I sighed, placing my hands on his chest and pushing gently.

"What?" he asked, his chocolaty gaze moving from my face and taking a leisurely trip down the length of my body.

If it hadn't been obvious before, what he wanted was very clear to me by that point. Something about the way he looked at me caused a dozen butterflies to flutter wildly in my stomach. However, another sensation, a much more stubborn one, refused to let me give into that feeling. "You don't get any sex any more, remember?" I snapped. "That's what happens when you have kids, right?"

His eyebrows moved wearily in their surprise. "What the hell are you talkin' about?" he said, louder than I think he'd intended but unable to control his volume.

Shoving a little harder at his chest, I coaxed him back a half-step. "You know what I'm talking about," I replied, brusquely. "Have you any idea how embarrassing that was for me?"

Paul kept his hand on the door and refused to budge any further. "For Christ's sake," he muttered under his breath, before shaking his head incredulously. "That was just a joke. Come on, Ben and Linda knew I was only messing around."

"It's not just a joke though, is it?" I quickly replied. "When was the last time we made love?"

My question was met with silence, while his eyes searched the ceiling and his mind trawled his memory. "I don't know," he eventually huffed. "It's been a while. We've both been busy. And when we're not busy, we're having stupid arguments like this one."

"So, it's my fault?" I defensively blurted.

"That's not what I said," he insisted. "Why do you always twist my words?" His volume crept up another notch as he slammed his palm against the still closed bathroom door.

"Shhh," I quickly hissed. "You'll wake the kids."

Exhaling heavily through his nose, he was quiet for a few moments. When he spoke again, it was in deliberately muted tones. "Why are we doing this?"

I couldn't be sure whether the question was being asked of me or my breasts, and I waited for his bleary eyes to find mine once more. "I think," I sighed, my head rocking back and resting against the door. "I think, we're both a little stressed and tired. It's a rough patch," I added. That final phrase was spoken with more confidence than I felt in it. In truth, it was a hope that I'd been clinging to. As the weeks and months dragged on, the 'patch' got bigger and bigger. I was beginning to wonder if things would ever improve.

His Adam's apple jumped as he swallowed. "All I've been thinking about over the last hour is getting you back here and ripping your clothes off," he said, the fingers of his free hand suddenly snaking over my hip.

"That's because you're drunk," I informed him, allowing him to tug my lower half to him. My hips met his with a slight bump and I felt the warm swell of his groin pressed against my belly. The evening had been far from romantic. I didn't particularly want to make love with him right then. It was clear to all but the blind that alcohol had made him horny. Nothing else seemed to matter to him, not the fact that we'd been fighting, nor the fact that it had been almost two months since the last time we'd had sex.

"So what?" he replied darkly, as he moved his body against mine resulting in a surge of blood to his penis.

He was rock hard, his erection straining at the tented front of his pants. I wanted to stay mad; I _was_ still mad. And yet, two long months without physical intimacy had taken its toll on me. My fingers trembled as an all too familiar warmth began to pool in my stomach and spread slowly southward. "Maybe," I mumbled, realizing my mouth had gone suddenly dry. "Maybe we should talk about this in the morning." As I tried to grapple some control over my desire, he continued to drive me to the edge.

Drawing his face close to mine, he teased my lips with his. Close enough to kiss me, he simply brushed his mouth against mine and pulled back as I instinctively leaned toward his lips. "I don't want to talk," he breathed, "now or in the morning." His fingers stroked their way over my hip and grasped my buttock forcefully.

I gasped as he tugged me closer, grinding his lower half against mine. My hands automatically shot up to his shoulders, regaining my balance. "Kiss me," I pleaded, my fingers twisting in the soft cotton of his shirt.

Paul's hand slipped quickly from the bathroom door and snaked around my waist. He turned me hurriedly, panting with need as he pressed his open mouth to mine. His tongue dove between my lips, exploring with deep thrusts and little finesse. He pushed me rapidly and I followed his direction, my bare feet sliding backwards on the smooth carpet until my legs met the bedstead. His momentum didn't stop, and the force of his weight sent me flopping onto my back.

I bounced on the soft mattress, releasing a muffled groan as his weight landed carelessly on top of me. "Mmm," I mumbled into his mouth. "Hey," I panted, jerking my head to one side and tearing my lips away from his. "Let's slow down a little, huh?" I suggested, my hands stroking over the broad, sinewy muscles in his back. "There's no rush," I whispered into his ear.

Either unable or unwilling to listen, Paul grunted as his hands slid down my thighs. Hooking the fingers of one hand beneath my left knee, he coaxed my legs apart. His other hand was busy with the hem of my dress, pushing it haphazardly up. "Oh, God. I need you," he groaned, nestling his hips between my legs and pushing his still clothed groin to my underwear-covered sex.

It had been a long time since Paul had been that frenzied and impetuous. It was flattering to know, even after all those years, he wanted me so desperately. So, I felt torn. On one hand, grateful for being made to feel sexy and desired. On the other, a sense that this was little more than a mad dash to sheath himself within me.

"Paul," I moaned, the weight of his chest pressing the air out of my lungs.

"That's right," he panted heavily, uncoordinated hands fumbling awkwardly with the clasp and zipper of his pants. "Say my name." Muttering curses under his breath, he edged his pants and underwear off his hips, stopping as soon as they'd reached his upper thighs. His erection now free, the soft flesh of its head rubbed along my inner thigh.

"Babe," I muttered, the open zipper of his pants digging uncomfortably into my leg. "Please."

Misinterpreting my plea or perhaps just too engrossed in his own mission, Paul's sloppy, drunken hands gripped the edges of my panties. "Ugh," he grunted, yanking at the fabric. The rip of white lace met his growl of aggression and the backs of his fingers briefly brushed my outer lips.

Unconsciously, my hips jerked in response, craving more of the same. But his hand was cruelly ripped away as quickly as it had been placed there. I was aroused, I did want him, but I wasn't ready for what came next.

Paul quickly adjusted himself, bracing his hands on the mattress either side of my waist before driving his hips forwards with a masculine bark of release.

I sucked in a breath, my fingernails digging into his back, as my body was quickly and ruthlessly speared. "Ahh," I wailed, my sex seeming to fight against the invasion. I tried to force myself to relax, to breathe slowly and allow my body to accept him, but it was all happening much too quickly. Any sensual and erotic thoughts I tried to conjure were immediately chased away when he began to pump fiercely. "Ouch," I yelped. "Paul, you're hurting me."

His lower half was soon slapping against mine in a rapid tattoo. He groaned and muttered, the friction of my unprepared channel apparently proving uncomfortable for him. "You're pussy is so...tight," he grunted haltingly, only a syllable being uttered on each thrust.

I was barely able to hear him. Everything around me was a blur. The only thing that had any clarity was the pain of each callous drive of his pelvis, which caused me to bite down hard on my lower lip to keep from screaming.

Amid the discomfort and the grateful awareness that at least it wouldn't last long, I remember wondering what the hell was going on. Sex with Paul had never been like this, even when he'd had a few too many drinks. Even when he was a teenager and orgasm was all he ever thought about, he'd never _used_ my body like he did that night. It was as though I was with a stranger.

Forcing my gaze upward, I stared at his face. His eyes were squeezed shut, but if they'd been open he would have been staring at the wall straight in front of him. His features were tight with pained concentration. I'll never know exactly what he was concentrating on, but it definitely wasn't me. Sweat was beading on his forehead as he continued to lurch forwards, slamming his erection to the hilt with each viscous thrust. "Oh, yeah," he grunted. "You like that."

I drew in a deep breath, holding it while his movements lost their rhythmic pattern. The speed and depth started to grow erratic, until finally with a groan of, "Oh, shit!" he flopped forward and collapsed on top of me. His hips jerked and one leg spasmed as I felt his seed pulse into me in strong, hot bursts. That sensation, which had always been indicative of love, pleasure and the sharing of something primal suddenly made me feel sullied. I instantly felt guilty for feeling that way. After all, this was my husband, the man I loved with all my heart. Maybe the encounter had been lacking in romance and foreplay, but I'd still given him something special, which meant, by default, that what we'd done was special. At least, that's what I tried to tell myself, as my eyes flooded with scorching tears.

"Oh, God," Paul gasped, his breathing coming hard against my chest, as he leisurely lifted himself from me. "Ugh, fuck," he muttered, rolling to one side. As his flaccid penis slipped from me, some of his semen dripped onto my inner thigh and, within seconds, created a chill that quickly spread throughout my entire body.

As soon as his bulk was off me, I reached down and pulled my dress back to my knees. My trembling fingers remained there, clinging to the hem. Paul's left arm was lazily flopped over my waist and his foot, which was still in his black loafer, was draped clumsily across my calf. The rest of him was pressed face down into the mattress by my side.

"Paul," I said with a quiet, shaky voice.

The only response I received was the low rumble of a snore. Laying under what felt like an incredibly bright glare from our bedroom light, my eyes fixed wide on the clean, white ceiling above. Shell-shocked, the events of the previous few minutes played on a continuous loop. Everything about him, from the way he'd behaved to the way he'd spoken, seemed alien to me. How could the man I'd been sleeping with since I was eighteen have changed so dramatically? Was it the result of two months of abstinence; a build up of frustration coupled with the effects of alcohol?

Those questions rolled unanswered around my brain, but it was another that took center stage. What the hell had just happened? It beat at my head over and over, as I laid stunned into motionlessness. I couldn't even define what had passed between us. It hadn't been anything resembling love making, not by my interpretation of the phrase. The way he'd cruelly taken what he wanted regardless of my discomfort bordered on rape, but then again, I'd never said, "no" or asked him to stop. I may not have been particularly happy with what was going on, but I'd passively allowed it to happen. And that brought with it another uncomfortable realization: it wasn't just Paul who had acted out of character that night.

# Chapter Three

Visitor

I didn't get any sleep, and eventually crawled off of the bed at around five while the sun was just beginning to create an amber glow on the carpet. I slipped out from under Paul, not needing to worry about waking him, as he continued to snore loudly.

Leaving the room, I went down the hall to use the main bathroom, not because I was particularly worried about disturbing my husband's sleep, but I needed some time to compose myself before actually confronting what had gone on the night before. At that moment, I didn't know what to say to him. I even wondered whether the hours spent stewing over it had made me lose all perspective.

Climbing into the shower, I quickly soaped my body noting a graze on my inner left thigh and freshly pinkish bruises on both hip bones. The bruises were obviously caused by the force of his own pelvis knocking against me, it took me a little longer to realize that the tiny teeth of his open zipper had cut into the delicate flesh of my thigh. None of those injuries was particularly sore though, and with the exception of a slight tenderness between my legs, I had no other physical reminders of the evening. Still, try as I might, I simply couldn't shake the sense that something had gone very wrong in my relationship with Paul.

It took me no more than ten minutes to wash my body and hair. I spent a further hour standing beneath the hot jets, trying to figure out how to broach the subject.

Wrapped only in a towel and with hair loose and dripping wet, I returned to the bedroom. Still face down on the bed, Paul didn't stir. As I stepped into a pair of jeans and threw on a T-shirt, I watched him breathing heavily. With his dark hair tussled, dress shirt creased and pants hanging disheveled at his hips, he was a mess. It became clear that he was drunker than I'd realized the night before. Would he even remember what had happened? If he did, I was sure he'd feel guilty.

Taking a glance at the time, I wondered whether I should wake him. After just two days at home, he was about to head out of town again. A car was coming to pick him up at nine, so I tried to calculate how much time we'd have for a heart to heart before he left.

"Paul,"I whispered gently from the foot of the bed.

He didn't move, even the pattern of his breathing remained the same.

"Paul," I repeated, a little louder this time. "It's-"

"Mom!"

Spinning at the sound of the wail that interrupted me, I sighed. I hesitated momentarily, but when it became obvious that even the shouts of our children would not wake him, I decided to leave Paul alone for the time being.

Leaving the bedroom and shutting the door quietly behind me, I was met with the distressed face of my little boy. He wasn't crying, but I could see he was only seconds away from doing so; his big brown eyes watery and lip wobbly. Seeing me, he ran down the hall.

"Mom," he whimpered, his arms spread wide.

Crouching so that I was on his eye level, I placed my finger to my lips. "Daddy's still sleeping," I hushed.

He flung his chubby little fingers around my neck and I automatically wrapped one arm around his legs. With his butt resting on my forearm, I groaned as I scooped him off the floor. "You're getting big," I told him in a whisper. "I'm not going to be able to do this much longer."

He paid no attention, his legs quickly fastening around my waist and his face disappearing in my shoulder. I only managed to take him the few feet to his own room, before he was slipping down my hip. Carefully, I lowered him to the floor, sinking to his height as I did so.

"Now," I sighed, still in a hushed voice. "What's the matter?"

"Lizzie," he sniveled, pointing into his room.

When it became clear that was all I was going to get from my son, I stood up and stepped inside the room. All seemed normal, until I caught sight of an armless bear at the bottom of his bed. Stepping forwards, I scooped up the injured toy and turned to Dylan. "Did she do this?" I demanded.

With a trembling bottom lip, he nodded.

Glancing to the ceiling for inspiration and patience, I took a couple of quick breaths. "Elizabeth," I called clearly, realizing too late that I had just told my young son to be quiet.

Almost instantly, her pink door creaked open and she stood staring at me with an innocent smile. "Yes, Mom," she beamed. Her sandy hair, with roots that were turning the same warm hazel color of my own, was already scooped into a neat ponytail and she was dressed for school.

"Did you do this?" I asked her, holding up the bear that Dylan had named Frank.

She paused for a moment, perhaps resisting a child's knee-jerk compulsion to lie. "Well..." she mumbled, the smile slipping from her face and her almond eyes no longer able to meet mine.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'," I finished for her, moving to her door and placing my hand firmly around her wrist.

"It wasn't all my fault," she insisted, trying to snatch her hand back. "He started it!"

Rolling my eyes, my face moved back to Dylan who was suddenly also looking as guilty as sin. "What did you do to her?" I demanded, my patience wearing very thin.

"He pulled the head off Barbie," Lizzie whined.

My first instinct was to smile. Barbie had been a bone of contention. I hadn't wanted Lizzie to have one. In my opinion, Barbie promoted an unhealthy and unattainable body image, not to mention the distinctly materialistic and shallow nature of her 'lifestyle'. When Paul's parents learned of my disapproval, they promptly bought Lizzie a Barbie, complete with dream house, for Christmas. Her beheading didn't stress me in the slightest, but in the interests of being fair to the kids, I had to treat both crimes equally. So, I quickly quashed the tiny grin that played at the corners of my mouth.

"Dylan," I said firmly, crooking my finger at him in a 'come here' motion. Once I had the pair of them in front of me, I couched before them both. "I don't want to tell either of you this again," I began. "Dylan, you leave your sister's things alone, do you understand?"

I waited patiently for him to reluctantly nod. "Yes, Mommy," he mumbled, softly.

"And Lizzie," I added. "If your brother does something to upset you, don't retaliate, just come and tell me or your dad and we'll deal with it, okay?"

She was less willing to agree, but eventually did so. "Yes, Mom."

"I want you to apologize to each other," I concluded, wrapping my hand around my four-year-old son's waist and turning him to face his older sister.

"But Mom, I didn't-" Lizzie began.

I interrupted her with a lift of my index finger. "I don't want to hear any more about it, Elizabeth," I warned her. "You both did something wrong and I'm not in the mood to play who did something worse. Just apologize," I urged.

The pair mumbled a 'sorry' to each other and almost instantly turned their backs. With no energy to demand that they repeat it sincerely, I pushed myself back to my feet. "I'll get you some breakfast," I told them, making my way down the hall. When I reached the top of the stairs, I snapped my head back. "Oh and Lizzie, find Frank's arm. I'll try to reattach it."

"What about Barbie?" she quickly countered.

"I'll see what I can do," I promised with a wink. "But I don't know whether she'll pull through," I warned gravely.

She giggled, before rushing back into her room to find the various body parts.

It was an hour and a half before Paul made his way downstairs, and I was in the middle of clearing away the kids' plates and bowls. All three of them sat at the breakfast counter, Dylan swinging his legs wildly, with jelly all over his face; Lizzie studying a book; and little Kate strapped into her booster seat.

"Daddy," Dylan squealed, jumping down from his stool and sprinting across the tiles. He leaped into Paul's waiting arms and laughed hysterically as he was spun around rapidly.

"Hey champ," Paul smiled, setting our son back down before ruffling his hair. "You got a busy day ahead?" he asked. Dressed in a fresh suit, his open necked shirt neatly tucked into his dress pants, hair washed and combed, he looked very different from the way I'd left him on our bed.

"Very," our little boy confirmed with a nod. "I've got a meeting at eleven," he announced, clinging to his father's right leg as Paul heaved his way across the floor.

"Is that so?" Paul mumbled, only half listening, as he bent to kiss Kate on the top of the head. "Morning Liz," he added, looping an arm around her shoulders. "You okay, kiddo?"

She ignored his question in favor of one of her own. "Dad why do you have to go away again?"

"Sorry sweetie," he stated, with a tough luck tilt of his chin. "It's just the way it is, Daddy's a very busy man."

"But we never get to spend any time with you," she whined.

With a huff, Paul reached for a slice of bread and slipped it into the toaster. "We'll spend some time together when I get back, how's that?" he suggested.

Not even slightly appeased, Lizzie sullenly slipped down from her chair. "I've got to get ready for school," she muttered.

"Daddy," Kate called, grinning. "Look," she proudly cried, holding up a crayon sketch that she'd been working on.

"That's great, honey," he responded, almost automatically, giving no more than a passing glance at the picture.

Somehow, knowing that the children were slipping from his radar of importance made me even more angry than the fact our relationship had taken a sideline. "Paul," I whispered, taking a step to his side. "You know, the kids really miss you when you're gone. It's tough on them; a few days for you feels like an eternity to them."

"I'll make it up to them," he shrugged, as his toast popped up and he quickly grabbed it. "I better toss some stuff in a bag," he announced, lifting his wrist to check the time.

Slipping my hand into the crook of his elbow, I held him still for just a few seconds longer. "I was hoping we'd be able to talk before you go," I suggested quietly and with no small degree of discomfort. It wasn't going to be an easy conversation to have.

"What about?" he replied testily, as he tugged his arm free of me.

"Well..." I hesitated, sure that he must know what I was referring to. "Last night," I eventually said in a whisper.

With an impatient sigh, his eyes drifted to the floor. "Do we have to do this now?" he asked.

"If not now, then when?" I countered.

Paul's gaze moved to Kate, who had gone back to adding more detail to her drawing, then Dylan, who was tearing about the open plan dining area as if he were an airplane. "Look," he said under his breath. "I was a little selfish," he admitted, but shrugged it off. "But you were the one complaining about how long it's been since we had sex. Well, we had sex, so...?" he left his words hanging, challenging me to make a big deal out of it.

If I'd been able to wrap my head around what was happening, I would have made a big deal out of it. But as things were, I stood open-mouthed, stunned into silence by his complete disregard for what had happened.

"So, are we done?" he demanded. "Because I've got a plane to catch." Without waiting for me to respond, he was already heading for the door.

Dylan ran after him yelling, "Can I come too, Dad?"

And sure enough, that was the end of it. We didn't speak of that night again.

Paul was ready by the time his driver arrived at the door. He handed over his small suitcase, before turning to hug and kiss each of the kids goodbye. Once he was done, I received a wave of his hand as he climbed into the back of the vehicle.

After he'd gone, I still felt shell shocked by the callous way he'd rebuffed my concerns; both over the effect his repeated absences were having on the children, and indeed the trouble within our own strained relationship. And just when I thought the day couldn't possible have started any worse, his mother arrived. As she was apt to do, she didn't ring the bell, just let herself in. Paul had insisted she have a key, in case of emergencies, but Carole seemed to believe that gave her carte blanche to enter at will.

She strolled into the kitchen, finding me still in the midst of clearing up from breakfast. Lizzie and Dylan were arguing again, something I was too tried to deal with at that moment and unbeknownst to me, Kate had stripped off all of her clothes with the exception of her underwear.

The sight that met my mother-in-law caused her to tut loudly. "Having trouble, dear?" she asked rhetorically.

"Not exactly," I responded defensively. "They've just got me outnumbered at the moment," I added, smiling in an effort to lighten the mood.

It didn't work; it had never worked. I no longer knew why I bothered. Carole Hayes had hated me with a passion almost from the moment she met me. She had it fixed in her head that I only wanted to be with her son because he was wealthy. Even agreeing to sign a rigid prenup that ensured I got nearly nothing if we divorced was not enough to convince her otherwise.

She was the kind of woman who made a sport of finding fault with other people; her favorite target being me. I wasn't good enough for her son, never had been, never would be. And she was determined to prove it to him.

"Well," she replied humorlessly. "I thought I might help you out by taking Elizabeth and Dylan to school."

"Umm, thanks," I said, busily loading the dishwasher.

"Do you want me to dress Katherine before I go?" she asked, turning to me with a disapprovingly arched eyebrow.

Driven to the point of caring minimally what she thought of me, I shrugged. "It's no problem," I said. "It's warm out. I'm in the middle of potty training her anyway, so it makes things simpler for her if she needs to go."

Scowling at me, she bit a tongue that no doubt had a stream of things to say on the matter. Rapidly she turned to the two older children, quickly breaking up their squabble. "Hey, grandma's here," she announced.

Dylan quickly ran to her, knowing, as I did, that she would have some treat for him. Sure enough, out of her Louis Vuitton purse came a sucker.

"Can I have this now, Mom?" he excitedly screamed, gratefully grabbing the candy.

"I don't-" I began.

"Of course you can," she interrupted.

My rule was always no sweets before school. "He's just brushed his teeth," I sighed, addressing Carole.

"He's a young boy," she smiled, relishing every opportunity she had to undermine me. "You've got to bend the rules and have a little fun now and then." As she spoke, her hand delved back into her purse and she retrieved another piece of candy. This time, she offered it to Lizzie.

"Thanks, grandma," Lizzie smiled, accepting the sucker and stuffing it into the pocket of her jeans.

"You can have yours now, too," Carole assured her, nodding.

"I'll save it for later, thanks," Lizzie replied.

This seemed to rankle my mother-in-law, who quickly said goodbye and hustled the older kids out of the house.

I followed them to the door, giving Lizzie and Dylan a hug. "Have a good day at school," I told them, before watching them trot down the steps and climb eagerly into the back of Grandma's Mercedes.

With just me and Kate in the house, things were much quieter. However, with a mountain of housework to do, they weren't going to be much easier.

# Chapter Four

What A Mess

Later that night, after an hour and a half and three stories, Kate finally went to sleep. At last, the house was silent and I breathed a sigh of relief. There was laundry to be done and dishes from dinner still to be washed, but I couldn't be bothered with either. Instead, I plodded wearily to my bathroom and ran a nice, hot bath.

I couldn't contain the long, deep sigh I exhaled as my body slipped beneath the warm water and it seemed as if a huge weight had been lifted from me. Under the spell of that glorious calm, my brain stopped whirring and, for the first time in longer than I cared to recall, I was at peace.

I made no conscious decision to move my hands. In fact, I surprised myself when I found them slipping over the slick skin of my chest and caressing my breasts. Quickly giving way to the pleasant sensation, I allowed my eyes to lazily drift closed, as I continued to move my fingers in slow, teasing circles. When I reached my nipples, I found them rigid and aching. Gently gripping those tight pebbles between my forefingers and thumbs, I pinched lightly. "Hmmm," I mumbled longingly, my right hand leaving my breasts and smoothing over my abdomen.

With my eyes shut, I imagined another hand traveling to my navel and slowly sliding over my mound. It was Paul I thought about. It had always been Paul; except perhaps for a short time when I was sixteen, when mind candy for my self-exploration was the blonde-haired guy from that boy band. The fact that Paul was, and always had been, the focus of almost all of my erotic fantasies wasn't due to any misplaced sense of disloyalty via thought. It was simply a case of never having felt the need to focus on any other man. My husband turned me on – not everything about him, of course. The sight of him sprawled out on the bed that morning, for example, was not the stuff of my sexual dreams. However, there were always memories that I could hang my masturbating hat on. We'd had some really good times together, and it wasn't difficult for me to focus on those.

My fingers moved leisurely over the neat triangle of short hair that covered my mound. Drawn further, they smoothed between my outer lips finding them smooth and plump. Bending one leg and sliding my foot up to my bottom, I offered my own roaming hand freer access. With the pad of my middle finger, I rolled carefully over my clitoris, which instantly responded.

Often, during moments like those, I'd think of the first time Paul touched me like that. It was several months before we went the whole way and not long after my eighteenth birthday. He'd been so nervous that his fingers were trembling. He didn't know what he was doing, and truth be told, neither did I. Sure, I knew what felt good, but I hadn't got a name for that small bud that sent warmth flooding through my entire body. We were both giddy and a little scared, but we laughed together and, eventually, he asked me to guide his fingers.

"Show me," he'd urged. "Show me how to touch you."

I was hesitant at first, sure that he'd much rather be in control of the situation. I was also reluctant to give the impression that he was doing something wrong. However, he continued to insist and, as I placed my fingers on top of his, it wasn't close to being as embarrassing or awkward as I'd assumed it would be. That afternoon, I'd coaxed him into rubbing my clitoris, until I bucked and writhed in climax. What I didn't know then, and would never have known had he not confessed it a couple of years later, was that the sight and feel of my orgasm had caused Paul to come in his pants.

Brought back to my present surroundings by the stirring of electricity between my legs, I started to increase the pressure of my touch. It had been several weeks since I'd pleasured myself and even longer since Paul had driven me to orgasm, so the speed of its climb caught me off guard. Usually, after long dry spells, my body is slow to reach boiling point.

I was close; so close. My mouth fell open and I began suck in shallow panted breaths. My hips were moving of their own volition, my backside swaying on the bottom of the tub in rhythm to the movement of my fingers. Sparks were triggering a restless warmth in my belly. And then, as I began to reach the summit, the phone's harsh ringing ripped me from the high and yanked me back down. I tried to ignore it, I kept my eyes tightly shut and strummed my body with renewed vigor. However, as the beep of the answer machine cut in and my mother-in-law's voice drifted to the bathroom from the phone on Paul's bedside table, I removed my hand from between my legs with a muttered, "Shit."

"Julia, it's Carole," she began in her hash, nasal tone. "I just wanted to make sure everything's okay. I know you said you can cope, but I really think that things are becoming too much for you right now. It's understandable," she quickly added. "It's hard for an inexperienced mother to care for three children on her own."

The bath was suddenly no longer relaxing. My jaw had tightened and I felt my shoulders begin to rise to my neck. What she meant by 'inexperienced mother' I didn't know. I'd been a mom for nearly eight years and certainly didn't consider myself new to the job.

"All I mean is, there's nothing wrong with asking for help. And I'm always here if you need me," she announced, a smile clear in her voice. "Anyway," she added briskly. "Call me, because it's really quite late and I'm concerned about where you are."

"Argh," I growled, my hands gripping the edges of the bathtub and imagined it was her neck beneath my fingers. With the firm click of her phone being put down, I gave up all hope of a soothing soak in the tub, let alone any prospect of sexual release. Yanking myself up, I reached for a big, fluffy towel with one hand and held it loosely to my chest, not bothering to wrap it around me. After quickly tugging the plug out of the bath, I wandered bare foot and dripping into the bedroom.

Once there, I stared at the phone, with a red light blinking on its base, for several seconds. Should I call her? If I did, she'd jabber on and on for ages. If I didn't, she'd just keeping calling all night long. Making a sudden decision, I lunged forwards and edged the bedside table out slightly. Then, I grabbed the cable at the back of the phone and pulled until I felt the mains pop out of the wall socket.

With a satisfied nod and a naughty grin, I flopped down onto the bed. Knowing exactly what Carole would think if she could see me making the bed wet with the outline of my buttocks, I dropped onto my back. Sprawling out, I let my soaking wet hair drench the sheets. However, my delight in doing something that seemed so rebellious was short-lived. Eventually, I sat up and, when I did, I was met with my first real acknowledgment of the car crash that was my bedroom.

Up until that time, I hadn't been back in the room since leaving it that morning. And as I'd strolled to the bath, I'd failed to really take it in. Carole's opinion that I was a lazy wife and mother came back to haunt me. Our bedroom certainly was a mess, not of my making but, apparently, it was my 'job' to clean up after my husband.

There were clothes everywhere. The ones Paul had worn the night before were strewn on the floor from where he'd stripped them off that morning. His damp towel had been tossed at the foot of the bed and now just a tiny corner clung to the mattress while the rest draped slovenly on the floor. A sports bag sat beside the wardrobe. It was open with a creased shirt spilling out of it. This was the bag he'd taken on his last trip and must have been placed in the closet when he got home. Paul appeared to have pulled it out and been rummaging for something. Thoughtfully, he'd left it in disarray for me to deal with.

I considered leaving it; just watching TV and putting all that mess off until the morning. However, I couldn't take my eyes off the state of the room and was bombarded by the thought that I wasn't being a good enough wife to Paul. I was supposed to _want_ to take care of him, it wasn't meant to seem like a chore. Perhaps he felt, like his mom, that I wasn't doing a very good job – was that why we'd been so disconnected?

Pushing myself up from the bed, I quickly strode back into the bathroom, tossed the towel in the laundry hamper and grabbed a robe. It was a silk one that reached my calves; a present from Paul for my birthday. Carefully drawing the tie around my middle and securing it in place, I didn't care that my damp hair was already soaking through the material at my shoulders.

Marching back into the bedroom, I pushed the sleeves of the robe up to my elbows and was ready for business. I moved quickly around the room, first picking up Paul's towel and scooping that over my arm as I bent for his clothes. While I walked purposefully to the large bathroom hamper, I slipped my hands into his pants pockets, turning them inside out. True to form, a handful of change clattered onto the bathroom tiles.

"Paul," I groaned, realizing that after a decade of begging him, he was never going to empty the pockets of his dirty clothes.

After tossing my armful into the laundry basket, I crouched and picked up each coin one by one. Two quarters, three dimes and five pennies. With a huff of weariness, I pushed myself upright and took the fistful of money to Paul's bedside table. Right next to the phone was a sterling silver tray with 'change is good' engraved in the center. It had once belonged to Paul's grandfather and, although he treasured it, he didn't see fit to use it. With a satisfying clatter, I placed the coins onto the tray and spun on the balls of my feet.

The sports bag was the one remaining eyesore. I would have felt that I was on the home stretch, but the worst thing about being a housewife is that there's never a home stretch. There's always something to do; always more mess, because while you're cleaning someone's making some more. But, for the time being at least, I was on the verge of having a clean bedroom.

I moved for the bag, gripping the thick shoulder strap and half lifted, half dragged it into the bathroom. Setting it down by the still open hamper, I crouched down and began tugging each item of clothing from the bag. Two dress shirts went straight into the basket. A white T-shirt followed and then there were three boxer shorts. Black dress pants and a pair of jeans dwelt at the bottom and, sure enough, both had change and receipts stuffed in every available pocket.

"For God's sake," I muttered pulling out all the junk and chucking it temporarily in the bottom of the bag. As I did that, my eyes flashed down at the black polyester lining that was speckled with tiny balls of white fluff. My gaze caught something shiny. Releasing their grip on Paul's jeans, my fingers delved into the bag. I tried to tell myself that it was just a little scrap of foil; it couldn't possibly be what it looked like; what I thought it was. Grasping it with my forefinger and thumb, I slowly pulled it free from its hiding place. It wasn't just the tiny edge I had been able to see. It was a full square with a clear circular indent. The shiny, blue wrapper had been ripped at the top and its contents removed.

The hand holding the condom wrapper began to tremble, as the implications of it settled painfully in my chest. My mouth and throat went instantly dry, while palpitations caused my eardrums to throb with each deep, pound of my heart. Paul and I hadn't used condoms since our engagement; he'd never liked them, we both wanted a family anyway and, shortly after Lizzie was born, I'd started taking the pill. There was no need for any other form of contraception.

The object in my hand could mean only one thing. God knows I tried to find other explanations. Most of them were wild, nonsensical excuses; anything to avoid the truth that was staring me in the face. But there was no way to avoid it. Paul had an affair while he'd been away.

Dropping the wrapper and swiveling toward the tub, bile suddenly rose in my throat. I dry heaved, nothing more than saliva dribbling from my bottom lip while my throat burned. I remained that way for several minutes, my empty stomach continuing to retch.

Eventually, my insides stopped trying to turn themselves inside out, but my heart still raced and my fingers tingled with a lack of circulation. My knees beginning to feel numb, I forced myself up, regretting it almost instantly when my head pounded and I felt a wave of dizziness. Nevertheless, I pulled myself around to the sink and turned the cold faucet on full. I let the stream flow noisily for a second, while I looked at myself in the mirror. My usually bright complexion was deathly pale and my blue eyes gazed blankly ahead. Unable to bear the sight of myself, I stuck my head beneath the water's stream, vigorously rinsing my face before filling my mouth with several large gulps.

When the feeling of nausea returned with a vengeance, I quickly turned off the water and slipped down onto the cold tiles, my legs collapsing beneath me. My back propped up against the edge of the tub was the only thing keeping me sitting upright. Never, either before or since, have I experienced such a sudden and debilitating sense of loss and disorientation.

It was an hour or more before I was finally able to drag myself up from the bathroom floor. By that point, I was still trembling, but it was no longer with fear. The victim mentality had been replaced with anger; a seething rage. Questions swirled around my frenzied brain, and I was determined to get answers.

# Chapter Five

Proof

Through an enraged red mist, I wasn't thinking clearly. I flew back into the bedroom and started tearing the room apart. I began by ripping out the drawers of Paul's bedside table, and tipping the contents of them on the floor. His collection of cufflinks scattered over the carpet and an old cell phone battery clunked to the ground followed by an ipod with tangled earphones. The lower, deeper drawer was heavier and full of notebooks and photo albums. I flicked through these, quickly dismissing them when I found nothing relevant within the pages.

Using the bed to push myself up, I moved over to Paul's wardrobe. My movements were frenzied, as I tugged suit jackets off hangers and rifled through the pockets. When I found nothing, I tossed the clothes over my shoulder. I continued this way, until I'd gone through every item of clothing he owned. I had to wade through an ankle deep puddle of fabric as I turned away from the closet and glanced desperately around the room. He had taken everything else with him; his phone, tablet and laptop were all in his possession.

"Shit," I hissed, my breath coming hard as the desperate need to get to the truth became an almost physical pain. I couldn't call him, he'd only come up with a convenient excuse for the condom, and not being able to see him when he lied put me at a disadvantage. No, I wanted to have irrefutable proof of what he'd done before I confronted him with it.

In the corner of the room was a desktop computer, which I focused on intently. It was my only route into his life. I'd only ever used the thing infrequently, but I'd worked with computers before Lizzie came into the world, and knew my way around them. Without a second thought, I turned it on and tugged the antique chair toward the desk.

Sitting, I grasped the mouse and clicked on the shortcut for Paul's email. Then, I was forced to pause. I had no idea what his password was. It wasn't something he'd shared with me. Until that moment, I'd never questioned it; hadn't believed for one second that I needed access to his cell or his computers. I'd stupidly believed that Paul loved me the same way I loved him, and that no matter what problems we faced, we'd work through them together.

Not only did I feel betrayed and sick with the knowledge that he'd been with someone else, but I also felt stupid. I was gullible and naïve not to see what had been going on. The signs were there; his distance, his unwillingness to have sex (the exception being our strange encounter the night before), that gnawing sense that something just wasn't right. It was a feeling I'd had for weeks, and yet I'd ignored it, buried it, pretended that everything was just peachy and perfect.

With no trace of humor, I laughed bitterly at my own stupidity.

Fresh anger welling inside me, I turned my attention back to the computer screen. I began typing words that floated into my head. I started with the name of Paul's family business: 'Hayes&Son', then moved onto the license plate number of his new BMW, the name of his childhood dog, our children's names and dates of birth, the date of our wedding. Denied, denied, denied.

"Argh," I groaned loudly, slamming my hand down on the surface of the desk. In the silence that followed, I waited to discover that I'd woken one, or possibly all three, of the kids. However, the moment's ticked by and still silence met my ears. Drawing in a calming breath, I resolved to control my outburst. The last thing I needed was a sleepily toddler wandering in and asking what was going on. I would never be able to explain Mom's teary, haunted face or the wreckage she'd made of the bedroom.

With a sigh of resignation, I threw myself back into the solid wooden-backed chair, jarring my spine as I did so. I didn't care about the discomfort. Instead, my eyes crawled up the wall before me and landed on a framed picture of Paul with three of his high school football teammates. "Tigers," I whispered under my breath.

Moving without my conscious request, I typed, 'Tigers' into the empty password box. However, I hovered over the enter key for some time, before deciding to add '32', Paul's jersey number. The screen suddenly changed and I was looking at Paul's inbox.

Quickly scanning through the first page of recent messages, all seemed normal, boring and businesslike. However, three quarters of the way down the page, I noticed something that seemed out of place. The sender's name was Jennifer, in of itself nothing to be suspicious about, but the subject line of her email read, 'Last Night'.

Terrified, but unable to simply turn away, I slowly directed the mouse to that message and clicked to open it. I don't think I breathed as I read, and my heart seemed to sink lower and lower in my chest.

Hi Paul,

Just wanted to say thanks for a very interesting evening. Someone told me that you admire people who go after what they want, so I assume you won't think any less of me for doing exactly that. Like I told you, I'd been thinking about it for months and the temptation of being in a strange city and a luxurious hotel with you was just too great to resist. And I think you should know that you definitely didn't disappoint! Anyway, I look forward to working with you. I'm pretty sure it's going to be a lot of fun for both of us.

There was nothing overt, but the subtext of her email left little to the imagination. My eyes flicked to the date, it had been sent almost three months ago. Paul had been on another three, maybe four trips since then. The tears that had been pricking my eyes spilled silently onto my cheek and traced a hot trail to my chin. This hadn't just been a one-time thing; a moment of weakness. In all likelihood, he'd been having a full-blown affair with this woman.

Desperate to know more, I typed Jennifer in the search box and pulled up all messages sent to and from her. There were only two more that she'd sent to Paul, both were completely professional and written some time earlier. The other was written by Paul in reply to the first email I'd read.

Jen,

The pleasure was mine! You're absolutely right, this could be the start of a long and successful association. Will be in Dallas again in a couple of weeks. If interested in another meeting, let me know. I'll e-mail you the details when they're set in stone.

Again, the pretext of business hid something that caused my stomach to lurch. Blinking back the water that was blurring my vision, I slumped in the chair. There were still so many unanswered questions. Who was this woman? How long had it been going on? Was it just a fling or was Paul considering leaving me for her?

It seemed as though I'd struck a dead end. Paul and this Jennifer hadn't corresponded in ten weeks, at least not via email. However, as I was about to give up, I noticed that Paul had placed those two emails, which seemed to skirt around the subject of a night spent together, in a folder entitled, 'business trips'. I'm not sure why it occurred to me to check it, but I did so on instinct.

Moving the mouse to the right hand side of the screen, I clicked on the folder, which opened a new window. 'Business trips' contained dozens of messages and as I scanned down the list, I quickly noticed the pattern. Every single one was from a woman. Four names featured heavily; Abby, Rachel, Joann and Krista. Emails from each of them were predominantly in dated chunks. Abby's were all sent just before and around the time Paul was in New York. Rachel's centered around the week he was in Tampa. Joann wrote to him during his trip to San Francisco, and Krista's emails were dated on and just after Paul's visit to San Diego.

"Jesus," I mumbled, my eyes widening with disbelief. It all seemed so surreal. Shaking my head, I felt that I must be dreaming. This had to be some horrible nightmare that I was about to wake up from. However, no matter how many times I blinked, the image on the screen stayed the same.

Although a part of me didn't want the pain of knowing what was inside those emails, the urge to get to the truth was overwhelming. So, regardless of the sensible voice that told me to just turn the computer off and walk away, my fingers gripped the mouse tightly and directed the cursor to the last email on the list – the oldest. It was from Krista and the subject line read, 'Discrete'.

Paul,

I'm sure you feel the same, but I wanted to ask if we can keep what happened yesterday between us. Some of the guys on my team were asking where I disappeared to last night and I made up an excuse about not feeling well. I just hope nobody saw us going upstairs to your room. I don't want people thinking that I'm trying to sleep my way to a promotion. Working with a large group of men is difficult enough without them thinking I'm a slut. And as drunk as we both were, I don't want you to think I regret what happened. In fact, if you're in town for a few more days, perhaps we can meet up again?

Her next message made it clear that Paul had reassured her and responded in the affirmative to her final question. She simply confirmed that she would meet him at his hotel room at 9pm that evening.

There followed a couple more messages, stating that she'd had a good time and requested more meetings with him. The content of her final email suggested that Paul had given her the brush off. However, she didn't seem too distressed by that news.

Next came Joann, her messages were similar in tone. She obviously also worked for the company, in one of the smaller branches. She alluded to having given Paul a blowjob in the bathroom of a restaurant, before signing off with a crass remark about her jaw still being sore from the experience.

With a disgusted grunt, I shut that email and opened the next. It was immediately apparent that Rachel from Tampa was direct in expressing her desires.

Mr. Hayes,

This is probably totally inappropriate, but I know you're here for the weekend and I was hoping you might like a little company. I feel that there's been some chemistry between us and I've caught you glancing at me in a way that tells me you've felt it too. I know that you're married, and I'm not looking for anything serious. I just want you to fuck me.

There were several very short messages, confirming a time and place to meet. Then, a day later, a long message praising Paul's prowess. However, she, unlike the two other women, seemed content with just one night. She made no mention of meeting him again, and continued to address him as Mr. Hayes.

The final clutch of emails was the most recent, concerning Paul's trip to New York. There, he'd been supposed to be meeting with potential new clients. The Abby from his mailbox seemed to be an employee of that business.

Hello, Paul.

I'm Abby, Frank Welby's personal assistant. I tried to call you this afternoon, but couldn't get through. Mr. Welby was impressed with your presentation, but he'd like some further questions answered before you leave town. However, he's heading to Napa tomorrow, so would it be possible for you to get down to the offices tonight? Thanks in advance.

I read this message again, searching for some innuendo or hint of over familiarity that I might have missed the first time around. There was none, so why had Paul kept this message? The fact that there was another email from Abby indicated there was more to this seemingly professional exchange. With a sense of dread, I clicked on the subsequent message.

Paul,

I forgot that there was a security camera in the conference room! Had to do some quick thinking to remove this footage from the files. I really enjoyed watching this, though. Hope you will, too.

Beneath the text was a video file. In so deep, I felt sure things could get no worse. I was wrong.

A new window quickly opened and a grainy image appeared. The picture was soundless and quality awful, but there was no mistaking my husband. He was standing behind a blonde-haired woman, with her shoulder length hair masking most of her face. She was bent forward over a massive circular table with some ten chairs around it. Her large breasts were threatening to spill out of the low cut blouse she wore.

Paul had her tight, very short skirt tugged into his hands and yanked up around her waist. I then watched his left hand, the one bearing his solid gold wedding band, slide down to his pants and unzip his fly. His fingers disappeared within and quickly returned, easing his hard shaft through the opening. Suddenly, he was inside her. With no thought for contraception, he'd rammed his unprotected member into a woman he'd met just that morning. The knowledge that less than a week later, that same cock was inside me made me feel that I'd been defiled.

Her head bucked up and she arched her back, her mouth open as she screamed something. Paul instantly took advantage of her elevated upper half, grasping both of her breasts in rough hands. After a few seconds of frenzied groping, she turned her face to his and said something I couldn't lipread. It spurred him into action, pushing her back to the desk and slamming his erection into her with a force that rocked the huge table.

All of the blood left my head, as I watched him repeatedly enter her from behind. She was writhing beneath him, squealing in what looked like delight at the violent treatment. Paul abruptly pulled free from her, using his right hand to slap her hard on the buttock before clasping his penis. With hurried, brutal strokes, he stimulated himself. Climaxing with a sudden jet of creamy white fluid that splattered over the hand print that was reddening on her ass.

Jumping to my feet, I dashed to the bathroom, making it to the sink just in time to lose the small amount of water I'd managed to force into my stomach just minutes before.

# Chapter Six

What Friends Are For

Unable to think clearly, I dashed back into the bedroom and flung open my closet. Yanking out a suitcase that was laid on the bottom, I flipped it open and began throwing clothes into it. I couldn't say what I chose to take and what I chose to leave, there was no logical sense to what I was doing, no thought for practicalities. The only thing I was aware of was a desperate need to get out of that house. A claustrophobia had gripped me and was frantic to break free.

Enclosing the hurriedly bundled clothes within the case, I grabbed a pair of sweatpants with my free hand. Rushing to the bed, I sat down and slipped the sweats over my legs. Keeping the robe fastened and draped over the top, I pulled the pants up to my waist and jumped up from the mattress. It was only as I returned to my closet and grasped an oversized sweater that I silently asked, what was I doing? Where would I go? I didn't have any money, no family nearby and, after I'd left Paul, he was sure to do everything he could to take the children away from me. He could afford a team of the best family law attorneys. I could afford...nothing.

As all the furious energy drained from me, I slumped to the floor of my closet and leaned back against the firm wall. I was trapped.

Staring blankly ahead, I wrestled with that concept; questioning how I'd found myself in such a situation. It had never entered my head, not even for a second, that by agreeing to Paul's parents' demands over the prenuptial agreement, I'd been backed into an inescapable corner. The balance of power in our marriage was hideously weighted in his favor. And I was out of options.

In a state of utter despondency and still reeling from what I'd just discovered, I did what I have always done when I didn't know what to do. I picked up the phone, after plugging it back in, and called Grace. She was my best friend, had been since we were in second grade. Although life had sent us in different directions, quite literally placing us on opposite sides of the country, and things often got so busy that it would be months between conversations, we remained close. Every time we talked, even when it was almost a year since the last time, it was as though we'd just seen each other yesterday. We both understood that life got frantic, so there was no sense that the other wasn't making 'enough effort' to stay in touch.

Waiting anxiously for her to answer, I clutched the phone tightly to my ear as if it were a lifeline.

"Hello," she eventually said, a slight question in the word which made it obvious she hadn't looked at the caller ID before picking up.

"Hey," I replied, my voice sounding hoarse and scratchy. "It's me."

"Julia?" she responded quickly. "What's up? You sound terrible."

Despite the intense misery I felt, I couldn't help but smile. Grace always had a way of cutting right to the heart of the matter. She didn't worry about a veneer of politeness, she never said anything she didn't mean and expected everybody to treat her with the same level of brutal honesty.

"Jesus," she added. "It must be three in the morning there. What the hell's happened?"

"Is it?" I mumbled absently glancing at the digital clock. "I lost track of time."

"Jules," she sighed soothingly. "What's going on?"

"I umm," I began, not knowing exactly what to say. After a brief pause, I decided perhaps Grace's approach was the best, if not the only, way to deal with things. "Paul's been cheating on me."

"What?" she shouted, her shock sounding no less than my own had been.

I was past the point of crying, all of my tears had dried out long before. So, it was with a sort of detached, emotionless voice that I recounted what I'd discovered over the previous few hours.

"You've got to be kidding me?" she muttered quietly. I could tell she was talking to herself and didn't actually think it was my idea of a practical joke. "Who does that bastard think he is?"

"Rico Suave, apparently," I murmured bitterly.

"Jesus Christ," she sighed, clearly having a hard time taking the news in. "What an ass!" she suddenly shouted. "Where the fuck does he get off? You're stuck at home raising his children and he goes around sticking his dick into everything with a pair of breast."

I was grateful that she was so angry on my behalf, but her rant brought back images that caused my throat to tighten.

"I'd chop his cock off!" she added vehemently.

That brought a reluctant laugh to my lips, but it tapered off far too quickly to provide any real relief.

"Oh, Jules," she breathed. "Honey, what are you going to do?"

"I really don't know," I admitted with a whisper. "I just..." I sighed wearily. "I don't know."

"But you are going to leave him, right?" she asked, leaving no doubt that she felt the answer should be a resounding 'yes'.

"I want to," I replied weakly. "I mean, our marriage is over. If it had just been once, I might have been able to forgive him, but after this, I'll never be able to trust him again."

"But?" Grace coaxed, noting that there was one coming.

"But what can I do?" I said, shaking my head dispiritedly. "I haven't got a penny to my name. I can't even afford to rent a tiny one bedroom apartment, let alone a place big enough for three kids."

"Okay," she conceded, her practical tone coming to the fore. "So, you get a job and save some money."

It was a viable suggestion, but there were problems. "I won't be able to work without Paul finding out," I sighed. "He'd want to know why, and I can't come up with a convincing reason other than the truth."

"Tell him you're bored at home and need some adult company once in a while," Grace offered helpfully.

"Yeah," I agreed. "But if he knows I'm working, he'll wonder why the money isn't going into our joint bills account," I countered, hating the fact that every solution simply posed another problem. "Not to mention the fact that it would take me forever to save enough, I'm not qualified for anything that would pay well."

"Then don't worry about money," she dismissed quickly. "You and the children can come and live with me, until you've got yourself settled financially. You could stay as long as it takes you know that."

I'd been wrong. My tears had apparently an endless supply, because Grace's generous offer brought a fresh wave. "You're too good to me," I replied shakily.

"Hey," she cooed. "That's what friends are for, right? So what do you say?"

"I'd love to," I told her earnestly. "But I can't. No matter what, when I leave him, Paul's going to fight me for principal custody of the kids. If I take them out of the state without his permission, his lawyers will make sure I never see them again."

Grace was silent for several seconds. "Surely, he wouldn't do that," she mumbled. "The children love you, you're a good mom. Why would he want to do that to them or to you?"

Sighing, my eyes wandered to the ceiling. "He can be very vindictive," I explained. "And he's ruthless in getting what he wants. He's, umm..." I hesitated. "He's joked about what would happen if we ever split up. At least, he framed them as jokes, but I knew that he wasn't just messing around. If I give him any reason to, he'll take them from me."

Exhaling heavily, the whir of Grace's brain almost came through the phone. "All right," she began. "So, the situation is you need to make some money, preferably a lot of it in a fairly short space of time. And you need to keep it on the down low," she stated, summing up my impossible situation.

"That's about it," I agreed, leaning forward and dropping my head into my open left palm. "No big deal, right?" I joked darkly.

"Well," she said, drawing the word out. "I'm thinking there is something you could do?"

"What?" I asked, not holding out much hope for a completely full proof solution.

"Don't dismiss it right off the bat, okay?" she prefaced. "How about working as an exotic dancer?"

"Stripping?" I blurted. "I don't think so."

"I said, don't dismiss it," she insisted. "Think about it. You could work a couple of nights a week during the time Paul's away. You'd hire a sitter to watch the kids, or have them stay overnight with friends."

"All that sounds fine," I conceded. "But what about the part where I take off my clothes?"

"You've got an amazing body," she instantly replied, seeming to misunderstand my main objection. "It may have been a long time since you danced in high school, but I bet you've still got the moves."

"Grace," I muttered. "I can't."

"Why not?" she countered.

"I just..." I weakly protested. "I can't go around all the clubs in town, gyrating in nothing more than a thong."

"You could," she retorted. "Do you know how quickly you could make enough money for a deposit on an apartment?"

"That's not the point," I replied quietly.

"Well, sweetie," she sighed. "I don't know that you have many other options. I'm not suggesting that it's perfect, and I'm not suggesting you take it up as a career. But I do think it's worth considering. Otherwise, what choice do you have?" We both knew it was a rhetorical question, but Grace left it hanging there, no doubt wanting to ensure that I really thought about my predicament and lack of ways out. "Do you really think that you could just bury all of this and go on with Paul as though nothing's happened?" she eventually added.

That was another question that didn't require an answer. She knew me well enough to know that I couldn't bear to play 'happy families' with a man who not only had been unfaithful, but also a man who would doubtless continue to cheat on me.

"Are you still there?" she said after my silence had become uncomfortably long.

"Yeah," I assured her quietly. "Yeah, I'm still here. I'm just wondering how I got myself into this mess."

"None of this is your fault," she replied softly. "You could never have known that this is what was going to happen. I mean," she added, "it's not as though Paul was a player when he was younger. He's changed, and you couldn't have foreseen that."

"Maybe," I reluctantly mumbled. "But he still changed right in front of me, and I was either too busy or too blind to notice."

"Jules," she said in her no nonsense manner. It was the kind of tone that all parents use with their children from time to time. "You have to stop beating yourself up. Paul is the one who did something wrong. You're not to blame for any of it, understand?"

"I guess," I replied halfheartedly.

"Listen, I'm really sorry, but I've got to go," she added apologetically. I could hear Mason, her baby boy, in the background. He was crying softly; the sound of a hungry, growing child. "Think about what I said, and call me again if you need to talk. Any time, day or night."

"Thank you," I said with a grateful half smile that she would never see, but I hope she heard. "I really appreciate that."

"No problem," she responded. "You take care, honey."

"Bye," I sadly whispered, before slipping the phone back into its base. My gaze stayed fixed there for some time, not because I was drawn to the phone in particular. No, my focus remained there, because I was trying to resist the call of something else. If I ignored it, perhaps the feeling would pass.

However, it didn't. Eventually, I peered over my shoulder at the computer. After all that time, the screen had gone blank and a small amber light blinking slowly in the right hand corner. It was insane, I told myself. There was no way I would dance for ten dollar bills to be tucked into my panties. So, it was pointless even looking. And yet, my curiosity remained. In fact, it began to grow.

Muttering, "This is ridiculous," I picked myself off the bed and settled back in the chair by the desk. Quickly grabbing the mouse, I swept it across the pad, enlivening the screen once more. Not wishing to be reminded of the content of Paul's emails, I quickly signed out and closed that window. Then, I opened a fresh page and began a search.

After just a few minutes, I'd discovered that the pay of strippers varied dramatically depending on the clubs and how many private dances they were willing to offer. Nevertheless, it was apparently very possible for women to make between $2,000 and $3,000 per week. When I compared that with all of the entry level positions I would be qualified for, which paid minimum wage or just above, the choice seemed like a no-brainer. Grace was right, within just a few weeks, I could make enough money to put down a deposit and have a nice nest egg saved up.

Suddenly becoming aware of what I was doing, I pushed away from the desk and leaned back in the chair. "Am I actually considering this?" I whispered. I had shocked myself by how quickly I'd warmed to the idea and how attractive it was suddenly seeming.

Yes, it still seemed seedy. But I was beginning to realize I could live with that. After all, it would be for a finite, very short period of time. The alternative would mean staying with Paul, essentially prostituting myself (when he felt like having sex with me and not someone else), and trawling through a loveless, miserable existence. Being leered at by a few lonely men was a small price to pay to be free.

A silly smile began to spread across my face. There was another bonus to this plan, it would feel really good to get my own pay back on Paul. Although he'd never find out what I was doing, I could guess what his reaction would be if he did know. And that was enough; at least some vengeance would be had.

However, with that thought came an abrupt dampener to my heightening spirits. Paul could never know what I was doing. If he learned I was dancing in those places, despite the expression on his face being priceless, he would use it to argue that I was an unfit mother. If I danced in public, especially in the classier clubs that would be my preference, there was a possibility I'd be seen by someone Paul knows. That was a risk I could simply not afford to take.

# Chapter Seven

Work

Over the next couple of days, I continued to think very seriously about the possibility of stripping. Every time I stepped out of the shower, I carefully examined my body. For a woman who'd had three children, I wasn't in bad shape. Regular exercise and being usually careful to avoid any kind of junk food, had helped me stay trim. There were a few silvery stretch marks around my hips, but they were barely noticeable. After prodding my butt, I discovered a little wobble, but it was still pretty firm. Most of my skin was healthily bronzed by the summer sun, and the problem of paler patches could be easily solved with a little spray tan.

With the help of more make-up than I'd usually wear and the right outfit, I didn't think I'd look out of place in one of the more upmarket clubs. The more I thought, the more I became convinced not only that I could do it, but that it also offered me the escape route I needed.

As my interest refused to wane, I went back onto the internet and began scouting for clubs in various cities around the state. I was surprised by the large number of so-called gentleman's clubs. Most of their websites offered a section for 'career opportunities' and stressed that they were always looking for new talent. One page provided potential customers with a gallery of their dancers. Out of curiosity, I browsed the girls noting that many of them linked to their own websites.

Clicking on a blonde named, 'Snow', I was intrigued as to why a stripper would need a website. It turned out, Snow was a savvy business woman. She worked in a number of clubs and also offered private services in both dancing and escorting. Not only was she gaining some job security by diversifying, but also making a lot more money. With one night of escorting, she was earning what the average stripper gets in a week.

Closing the browser, I thought no more about it. At least, I wasn't aware of thinking about it. But as I lay in bed that night, my eyes wide open and focused on shadows that played across the ceiling, I continued to think about Snow and what she chose to do for a living. Sure, it was prostitution, and yet it was a very different world to the streetwalking variety.

Two things quickly occurred to me. One, if I stayed with Paul, I was going to be prostituting myself anyway. And two, men who hire escorts are much more likely to be discreet than men who go to strip joints.

Shaking my head, I couldn't quite believe the conclusions I was reaching. But one after another, I kept producing reasons why a brief career as an escort would be a good idea. I'd only have to work one night per week; I wouldn't have to take my clothes off in front of a room full of people; I could be selective over my clients and where I met them, ensuring I was always out of town.

But, I quickly slammed on the breaks of my runaway train of thought, there was the one huge sacrifice I would need to make. I would need to be prepared to allow complete strangers to use my body for their sexual pleasure. Was that something I could do? Was it something I would be able to live with afterward? The truth was, I didn't know.

However, there were only two alternatives; continue with the sham that was my marriage or leave Paul and accept that he would fight to take primary custody of our kids. I knew without any equivocation that I could live with neither of those things. The possible fallout may have been a complete unknown, but the fear of what _might_ happen was far less than the dread of playing the dutiful wife to a man I no longer respected, trusted or loved.

Unable to close my eyes, I pushed the covers off the bed and sat up. "I can try," I mumbled beneath my breath. "Just once."

Slipping off the bed, I tiptoed in the darkness to the computer and once more turned it on. If I'd made up my mind, I told myself, then I might as well get the ball rolling.

I wouldn't be able to set up my own site, at least not one in which I used a photograph, as there was too much chance of Paul, his parents, our friends and God knew who else seeing it. Instead, I'd need to use classified ads. There were several sites that would allow me to post free ones and there were a couple of message boards that offered a forum for escorts and potential clients to communicate.

After having read several other ads, I began to get a gist for the basic format and the kind of things that were important to customers. It took me almost an hour to write my own pitch, it was only 100 words long, but I struggled with the tone, wanting to get the right balance between classy and alluring. It's difficult enough to sell yourself for a regular job, when you're quite literally selling yourself, a personal statement (even a very short one) becomes incredibly hard.

However, by the time dawn broke, I had advertised myself on a total of five websites and had set up a new email account for the purpose.

Given the sheer number of young women who seemed to be trying to get work in exactly the same way, I didn't hold out much hope of hearing from anyone in the near future. In fact, regardless of the large amounts of money that could be made, I was beginning to wonder whether I would be able to make anything at all. There seemed to be a disproportionately large supply compared with demand.

Deciding that I would give the ads a couple of weeks, I determined to worry about a 'Plan B' only after that time had elapsed.

In the meantime, I had to go back to being a mom; there were children that needed to be woken, fed and shipped off to school.

***

As it turned out, I didn't have to wait two weeks. Just three days passed before I received my first email inquiry. I'd almost dismissed it as spam, feeling sure that I had no chance of generating interest so quickly. However, the subject line, 'Looking for some company on Saturday night', caused me to stop dead in my tracks.

I was about to open the message, but a voice from the doorway caused me to jolt in surprise.

"Mom," Dylan said brightly. "Can I have some ice cream?"

My head snapped around, as I shut the browser window. It was a nonsensical reaction, there was nothing revealing on the screen, my son couldn't see it anyway and even if he could, he certainly wasn't close enough to read. "How many times have I told you about knocking on that door before you come in," I grumbled, pushing myself off the chair and moving toward him.

"I did," he replied.

"Well, I didn't say 'come in'," I said, coaxing him around with a light touch at his shoulder.

He followed my silent guiding without hesitation or argument. "I'm sorry," he continued. "Can I have some ice cream, though?" he quickly added, returning to his primary concern.

"Not right now," I responded, walking down the hall with him.

"Ahhh, Mom," he moaned loudly. "Please!" he begged, turning to me and pressing his hands together in front of his chest. "Please, please, please," he rapidly added, his eyes taking on that dolefully expression he was so very good at.

Shaking my head apologetically, I hustled him ahead of me and we descended the stairs. "Maybe," I softly suggested, but before I could get the rest of the sentence out, my young son was already punching the air furiously.

"Yes!" he yelled delightedly.

"Maybe," I repeated, stressing the word this time. "If you eat all your dinner and promise to go to bed on time, I'll see what I can do about the ice cream."

"I love you, Mom," he said, turning his big brown eyes to me and grinning broadly. It was his standard way of trying to keep me sweet. His father used to do something similar when we were younger.

With the promise of ice cream, dinner was a much smoother affair than usual and I made a mental note to use bribery more often. All three children, even Kate, ate every last piece of their meal, including the greens that typically got pushed around until I got tired of trying to coax them into a mouth. Lizzie offered to help me clear away, which was no doubt a ploy to get an extra-large scoop, but it was appreciated nonetheless.

Putting them to bed that night, I spent a little longer looking at their adorable, peaceful faces. They were growing so quickly, time had been passing me by and I'd been largely oblivious to it. The shock of Paul's infidelity had caused me to put my existence into some sort of perspective. Almost thirty, and all I had to show for those years were the three kids who meant the world to me. Of course, they made me want to tear my hair out at times, but I couldn't imagine life without their mischievous charm. I wouldn't want to live in a world without them in it, my children were the only thing that made life make sense.

Closing Lizzie and Dylan's doors, and leaving Kate's fractionally ajar so she still had a little light from the hallway, I walked slowly back to my own bedroom. With a renewed sense of purpose, I settled in front of the computer screen and opened the email I'd received earlier that evening.

Hi,

I'm David, I read your advertisement and wondered if you're free on Saturday night. I know it's a bit short notice, but I have an unplanned stop in the state and I hate to be alone. Would love to learn more about you, and maybe see a picture? If you'd like to know what I look like, just say the word.

I leaned back for a moment, as the reality of what I'd done, and was planning to do, sunk in. Paul wasn't coming home until Sunday afternoon, so I certainly had the night free. However, I hadn't been expecting things to happen so quickly. I'd thought it would be at least a month, and probably much more, before I was actually working. I hadn't really had a chance to mentally prepare.

In retrospect, no matter how long it had taken, I know I would never have been prepared. It simply isn't the sort of thing that can be prepared for. But, at the time, part of me was arguing that I just needed a few weeks to really adjust to the prospect of selling my body.

However, something overrode that instinct, because I was already opening the many files of photographs we had stored on the computer. I managed to find a couple of me dressed in an evening gown at some fancy function Paul's company had organized six months previously. Choosing the one I liked best, I carefully cropped my husband out of the image, before attaching it to a new email.

I wrote a quick message, telling him that I was available if he was still interested and that I didn't need to know what he looked like.

As I clicked on 'send', I told myself his appearance didn't matter. However, I knew that my subconscious choice had been more to do with ignorance being bliss. If he was in his sixties or seventies, with a beer gut and tobacco stained teeth, the anticipation of spending the night with him would be filled with even more dread than it already was. Sex, for me, had always been inextricably linked with love. It had never been purely physical, and because Paul was my first and only lover, it had always been with someone I trusted. The thought of giving myself to a stranger; a man about whom I knew nothing and who didn't care about me, was entirely foreign and caused me to shudder.

However, I was forced to remind myself that that wasn't completely true. I no longer knew Paul and, for the last few months at least, he'd stopped caring about me. The last time we'd had sex was certainly evidence of that fact. Was offering my body to David really any different than the last time I'd been to bed with my own husband?

It only took a few minutes for him to write again.

Hey,

Thanks for getting in touch. You're a very beautiful woman, and I am definitely interested in enjoying the pleasure of your company on Saturday. You haven't mentioned fee, but it's not a problem. Whatever you charge, I'm happy to pay it.

I'm staying at the Hyatt, room 405. If you could be here at about 8pm, that would be good. Let me know. Thanks!

Before I had time to talk myself out of it, I wrote a reply confirming that I would be there at eight o'clock.

Breathing rapidly, as I pushed the chair away from the desk, I realized that it was done. I was really going to go through with it. I had just two days to arrange a babysitter and get myself ready for what would be the most bizarre date of my life. I quickly made a list of all the things that needed to be done; my legs, although always smoothly shaved, would probably need waxing; my small, neat patch of pubic hair would have to go, too. I'd never favored the Brazilian style, but I understood enough about what was popular among men to know that the hairless look would be expected. My nails required a fresh manicure; hair needed styling; and my tan lines from wearing a bikini had to be removed.

In short, I had to look perfect. There was a lot of work to be done.

# Chapter Eight

First Times A Charm

Nervous doesn't begin to describe how I felt as I walked down the hotel corridor. The backs of my legs shook so much that they felt weak, and I must have looked a bit like a newborn deer. Having felt so confident that I could go through with the night, I suddenly knew that it was nothing but bravado; intended only to convince myself.

Who was I kidding?

Having only ever slept with one man, I was almost as inexperienced as they come. Even when we were engaged and first married, Paul and I were never particularly adventurous in the bedroom. If this man had some peculiar tastes or fetishes, would I know what to do? Even if he didn't want something weird, would I be able to please him?

"Oh shit," I whispered, seriously contemplating turning around and bolting back to the elevator. "Oh shit, oh shit," I breathed. Halting the movement of my feet, I forced myself to breathe deeply. Smoothing my hands down the skirt of my red cocktail dress, I released a steady, slow exhale. I glanced down at my cleavage which was thrust up by a brand new bra I'd bought the day before. My legs were covered in black stockings and my feet securely tucked into four-inch stilettos. Flicking my newly wavy hair off my shoulder, I swallowed the anxious lump in my throat. "Pull yourself together," I softly mumbled.

When the temptation to turn back crept higher, I reminded myself why I was there. This was never about doing something that I wanted to, but what I felt I had to do. It was about putting my own fears and prudish concerns aside, because the end would justify the means.

Before I'd ordered them to do so, my feet were once more moving. The thoughts that had been racing discordantly through my head stopped and focused on the door numbers, until I reached '405'.

Quickly moistening my lips, I lifted my hand with the fingernails colored the same shade of red as my dress, and tapped softly on the door. I counted the deep thuds of my heart, while I waited for an answer. There were twelve. And then, slowly and gently the door was pulled open.

The man was much younger than I had expected, he must have been somewhere in his mid-thirties. He had dark, almost jet black hair that was cut in a neat Ivy League style, with a side parting. He was clean shaven, with soft features and dark brown eyes under quite long black lashes. As he looked at me, he smiled a little lopsided grin. "Hi," he greeted warmly, pulling the door open wider.

"Hi," I echoed, my eyes now taking in the view of the rest of his body. He was around six feet something, with strong, broad shoulders. He was wearing pinstriped black pants and a white dress shirt, with the cuffs undone.

"I'm David," he said, continuing to smile, as he moved to one side of the entry way and gestured an open hand into the room.

"Thank you," I nodded, managing a nervy smile in return as I stepped across the threshold. "I'm Arianna," I murmured, remembering to use the name I'd chosen for my call girl persona, rather than my real one. All the girls used fake names, most of them were tacky: Destinee, Lotus, Candy that kind of thing. I wanted something that sounded a little exotic and mysterious, but was still classy. I unconsciously drew in a breath as I passed him and was met with the earthy, spicy scent of whatever aftershave he'd just used. Swallowing, I silently reminded myself that it didn't matter what he smelled or looked like. I was here to do a job.

I couldn't help but feel grateful that he was attractive, though. Faking an interest in him would be made easier by the fact he was easy on the eyes.

"Can I get you a drink?" he asked, closing the door behind him.

I stopped in the room's small living space. It wasn't quite a suite, but there were two comfortable chairs and a coffee table, with a brand new TV on the wall and a minibar in the corner. Beyond that, in the open plan space was the bed. It was a king size, with crisp white sheets, four plump pillows and a beige bed scarf with the Hyatt Regency logo embroidered in the corner. "Umm, yes, please," I managed to softly mumble, remembering that he had asked me a question.

"What can I get you?" I added, already moving to the minibar. "I'm on vodka myself," he said pointing to the one liter bottle of Smirnoff that was clearly not the hotels. "But you can have whatever you like."

"Vodka's fine," I quickly stated. With my rising nerves, the stronger the alcohol, the better.

"Great," he nodded. "Take a seat," he urged, grasping two shot glasses and the bottle.

As I settled into one of the armchairs, keeping a hand on the hem of my dress to stop it riding too high, he took the few strides toward me and tossed himself into the other seat. With a tired sigh, he slipped the glasses onto the table and began unscrewing the bottle.

"So, umm," I softly mumbled, trying to think of something to say. "What brings you here?"

"Oh, just work," he shrugged. "I was supposed to be heading back yesterday, but my office messed up the arrangements and I had to stay longer than planned."

"I see," I nodded, watching him pour some of the crystal clear liquid into each shot glass. "Sorry to hear that."

"It's ok," he quickly insisted. "I'm kind of glad now. If I'd gone home Friday, I would have never had the opportunity to meet you," he smoothly said, placing the bottle down and lifting his glass as if to toast.

Carefully, I reached for my own drink and lifted it to his. We clinked the edges of the glasses together, before both swallowing the shot whole. It instantly brought a flush of tears to my eyes and a burning to my throat which I tried to mask, but a cough erupted despite my efforts.

"Okay?" he asked, chuckling.

"Yeah," I assured him, hoarsely.

He grinned skeptically, before accepting my word with a brief nod. "Well," he sighed, lifting himself from the chair just enough to reach into his back pocket. "I said money wasn't an object, but I'd like to get it out of the way, if that's all right with you," he said, pulling the wallet out and flipping it open.

"Sure," I replied.

"That way, we can get on with enjoying the night, huh?"

"Right," I agreed. "Umm, exactly what services do you want from me?" I wondered, embarrassment causing my cheeks to warm. I hoped he might think the reddening was caused by the drink.

"I was hoping you'd be able to spend about six hours with me," he unabashedly said. "Err, you offer full sex, right?"

My mouth suddenly went very dry and I could only nod in response.

"Well, I don't want anything too strange or out of the ordinary," he added. "I guess it's called the umm, girlfriend experience?" he finished with a crease of his eyebrow.

Again, I nodded, my throat unwilling to cooperate in the making of any sounds. I'd seen the phrase 'girlfriend experience' on the many escort ads I'd seen online. And had been able to create an idea of what that would entail. I was beyond grateful that David didn't have an unusual fetish he wished to act out with me. Girlfriend experience was probably something I could just about manage.

"So?" he uttered, his thumb slipping over a large wedge of bills.

"Oh, sorry," I blurted shaking my head and realizing that this had been leading to me giving him a figure for my services. "Well, that'll be...errr... $1800." I spoke so haltingly and anxiously that I was worried my inexperience would be obvious to him.

He said nothing, while he flicked through the bills and then pulled out a fistful of them. Silently, he placed the cash on the table, before getting up and replacing his wallet in his pants. "Now," he smiled, "that's out of the way, we can concentrate on having a good time. Would you like something to eat?" he offered, visibly relaxing into the chair.

The casual way he'd dealt with the payment seemed so strange to me, and yet it was obviously necessary to separate the transaction and the 'good time'. "Sounds great," I replied, forcing a broad smile. In truth, I was so scared I didn't think I'd be able to keep anything down. But if he wanted to have dinner, then it was my job to ensure he got what he wanted. Reaching forward I scooped the cash off the table and slipped it into my purse.

"You want to go down to the restaurant?" he asked, tipping his head to the door. "Or should we just get some room service and eat up here?"

"Whatever you'd prefer," I offered warmly.

"Hmm," he looked at me, while he thought for several seconds. "On one hand, I'd like to have you on my arm. On the other, I'd kind of like to have you to myself," he chuckled.

I felt uncomfortable not only with the way he spoke about me; as if I were a commodity, but also by the way he looked at me. It was a hungry, appreciative gaze; a look that reminded me of the way a lioness eyes her prey. Of course, on the surface, I tried to let none of those emotions show. And, I had to concede, I was a commodity of sorts. I was bought and paid for.

"I think it'll be nicer to stay up here," he eventually said, cradling the back of his head in his hands. "We can really talk," he added.

While I drained another shot glass of vodka, David called down to room service and ordered for us both. I don't even remember what I had, I know I didn't spend long choosing, sure that I wouldn't touch any of it any way.

However, by the time the meal arrived, I'd had another shot and was beginning to feel much more relaxed.

David had professed an interest in learning more about me, but I'd successfully been vague in most of my answers and flipped the questions back to him. As he talked about his career as head of a sales team for a pharmaceutical company, I almost forgot the circumstances under which were we meeting.

"What about free time?" I asked, unconsciously sticking my fork into a piece of ravioli. "Any hobbies?"

"Ha," he exhaled. "What free time?" He was quiet for a moment, as he poured himself another glass of the red wine he'd order with the meal. "It feels like I'm always working, that's certainly what my ex thought."

"Oh, I'm sorry," I quickly apologized when I noted the sadness in his eyes.

"Don't be," he dismissed with a wave of his free hand. "It's not your fault." Carefully placing the bottle back down, he picked up his glass and lifted it to his lips, flashing me a smile before taking a mouthful. "But it's been tough since she left," he admitted. "My ridiculously busy schedule makes it impossible to meet anyone and I'm the kind of person that hates to be alone, you know?"

I nodded, remembering what he'd written in his first email. However, it seemed insane to me that a man like him would need to hire the services of an escort. He was young, handsome and charming. There would be any number of women who would be happy to have a one-night stand with him if that's all he could commit to.

However, his desires for the evening came back to the forefront of my mind: the girlfriend experience. He didn't want a one-night stand per se, it wasn't about a quick roll in the hay. He wanted companionship, he wanted to spend this time talking, sharing some laughs and for all intents and purposes, pretending we'd known each other for much longer than we had. If he just wanted a fuck, he could have gone down to the bar and picked up a girl or headed out on the streets to find a hooker. In fact, he could even have demanded that I get my clothes off as soon as I'd walked in the door.

"You're a sweet man," I told him, unaware of a compulsion to do so. The alcohol had loosened me up just enough to prevent my self censor from working properly. "I mean, someday a girl is going to be very lucky to have you."

He grinned, as he lifted his napkin and wiped the sides of his mouth. "I'm sure you've heard this a lot," he responded, tossing the napkin onto his empty plate and leaning back in his chair. "But you are an incredibly sexy woman."

I actually felt myself blushing and quickly glanced down to avoid his eyes. The truth was, I hadn't heard it a lot. Paul had said it twice, maybe three times, the whole time I'd known him. "Thank you," I gracelessly mumbled.

Suddenly, David was getting to his feet. He moved around the small table until he reached my side. There, he sank into a crouched position. Still, I couldn't bring myself to look at his face. And this was not something that went unnoticed.

Slowly, he crooked his warm index finger beneath my chin and coaxed my hand around. "The fact that hearing how sexy you are embarrasses you," he said, a teasing grin quirking the corners of his mouth, "makes you even sexier."

"I...I..." I stammered, shaking my head slightly. The next time I opened my mouth, nothing came out. It didn't have the chance. David's lips were unexpectedly melded to mine. He softly moved them, the tip of his tongue occasionally darting out to take a taste of my lip. For a long second the shock of his rapid movement startled me into stillness. However, as he slowly caressed my mouth with his own, I surrendered myself to the feeling. With a soft moan, I parted my lips and understanding the unintelligible call, his tongue slipped quickly over mine.

Even as it deepened, the kiss remained soft and exploratory. Nevertheless, it was doing entirely unexpected things to me. A warmth was spreading through my abdomen, which I tried to rationalize was from the wine and shots of vodka consumed earlier. I could never have admitted it, not even to myself, at the time, but I was enjoying that kiss. David was good; gentle, but with just the right amount of pressure. His tongue roamed playfully, rather than aggressively and he tasted nice; a mixture of Merlot and tomato pasta sauce.

What's more, I was excited by the promise of where the kiss would lead.

# Chapter Nine

Not Just A Job

I don't recall how I went from sitting at the table to laying on the bed. I do know that my head was swimming and it wasn't just thanks to my old friend the fermented potato.

David's mouth was still moving leisurely over mine, occasionally sucking my lower lip between his teeth. He was lying next to me on his side, pressing the length of his body to mine, while one arm draped across me and the hand gently caressed my hip.

By that stage, I was beginning to return his kiss with an enthusiasm I didn't have to fake. One of my hands had unconsciously smoothed up his chest and curled over his shoulder, while the other snaked around the back of his head and was pulling him that little bit closer. As I tightened my fingers, gripping a handful of his smooth, thick hair, a guttural groan reverberated from his open mouth to mine.

Fluidly, he eased his hand over the curve of my pelvis and began to confidently stroke his way down my thigh. When he reached my knee, he hooked his fingers behind my leg and pulled it upward. As his tongue slipped carefully over the roof of my mouth, he tugged my leg around his waist and placed the weight of his upper body on top of mine.

With a subtle, easy movement his thigh glided between my legs and the warmth of his flesh, even through clothing, caused my hips to jolt in search of a more satisfying contact.

With a noisy unclasping of wet mouths, he tenderly released his lips from mine and took several deep breaths. "You're so beautiful," he quietly said, his dangerously dark eyes staring intently at my face.

Even if my brain had been capable of coherent thought, I wouldn't have known what to say in response. But with his fingers slowly curling around to my inner thigh and edging their way higher, it was all I could do to remember to breathe.

In the silent room, there were three sounds that would otherwise have gone unnoticed; David's slightly labored breathing; my irregularly pounding heart and the soft grazing of large, masculine fingers moving over sheer nylon.

When he reached the lace tops of my stockings, the corners of his mouth twitched in a smile. Delicately, he traced the intricate swirling pattern with the backs of his fingers. "Do you mind if we leave these on?" he asked, his voice suddenly a pitch lower than it had been before.

"Of...of course," I hoarsely responded, my eyelids flickering as the sensation he was creating on my inner thigh became enough to make me grip my bottom lip between my teeth. As he began to move again, creeping ever higher, the scorching heat of his touch seemed to burn the naked flesh of my upper thigh. It caused me to jump and he instantly withdrew his fingers.

"I'm sorry," he said, smiling warmly.

"No, no," I quickly spoke over his apology. "Don't stop, I just...umm," My chest began to move rapidly, as I got lost in his warm, gentle eyes. "It felt good," I eventually whispered.

His face swept closer and his eyelids drifted closed before his lips melded to mine in a more insistent and passionate kiss. It was as if he'd gained in confidence, and as his tongue entwined with mine, his fingers resumed their journey up my inner thigh.

My brain could not keep up with what was happening or, more importantly, with the reactions my body was having to his actions. As the tip of his fingers reached the crease of my groin, and my hips bucked in response, I realized I no longer had any control.

He slipped his finger to the edge of my panties, and carefully worked his way beneath the lacy, black fabric.

Whimpering, I automatically opened my legs wider, as the soft pads of two fingers massaged the freshly waxed flesh of my outer lips.

Lifting his face from mine, David's eyes sparkled. "Arianna," he tenderly said, as he drew his fingers between my folds and found me damp. "You feel so good."

This was nothing like I'd expected. I'd assumed a client would be solely interested in getting his pleasure, possibly at the expense of an escort, but certainly with no thought for sensitivity or sensuality – the things that were perceived as purely feminine desires.

"Oh, God," he groaned, his index finger circling the rim of my entrance.

My back arched and my mouth fell open with a quiet sigh of need, while my hands gripped him more tightly. Only Paul had ever touched my sex, only Paul had ever entered me. Before that night, I'd believed that the touch of any other man would feel wholly wrong; that my body would reject the prospect and the whole ordeal would be forgettable at best and painful at worst. In fact, the reality was more exhilarating and arousing than I ever could have imagined.

David wasn't treating me like a cheap whore nor was he behaving like a stranger who simply wanted to take something from me. And yet, on some level, I still felt sluttish and rather than wanting to run from that sensation I yearned for more.

"Arianna," he whispered, his face coming back to mine and light kisses being placed along my jaw. "I know you said strictly protected sex," he mumbled quietly, his lips tickling the top of my neck. "But how do you feel about oral?"

My eyes opened sharply and I was abruptly pulled from the sexy haze I'd been lounging in. Now, it seemed I was required to actually do something. It was a harsh reminder of the fact I wasn't there to enjoy myself. It was work. "Umm," I blabbered, while I tried to organize my thoughts.

"It's just not the same with something between us," he continued, rising his head and peering down at me. "And not that you have any reason to trust me, but I promise I'm safe."

"I trust you," I breathlessly replied, unsure why I felt so certain I could. Nevertheless, I believed him.

"So, it's okay?" he asked, smiling hopefully.

His index finger was still circling my sex in slow, smooth, hypnotic motions. In that instant, I think I may have said 'yes' to whatever he asked. "All right," I nervously offered, pushing myself into a sitting position.

Fellatio was not something I'd had much experience in. Paul had always wanted me to deep throat him and, after a few failed attempts, he decided he'd rather not bother with it at all. I was anxious about my ability to pleasure a man with my mouth, it had certainly never done much for my husband.

David, oblivious to my concerns, was also pushing himself into a seated position. Flashing a sexy grin at me, he placed both hands on my legs and lifted himself between them. "Just relax," he softly instructed, his hands smoothing up my thighs and pushing my dress up with them. Carefully, he placed his thumbs in the elastic of my underwear and began to edge it off my hips.

"I..." I mumbled. "I thought you meant," I added, fumbling gracelessly with my words.

"Oh," he chuckled, sliding my panties over my knees and smoothing them all the way to my ankles. "This is okay, right?" he added, carefully lifting one of my stilletoed feet and tugging my underwear completely from me.

"Whatever you want," I nodded, as my panties were removed from my opposite foot and tossed on the bed by his side.

His large hands returning to my waist, he encouraged me to lie back, while inching the dress just a little higher still.

I settled anxiously onto the mattress, my eyes not daring to look down at what he was doing. I was completely exposed to his hungry gaze; his silence and lack of movement as he seemed to carefully take in every detail of me, was unnerving.

However, eventually, he did move. Lifting one of my legs, he placed the knee on his shoulder, before shuffling closer to me. Turning his head to the side, he brushed his lips across the naked skin at the top of my stockings, creating sparks of electricity that shot up to the juncture of my thighs. He kissed his way steadily higher until, as if in slow motion, his tongue began to push its way between my plump folds.

"Ohh," I moaned, my voice shaking and body convulsing slightly.

David responded with a rapid lick upward to my clit. It was so sensitive that the touch of his tongue made me feel as though I had been electrocuted and I shuddered beneath him. With a soft grunt, he drew lazy circles across my tight bud, surprising me when he suddenly slipped the tip of one finger inside my entrance.

"God," I yelped, unable to prevent the reflex to buck my hips.

It might have been no more than my imagination, but I was sure I could feel his lips smiling, as he gradually lapped more feverishly at my clitoris. Desperately, my hands darted down to his head and ran restlessly across his scalp. I had never experienced anything quite so intense in my life. I could feel the heat flushing my face, as I panted shallow breathes and exhaled weak groans and mutters of pleasure.

As he mixed up the rhythm and movement of his tongue, drawing long strokes rather than focusing solely on my tiny bud of nerve endings, he pushed his finger a little deeper. With a slight curve of his finger, he began rubbing at the front wall of my passage, causing yet more strong quakes of ecstasy to rock me.

I watched the top of his head as he slowly made his way back to my clit and began to move in strong, purposeful jerks. As his smooth, skillful tongue strummed at my engorged flesh, his finger rubbed harder and faster at the spongy skin inside my sex.

The ascent was quick; the heat inside me rocketed and my head span violently. When I felt that I was about to explode, I sucked in a deep breath and held it firmly in my lungs. My trembling limbs suddenly locked tight, my thighs clamped around David's head, my fingers seized around handfuls of hair. As the molten pleasure sent warmth spilling through my body, my mouth fell open and I could not hold back the screeches of sheer joy. Meanwhile, my hips swayed, pressing more firmly against his mouth in an attempt to make the feeling last forever.

But it didn't last forever. All too quickly, the feeling seeped to my extremities and dissipated through the tips of my fingers and toes. With that came a relaxing of the spasms that had claimed every inch of me and I finally released him. My head dropping back onto the bed, I gasped for air.

I was unaware of David slowly rising from his position between my legs and drawing his upper body level with mine. "You taste incredible," he hummed, his lips close to my face.

Sluggishly opening my eyes, I found his features hanging a couple of inches over mine. His lips and the skin around them were moist and shiny from my arousal; his hair was mussed from where I'd viciously grabbed it and the sides of his face were a little red from my impersonation of a boa constrictor.

"Oh," I muttered, my post-orgasm vision taking a while to focus. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine," he dismissed quickly. "It was a genuine reaction," he added. "I love that."

"Well," I quietly hedged, my eyes leaving his and drifting to his mouth. "You're very good," I whispered, unsure whether I'd said the words aloud or if they'd remained in my head.

He laughed a little self-effacingly, his lower half gently pressing against mine. "I don't know about that," he mumbled. "But you're incredibly responsive."

I felt my eyebrows creep upward, as the swell of his groin suddenly made itself known against my inner thigh. I'd guessed he must have been aroused, but not having noticed the evidence of it, the suddenness of his shockingly hard member caught me by surprise.

"I want you," he whispered.

"I'm all yours," I replied breathlessly.

He lunged his head forward, claiming my mouth in a kiss that now tasted of both him and me. It was brief, but spoke of the heights of his desire. Quickly, he was pushing himself up, his hands already unfastening his shirt.

I followed him, sitting up and grabbing the bottom of his shirt. I rapidly unclasped some of the lower buttons, my shaky fingers meeting him somewhere in the middle. We both giggled as we fought over the last fastener. He won, making short work of the final button and peeling the white, crisp shirt off his shoulders.

He was very well built, with chiseled chest muscles and washboard abs. Unlike Paul, David had a neat pattern of dark hair that began at his collarbone and spread across his broad chest muscles. At his abdomen, a strip of finer hair drew a line between his abs and disappeared beneath the waistband of his pants.

As I realized I was staring at the incredibly sculptured, masculine torso before me, another revelation hit me. I'd always believed I preferred a smooth, hairless chest, but there was something so rugged and masculine about David's torso. Something a little feral; animalistic and unspeakably sexy.

When my eyes finally made it back to his face, I found him smiling at me. "Will I do?" he asked, with a great deal of humor and just a small degree of nervousness in his tone.

"Oh, yeah," I grinned. "You'll definitely do," I added, my hands reaching for his belt buckle and beginning to wrench it open.

Carefully, he took hold of my wrists, stilling my hands before peeling them away from him. When I followed his silent instructions, he gradually released me and in response to my confused and startled expression, he reached both arms around my back. With the finger and thumb of his right hand, he took hold of the tiny zipper at the back of my dress and leisurely pulled it down. As the bodice began to slacken, he used his left hand to coax the strap off my shoulder. As he did, he dipped his head forward and kissed the small piece of skin it had once covered.

I shrugged out of the opposite side, causing the front of my dress to fall in a puddle at my middle. The tiny straps had meant I'd had to forgo a bra and my breasts were now naked to his scrutiny. His eyes actually moved steadily between my bosom and my face, locking on the latter as he cupped one hand to each breast.

His fingers moved smoothly, massaging the globes of flesh with just the right amount of pressure. His thumbs meanwhile, rubbed teasingly over my nipples, prompting me to mewl plaintively. All too soon, his hands were gone, slipping down my torso and pushing the dress down. I lifted my butt, helping him ease it off my hips, then he swept it down my legs and over my feet with ease.

With the exception of my stockings and stilettos, I was completely nude. And I realized, as I glanced down my body, that the soft skin around my sex was glistening with the same fluid that had been spread around Ben's mouth.

But that didn't seem to bother him. He quickly shuffled back, slipping off the bed and reaching for the cabinet on the right side. Yanking open the top drawer, he enclosed something in his hand, before quickly closing it again. With his free fingers, he unbuckled his belt with ease and unfastened the fly of his pants. With the help of gravity, they quickly dropped to the floor and he kicked them, and his shoes, off.

"I'm sorry," he said, gripping the thick elastic waistband of his boxer briefs and forcing them over his hips. "But I need you right now, I can't wait any longer."

# Chapter Ten

Confessions of a Stay at Home Escort

My jaw slackened as his underwear was pushed down his legs and his manhood sprung free. His circumcised penis was huge; thick, long and perfectly smooth. It was rock hard, which was obvious even without touching him.

"It's all right," he said calmly. "I've got a rubber," he added, holding up the thing he'd retrieved from the drawer just seconds before.

I tried to relax, to ensure that he didn't realize my expression of mild alarm was for a completely different reason. I forced a smile, as I watched him slide the condom down to the base of his shaft with practiced ease.

He then bent at the waist scooping his boxers and socks off, before moving back to the bed. I scooted into the middle of the mattress, one hand leaning down and grabbing the large heel of one shoe.

"No," he quickly urged. "Leave those on, too."

"Okay," I nodded. I was expecting him to climb onto the bed and place himself between my slightly parted legs.

However, he simply sat on the edge, turning his head over his shoulder at me. "Come here," he encouraged with a playful jerk of his head.

I followed his instructions, sitting up then rolling onto my knees and shuffling across the bed toward him. As soon as I was within reach, he wrapped one arm around me and pulled me closer. The other hand curled over my hip, the fingers reaching my ass. With both arms able to guide me, he compelled me to lift one leg over his so I was straddling him.

My eyes were fixed on the hard rod between his legs. The rounded head, beneath a thin layer of cream latex, that was straining toward my sex. Using his shoulders for balance, I slowly peered into his face.

"Please, Arianna," he groaned, his hips involuntary jerking.

Taking a steady, slow inhale, I realized that there was no turning back. I had passed the point of no return. Of course, what I wouldn't have admitted then was that I would not have turned back even if I could have. Forcing myself to breathe calmly, I slowly lowered my hips. David's hands were sliding serenely over my lower back, occasionally dipping to caress the curve of my buttocks.

I closed my eyes and tipped my head back, as I felt his domed tip begin to force its way inside me. I held still, giving my entrance a chance to adjust to the unfamiliarly significant girth. However, instead of the discomfort I expected to experience as he entered, the sensation was satisfying. Ready for him, my body wanted to be stretched and I instinctively sank deeper.

"Ugh," he groaned, his hands clasping my buttocks tightly. "Yeah, that's good."

"Hmm," I moaned luxuriously, inching further and further until my outer lips met his firm pubic bone. Startled, I opened my eyes and snatched a glance down to our joined bodies. I was amazed that he was buried to the hilt, he was completely sheathed within me; filling me in a way that felt unbearably good.

It obviously felt pretty good for him, too. His pupils were dilated, he was gasping heavily and his brow had a few beads of sweat. As he tipped his face to the ceiling, I watched his throat flex as he swallowed.

Running my right hand down the length of his arm, I clasped his fingers between mine and lifted his hand to my mouth. Moistening my lips, I guided two of his fingers over my tongue, closing my mouth around them. When this caused his hips to thrust against mine, I sucked hard on them.

"Arianna," he whispered, his head thrusting forward. His tongue moved frantically between my breasts, following the curve of one before moving to the center and latching onto the nipple. He gently grazed it with his teeth before tapping it with the tip of his tongue. It grew harder under his attention, painfully so.

"Ahh," I cried, releasing his hand. Writhing, I rubbed my slick clit against his rigid body. I couldn't hold back any longer. With a suddenness that surprised even me, I forced my thighs into action, lifting my body, before hurriedly slapping back down. This time, as his dick slid into my wet passage, it seemed to go deeper. "Ugh," I grunted as my ass slapped against his thighs.

David tried to keep his mouth on my breasts, lapping and sucking as best he could at the moving target.

Needing the leverage, I put my hands back on his shoulder and began to bounce up and down on his thick, stiff shaft. As he buried his face in my cleavage, I wrapped my hands around his head, enjoying the feel of his panted breath against my skin.

My own lungs were expelling air in excited shrieks and squeals. Soon, my legs no longer had the strength to lift me to the top of his penis. Instead, I could only manage feeble shallow thrusts.

David began to help me, his hands guiding my hips and supporting some of my weight. However, his motions had become equally rapid and uncoordinated. As his grunts and my cries rose and combined, he lifted his face to mine.

I peered down at his sweaty expression, my breasts jiggling around so violently that they were slapping against the underside of his chin.

"Ugh, God. You're so hot," he panted. "Arianna, you're...you're so fucking hot."

"Ahhh," I cried, an extra strong jolt against his pubic bone sending waves of orgasm through me.

As my internal muscles spasmed and clamped him, David began to desperately buck beneath me. "Yes," he groaned. "Ugh, Christ!" His hands tightened at my hips, fingertips digging into the thin flesh.

Aftershocks caused me to jerk and writhe against him for several more seconds, while our pounding hearts began to slow. I could feel his pulse pressed against my right breast and remember marveling, just for a moment, at the fact our hearts seemed to be racing in time with each other.

Eventually, I grew still. My butt falling to his lap and my sex pressed as close to his as I could get. My arms were wrapped tightly around him, unwilling or perhaps unable to let go. His softening shaft was still tucked snugly within me and I was in no hurry to break the spell of calm, comfort and serenity that had descended over the two of us.

"Are you okay?" he softly asked, his hands making lazy patterns up my spine.

With a ridiculous smile on my face, I nodded, knowing he would feel the movement against the side of his face. "I'm good," I said, my voice thick and weary. "Was it okay for you?" I quickly added, remembering suddenly that I'd been moving to the demands of my own body; chasing an orgasm for myself without the conscious awareness that the only person that mattered was him – the paying customer.

"Are you kiddin'?" he laughed. "God," he sighed. "That was incredible."

"Are you sure?" I insisted, releasing my hold of him enough to tip back and look at his face.

"Arianna," he said, shaking his head with amusement. "I haven't had an orgasm like that in a long time."

"Me neither." The words slipped out before I had a chance to hold them back. "I mean," I added, wanting to backtrack, but unsure how to without offending him. Giving up the search for something that would make me sound more experienced, I shrugged. "I guess, I mean exactly what I said," I sighed. "It's been a long time since I've felt like that."

"You know," he said, with his lopsided smile. "Coming from any other woman who does what you do, I would think that you were just telling the client what he wants to hear," he continued. "But I believe you. And I can't tell you how good that makes me feel."

"Really?" I asked, cocking my head to one side. The fact that we were still joined, still naked, entwined in each other's arms didn't seem in the least bit odd. Instead, talking to him like that felt like the most natural thing in the world. I was more relaxed than I'd been all day, more relaxed than I'd felt for months, maybe even years.

"A woman's orgasm," he began, his eyes drifting to a spot on the wall behind me, "is beyond beautiful. It's beyond sexy. It's one of those rare special, fleeting moments when life seems to make sense; my life seems to make sense, you know?" he finished, nervously searching my face for understanding.

"Yeah," I offered quietly, "I guess I do."

"What are we all here for if it's not to give and receive pleasure from each other?" he added. "I don't mean just sex, and I don't mean seeking pleasure when it's going to hurt someone else. But those moments that make us feel alive, those are what are precious."

I nodded silently, ruminating on what he'd said. In a nutshell, he'd summed up the job of an escort. Companionship was a form of pleasure; sexual gratification was quite obviously a source of it, too. The role of an escort was to bring some of those precious experiences to another human being.

I wasn't naïve enough to believe that all men who hired call girls were as nice or as affectionate as David, but maybe they weren't all as sex-crazed and selfish as I'd assumed either.

"Anyway," he said, nudging my thoughts aside. "I guess, I'd better," he muttered, tilting his head toward his groin, "take that off."

"Oh, right," I blurted, suddenly remembering the condom that was still covering him and now filled. "Then, I guess I'd better get up," I stated obviously, sliding my hands back onto his shoulders, which were clammy with drying sweat, and pushing my lower half off his lap.

His hands remained securely on my waist as I rocked back and placed my feet on the ground. "I...umm," he grinned, his eyes moving appreciatively up and down my body. "I hope to make you come like that again before the night is out."

"Huh?" I quizzically muttered, glancing at the digital clock on the bedside. There were another three hours of David's time with me. Did it make me even more of a whore that I smiled like the Cheshire cat when I realized that?

***

It was almost three in the morning when I eventually got home. I'd ended up staying an extra half an hour with David. It was time I'd assured him he didn't need to pay for, especially since he'd promised to hire me again next time he was in town. In fact, he'd even suggesting flying me across the country to spend evenings with him elsewhere. With the kids and trying to keep my moonlighting secret, out of state trips would have proven difficult. However, I was certainly keen and said I'd think about it. In any case, he insisted on paying for the additional thirty minutes, and while his hand was in his wallet he grabbed some cash for my cab fare.

By the time I wandered into my kitchen and poured myself a mug of herbal tea, the effects of the alcohol had well and truly worn off. However, I was not as tired as I'd expected to feel. In fact, quite the reverse, I was wide awake. I felt energized, I was on a strange kind of high, the like of which I'd never known.

Never in my wildest dreams had I expected to actually enjoy selling my body. Never had I imagined that a man who pays women for sex, could be a more tender, considerate and affectionate lover than my own husband. David was possibly better in bed than Paul had ever been; sex with him had definitely been better than the last few years with Paul.

More importantly, I told myself, I had a little over two thousand dollars in my purse. I'd need much more to be completely free of Paul, but it was a great start.

The positive experience with David had renewed my enthusiasm for the idea. Not all clients would be like him, that was obvious. But I'd learned something important about myself; I could do it. I could have sex with a stranger, sex with no real attachment. If I'd done it once, I could do it again. And, there was a chance that there were more David's out there; more men who wanted an uncomplicated evening, but who still treated women with respect. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more it occurred to me that men who use escorts do view women with respect. It's men who pick up any girl in a bar, tell her what she wants to hear, then disappears in the morning and spends the next month dodging her calls, who have little or no respect for women.

An escort's clients are, at least, honest; they're frank about what they want and they're willing to pay a fair price for a girl's time. The more I thought about it, the more I realized it wasn't anything like as sleazy and degrading as I'd first assumed. Perhaps I was just trying to make myself feel better, because I was now one of those women I'd considered degraded, but I truly believe that my eyes had been opened that night.

And that wasn't the only thing.

Sex had never been a particular preoccupation of mine. During the first stages of our adult relationship, Paul and I had sex quite frequently and I enjoyed it. I especially liked the fact that it seemed to make him so happy. However, I didn't 'get it'. I could not understand why women craved sex, why they would put themselves in dangerous situations to seek it out. It was fine; it was nice, but it wasn't the earthshaking experience so many people seemed to think.

In the most unexpected of places, my earth had been shaken. I understood it now with a clarity I could never have believed. I had left David completely satisfied, relaxed and happier than I'd felt in months. But in the quiet of my kitchen, the desire was building already. Yes, I wanted the money, I wanted to secure a future for me and the children – those were my prime concerns.

But I'd be lying if I said the thrill of what I'd done hadn't sparked a sort of addiction. I wanted more sex, uncomplicated sex with no attachments; pure pleasure without hurting anyone else.

### Thank you for reading!

## Please visit your favorite eBook retailer to view the next books in the "Confessions of a Stay at Home Escort Series"
Love in Vegas

by

Joyce Lee
Copyright © 2017 by Joyce Lee

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Love in Vegas

All rights reserved.

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. No part of this work may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording and faxing, or by any information storage and retrieval system by anyone but the purchaser for their own personal use.

This Book may not be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of Joyce Lee, except in the case of a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages for the sake of a review written for inclusions in a magazine, newspaper, or journal—and these cases require written approval from Joyce Lee prior to publication. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.

# Chapter One

We need to talk. Just four small words, but they're powerful. So powerful that they were about to change my entire life. But, of course, I didn't know that in the second they were spoken. Even though I caught the gravity in his tone and the slight furrow in his brow, I still could not begin to conceive how much my world was about to be shaken.

With his suit jacket dangling in the crook of his elbow, he swept a hand through dark hair that I'd been trying to persuade him to have cut for over a week. Neck tie hanging loose around his collar and the top button of his shirt undone, he stared at me with an expression that was difficult to read. Though, one thing was for sure, it wasn't a happy one.

"Can it wait until after dinner?" I asked, gesturing to the vegetables I was in the middle of chopping.

"No," he quietly uttered, eyes drifting to the floor as he shook his head. "No, I...um...I don't think it's a good idea to drag this out any longer."

Stilling my hand, I felt the concern crease my own forehead and tension creep into my shoulders. "What's wrong?" I asked.

"Let's go in the bedroom," he urged, gaze deliberately moving to our two young children, who had been sitting at the counter, reading a book to each other. Now, however, their small dark heads, so much like their dad's, had lifted and were looking worriedly from me to him and back again.

Spinning, I placed the knife back in the rack, before hustling the children out of the kitchen. "Watch TV for a little while, okay," I offered, guiding them to the rug.

Mitchell had already left me and I could hear his footsteps on the stairs. A feeling of dread entering the pit of my stomach, I hurriedly followed him. As I walked through the open door of our large bedroom, he was sitting at the foot of the four-poster bed, legs spread wide and elbows resting on his thighs.

"What on Earth's wrong?" I whispered, closing the door behind me in case young ears were listening intently. "Has something happened at work? Is the company-?"

"It's nothing like that," he quickly uttered, sitting up straight and running a hand over the slight belly he'd developed over the previous five years. It was subtle, and it didn't bother me in the slightest, but he was conscious of it.

Blinking, I stared blankly back at him. "Then, what is it?" I sighed, wringing my hands anxiously in front of me. "Are you sick?"

"No, Hollie," he sighed. "I've met someone," he blurted, unable to look me in the eyes as he spoke those words.

They didn't need any further explanation; they were succinct and crystal clear. Yet, my brain refused to process the simple phrase and reason it out to its only possible conclusion. "What do you mean?" I mumbled, shaking my confused head. "Wh...what do you mean, you've met someone."

"Exactly what I say," he wearily snapped. "I've met someone, okay?" he stated, still not managing to lift his eyes far from the carpeted floor. "Things between us haven't been right for a while now, and...I'm just not in love with you any more. I want a divorce, Hollie."

Numb, I stood motionless. I must have misheard him. That was the only rational explanation. Mitchell and I had been together since we were sixteen; we'd been married for eight years, and in all that time, I'd believed we were both happy. Of course, it wasn't always wine and roses, we argued on occasion, but nothing to warrant such a sudden and adamant request for divorce.

"Hollie, for God's sakes, say something," he muttered.

"You've been having an affair?" I breathed, my voice catching in my throat as I leaned back against the closed door for support.

"No," he snapped. "No, I have not."

"Right," I whispered. "So, you're ready to leave me for a woman you haven't slept with yet?"

"Look, I didn't plan it, Hollie," he blurted. "I fell in love, all right?"

"No, it's not all right," I choked, laughing humorlessly. "How long?"

"What?"

"How long?" I repeated. "How long have it been going on?"

Shaking his head, he pushed himself off the bed and snatched his loose tie from around his neck. Tossing the silk onto the mattress, he began pacing the width of the room. "Nothing has been going on," he huffed. "We kissed, but it never went any further than that."

"Bullshit," I mumbled. "You expect me to believe that crap?"

Running a hand over his brow, he shook his head vehemently. "It doesn't matter now anyway, does it?"

"Not to you," I bitterly replied. "Because our marriage doesn't matter to you."

"Look-" he yelled, whirling around to face me.

Forestalling him, I reached back for the door handle and turned it. "It's fine, Mitch," I quickly blabbed, plastering a smile on my face. "We don't need to discuss it any more. You've made your decision, right? You want out?"

"I was hoping we could talk about it like adults," he spat angrily.

Unshed tears stinging the backs of my eyes, I swallowed a thick lump in my throat. "What is there to talk about?" I asked quietly.

His narrow lips parted and he sucked in a breath. However, no words emerged from his mouth.

"The kids are waiting for dinner," I told him calmly. "If you want to leave, I suggest you start packing your stuff. You can go and screw this woman with a clear conscience now, right?"

"Don't be crude, Hollie," he disgustedly muttered. "It doesn't suit you."

"Well, I don't need to worry about what you think suits me any more, do I?" I told him tartly as I stepped out into the hallway and closed the door firmly behind me. Knowing that I could not hold the tears back, I walked quickly into the family bathroom and locked the door. Sitting on the edge of the tub, salty droplets weaved their way down my cheeks and dripped from my chin.

I remained that way for several minutes, soundlessly sobbing, and wondering how the man I loved could have so cruelly ripped the ground out from under me. Had we really drifted so far apart? How could I not have noticed what had been going on right in front of my face? Had I been making him miserable and not even known it?

Feeling thoroughly drained and semi-paralyzed, I trekked down the stairs and somehow continued to prepare dinner.

Six-year-old Michael was curious and perceptive and sensed that something was wrong.

I tried to brush his concern aside. "Daddy's just going to spend some time away from home," I told him.

With a brand of simplicity that only exists in a child's mind, he asked, "Why?"

"I don't really know, sweetheart," I replied honestly.

My daughter, Alena, was more withdrawn than her older brother. But there was an unmissable crease in her four-year-old forehead, and she watched me worriedly as if she expected me to burst into tears at any second. I don't know whether the two of them knew I'd been crying despite my best efforts to hide it. My brave face may not have been as convincing as I had believed it to be at the time.

At some point during dinner, I heard the front door close followed by the roar of Mitch's BMW as he peeled out of the driveway.

"When's he coming back?" Michael asked innocently.

"I'm sorry, honey," I replied sympathetically. "I don't know that, either."

Later that evening, with the kids both in bed, I opened a bottle of wine and shut myself away in the bedroom. Not bothering to put on the light, I sat on the edge of the bed, exactly where Mitchell had been sitting a few short hours before. Gradually getting drunker, I stared miserably at my reflection.

Twenty-nine. During an entire decade when my friends had been partying and having fun, I had been a wife and mother. I didn't begrudge my kids that; I'd wanted them as much as Mitch had. But, what was I left with now? On the cusp of thirty, I was single again. For the first time in my adult life, I was single – that seemed too surreal to be true.

Finding my own blue eyes in the mirror, I noted I was looking right through myself; no wonder the children had known something was up. My light brown hair was pushed back in a ponytail, but a few strands curtained my cheeks. I looked like a mother, all right. But I didn't have to. Just last month I'd gotten dressed up for one of Mitch's work events, and I'd looked pretty good. I still had a decent figure, and with the help of a light dab of make-up, my skin glowed almost like it had when I was eighteen.

My 'loving' husband hadn't mentioned the way I looked that night. I guess he'd already met the women he was leaving me for. Perhaps, compared to her, I looked like crap. Realizing that the alcohol was making my self-immolation worse, I placed the bottle on the floor and flopped back on the mattress. Staring at the dark ceiling, I didn't get any sleep that night.

# Chapter Two

The next morning, running on nothing more than exhaustion and numbness, I moved in a haze. After I'd dropped Michael and Alena at kindergarten and pre-school, I simply drove around for a while, not sure where to go or what to do. Home didn't really feel like home any more. It was too full of memories, too full of Mitch and the constant reminder of what he'd done.

In the end, with no plan to do so, I ended up pulling into the parking lot of my best friend's Condo building. Dione and I had been friends for almost ten years; we'd met working as waitresses as we'd both been getting through college. Whereas I'd, eventually, dropped out when Mitch and I married, she'd continued; gotten her degree and had gone on to build her own PR business.

Still walking around in a fog of disbelief, I somehow found my way to her front door and tapped lightly on the hard surface.

It was several moments before I heard her groggy, "Comin'," and then, slowly, the door opened. Dark eyes blinking, she rubbed a sleepy hand across her henna brow, sweeping strands of dark hair away from her vision. "What's going on?" she mumbled, focus moving carefully over my face.

"I..um..." I muttered weakly, my bottom lip trembling. Hating the fact I seemed so weak and childlike, I bit the quivering flesh between my teeth and willed the tears to remain unshed. It was ultimately futile, though. The more I tried to blink them back, the harder it was to keep them at bay. Gradually, the scorching droplets skated over my pallid cheeks.

"Hollie," my friend anxiously said, sleep quickly dismissed from her features, "what on Earth's wrong?"

"He's left me," I managed to babble, the words distorted and barely audible.

"What?" she demanded, reaching out with her right hand and wrapping her soft fingers around my wrist. "What do you mean, he's left you?" she asked, tugging me into the apartment and closing the door behind us.

An hour or so later, tears still dampening my face, but coming much more slowly and quietly than before, I had recounted the conversation I'd had with my husband and what happened afterward.

"Just like that?" she wondered aloud, tucking her legs beneath her on the couch and leaning into its corner. "Totally out of the blue?"

"Seemed that way to me," I replied. "I thought we were happy. I thought I was making him happy."

"Jesus," she huffed, eyes moving to the ceiling as she shook her head slightly. "God, why can't men think with anything other than their dicks?" she mused rhetorically. Dione had always had a very cynical view of men – well, of people in general really. She also had serious reservations about the staying power of most relationships. Still very much free and single, she was extremely happy with that life. In all the time I'd known her, she'd only had one relationship that had lasted longer than six months.

"You think he has cheated on me?" I sniffed, wiping the back of my hand over a wet cheekbone.

"Oh, honey," she sighed, "I don't know, but it sure as hell doesn't look good." Gaze drifting downward, her serious eyes settled on me. "And whether he has or not, he's still a complete prick."

Unable to prevent myself, I huffed out a sad chuckle. "I just..." I breathed softly. "I don't know where this leaves me. I'm a single mom, my roaring twenties are almost behind me...I..."

"You're not seriously suggesting that your whole world is gonna crumble over this?" she blurted incredulously.

"Mitch and the kids _are_ my whole world," I countered quickly.

"Sure," she nodded, "and I know how much Mike and Alena mean to you, but that doesn't mean there's no room for other things in your life. Being a mom is not the start and end of who you are, Hollie."

Quietly and skeptically, I listened.

"Life is going to go on without Mitch," she insisted. "I promise you, he hasn't left a permanent void."

Silently, I shook my head. She didn't understand. To her, men were replaceable; I wasn't sure if she'd ever been in love – the painful kind that made you feel as though you couldn't breathe.

Seeming to understand my unspoken doubts, she continued. "I know it hurts like hell right now, Hol," she whispered, resting a sympathetic hand on my thigh. "You know what you need?" she said, suddenly brightening with a broad smile. "Revenge!"

"Ugh," I groaned, letting my head slump forward. "I don't-" I began.

Dione quickly forestalled me, though. "Here's what we'll do," she insisted. "We'll go out tonight, find you a handsome hunk of man and you can get your own pay back."

"I can't," I mumbled. The thought of being touched by someone other than Mitch just seemed weird. It had only ever been him; how could I begin to imagine myself in bed with another man. "I don't...It's not going to make me feel any better," I stated.

"Alright, alright," she soothed, her fingers gently squeezing my leg reassuringly. "Why don't we just go out then, girl's night? Or better yet," she excitedly gabbled. "Let's get away for a little while. You, me, Karly and Vegas."

Karly was the third of our group of close friends. She had initially been introduced to Dione through work and the three of us had quickly forged a close bond. Karly, like Dione, was single and happy to be so. She made a living as a wedding planner, and was never one to turn down a party.

"Just us girls," Dione continued, beginning to be thoroughly sold by her own idea. "We'll get your mind off everything."

"What about the kids?" I argued gently.

"Your folks would watch them for a little while, wouldn't they?"

They undoubtedly would. My parents had been complaining about not seeing enough of their grandchildren; I felt sure they'd jump at the chance. Still though, did I really want to fly down to Vegas as if I hadn't got a care in the world?

"You stood by him when he was building up that business," Dione pointed out. "You went without vacations, 'cause you guys couldn't afford them, and now he's thanking you by running off with some slut." Pushing her tongue against her front teeth, she shook her head. "Honey, it's your time to have a little fun."

Her words fueling my anger, the tears in my eyes suddenly went dry. She had a valid point. I'd support Mitch when times were tough, we'd got through it together and now he'd made a success of the company...so, this was how I was being repaid for my loyalty? No, no, I wasn't going to take that lying down.

"Let's do it," I stated assuredly, with a curt nod. "And I'll tell you somethin' else, it's going to be Mitch's treat."

# Chapter Three

After picking up the kids, I went straight home and booked our flights and a three-bedroom suite at the Wynn...all on Mitchell's credit card. As I'd expected, my parents were only too eager to take the kids for several nights, and with everything settled, I hurriedly packed a bag.

The following evening, Karly, Dione and I landed in Vegas and were soon in a cab on our way to the hotel. I had never done anything quite so impulsive in my life, and I was beginning to forget the nightmare I'd left behind.

The suite was extravagant, with panoramic windows that offered views of the brightly lit strip. Each of the bedrooms contained a king-size bed, with plentiful plush pillows and cream colored bed linens.

Karly and Dione were thrilled with the place, strolling through the rooms, they assessed the stock in the bar and the springiness of their respective beds.

"Wow, this place is great," Karly breathed, walking to the large windows and sweeping her long red hair from her face. "Remind me to thank Mitch next time I see him," she chuckled.

I smiled in response, but the mention of his name brought a wave of melancholy that I could well have lived without.

"Come on," Dione excitedly uttered, as she practically bounced from her bedroom to the living area. "Let's get down to the casino and play a little."

"Sounds good to me," Karly concurred quickly. "You up for it, Hollie?" she asked.

"Sure, why not?" I shrugged, trying to keep a brightness in both my face and my voice. How successful I was, I'm unsure. The girls were so thrilled, I'm not sure their perceptive skills were up to much. Nevertheless, I had come to have a good time, and a good time was what I would have – even if I had to force myself to.

The three of us quickly showered and dressed before heading down to the casino. Soon, we were sucked into the noise, the crowds, and the flashing lights of the slot machines. Dione suggested we go off and play some black jack, and I instantly offered to buy some chips with Mitch's card.

After winning the first couple of hands, we figured we were on a roll and pushed more money onto the table. A few hands later, our luck had shifted, yet for some reason, win or lose, we were still having fun. The smile on my features was no longer forced and I even found myself laughing.

"See," Dione said, grinning. "I told you this was a good idea."

"Yeah," Karly agreed, draping one arm around my shoulders and the other around Dione's. "I'm glad we did this. We should do this sort of thing more often."

Eventually, tiring of black jack, we headed to the roulette table, where we got talking to a married couple in their thirties. Rick and Lise were from California, and were, judging by the size of the bets they put down, very wealthy. They were also very friendly, and talked easily with us between spins.

"You know," Rick grinned, "we're having a party later tonight up in our suite. You girls should come."

"A party sounds like fun," Karly quickly replied.

"Oh, yeah," Dione agreed, nodding as she nibbled on a small plate of corn chips she'd bought to stave off her hunger. In truth, we were all becoming ravenous, and were keen to leave the gambling tables in favor of a dining table.

"Great," Lise nodded, looping an arm around her husband's waist and kissing his cheek. "It's pretty casual; wear whatever you want; bring whatever you want."

"Yeah," Rick chipped in. "And if you want to invite any other friends, feel free. It'll all kick off in two hours or so," he added, checking his watch as he spoke. "So, any time after that, come on up to the Fairway Villa."

"We'll do that," Dione assured him.

With that, we left the roulette wheel and made for the restaurant. Over dinner, I quietly mused over the impending party and wondered whether I really wanted to go. Then, I suddenly tried to remember the last time I'd been to a party. It had been over a month before, and it had been one of Mitch's company events, which meant I stayed sober so he could socialize with his colleagues. Recalling the night, I wondered if I'd met _her_ : Mitchell's 'other woman'. Chances were good he'd come across her at work. Had I talked to her that night, did she know who I was, and had she the gall to look me in the eyes?

"Something wrong?" Karly asked, nudging me from my depressing moment.

"No," I quickly uttered. "No, everything's fine. I'm just thinking. I'm not really in the mood for this party."

"Are you kiddin' me?" Dione cried. "You are coming with us, and there'll be no arguing that point."

"Maybe I'll just go back to the room," I offered quietly. "I'm feeling pretty tired."

"No way," Karly said.

"Absolutely not," Dione concurred. "I promised you a vacation to take your mind off things, and that's exactly what we're gonna have."

"If you ask me, you need a few drinks in you," Karly pointed out matter-of-factly. "Everything looks better when you've got a drink or two inside you."

I did try a couple more times to decline the invitation. However, my friends would not let it drop.

"We're in Vegas!" Dione eventually sighed. "You've got let whatever happens in Vegas happen. Hell, we've got this far by flying by the seat of our pants, right?" she asked.

Accepting that, I nodded.

"And we've been having a good time, right?"

Again, I nodded. Although, if I were truly honest, my 'good time' was being marred by the constant thought of Mitchell in the back of my mind – everything seemed to remind me of him. Even when I was doing something in revenge, like paying for the trip with his money, I couldn't entirely enjoy the moment, because there he was, never leaving me in peace.

"Come to the party, Hollie," she added, pleading.

Somewhere in the depths of my brain, I knew that drinking was probably not the best idea. However, it was the only thing I could think of that might just numb the pain. I needed to forget – perhaps some alcohol, some good music and a few dances would provide all that.

"All right," I sighed, nodding. "Let's do it."

# Chapter Four

Rick opened the door to his suite, and the sound of Outkast's 'Hey Ya!' drifted into the hallway. With his shirt unbuttoned halfway, he grinned at the three of us and stepped aside, clearing a path into the room.

"Welcome, ladies," he shouted over the loud music. "Make yourselves comfortable. Help yourselves to champagne, or anything else you want," he urged, pointing to the large curved bar in the corner of the spacious suite.

However, my focus didn't dwell long on the fact his room was twice the size of ours; with white leather couches, sheepskin rugs and tinted windows that spanned the entire length of one wall. Instead, my jaw dropped open slightly as I took in the sight of Lise on one of the couches, her tongue tangled with another man's.

Curious gaze moving back toward Rick, I noted that he was watching the pair kiss with an odd smile on his face. Then, from a small crowd on a makeshift dance floor in the middle of the room, a long-legged blonde sashayed from her friends and approached Rick. Draping an arm over his shoulder, she whispered something in his ear, before he twisted his face and claimed her lips hungrily.

"What the...?" I whispered, dragging my eyes away from our host.

"I don't think this is your average party," Dione chuckled, murmuring the words to me.

Over by the window, there were two very attractive young women; one with long brunette hair that reached the small of her back; the other with a pixie crop of platinum blonde with streaks of vibrant pink. The rail thin blonde reached up to stroke a lock of hair from the other woman's face, smiling broadly at her. Taking a small step forward, the brunette pressed her hourglass figure to the blonde's body and dipped her face. Meeting her halfway, the short blonde lifted her head, and their mouths melded gently together. As they continued to smoothly kiss, their hands began carefully exploring the other's body.

Locked in a tender and passionate embrace, the women were watched by a blue-eyed man with a clean shaved head. Standing just to the left of the blonde woman, he gradually lifted his hand and curled his fingers over the contour of her ass. Breaking from the kiss for only a moment, she cast her eyes back to him and giggled.

Too absorbed by the scene, I didn't realize Lise had seen our arrival and got up from the couch.

"Hi there," she said, greeting us all with slightly unfocused eyes and a girlish grin. "So glad you could make it," she added.

Dione was wearing an amused smirk along with her red strapless dress. Karly, on the other hand, was scanning the room with wide eyes, as if her brain was about to explode. I felt sure the color of my face was matched Dione's dress, and I didn't even know where to put my gaze.

"We only have two rules," Lise continued. "First, no means 'no'," she stated. "And second, be safe."

"Um," Dione grinned. "We didn't exactly know what to expect, so I haven't come prepared."

Amazed that she was actually considering taking part in the "party", my face snapped around to study hers. I had known that Dione was no prude, but this was...well, it was a step further.

"No problem, you'll find plenty of condoms in the glass bowl on the bar," Lise replied, as she motioned casually in that direction. As she did so, the large strong hand of the man she'd been making out with, grabbed her and tugged her back toward him. She chuckled as her back struck his hard chest, while his fingers smoothed around her torso and cupped her breasts.

"I have to get out of here," I whispered, turning on one black, three-inch heel.

Dione's quick reflexes halted me. Before I was able to take a step, she had hooked an arm around my waist. "Where are you going?" she demanded as Outkast faded and 'Striptease' by Danity Kane took over.

"I'm going back to the room," I said, leaning close so I could say the words into her ear and ensure that she heard me.

"Why?" she shouted back.

"I can't..." I muttered, shaking my head. "I'm not comfortable with this," I explained.

"Oh, come on," she chuckled. "It'll be fun. You're gonna stay, right, Karly?" she yelled over her shoulder.

Karly was still fascinated by the spectacles of the room and the twenty-or-so people that occupied it. In that moment, she seemed focused on a man and woman who were dry humping as they danced. Not bothering to twist her face in our direction, she nodded. "Oh, yeah," she smiled.

"See?" Dione stated.

"I'm not saying you have to come with me," I quickly assured her. "I just don't think it's right for me to be here."

"Why not?"

"I'm a married woman," I sighed.

"So is Lise," she argued, laughing.

Rolling my eyes, I shook my head wearily at her.

"You owe him nothing, Hollie," my friend insisted, her features suddenly serious. "He's the one who asked for a divorce, and you can't spend your whole life clinging to something he's already let go of."

"I know that," I breathed. "I'm just not ready for..." Allowing my gaze to slowly move around the room, I discovered the kiss between the women by the window had grown more intense. "I don't think I'd ever be ready for something like this," I told her flatly as my attention returned to Dione's face.

"Don't knock what you've never tried," she urged. "Besides, nobody's saying you've got to hook up with someone. Just stick around and have a drink."

"I don't know," I protested weakly.

"Please, Hollie," she replied, her head dropping to one side and her wavy black hair sweeping over her shoulder.

"All right," I relented reluctantly. "I'll stay for a while, but I-"

"That's all I'm asking," she quickly interjected. "Let's go get a drink," she grinned, tugging me through the cluster of dancing couples and toward the corner of the room.

Karly followed behind, wide eyes continually moving in wonderment.

Fifteen minutes later, with a glass of champagne inside me, I was beginning to feel slightly less warm-cheeked. The ease with which everyone around me kissed and touched each other had started to seem less embarrassing, and, despite myself, it had even kindled a slight spark of arousal in me. It was nowhere near powerful enough to drive me to throw myself at one of the men in the room, but it did cause me to be a little envious of the women who shamelessly could.

Because sex had always been with Mitch, it had always been inextricably linked with love. For me, at least. I didn't know what it was like to seek out physical pleasure in and of itself. I didn't know how it felt to act on the pure desire that could be ignited by a stranger. I had no experience of throwing caution to the wind and acting on primal sexual impulse. And although I'd always assumed I didn't _want_ those things, there was a small part of me that wondered what it would feel like to do something completely out of character. Did I want to be the same Hollie I'd always been? A quiet voice reminded me that, if I wanted to reinvent myself, now was a perfect time to do it.

Nevertheless, long-held fears and self-perception prevented me from doing any more than watching the scenes that unfolded. The main living room was slightly less crowded now, as a handful of couples had left for the comfort of one of the suite's bedrooms. Meanwhile, in the living room, as people became looser, inhibitions and clothes were being shed.

Rick had found himself tugged into the middle of the room by the nubile blonde he'd been kissing. Grinning from ear to ear, she lowered herself to her knees and began unfastening his pants.

Intrigued by how Lise would react to the unabashed display, I tossed my eyes across the room. She was back on the couch; fully clothed, she was laying on her back while the man-mountain she'd paired up with settled between her parted thighs. As he massaged her breasts in both large hands, he kissed his way down her neck. Clearly enjoying the sensation, Lise was not so swept away that she didn't notice what was going on a few feet away from her. Face twisting toward her husband, she watched with a soft smile as the young blonde peeled open Rick's fly and reached inside.

Rick's eyes found his wife's and something seemed to pass between them, but as the girl on her knees freed his erection, his eyes fluttered closed.

Unable to take my focus off the straining, smooth member the blonde held in her hand, I felt my mouth go abruptly dry. Wasting no time, the eager young woman extended her tongue and circled his tip with fervor. Clearly pleased with herself when Rick's hips responded with an involuntary jerk, she wrapped her lips around him and began to gently draw him back and forth.

"Damn," Dione mumbled beside me, her grin growing wide, "that girl sure likes to suck cock."

"Don't you think this is weird?" I asked lifting my voice slightly, so I could be heard over the pulsing beat of a dance track I'd never heard before.

"I think this is hot," Dione replied unflinchingly. "Don't tell me you're not turned on by this, Hollie," she added, peering over her shoulder at me briefly, before her gaze shot back to the middle of the room.

"I...I..." I gabbled quietly, my own eyes moving about me. Where the hell was Karly? Temporarily forgetting the half-question Dione had posed, I scanned the room. Eventually, down a hallway to the left, I spotted the white mini dress Karly was wearing. Being pressed against the wall by a man in a tux, she lifted one leg until her knee reached his hip. Automatically, he looped his fingers beneath her leg before trailing a slow pattern up her thigh.

Had everyone gone insane? Feeling like a spectator at a Bacchanalian orgy, I did the only thing I could do: turned back to the bar and reached for another glass of champagne.

By the time, I had the flute gripped in slightly trembling fingers, I turned back to find that Dione was no longer alone. A tall man, of at least six foot-three, had settled by her side and was smiling down at her. No words were said between the pair, but Dione's grin mirrored his. It was seconds before she had her hands wrapped around his neck and was tugging his head down for a kiss.

And, it wasn't long before the handsome guy was taking her hand. However, she stalled him with soft fingers on his chest.

"Don't run back to the room, will you?" she said, her dilated pupils meeting my face.

"I..." I mumbled, shaking my head.

"Just stick around and soak up the atmosphere," she urged, hurriedly as the man clutching her hand began playfully tugging her away from me. Chuckling, she flicked a flirtatious glance at him before her attention returned to me. "Live a little, Hol," she yelled, before she was pulled too far away to be comfortably heard.

Alone, I warred with what I should do. Neither of my friends would notice if I dashed out of the room and headed back to our suite; they were much too busy. Rich's face was tossed to the ceiling and contracted in pleasure as the blonde continued to fellate him. Lise, on the other hand, was in the midst of getting her skirt hiked up to her waist. So, there would be no awkward explanation to my hosts for my exit, either.

Draining the last of my drink, my mind was settled, I would get the hell out of there. It was foolish of me to even try to pretend that I fit in at a party like that: I felt gauche, ignorant and way out of my depth. My very tame sex life had not prepared me for anything like this. Whether I was mildly aroused or not, and even if my marriage had nothing to do with it, I couldn't be as free and easy with my body as Karly and Dione.

Replacing my glass on the bar, I spun quickly and my shoulder collided with a solid chest.

"Oh," came a breath as the object I knocked into flinched and spilled his drink over his shirt.

"Sorry," I enunciated, peering down at the dampness that had soaked through the cotton of his shirt and was causing the material to cling to his chest.

"It's okay," his deep voice replied. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," I nodded, finally allowing my eyes to move up to his face. "Yeah, I'm fine," I continued, finding evenly bronzed skin, a firm jaw, deep hazel eyes, and short crop of dark hair that was shaved tight to his scalp.

"You sure?" he asked.

"Yeah," I insisted. "I'm just...I'm really sorry about your shirt."

"Don't be," he dismissed, lifting an arm with the sleeved casually turned up and flicking his hand. "It's no big deal." Realizing someone behind him wanted to pass, he stepped closer, close enough that I inhaled a fresh citrusy tang that lingered on his skin.

"Tell you the truth," he said, smiling. "It was probably my fault. I wasn't looking where I was going." Resting his almost empty glass down, he reached for another, offering it to me.

"No, thanks," I declined. "I was just about to leave."

"Really?" he asked, disappointment causing his smile to falter. "I was hoping we could talk. See, I noticed you from across the room, and figured this isn't the sort of thing you do often."

With a self-effacing shake of my head, I agreed. "Never."

"Me too," he quickly stated. "This is all totally weird to me," he acknowledged. "I was brought up here by a group of friends, and now they're all...otherwise occupied," he stated smiling. "And they've left me feeling awkward as hell."

"Likewise," I uttered.

"So, are you really set on leaving or would you stick around and talk with me for a while?" he asked, offering me the champagne glass once more.

Glancing at the door, then at the man in front of me, I slowly reached for the drink he held. "Thanks," I said, "that sounds nice."

# Chapter Five

For the better part of ten minutes, we struggled to talk over the loud music and the moans and groans of sexual pleasure that resounded around us. He told me his name was Carmine and that he was in Vegas on vacation; in the real world he was an architect...or something like that, I can't remember exactly.

Eventually, after more, 'What was that?' and, 'Say again', then actual conversation, he suggested that we head out onto the large balcony. Grateful for the chance to get some fresh air, and separate myself from the lusty insanity in the suite, I gladly agreed.

The night air had a blessedly cool breeze as we walked onto the large concrete space. Carmine walked smoothly to the patio table and pulled out a chair, inviting me to sit.

"Thanks," I said, lowering myself into the seat and keeping a hand on the hem of my dress to stop it riding up.

With a smile, he sat in the chair next to mine, inhaling a deep lungful of fresh air. Placing both elbows on his legs, he leaned forward casually, before twisting his head to face mine. "So, you staying at the hotel?" he wondered, making polite conversation.

"Yeah," I confirmed. "Me and my friends are staying in a suite a couple of floors down."

"Suite, huh?" he smiled. "Celebrating something?"

With a wry smile, I lifted my glass to my lips and sipped gently on the drink that was quickly going to my head. "Not exactly," I muttered.

"How did you wind up here?" he asked, not dwelling on my cryptic response.

"Same as you," I began, "we bumped into Rich and Lise and they-"

I didn't finish the sentence, because a clunk from behind us indicated the sliding doors had been parted. With a drunken giggle a fourty-something woman tumbled out onto the balcony followed by a man who must have been about fifteen years younger than her.

"Oh, sorry," she chuckled. "We didn't realize anyone was out here. Is it a private party?" she gabbled gesturing to me and then Carmine.

"Err, no," he responded, "we were just talking."

"Talking, huh?" she laughed. "Well, we had something else planned."

With a quick nod, Carmine began to push himself from his seat. "Well, we can get out of your way," he offered.

"No, no," she quickly insisted. "You don't need to do that. In fact, I'd rather you didn't. See, I like to be watched," she added, eyes appreciatively moving up and down the length of my companion's body. I could understand the fascination. He was in good shape; broad shoulders, slim waist, and his toned forearms suggested the rest of him would be equally muscular.

Having to quickly remind myself that what he looked like was of no consequence, I tried to shake that train of thought.

"Oh," he nervously uttered, glancing at me as if for help. "Well, we...I mean."

"Please stay," she continued, coming closer and placing a hand on his shoulder.

Carmine looked at me, requesting assistance. I couldn't offer any. I was too dumbstruck by what was going on.

The woman's younger friend seemed jealous of the attention she was giving the other, broader built man, and stepped forward. Giving her a playful slap on the ass, he reminded her of his presence. She responded by turning around with a giggle and tossing her arms around his neck. She kissed him, as she stepped back to the balcony's rail.

Then, smoothly she turned, pressing her butt to his groin as he continued to hold her hips. With a tipsy smile, she twisted her face to Carmine and locked eyes with him as the man behind her began to roughly pull up her skirt.

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, the man next to me, broke free of the woman's gaze, but he blinked and seemed incapable of refraining from the inexplicable urge to watch. I felt it, too. I wanted to look away; knew I should. Yet, I couldn't take my eyes off the way the man's hands moved over her body, pushing her skirt up to her waist and revealing the nakedness beneath.

Then, he reached for his pants and unclasped his fly. He too now peered over to where Carmine and I sat, but it was me he focused on. With a mischievous smile, he freed himself from his jeans. His smile grew wider as he noticed my eyes drop a little and stare fascinatedly at the way he stroked his sleek, rigid member.

I hadn't realized that the woman in front of him had ripped open a condom wrapper and was now reaching back to pass him the circle of latex. Without shifting his attention from my face, he blindly took the rubber and, with amazingly well-practiced ease, slipped it onto his erection.

The woman was sliding her feet apart, widening her stance. I heard a sharp intake of breath from Carmine at my side, and as my eyes flicked in his direction. Then, I noticed the very large swell in the groin of his pants.

While the man at the balcony thrust his hips forward and the woman groaned in pleasure as he entered her, my own fingers moved unbidden toward Carmine's crotch. I didn't even realize what I was doing until my palm gently nestled against the hard ridge and felt the raw heat beneath. That warmth flushed through me, heating my chest, my cheeks and my sex.

With intense eyes, his face twisted to mine and his strong hand quickly covered my smaller one.

"Oh, yeah, that's good," the woman squealed.

Breathing through an open mouth, the man at my side swallowed and I watched closely as his throat flexed.

"Ugh, you're so freaking hot," the man by the balcony rail growled.

The masculine groan caused my hand to clench slightly, gripping Carmine's hardness. With the same incautious drive that had prompted me to touch him in the first place, I leaned forward. I kept my gaze on his dark eyes, feeling the pull of them. Gently, I licked my lips, before covering his mouth with mine.

"Argh, just like that," the woman screamed.

As the heel of my hand moved in an unconscious rhythm that stoked my own heat as much as it steeled the object beneath it, I tentatively moved my tongue to Carmine's soft lips and tasted the sweet champagne that coated them.

"You like that, huh?" the man grunted, exhaling loudly as he thrust and their bodies slapped together violently.

Carmine's tongue gently met the tip of mine, before gliding over it and penetrating the chasm of my mouth. With thorough sweeps, he explored me, examining every damp, warm nook and leaving us both gasping for breath.

"I..." Carmine whispered, tipping his head back and allowing me to see just how much darker his eyes had become. "I...don't..." Shaking his head, he blinked in an attempt to collect his jumbled thoughts. "Are we...? I mean, do you want to...?"

"I want to," I confirmed, breathless and with flaming cheeks. "Let's go somewhere a little more private, though," I suggested.

"Good idea," he nodded.

# Chapter Six

Not bothering to check the rooms in Lise and Rick's suite, I guessed chances were good they were occupied. And, even if they weren't, they'd been used recently and that thought didn't appeal to me. Instead, as we walked back into the living area, I grabbed a condom from the bowl at the bar and headed directly to the door.

Soon, we were down two floors, in the suite I was sharing with Karly and Dione. And within seconds, I had dragged him through to my bedroom. As I backed into the room, we continued to kiss; a mixture of tender, exploratory touches and urgent, hungry demanding thrusts of tongues. It was a raw state of passion that I was completely unfamiliar with. It was pure, uncomplicated sex.

As he artfully began to shed my dress, my lips took a more thorough appreciation of his neck, sucking and licking at the taut skin, which tasted of a fresh, clean cologne and a musky masculinity that made the crotch of my panties very wet.

In just my underwear, I stepped out of the circle of my dress and kicked the material aside.

Carmine's hands were at my waist and warm fingers slowly moved up the curve. His thumbs rubbed carefully at the side of my breasts through my bra. His fingers then curled reverently around the globes, taking their weight. Smiling, he bent his head and kissed my sternum. Then, with just the tip of his tongue, he trailed down, exploring the bare skin of each breast's curve.

"Oh, God," I whimpered, nipples tightening and straining for his touch.

He must have felt their hardening, because he quickly drew the pads of his thumbs across the aching nubs, causing me to tremble and moan.

It wasn't enough. With artless, quivering fingers, I reached around my back and clumsily unclasped the bra. As the straps slackened, he calmly took over, slipping them down the length of my arms and tossing the underwear aside while his mouth returned to my bosom.

Starting at the edge of one round mound, he placed feather light kisses on the plump flesh. Moving in ever decreasing circles his warm, wet lips claimed my painfully rigid nipple. My hips bucked in reply and his erection prodded my navel.

Never having experienced such a strong yearning between my legs, I found myself innately rolling my hips and rubbing myself against him. Feeling his lips smile against my skin, as he moved from one breast to the other, I clutched needily at the back of his head, cursing the fact that his dark hair was not long enough to grasp.

His own hands meanwhile, were sliding down my hips, his forefingers gliding easily into the waistband of my panties and coaxing them down. Anticipation burning within my belly like a forest fire, my weak neck dropped and my chin fell onto the crown of his head. Inhaling deeply, I was greeted with a pure, fruity shampoo.

Pushing my underwear down until it reached mid-thigh, he let gravity and me do the rest of the work. With a wriggle of my hips, the lacy panties were soon around my ankles and they, like my dress, were hurriedly kicked off.

The smell of my arousal was thick and aromatic. So much so that it briefly occurred to me to be embarrassed by it. However, when Carmine's head lifted, it was not to make a comment. Instead, he rapidly covered my mouth once more and drove his hot tongue in and out. His right hand, meanwhile, cupped my sex and the tips of two fingers gently coaxed my outer lips apart.

Muffled moans escaped me as his forefinger swept smoothly forward and found my entrance. Carefully, he pushed, penetrating me slowly. Again, I groaned, but the sound was obscured by the presence of his lips on mine. Whole body tingling, I jerked, pulling him deeper.

Understanding my need, he introduced a second finger and gradually moved both back and forth in deliberate, measured thrusts. As his expert, solid fingers moved within me, he curled the tips, stroking the spongy front wall of my sex and pressing on a spot that made every inch of my body shake.

Not ceasing that delicious massage, he broke free from my mouth and smiled down at me. "Are you ready?" he asked, bright eyes gleaming with desire.

Gasping and hoarse, I haltingly replied. "I've been....ready...since we walked in," I told him honestly.

"You're so beautiful," he stated softly, his gaze moving slowly over my nakedness as his hand slowly disengaged from me.

I groaned at the loss of him, causing his smile to broaden as his attention moved gracefully to the buttons of his shirt. Reflexes a little slow, I was a second behind in joining his efforts. My fingers were also awkward, and I tugged at the fabric with ungainly desperation. Finally though, his chest; sleek and hard, was bared to me. I instantly leaned forward to worship its perfection with my mouth.

He giggled ticklishly as my tongue traced one pebbled nipple, and I smiled in reply. While his right hand cleverly unbuckled his belt on its own, his left hand swept to my face, brushing strands of mellow mocha hair behind my ear before cupping my cheek. He squirmed as he shimmied his clothes off his hips, but it didn't stop me from sampling the warm, bronzed skin of his tight, chiseled chest.

What ultimately did stop me was when he once again pressed his body to mine and I felt the scorching heat of his generous manhood rub against the top of my hip. Head darting up, the throb of want between my legs pulsed in harmony with the pounding of my heart.

"You okay?" he asked, his left hand gripping the square of foil I'd taken from the party bowl upstairs.

"Yes," I told him huskily, watching the dextrous movement of his fingers as he tore the wrapper and removed its contents.

"I want you," I said, sucking in an erratic breath.

"I want you too," he said, his deep voice rumbling off the walls. He made short work of sheathing himself in the condom, and once he'd finished, he smiled broadly. Placing kind hands on my waist, he took a step forward, guiding me back a pace.

The backs of my calves almost instantly met the bed and I let Carmine's sure fingers direct me downward until I was sitting on the mattress. Once there, on the soft, cream outer bedclothes, I quickly scooted back, kicking off my shoes and lifting my feet.

Effortlessly, he moved in perfect synchronicity, lowering himself onto the bed and nestling between my thighs as I parted them in all too impatient welcome. With his shoes still on, there was not much opportunity to remove the clothes that still hung around his ankles, but that fact bothered neither one of us.

Resting the bulk of his upper body on his hands, which were placed either side of me, he made subtle movement of his hips. I was eager to feel the pressure of his rigidness, and reached between our bodies. However, he did not need me. Without the guidance of my hand, the thick, rounded tip of his latex-covered member had found me.

Softly smiling as he felt the swell of my entrance, he peered down into my obviously flushed face. "This isn't something I've ever done before," he said quietly.

Arching my back a little, I closed my eyes as a tiny fraction of him slid into me. "Hmm," I groaned, gripping my bottom lip between my teeth. "Well, you certainly seem to know what you're doing," I told him.

"No," he chuckled, drawing in deep breaths through his mouth as he held himself in careful control. "I meant, I've never done this with a stranger before," he explained.

"Likewise," I whispered, wrapping my arms around his shoulders as my legs curled intimately around his lower back. "But, I've never wanted anyone as badly as I want you, either."

"Oh, Hollie," he exhaled, bending his elbows and bringing his face down to mine. "You smell so good," he mumbled, his lips close to mine. "So sexy," he added, before kissing me tenderly.

"Argh," I groaned, hips writhing beneath him. "Please," I whimpered, "I can't wait any longer."

Before the strangled plea had left my mouth, his hips were moving fluently forward. Eyelids fluttering closed, his features were serene as he seemed to relish every twitch and subtle clench of my body as it consumed his.

I let out a quiet, frustrated sob, disappointed that he hadn't filled me with a strong, firm thrust. However, as he gradually moved within me, I too began to appreciate the unhurried way his rock hard shaft requested and my own softness immediately granted. My body was so incredibly wet that our joining seemed effortless. He slipped carefully inside, my sex drawing him deeper and deeper, until his blunt point gently bumped my cervix and his hilt nestled against my plump outer lips.

The fit was perfect, he filled me completely.

"Ahh," I moaned, releasing the contented sigh as I felt the delicious pressure of his hard pubic bone against my engorged clit.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his sweaty temple pressed against my cheek and his warm lips tickling my ear.

"Better than okay," I groaned, rolling my hips and shivering as sparks of pleasure shot through me. The tingling of my core; the teasing ghost of an orgasm caused me to clamp my legs more firmly around him. "God," I gasped as my shifting altered his angle, causing his shaft to press against new and previously untouched parts of me.

"Hollie," he panted, his own hips gently rocking in counterpoint with mine. "I need..." he breathed. "I need to..."

He didn't have to finish. It was obvious that his urge to thrust was becoming more powerful. The backs of my calves were draped over his buttocks and I could feel the anxious clenching in those large muscles.

"It's all right," I told him on a whimper.

"Ugh," he groaned, beginning to shift back. As slowly as he'd entered me, he withdrew, leaving just the bulbous tip at the very cusp of my entrance. Then, much more suddenly, he drove forward.

I reflexively opened my mouth, clamping it onto his shoulder as he filled me with an exquisite forcefulness that filled my lower lids with tears of pleasure. Sobbing wistfully, I bit gently on his skin.

"Jesus," he hissed as our bodies met with a clap of skin that was beaded with perspiration. "Damn, Hollie," he added, his dark voice reverberating against my chest and filling me with even more desire.

I was close. I didn't understand how he'd brought me to that point so quickly, but I knew without question that blinding, soul-quaking ecstasy was almost within reach – I could practically taste it. My clitoris, so sensitive to the pressure of his body, was throbbing violently and I felt sure he must have been able to feel it too. Meanwhile, the feeling of completeness with his rock hard erection buried deep within me was prompting spots of bright light to skip across my eyelids each time I blinked.

"Again," I begged, even as he was moving rhythmically from me once more.

This time, his lips took my lobe between them and sucked it greedily into the heat of his mouth as he rammed home.

"Argh," I cried out, tossing my head back into the pillow. His chest, hard and heaving was brushing rapidly over mine, spurring my pleasure by inadvertently massaging my still craving nipples.

He continued to nibble ardently at my ear, his tongue flicking around the shell. "Yeah," he whispered, the word mumbled.

The hands I held at his back, gripped him, nails digging into the sleek skin. "More," I urged, my body convulsing instinctively and arching to meet his.

"God," he grunted, mouth leaving my ear and upper body lifting as he forced almost all of his weight back onto his fully stretched arms.

Blinking, I looked up at his cheeks tinged with pink, his slack jaw and the undressed voracity in his obsidian eyes. He gazed at me with ravenous desire that stirred an ache in my belly. And then, he moved.

Purposeful, passionate and primal, his hips jerked back and slammed forward.

As my depths were speared with his animalistic vigor, my brain began to falter. Sex intensely clenching his rod, my lips parted and a released a deep primitive cry that was like no sound I had ever made before. With blood racing in my ears, my entire body tensed and spasmed in turbulent movements I could not have prevented even if I had attempted to. "Ahh, ahh, ahh," I exhaled on short sharp breaths, my lungs burning with the need to inhale but seeming unable to do so.

That beautiful warmth, brightness and power rolled through me in all-consuming waves, as Carmine continued to give me the entirety of his impressive length with steady, strong drives.

The orgasm lingered, sometimes fading only to surprise me when it crested once more and elicited a scream of pleasure from the pit of my stomach. It would be impossible to say how long that glorious sensation lasted. I do know it was the most intense and inexhaustible climax I had ever experienced.

Eventually though, Carmine's own excitement mounted beyond his control. His features stiffened and his body lurched with less mastery than he'd held over it before. His breathing coming in indescribably masculine groans, he jerked within me and exhaled a whispered, "That was incredible."

And then, suddenly, our bodies both stilled. Like a drowning woman, I gasped deep lungful's of oxygen and continued to cling to him with trembling arms and legs.

Both overwhelmed, we remained that way for several minutes, before he recovered enough to lift himself from me. Dropping heavily onto the mattress by my side, he turned his face toward mine.

I, meanwhile, was staring dumbstruck at the ceiling, wondering how it was possible for me to not have known it could be like that.

"Are you okay?" he quietly asked, hand lifting to my face and sweeping a strand of hair off my sweaty brow.

"Oh, yeah," I sighed, smiling. "Never better," I chuckled.

It was the first time I'd had sex with anyone other than Mitch – and I hadn't thought of my husband once the entire time. At no point had my brain made any comparison, I had simply enjoyed Carmine, as though those moments with him existed entirely separate from anything and anyone. And, I suppose, that's because they did.

For the first time in three days I slept a deep, dreamless sleep. And, throughout the night, I wore a silly smile that flatly refused to be removed from my lips.

### Thank you for reading!

## Please visit your favorite eBook retailer to view the next books in the "Love in Vegas Series"
Jet Set With the Billionaire

By

Sarah Miller
Copyright © 2017 by Sarah Miller

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Jet Set With the Billionaire

All rights reserved.

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. No part of this work may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording and faxing, or by any information storage and retrieval system by anyone but the purchaser for their own personal use.

This Book may not be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of Sarah Miller, except in the case of a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages for the sake of a review written for inclusions in a magazine, newspaper, or journal—and these cases require written approval from Sarah Miller prior to publication. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.

# Chapter One

Thomas Wolfe believed that, 'you can't go home again'. He obviously hadn't ever been to my home; because, in ten years, precious little had changed. In fact, my parents hadn't altered the décor of their house in over two decades. My bedroom was unchanged since the day I left for college. My twin bed still had the predominantly pink patchwork quilt laid on it. The cream drapes hung in the window. My dressing table still had rosettes, for gymnastics and horseback riding, placed neatly around the mirror. It was the room of an adolescent girl.

So, the fact of the matter is, when I finally accepted the cold hard truth; after three months of searching for another job and desperately trying to make ends meet, I _did_ go home again. And it was as if I'd stepped back in time.

Mom and Dad professed they were happy to help me until I got back on my feet, but they were also predictably self-righteous, and I suspected it took everything within them to not scream, 'I told you so' from the rooftops.

"Life in the city can be tough," Mom said. "Your dad and I feared this might happen."

Breathing deeply before responding, I tried not to start an argument. "You had a premonition about Blue Rock laying off a hundred people?" I murmured.

Turning from the bread dough she was mixing, she brushed her floury hands on her white apron. "These things happen," she said tartly. She was only twenty-one when she'd given birth to me. Now, as she started to nudge fifty, she looked pretty good for her age. She was slender, just as she'd been throughout my lifetime, and still had most of her hair color, with just a hint of gray peaking at the temples.

"You're right, Mom," I replied, trying to focus on the laptop that sat before me. "They do."

She continued to lecture me about how I should have been satisfied to get a job locally. I didn't see the sense in arguing with her. It seemed fruitless to point out that I'd been living and working successfully in New York City for just under seven years. She wouldn't have listened. In her opinion, living in the city was the surest way to ruin my life. So, while she relished telling me that I'd made the wrong decision, she was secretly glad that I was back in Woodbridge, Connecticut. It was a sleepy, affluent town, a bubble (or so my parents believed) that kept out all the nastiness of the world.

And God knows they tried to keep me away from the "world". At thirteen, I attended Sacred Heart Academy in Hamden. It was an all-girls Catholic school, which offered the obsessively religious, guilt-laden education that my mom in particular was eager for me to receive. Mom and Dad were both devout Catholics, as were their parents. They expected me to follow suit and become a God-fearing woman, who retained her innocence until marriage. They viewed sex as nothing more than a means of procreation.

Sending me to an all-girls school was intended to help on that front, to keep me away from temptation and ensure that I didn't create temptation in any young man. It worked, at least for a while. By the time I left home for college, I was socially awkward around boys and artless in my conversations with them. I also learned to always be suspicious of their motives. However, I didn't buy into all the Catholic Church had taught me. Gradually, I stopped attending mass on Sundays. Then, I met a guy who pulled me even further from the faith my parents had so desperately wanted me to follow.

Greg was a physics major, a staunch atheist, and one of the most handsome men I'd ever met. He talked to me about the vastness of the universe, and convinced me that creation myths have always existed in some form.

"Organized religions are a human's way of trying to understand what seems incomprehensible," he would tell me. "Nothing more and nothing less."

My own doubts, which I suspect had simmered under the surface for at least a few years by that point, were stoked by his persuasive arguments. He was incredibly intelligent, charming, and witty. Falling in love with him was ridiculously easy. It was a naïve first love, the kind most of my peers had experienced at sixteen. But it was a fervent, fierce kind of love; one that made me feel that I would do anything for him. However, there was one thing he wanted that I shied away from for a time, not because I didn't want to give it, but because I was scared. Thankfully, he was much more understanding than I could have hoped for. Slowly but surely, he chipped away at my insecurities.

After nine months of dating, and at the age of twenty-one, I took the final step of defiance against the religious dogma my parents had forced upon me.

Having received absolutely no sex education, my first time was exactly what you might expect: a little clumsy, painful because I was so tense, and, I dare say, it didn't rock Greg's world, either.

Afterward, I felt a bizarre mixture of emancipation, coupled with an overriding sense of guilt. Whether I believed what my parents believed or not, I'd let them down. I knew they'd be terribly disappointed if they ever found out.

My relationship with Greg continued for another year after that, but things were strained. We were having sex regularly during that time, but I can't say I ever really enjoyed it. My mind was always drifting to the things I'd been taught. As much as I wanted to disregard it all, I couldn't—not entirely. Eventually, once we'd drifted so far apart that neither of us could ignore it any more, we parted amicably.

That year, we both graduated; he moved to California and I headed to New York, where I'd already secured an intern position at Blue Rock. I moved up quickly, putting in more hours than my fellow trainees. By the time I was twenty-five, I was the fund manager's assistant and I was content.

My love life was sparse and I'd had two boyfriends since Greg. Neither relationship lasted longer than a few months, and just like before, the sex was a disappointment to me. Frustratingly, I knew the problem was mine and not the men I chose. Even masturbating, I found it hard to reach an orgasm, and I would feel misplaced shame at the act. However, sexual gratification quickly became the least of my concerns.

Blue Rock suffered a major hit in the economy crash, and I was one of its casualties. At first, I was disappointed, but not overtly concerned. After all, I thought, I'd be able to get another job without too much hassle. But as the weeks turned to months and every application was either ignored or responded to with a curt decline, I started to panic.

Despite attempts to pinch pennies and beg a little leniency from my landlord, I eventually had to admit defeat and give up my apartment.

That's when I found myself back home in my parents' house, sitting at the kitchen table trawling through job sites while my Mom made a batch of bread from scratch and still found the time to lecture me about the mistakes I'd made.

"So, you will be coming to mass tomorrow?" she asked suddenly, ripping me from my melancholy thoughts.

"Hmm?" I replied, lifting my head as I realized I hadn't been listening to a word she said.

"You'll be coming to mass," she said, this time it was phrased as an expectation rather than a question.

"Oh," I mumbled. "I don't know..." I hedged slowly. "I...umm. I don't really think so," I eventually uttered.

"Mmm," she hummed discontentedly.

"Mom," I began with a soft sigh. "We've been over this. I told you, I haven't been for a while and I just...I don't feel it's for me."

"Jesus is for everybody, Melissa," she tossed back at me, turning her back to attend to the beeping oven.

"You know Michael hasn't been to church for years, either," I sullenly responded. "You don't give him the third degree over it."

Michael, my younger brother, stopped attending church when he was eighteen. By the age of twenty-six, he was living in Florida, had had a string of girlfriends, many of whom my parents knew about, and was 'living in sin' with his current lover, Kate. None of this seemed to bother our mom. Apparently, it was perfectly natural for a man to 'sow some wild oats' and since none of his girlfriends had been 'good Catholic girls', that meant it was acceptable.

"He's still young," Mom told me. "He'll come around once he finds the right woman and starts to think about marriage and children."

The youngest of the family, Livia, was in her junior year of college and wanted to go on to med school. She, as far as I knew, still shared our parents' beliefs and had even talked about joining a medical mission. She was, therefore, the 'golden girl'.

"All I ask," Mom sighed, "is that you come. Just listen to what Father Perry has to say."

"I'll think about it," I grumbled, picking my laptop off the table and retreating to the privacy of my old bedroom.

I couldn't bring myself to attend church with my folks, which led to more lectures; some from my mom, some from my dad, and some in which they tag-teamed me. My dad was not only concerned for my immortal soul; he was worried about the here and now.

"You need to think about marriage," he urged. "Who's going to take care of you if you haven't got a husband?"

"I've managed okay so far," I bit back.

"Well..." he shrugged, one eyebrow arching.

"This is a blip," I told him sharply. "I will get a job and get out of your hair."

"It's not about getting out of our hair," he argued. "I just want you to have a man you can depend on, so you won't experience any more of these 'blips'. Besides," he added smiling, "don't you want to have children?"

"I don't know Dad," I huffed. "Maybe one day."

"You're not getting any younger."

"I'm not even thirty yet, Dad!"

These debates with my parents would go around and around in circles, neither of them ever seeming to understand my point of view.

# Chapter Two

Once being back home for more than a month, and after ten unsuccessful interviews, I had moved beyond desperate. I would have been willing to do anything, even clean toilets. I had to get out from the suffocating atmosphere of my parents' home.

So, with an attitude of 'why the heck not?' I applied for a post I found online. I wasn't qualified, I had no experience, but it was a job and it was one that would get me out of my folks' house (even if just for stints at a time) immediately.

"You have an impressive résumé, Ms. Cannagh," said the man sitting on the other side of the desk. I'd only had to wait a week for the interview, and I was determined to make a good impression.

"In fact," he added, with a tilt of his head. "You're rather overqualified for the job."

That morning, I'd applied a little more make-up than usual, ensuring that I looked as beautiful as ever. My long blonde hair was clipped up at the back, with bangs swept sideways across my forehead. "I've been out of work for several months now," I admitted, "and I really am desperate to get a job, no matter what it might be."

"Hmm," he nodded understandingly. "It's just, I wonder if you'll be bored. Being part of a flight crew can be tedious," he chuckled. "But being the flight crew on a private jet is truly mind-numbing at times."

"I'm sure I won't be bored," I insisted, smiling warmly.

"Well, you're clearly an intelligent woman," he replied. "Serving drinks and fetching blankets or pillows is hardly the kind of work I think you would find stimulating."

Dropping all pretense, the smile quickly slipped from my face. I glanced down at the pale fingers that were entwined in my lap and shook my head. "Please, Mr. Joice," I pleaded, lifting my face back to his and fixing my eyes on him. "I need this job. And I will be the best crew member that you have ever had."

Smiling sympathetically, his face softened. "All right," he nodded. "Let's give it a go."

For a moment, I wasn't able to believe what I'd heard and sat with my jaw hanging open. "I...are you...?"

Paying minimal attention to my stunned expression, he continued. "You'll be working for a man named Mr. Race. He flies a lot for business; at least once or twice a week. We'll start you off on a temporary two-week contract. And after that time, if you, Mr. Race, and I are all happy, we'll fix you up with something more permanent."

I barely absorbed his explanation. "Thank you," I gasped, my lips spreading into a wide grin. "Thank you so much," I added. "I promise you won't regret this."

Just five days later, I was dressed in my flight attendants' uniform: a white blouse that hugged my bust; a scarlet 1950s-style neck scarf tied to the left of my chin; a black pencil skirt, which came to my knees; tan hold ups, and a pair of black court shoes with a three-inch heel. My hair was tied in a ponytail in the middle of my head, with just a couple of loose strands framing either side of my face.

I met Mr. Joice at the main office and he walked me down to the plane I would be working in. It was named, 'Make a Wish' and was one of the most luxurious things I'd ever set my eyes on. The cabin was divided into two sections; the front was like a small living room with a couch along one side, a mahogany coffee table in front of it, and four large seats that reclined all the way back to create a narrow bed. The section beyond that was lined with seats like a traditional jet. All were white leather and had plenty of leg room. Gold cushions adorned each seat, as well as the larger chairs up front.

"Usually, Mr. Race doesn't have a full house, but if he does, you'll have someone else with you," Mr. Joice said, as he walked me down the length of the cabin, showing me the full bar and the miniature cooking facilities that was located at the rear of the plane. Or at least, I thought it was the rear of the plane. He reached for a small handle and pushed open a door, which lead to a bedroom, complete with double bed and artwork hanging over the headboard.

"Is that an Altman?" I asked, staring at the oil painting of a blue jug sitting beside three tomatoes.

"Huh?" he asked, turning to look at the path of my gaze. "Oh, I haven't the faintest," he admitted with a shrug. "You'll have to ask Mr. Race."

I nodded, but dismissed the notion. I had no intention of firing questions at Mr. Race; I would do my job, be efficient, and make sure that he had the best flight possible. I certainly didn't want to appear nosey. No, I would mind my own business and let him get on with his. He'd be far too busy to discuss art with me.

As is so often the way when you hear about someone before you actually meet them, I had an image of Mr. Race in my mind. An obviously wealthy, successful business owner; I pictured him in his fifties, maybe even sixties. I guessed he'd be a little hefty from too much fine wine and food, and would no doubt have an air of confidence about him.

So, when a man in his mid-thirties; muscular, handsome, and little shy, boarded the plane, I assumed he must have been Mr. Race's assistant. I watched Mr. Joice walk briskly toward him, shake his hand and then turn to me.

"This is Ms. Cannagh," he stated.

Politely, I moved forward and forced a nervous smile at the brown-eyed man. "Good morning," I greeted, offering him my hand.

He reached out, taking it gently and giving it a quick squeeze. "It's a pleasure," he said. "Please call me, Alex."

"All right," I nodded. "I'm Melissa."

"Great," he smiled, releasing my hand and turning to Mr. Joice. "Have you given her the tour?"

As the two shared a brief conversation, I listened passively, my eyes moving over Alex's perfectly-fitted charcoal three-piece suit with white dress shirt, maroon tie, and a crisp white pocket square.

"So, umm, Melissa," he said, turning to face me. "If you wouldn't mind greeting the other passengers at the door, they should be arriving," he paused long enough to lift his left arm with a jerk that tugged his sleeve away from the black leather-strapped watch he wore, "in around five minutes."

"Okay," I eagerly responded, keen to make a good first impression. "Will Mr. Race be with them?"

A strange lopsided grin pulled at the right side of Alex's face. His eyes moved from me to Mr. Joice, who was laughing softly. Finally, his gaze shifted back to where it had begun. "I am Mr. Race," he explained, still wearing the same unbalanced smile.

"Oh," I mumbled. "I'm so sorry, I just assumed that..." I babbled. "I mean, I thought that Mr. Race would be....I'm really terribly sorry, sir."

"You've got nothing to apologize for," he chuckled. Slipping his hands in the pockets of his pants, he shrugged. "And there's no need for the 'sir'."

"But Mr. Race-" I began to protest.

"I told you," he good-naturedly interjected, "call me Alex."

"I'd rather not," I quietly admitted, realizing as the words slipped from my mouth that if my goal was to make a good first impression, arguing with the boss within five minutes of meeting him probably wasn't the best way to go.

He was no longer smiling. Instead, he studied me curiously. "Listen," he said. "I like to keep things informal because I'd like you to view me as an equal. But, at the same time, I keep things professional. John will tell you," he added, nudging an elbow toward Mr. Joice.

As it happened though, Mr. Joice's testimony wasn't actually called for.

"If it makes you uncomfortable to address me by my first name, I'll accept that," he continued smoothly. "But you were happy to call me 'Alex' before you knew who I was."

That was a rationale I could not argue with. When I thought he was just another employee of Mr. Race's, I would have been content to be on first-name terms. So what was my problem; some kind of inverted snobbery? No, it wasn't that. But at Blue Rock, I had always called senior members of staff Mr. or Ms. so-and-so. It was embedded in the company culture and seemed disrespectful to do anything else.

"So," he softly sighed, when several seconds swept past without my reply. "What's it going to be, Ms. Cannagh or Melissa?"

"Melissa is fine," I offered quietly, nodding. I wasn't comfortable, but if it was the way he preferred things, I'd just have to get used to it.

Thankfully, the rest of my first day went much more smoothly. The plane flew from Teterboro Airport to Chicago, where Alex Race and some of his board members had a meeting with a company they were in merger talks with. The flight took a little under two hours, and I was simply on hand to provide snacks and make cups of coffee. The five men and two women discussed business matters openly, but I tried to make myself as discreet as possible, drifting in and out and making a conscious effort not to listen to the details of their discussions.

I also tried not to stare too often at Alex, who was an incredibly attractive man. At a little over six feet and muscular without being too bulked up, he was the very definition of tall, dark and handsome. It became apparent as I got to know him better, that he was more than just physically attractive. He was polite to everyone and endearingly lacked an ego for someone of his success level; he was also intelligent and humorous.

Trying to deny that I was attracted to him would have been ridiculous, but I did repeatedly attempt to push the feelings aside. Nevertheless, I'd find myself blushing when I caught him looking at me from the other end of the plane, and I felt painfully shy when he was flying alone and would ask me to come and sit with him.

I did try to make conversation. "Is that a Nathan Altman in the bedroom?" I asked, standing even though he'd asked me to take a seat in one of the large lounge-style chairs near the front of the cabin.

"Yes," he smiled, loosening his tie and leaning back into his own seat. "Are you a fan of his?"

"Umm," I responded hesitantly. "Yeah," I shrugged. "He's produced some interesting work. I like some of his early Cubist stuff."

His eyes lighting up, he nodded. "You studied art?"

"Only for a year in college," I dismissed. "I enjoyed it, but my parents didn't think it would lead to a proper career. Of course, they weren't happy with the career I ended up in, either," I added with a self-deprecating chuckle.

"Financial services, right?" he asked, sitting forward and resting his elbows on his thighs.

"Yeah," I replied, realizing that I'd done exactly what I'd sworn not to do and begun to talk about myself. "Anyway," I quickly added, "I'm sure you don't want to hear about that. Can I get you another coffee?"

"No, I'm fine," he responded. "Please, sit down. We've got another hour until we land and I don't want to sit here talking to myself."

"Shouldn't I be working?" I suggested, pointing to the rear of the cabin.

"There's nothing to do," he shrugged.

Relenting, I sat down in the chair opposite him and, as he carefully steered the subject back to art, we began to talk.***

As the days turned to weeks, our conversations became more frequent. Alex was often flying alone and he'd usually ask me to sit with him on both the outbound and return journey. Perhaps inevitably, conversation did turn to private matters and I found myself telling him about my experiences at an all-girls' school and my time at college.

He, in turn, told me about the boarding school his parents sent him to. And then, suddenly, our chat took an unexpected turn. As we were sitting next to each other on the couch, his body slightly turned toward mine and elbow propped on the back of the seat. "I met my wife when we were both freshmen in college," he sighed.

"Oh," I blurted, unable to disguise my surprise. "I didn't realize you were married."

"I'm not any more," he explained. "We're divorced," he breathed, his eyes drifting to the floor in thought.

"I'm sorry," I offered, not knowing what else to say.

"It's okay," he responded, forcing a smile. "These things happen. And I don't suppose we were really well-suited in the first place. My parents wanted me to marry her and..." he drifted to a stop, before shaking his head. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. I do miss Fin, though."

"Fin?" I repeated.

"My son," he explained, smiling as he reached into his pocket and retrieved his wallet. Opening it, he offered it to me and I gently took it between my finger and thumb. The little boy in the picture must have been about three; he was a miniature version of his father, with big brown eyes and dark hair that was a little messy.

"He looks lovely," I said, giving the wallet back to him.

"Thanks," he grinned. "He's not always that sweet," he added laughing. "But...umm, I miss the little guy anyway."

"You don't get to see him much?"

"No, not as much as I'd like," he softly announced. "Things between me and my ex are strained, so she makes it as tough as she can for me to see him."

"I'm sorry," I said, sincerely.

Looking up, his eyes met mine and remained there for a long moment. "Thank you for sitting here and listening to me," Alex murmured softly. "I umm..." he began, his right hand moving forward and settling on my knee.

It wasn't an advance, it wasn't a remotely sexual touch, but the very fact that he'd touched me caused me to jump as though I'd been hit by lightning.

Snatching his hand back, he quickly apologized. "I'm sorry," he stated. "I didn't mean to...I mean, I..."

"It's all right," I responded getting up. "It wasn't your fault, I was just startled."

"Melissa," he urged. "The thing is," he added, his head dropping for a second before returning to me. "I'm not going to pretend that I don't like you," he said, "because I do, and if we'd met under different circumstances, I think that..." He didn't complete the thought. Instead, he changed tact. "I don't ever date people that I work with, it just makes things messy."

"Absolutely," I concurred, nodding. "I agree."

"I know you need this job, so I promise from now on, I will behave more professionally," he concluded.

I won't pretend that I wasn't disappointed, but I was grateful. We'd reached an agreement, and despite the fact an attraction remained between us, knowing we'd agreed not to act upon it eased my mind...somewhat.

The truth was, I thought about him all the time when I wasn't at work. When we flew alone together, I found myself focused on minuscule things; like the way his hands wrapped around a coffee mug, the movement of his throat as he swallowed, the handful of hairs that strayed from his side parting and crept onto his forehead, and the way his fingers tapped lightly on the keyboard of his laptop when he was focused on his work.

Sometimes, I would feel the heat of his gaze and wondered if he was looking at small aspects of my movement. It was impossible to say, because he never let me catch him.

What was most difficult about that period was that in order to help retain a professional distance, Alex had stopped asking me to sit and chat with him. His friendship was something I quickly came to miss. I'd been able to talk to him in a way that I couldn't talk to anyone else in my life - I'd never been able to talk to anyone as I had him.

Looking back, I think that it was a mistake to try to avoid each other. The only purpose it served was to create a tension between us that gradually ballooned, until one day the inevitable happened: it burst.

# Chapter Three

We were on our way back from Los Angeles where Alex had been attending a conference. During the journey, he'd remained in the front of the cabin and I'd been tucked away behind the bar, finding pointless jobs to do. About two hours from landing, he called me over.

"Melissa," he said, rising from his seat. "I wanted to say I'm sorry for the awkwardness between us lately."

"No need to apologize," I said, smiling and turning in the hope that would be all he had to say.

However, he quickly grasped my wrist to prevent me from leaving. "Please don't go," he said. "I..." he glanced down at the fingers he held firmly, but not roughly, around my wrist and gradually withdrew them. When his focus moved back to my face, his eyes were filled with something I could not define.

Then, unexpectedly, his head moved toward mine, not in a sudden rush; but a measured, deliberately slow pace. I had plenty of time to step away from him, but I couldn't. I didn't want to. Even though a part of me knew that the consequences could be disastrous both professionally and personally, the larger part disregarded all thoughts of next week, tomorrow, or even an hour from that moment.

It felt like an eternity. His warmth gradually closing in on me, the sandalwood scent of his cologne growing stronger, and his presence becoming more powerful. Then, gently, oh so gently, he melded his soft lips to mine.

I stood there, my hands by my sides, unsure of what to do with them. My eyes dropped heavily and I moved my lips beneath his, pursing and molding them gently until our two mouths seemed to fit perfectly.

Until that moment, I'd never experienced a kiss quite as delicious and sweet as his. He hummed contentedly and the low rumble in his chest vibrated against my breasts. I hadn't even realized he'd stepped forward and that the lengths of our bodies were pressed together just like our lips.

He was firm, rigid, reliable and strong. All of those things ignited a sudden fiery passion that I didn't know was held inside of me. It was no longer enough to feel his muscular frame against me. All of the fantasies I'd had about him; the dreams I'd woken from feeling hot, restless, and yearning, paled in comparison to the reality of me having him.

Both of my hands moved quickly to his chest, running up the silky surface of his shirt and exploring the curves of his hard pecs until I reached his broad, sturdy shoulders. Lacing my fingers around his neck, I pulled him hungrily closer, while my lips parted in a moan of delight.

His right arm seemed to instinctively loop around my waist and he tugged me to him with the same degree of desire. His tongue swept into my mouth, the tip drawing tenderly in and out, coaxing mine into a strange, slow, sensual wrestle.

I whimpered, my lower half moving unbidden in small rhythmic thrusts against his hard hip bone. My heart was racing, blood pounding raw heat and lust throughout my body. My head swam with nothing but pure need until I felt the dampness spreading in the crotch of my panties.

Alex moved a couple of steps back and pulled me with him. Not that I needed any encouragement, he would have had to pry me off him. My fingers were trying desperately to grasp his hair, and my lips moved frantically, clasping and unclasping between hurried pants for breath.

His legs unexpectedly struck the couch and he let his body fall heavily into the seat. I stumbled forward with him, not expecting the sudden loss of his tall and strong frame. Our mouths parted and I gave a cry of surprise, as I found myself falling forward. But he had me. His hands were securely on my waist and he guided me onto his lap.

My knees landed on either side of his thighs and no more than a second later, I found myself shuffling closer. I was taller than him now, and it was he now who looked up to me, awaiting a kiss. For a moment, I simply looked at him. With the back of my hand I caressed the line of his cheekbone and upper jaw. "Alex," I whispered, my voice thick and hoarse.

As his fingers moved from my waist, his touch slid down to my thighs. He rubbed them gently before moving back up and around to my buttocks, which he cupped in his possessive masculine hands.

My eyes snapped shut and I jerked at the sudden, sexy aggressiveness. "Ahh," I mewled.

He said nothing as he increased his grip slightly and pulled me closer to him.

My pubic bone struck his with a sharp bump, but I didn't have an opportunity to dwell on that. Instead, my senses were focused on the large, hard swell that was pushing against my aroused, swollen outer lips. "Alex," I panted, eyes widened in shock at the scorching heat that permeated his pants. "Maybe we shouldn't be doing this," I blurted.

"You want to stop?" he said, his face dipping forward to the hint of cleavage that was visible between the sides of my blouse. As he kissed his way up the curve of one breast, my chest began to heave with breathless excitement and my nipples strained at the lacy fabric of my bra.

"Oh, God," I gasped, lunging my hips forward.

Leaving my right breast, he moved his attention to the right, mumbling against my skin. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No," I whimpered, one hand moving in small circles over the back of his head and neck. "No," I repeated.

Once his mouth had explored every inch of skin available to him, he lifted his head and his hands unfurled from around me. His intense eyes had grown darker with lust and he fixed them intently on my face. His fingers then gently untied the knotted scarf around my neck. Sweeping the silk away from my skin, his lips immediately descended on this newly exposed flesh. Setting every inch of my body aflame, he nibbled and licked his way from my collarbone to my earlobe. Meanwhile, his hands were occupied with the buttons of my blouse and were soon edging the cotton off my shoulders.

I quickly released my hold of him to shed the shirt, before wrapping my arms tighter than ever around his neck. "Oh Alex," I whispered, bending my face to his ear and taking the rim gently between my teeth.

"Ugh," he groaned. "I need you." His fingers were at my back, unhooking my bra. With deft, warm hands, he rapidly tugged the material from me, baring my breasts to him.

One nipple was soon enveloped by his hot mouth. His teeth teased the tight distended nub and his tongue tracing it almost reverently.

The need to feel the warmth of his flesh overwhelmed me. Once he released my arms to allow my bra to drop to the floor, I then grasped feverishly at the front of his shirt. With his mouth still intent at my bosom, it was difficult to reach his buttons. With struggled and frustrated groans, I yanked gracelessly at the material.

Eventually, with a chuckle, Alex lifted his face. "Would you like some help?" he asked, his hands smoothing up my torso and caressing the outer edges of my breasts.

Squirming as chills shot down the length of my spine, I exhaled a shaky breath. "I can do it," I eventually said, recovering myself just enough to refocus my attentions on his shirt. Able to see now, I moved smoothly and unfastened three buttons before placing my palm on the toned chest I'd uncovered. It was just as firm and powerful as it had seemed clothed. The warmth and softness was contrasted with rugged dark hair, which was fine and short, and covered much of his upper torso. The rest of the shirt and his tie were still in my way and with a frenzy of movement, I tugged at the tie, slipping the shorter end through the knot and chucking the black silk over my shoulder. Surprising myself, I then pushed the white shirt off his shoulders, dipping my head to kiss his collarbone.

In all my previous sexual encounters, I had been passive. I'd been willing enough, but was too nervous and unsure to make any kind of advance. I'd never even had the nerve to be on top. Sitting astride Alex was, in and of itself, a first. But somehow, with him, nervousness and fear took a backseat. I was driven by desire, the like of which I'd never known. Suddenly, I understood what it was to _want_ someone sexually, to need them so desperately that nothing else in the world mattered; not my parents' expectations or the religious dogma. If the priests and nuns were right and I was going to hell, what a way to go!

Alex leaned forward so he could yank the shirt from his arms, and I instantly threw my hands around his back, pushing my breasts against his solid chest. He glanced up and I brought my face down to his, kissing him passionately as I enjoyed the pressure and warmth of his body against my taut nipples.

As I sucked his lower lip into my mouth, his fingers gripped the hem of my skirt and began to hike it upward. There was purpose and hunger in his actions, but he managed to move with grace and a control that I found very sexy.

Bundling my skirt at my waist, he trailed gentle fingers over the edge of my panties. In response, my hips rocked and pushed my inflamed sex to his engorged penis. With a groan, he removed his lips from mine and looked directly into my eyes. "You are so beautiful," he mumbled, as one hand lifted to my face and scooped a loose strand of hair behind my ear. The fingers of his other hand were slipping down into my panties.

I froze, every muscle in my body tensing with dread. I hadn't prepared for this. If I'd allowed myself to think that it could actually happen, maybe I would have waxed for him; that's what most men like, I thought to myself. As it was, my hair was trimmed and shaved into a neat triangle, but what if he didn't like it? What if he was used to hairless women, and found me unattractive or even disgusting?

The tips of his fingers moved inextricably lower, meeting the hair that began at my pubic bone. He didn't pause; there was no surprise, no reaction of any kind. Instead, his hand continued to smooth lower, eventually reaching my distended lips and drawing his forefinger between them.

I watched his face closely, searching for any sign of disappointment with my body. He was still looking up at me, his features fervid and open. As Alex's moistened finger slid up to my clitoris, my jaw fell open in a silent moan of pleasure. I was no longer able to keep my eyes on his. Instead, they drifted closed and my head dropped back.

"Alex, please," I panted, thrusting slightly and offering my needy opening to his affectionate touch.

However, he did not heed my request. While his index finger continued to roll playfully over the swollen bead, his middle finger stroked between my folds.

He was driving me insane with longing. Blistering heat flushed my face, throbbing desire pulsed through my passage, and an ache of restlessness had settled heavily in my pelvis.

"God, you're sexy," he whispered, his hand at my face curling around the back of my head and coaxing me down to him.

I went willingly, dropping forward until my forehead rested on his. Gradually, I opened my eyes, my vision hazy.

"Look at me," he urged.

I blinked, trying to focus on him. His eyes were so unwavering in their intensity that I felt helpless and vulnerable. My breath was still coming hard and fast in my chest; I kept my gaze on him.

Leaving my clitoris bereft, his forefinger moved to join the middle one and he gently pushed both until the tips slipped almost imperceptibly inside me.

Instinctively, my eyelids drooped as I squirmed in an effort to work him deeper.

He resisted. "Look at me," he repeated, refusing to move.

I forced my eyes open and braced my hands on his shoulders. As soon as my gaze met his once more, he tenderly pushed his fingers forward, curling them as he went and stroking the front wall of my sex.

Sensing that the rules of the game meant he'd stop if I took my focus from him, I continued to watch him. Finding his lips curling in a smile, I offered a shaky grin in return.

"Hmm," he hummed, his fingers questing deeper still. "You feel so good, Mel."

Needing more, my trembling hands quickly descended to his lap and began to unbuckle his belt. Leaving it loose at his waist, I unfastened his pants and tugged down the zipper. He grunted in relief as his erection was offered more space, but it was still firmly held within the confines of his tight boxer briefs. Reaching between the fabric, I shyly wrapped my hand around his shaft and gasped at the realization of just how large he was.

"You okay?" he asked lifting his face and placing his mouth to mine in a quick but expressive kiss.

"Yes," I replied, nodding.

Carefully, I eased him free of his underwear and beheld the sight of him. His circumcised head was pink and glistening with arousal; the shaft was almost completely straight with just the slightest curve that, in that position, caused the bulbous tip to curl toward his belly. It was incredibly thick, at least eight inches in length, and throbbing with a winding, bulging vein.

Clasping him, I worked my hand back and forth, imagining the vastness moving within me. He was considerably bigger than the men I'd been to bed with and I wasn't sure if I could comfortably accommodate him.

However, as his fingers suddenly left me and both hands grabbed either side of my panties, the need to feel him was much greater than my trepidation.

"I'll buy you a new pair," he muttered, before roughly tearing the fabric in his hands and stripping it away from my body.

Uncaring about my underwear, I lifted my weight onto my knee and shuffled forward. His manhood still in my hand, I held him steady, stroking my warm folds over his tip and stopping when we were aligned.

Hesitantly, I pushed down slightly, breathing deeply as I felt my body stretching. "Argh," I gasped. Releasing his shaft, I grasped his shoulders and, with tears forming in my eyes, I looked down at him. I wasn't aware of a desire to cry, it came upon me without warning. Sudden, powerful emotions, coupled with the way his body widened me in its quest for entrance, made me feel as though I was losing my virginity all over again. Only this time, it was exactly as I had always imagined it would be. This was the kind of sex that made women crave it.

"You all right?" Alex softly asked, shifting his head back so he could really look at me.

Silently a tear spilled onto my cheek. "Yeah," I smiled nodding. "It's just..." I said, a lump in my throat strangling the words. "It's been a while," I acknowledged apologetically. "And...umm," I added. "You're...err..."

"It's okay," he smoothly said, halting my pitiful attempts to speak. "We can take it slow," he offered simply. "You're in control."

Giving him a grateful smile, I leaned into him. "Touch me," I whispered.

Using both hands, Alex gently cupped my breasts, rubbing his thumbs over the softening nipples and stirring them once again into hot, hard points. Experiencing the warmth between my legs as well as at my chest, I ventured to impale myself further, swallowing up half of him with an ecstatic moan.

The fingers of Alex's right hand fell away from my bosom and slid down to my pubic bone, he pressed his palm against it and rubbed in a circle, before placing his soft finger against my clitoris and stroking in up and down motions.

"Oh, God," I whimpered, my thighs beginning to burn with the effort of keeping myself above him.

"You're so sexy," he mumbled, leaning forward and tracing my left areola with the tip of his tongue.

"Ugh," I groaned, plunging down a little further and experiencing the delicious, powerful sensation of my body lengthening and swelling under the pressure of his large, steely length.

"Mmm," he moaned, his teeth gently gripping the nipple.

Caressing the nape of his neck, I dropped forward and pressed my cheek to the top of his head. "Alex," I mewled, letting go and pushing my hips until they met his, consuming the final two inches of his shaft. My pubic bone was then pressed against his, he was entirely sheathed within me and, as my fingers dug into the thick muscles at his shoulders, I felt the tension slowly release. I felt flutters and throbs as my passage made the final adjustments and then, finally, I relaxed into him.

"Mel," he panted, his breath coming hard against the curve of my breast. "You feel so warm; so soft."

# Chapter Four

For several moments, we remained that way, simply enjoying the fact that we were one. My body quickly grew restless, though, and I rocked uneasily against him. I wanted to feel him moving within me; plunging in and out in that age-old rhythm. However, my legs were trembling and weak; I knew I didn't have the strength left to thrust myself above him. "Alex," I mumbled, running my hands through the short, soft hair at the top of his neck. "I can't..." I murmured, still rocking.

Apparently, he didn't need a more eloquent version and understood my gauche efforts to tell him what I needed. Grasping my hips, he suddenly flipped me to the right, twisting as he moved, so that when my back hit the couch, he was still securely inside me.

"Is this what you want?" he asked, his voice deeper than I'd ever heard it before.

"Yes," I replied, wide-eyed from the shock of our motion, but nodding eagerly.

He claimed my mouth as his hips pulled back slowly. I felt every tiny ridge of veins and twitch of his motion, and moaned into his open lips. He didn't pull completely free, nor did he pause. Instead, he smoothly thrust forward.

"Ugh, ugh, ugh...yes," I whimpered, relishing the power with which he entered me. Still with my shoes in place, I crossed my feet somewhere at the base of his spine before edging them higher and moaning once more as it caused him to sink deeper still.

Again, Alex slowly drew back and this time plunged forward quicker than before.

The head of his shaft struck me sharply and I bucked against him with a squealed mixture of discomfort and pleasure.

"Too much?" he asked, lifting his head in concern.

"No," I breathlessly replied. "Don't stop, don't stop!"

Lifting his upper body, he placed his hands flat on the couch either side of me. Bracing most of his weight, he began to pump his hips faster and with more strength. Each drive forward was coupled with a groan of satisfaction from him and a breathy moan of pleasure from me.

I looked up at him and studied his face, frozen in concentration and biting down on his bottom lip. My hands, which had been at his back, slid down to his buttocks, grasping the large muscles and enjoying the sensation as they clenched each time his hips met mine.

I began to arch, meeting his thrusts, as I felt a pressure building in my pelvis. "Ugh, God," I panted.

"Argh," he groaned, stepping up the speed of his motion.

Each time he filled me, his pubic bone struck my clitoris and, with the increased speed and friction, I experienced the mounting orgasm. Sucking in a breath, I held it as I rolled my hips in a tiny circle.

"Oh, Mel," he breathed. "I'm close."

"Alex," I screamed, feeling that I was about to explode. "Yes, yes, yes!" I mumbled, my eyes clamping shut and fingers contracting tightly at his buttocks. I trembled and my hips jerked and bucked; my internal muscles spasming quickly in an arrhythmic pattern.

"Ugh," he grunted, thrusting once more and remaining deep inside me, his own pelvis jolting as if charged with electricity.

Then the warmth of his seed filled me in three strong bursts, and it suddenly occurred to me that neither one of us had stopped to think about protection.

"Oh, shit," he gasped, breathless and perspiring. Closing his eyes, his face dropped to mine and he kissed me tenderly. "I'm sorry," he panted against my mouth. "I totally forgot."

"It's okay," I responded calmly, as my fingers, which were struck with pins and needles, gradually released their hold of his behind. "I didn't think, either. I'm...err...okay, though. I mean, it's been a long time since I last had sex and that was protected, so I don't have anything."

With lazy eyes, he peered down at me. "I wasn't worried about that," he smiled. "And, just in case you were, I'm safe, too."

"I'm not worried," I replied. At that time, it was the truth, the next day it may have occurred to me to begin worrying, but right then and there, those concerns were far from my mind. I was too fixated on the way he felt within me, how right it seemed to have him fill me completely. He was softening, but still his body was exquisitely secure within mine.

"And, what about...?" he asked.

"Oh, I'm on the pill," I replied, assuring him that the chances of me being impregnated by the encounter were remote. Of course, taking the contraceptive pill was blasphemy as far as my parents were concerned. But it had been advised by my doctor to help regulate my cycle and, more importantly, they didn't know about it.

We lay there, content for several minutes. I didn't mind his bulk pushing me into the couch. Somehow it felt comforting. Occasionally, we'd share a sleepy kiss or one of us would release a satisfied sigh that caused the other to chuckle. However, as we gradually began to feel the chill in the air and our bodies and brains returned to the reality of our situation, I wondered where we'd go from here.

Alex began to get up, saying, "I guess we ought to get dressed, we'll be landing in a few minutes."

I stopped him, curling my arms around him. I needed to know something before we parted, before real life butted its way back into the perfect moments we'd shared. "So, umm...I guess I'll have to look for another job?" I suggested, a hopefully little smile on my lips.

"Why?" he asked, his dark brows creasing.

My heart sank and the smile faded. "Oh," I sighed, releasing him as if his skin burnt me. "I just thought," I muttered. "Never mind," I insisted, shaking my head and pushing at his chest in an effort to slip out from underneath him.

"You thought what?" he asked, refusing to budge. "What's wrong?"

"I just thought that this meant something," I gabbled. "I'm sorry."

"It _did_ mean something," he responded quickly. "But I don't-" he stopped himself, a dawning realization lifting the heaviness of his confused eyebrows. Smiling, he placed a hand on my cheek, rubbing his curved forefinger over my jaw. "I've always made it a rule not to get involved with people I work with," he sighed, grinning broadly. "But I think I'm prepared to make an exception for you."

Noting the sparkle in his sincere eyes, I knew he wasn't simply telling me what I wanted to hear. "Are you sure?" I asked, suddenly concerned that I was causing him to backtrack on his personal ethics.

"I'm sure," he replied. "I don't want to fly with anyone else," he assured me softly. His lips slowly descending and, seeming to seal the deal, he molded his mouth to mine.

While trying to kiss him back, I found myself unable to prevent the silly grin that contorted my lips. Something told me that work was about to get a lot more interesting.

### Thank you for reading!

## Please visit your favorite eBook retailer to view the next books in the "Jet Set With the Billionaire Series"
Sex in Paris

by

Joyce Lee
Copyright © 2017 by Joyce Lee

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Sex in Paris

All rights reserved.

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. No part of this work may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording and faxing, or by any information storage and retrieval system by anyone but the purchaser for their own personal use.

This Book may not be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of Joyce Lee, except in the case of a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages for the sake of a review written for inclusions in a magazine, newspaper, or journal—and these cases require written approval from Joyce Lee prior to publication. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.

# Chapter One

I thought my life was going exactly as planned. I believed that I had my proverbial shit together. I was in control, I was happy and content. It only takes an instant to realize how wrong you are about...well, everything.

"Hey, Brooke," the smooth, deep voice behind me crooned. "It's always a pleasure to see you."

My fingers hovering over the keyboard, I tossed my head over my shoulder and quirked an eyebrow. "I really can't say the same," I muttered.

His response was a grin; a slimy, insincere stretch of his lips that he obviously thought was attractive. He was wrong.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, regretting the question as soon as it was out of my mouth, because it would inevitably extend his hovering in the doorway of my office.

"I'm here to meet with your boss," he stated, still with the oleaginous smirk. He stepped forward in his highly polished Italian shoes, and ran a hand down the dark gray vest of his three-piece suit. "I think he wants to talk about a plea bargain on the Jewkes case."

I couldn't help the unladylike snort that erupted as I turned back to my computer screen. "I don't think so," I informed him. "You haven't got anything on Jewkes and you know it. We can't wait to take this thing to trial."

"Hmm," he chuckled, slithering toward my desk before perching himself on the corner. "You were very impressive in court today, by the way."

Remaining silent, I ignored his hollow flattery.

Randy Gregoire had been assistant DA for a little over a year, and was one of the youngest ADA's in the country. A high-flying Yale graduate, he had his sights set on the top. He was driven. In that regard, he and I were extremely similar. That, however; was where our common ground had begun and ended. Randy by name and very randy by nature, he'd made attempts to hit on me each time we'd ever met. And it was no secret that he had a voracious sexual appetite; he had bedded (and tossed aside), every willing female law intern in the city. If those poor girls had believed his promises of giving them a leg-up, they were not savvy enough to be lawyers.

"It's late on a Friday night to still be working, isn't it?" he asked, reaching out and folding his smooth fingers around my wrist to pull my hand away from the keyboard.

Instantly, snatching free from him, my eyes darted up to meet his. "You're still working too," I pointed out.

"Yeah," he nodded, drawing his hand back and sweeping the fingers through his short, blonde hair. "But I'll be finished up soon, and then maybe you and I could grab a drink?"

"I'm busy," I replied stiffly.

"You're always busy, Brooke," he countered with a chuckle. "But sometimes you've got to let that hair down," he added, pitching his voice a little lower.

"How many different ways can I say 'no'?" I sighed, giving up on my work and using both hands to push my chair away from the desk. I was only propelled a few inches back, but it was enough to put some distance between us.

One hand adjusting the Windsor knot at his neck, the other smoothed over the perfectly pressed pants covering his thigh. "You're so uptight, Brooke," he chuckled. "How long has it been since you had sex?"

I rolled my eyes at his tiresome crudity. In part, I knew, it was intended to shock me. I'm sure he hoped for a feminine gasp at his blunt question. I certainly wasn't going to oblige. "That's nobody's damn business but my own," I retorted.

It had been several months since I'd had sex. I had precious time to meet people, I certainly didn't want a relationship with all the mess that would involve, and one-night stands had never really been my thing. But that wasn't the point. Sex wasn't a big deal, it wasn't the be all and end all that so many people, Randy included, seemed to believe.

"You have needs like any other woman," he continued, oblivious it seemed to the expression of disdain his words were met with. "I could help you out," he added, his greasy grin growing wide and teeth flashing like a shark that has smelled blood in the water. "I could have you screaming in ecstasy."

"I don't need a man to have an orgasm," I responded matter-of-factly, folding my arms beneath my bosom. "In fact, most of the time, they just get in the way."

My barb failed to wipe the smirk off his face. Instead, his cold, blue eyes flicked up and down the length of my body. Gradually, he took in the black stockings that covered my legs, the pencil skirt that clung to my thighs, and the white silk blouse that hugged my breasts. "Oh, Brooke," he mumbled. "I can do things your vibrator only dreamed of."

"I'm sure," I snapped, forcing myself from the chair and striding to the still open door. "For instance, my vibrator doesn't annoy the hell out of me. Now, I believe you have an appointment," I sighed, gesturing to the doorway, "and I have work to do."

For a moment, he looked like he might refuse to leave, but after inhaling sharply, he pushed himself to his feet. "You keep playing hard to get," he quietly uttered as he walked toward me. "It just makes me all the more hot for you. And tonight, while I'm banging some little slut, I'll be thinking about you touching yourself."

"You're a pig," I spat, shaking my head.

No more than a foot from me, he stopped. "I always get what I want, Brooke," he breathed.

The heavy scent of cologne, as though he'd bathed in the stuff, stung my nostrils. "Just get out," I demanded.

With a self-assured chuckle, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and took the two steps to the door. Without looking back, he strutted down the corridor to Mr. Weingarten's office.

Exhaling through gritted teeth, I grasped the edge of the door and slammed it shut. "For God's sake," I whispered, turning back to my desk. If that asshole was the last man on Earth, I wouldn't touch him with a ten-foot pole. Randy Gregoire, and men like him, was one of the reasons I refrained from even casual relationships: it tainted you. Men get away with it and are seen as studs. Women, on the other hand, are branded 'sluts' and are no longer taken seriously.

No, as much as we might like to believe we have equality, the truth is we don't. In what is still a very male-dominated business, I not only had to work that much harder, but also had to conduct myself in a way that made me seem like a ruthless bitch on one hand, and a chaste virgin on the other. Neither of those stereotypes was a true depiction of the real me, but I'd been playing the roles for so long, that I was starting to lose sight of what was true and what wasn't.

With a weary huff, I tossed my eyes to the clock as I slumped back in my chair and tugged myself closer to the desk. It was almost eight; everybody else, with the exception of Mr. Weingarten, had left long before. They had families and social lives. I had...work. But that was alright, because work was all I needed. It was all I wanted. Come hell or high water, I would make partner before thirty-five; even if that meant making sacrifices, I knew they were worth it.

Casting my gaze back to the bright screen before me, I lifted my fingers to the keyboard. But before I managed to type a word, the harsh buzz of the phone interrupted me. Puffing my cheeks out with a sigh, I grabbed for the handset and brought it to my ear. "Weingarten and Ressler, Brooke Addison speaking," I said.

"Um, Brooke?" A hesitant, slightly distorted male voice drifted down the line. "I..err...I'm Shawn Lamont, Helena's brother."

"Oh, right, of course," I nodded, recalling that I'd met Shawn once, maybe twice, before. My brow, however, was tightly lined in confusion. "What can I do for you Shawn?"

"Um, actually," he croaked, clearly struggling. "I'm afraid I've got some bad news."

# Chapter Two

Helena Lamont was one of those people that managed to light a room by walking into it. She was probably the only genuinely good soul I'd ever met, and law seemed like entirely the wrong discipline for her. In fact, when we met in law school, I was convinced she wouldn't make it beyond the first week. That's another thing I was wrong about. Not only did she make it through, but she breezed by, passing the bar with flying colors.

Although Helena and I were polar opposites on paper, we had one of those instant bonds that made me wonder about the possibility of past lives. Within five minutes of meeting, it was as if we'd known each other forever. There weren't many things we held in common; she liked to party, got through boyfriends like they were socks, and was notorious for completing assignments the night before they were due. However, what we did share was a sense of humor and an affection for one another that went much deeper than any friendship I had before or since.

After school, we'd gone our separate ways, I'd stayed in New York and she'd taken a job on the west coast. We remained close, though, talking at least twice a week on the phone and traveling to see each other every few months.

Unlike me, she had no great ambition to run with the 'big boys'. Her dreams were simpler: she genuinely wanted to help people, and she wanted to ensure she had enough time to enjoy life. And enjoy life she certainly did. While earning relatively little at a community legal clinic in Santa Cruz, she lived in a tiny studio apartment just a block from the beach.

"I know it's small," she'd told me the first time I'd visited her in her new home.

"Small?" I'd chuckled. "Hel, you've barely got room for a bed in here."

"Yeah," she'd smiled, nodding toward the window. "But check out that view. Every morning, I get to swim in that ocean. Really starts the day off right, you know?"

I didn't know. The cramped conditions were something I could not overlook, no matter what other perks the property offered.

As far as I know, she did spend the next two years swimming every morning. She also spent her weekends surfing or playing volleyball. And, just as it had been in law school, her dating pool was as broad as it was deep. She really lived. She loved life. It wasn't fair that it should all be ripped from her far too soon.

Staring at the mahogany coffin, surrounded by more flowers than I'd ever seen, it all seemed so unjust that my mind could not contend with it. A drunk driver; an intersection; and Helena's small car. In just a fraction of a second, it was all over.

Motionless, and unblinking I pictured Helena with the broad, genuine smile that was always infectious. I saw her sparkling, bright blue eyes, so full of passion and vibrancy. I saw the long blonde hair that always looked perfect, even when she'd just gotten out of bed. It did not seem possible that I would never see those things again.

Slowly, lifting my hand, I placed my palm on the solid wood. I wasn't aware of the imperceptible, disbelieving shake of my head or the silent tears that had begun to skate across my cheeks.

Suddenly warm fingers cupped my shoulder and, with a start, I lifted me head.

"Sorry," the man softly said, "I didn't mean to make you jump."

I found Shawn's eyes, they were the exact color and shade as his older sister's, but with a heart wrenching sadness within them. He looked as though he hadn't slept in several days, dark circles beneath his lids spoke of sleepless nights since the day he called my office.

"I'm so glad you could make it," he continued quietly. "I know, it would have meant a lot to Helena."

My gaze moving from his and back to the coffin, I exhaled shakily. "Nothing would have kept me away," I replied, wiping at the salty droplets on my face with the heel of my hand. "Um, I've been meaning to ask, are you doing anything about the driver?" I asked, sniffing.

"What do you mean?" he replied, shaking his head.

"A civil suit," I explained.

Shawn's focus fell to the floor and his hand slipped from my shoulder. "I don't think that's..." he murmured weakly.

"He's responsible for Helena's death," I said definitively.

"Is suing him gonna bring her back?" Shawn responded calmly.

"No," I breathed. "But that's not the point, you have a case-"

Gently Helena's bother lifted his face, quieting me with a subtle shake of his head. "Brooke, I know you mean well, but I don't think that's something my parents or I want to put ourselves through. Besides, it's not what Helena would have wanted."

I opened my mouth to disagree with him, but quickly closed it again. I could almost hear her voice. 'It's not worth it. It will only bring more misery. Money won't make anything better.'

"If you'll excuse me, I've got a few things I need to do," he added, stepping back. "Thanks again for coming, Brooke." Unlike the first time he'd said it, this time it was offered with almost forced politeness.

"I didn't mean to upset you," I quickly uttered. "I just...None of this seems fair."

Sticking his hands in his black suit pants, Shawn accepted my apology with a slight nod. "I know," he sighed. "And I know that you think litigation will help right the wrong, but the truth is it won't help Helena." With that, he turned away from me and strode from the room.

I stayed for some time longer, exactly how long I couldn't possibly say. I tried to seek comfort from being close to Helena, but that feeling that had always been there wasn't present. _She_ wasn't present. Her body may have lain in the carefully carved, polished wooden box, but the important things; the things that made her _her_ , those were gone.

In the silence of the funeral home, feeling more alone than I ever had, Shawn's words rolled around and around in my mind. At first, I fought them, determined that he was wrong. A legal suit may not bring Helena back, but it would be some kind of justice. It would acknowledge that there was value in the life that the stupid, selfish bastard had taken.

Yet, as the moments passed, my vehement conviction failed me. A civil suit, and even a criminal prosecution for that matter, could never right an immutable wrong. Nothing. Nothing would ever help Helena's parents deal with the loss of their daughter. Nothing would ease the grief Shawn felt. Nothing would make me feel any better, either.

And, if that was true, what the hell was I wasting my life doing?

I was working to make rich men richer. I was working every waking hour to achieve a meaningless position, so I could do what? Prove that I was as good as the men? Become one of the rich people getting perpetually richer? Did any of that have any real meaning? My career had no meaning in and of itself. On paper, I might have been more successful than Helena had been, but she had helped many more people; arguably worthier people. Along with that, she'd managed to lead a full life. She wasn't chained to her desk, she knew what it was to have fun; how to stop and smell the roses.

Perhaps, I thought, my eyes lifting from their blank stare, it was time I learned how to do some rose-smelling of my own.

# Chapter Three

Mr. Weingarten tugged his reading glasses from his face and dropped them on the table in front of him. "You want what?" he asked.

"I want to take a leave of absence," I repeated.

"I...I..." he stammered, his face creasing quizzically as if I'd just told him I'd been abducted by aliens. "But you..." he muttered, his thumb hooking into one strap of his red suspenders. "Listen," he sighed slowly, seeming to find a cohesive train of thought upon which to jump. "I know that your friend dying has been tough on you, but do you really want to throw everything away?"

"Throw what away?" I huffed, crossing one leg over the other as I adjusted the jacket of my gray suit. "I'm not talking about leaving permanently; I just want to take some time off."

"How long?" he asked, leaning back in his chair and rubbing at the thinning hair at his temple.

Exhaling thoughtfully, I shook my head. "I don't know; a month, maybe two," I shrugged.

"You realize a lot can happen here in that time," he stated. "Maybe Harris will get partner."

Catching my tongue between my teeth, I fought the urge to provide a knee-jerk reaction to his thinly veiled threat. Surely, it was an idle one. After the years I'd spent slogging away for the firm, he wouldn't really offer the partnership to Harris: a man who had only been working with us for seven months and got the job simply because he was Ressler's son-in-law. Quickly, however, I realized my anger was fading.

"Brooke?" Mr. Weingarten said. "You've done some amazing work for us, won some tough cases and shown how dedicated you are, we appreciate that."

"But?" I muttered, sensing the compliment was far from all he had to say.

Sitting forward, he placed elbows on the desk and pressed his hands together. "I know how much you want to become a partner," he continued. "And, let me tell you, you're close. But if you take a career break now, it's going to set you back at least a year."

"I don't care," I sighed, finding the words flowing from my mouth much more easily than I would have expected. And I meant them. "Ever since my freshman year of college, I've been focused on one thing," I told him casually. "Life is far too short for that."

"Why don't you take a week's vacation?" he offered as it became increasingly apparent that Mr. Weingarten was reluctant to comply with my request.

"Thank you," I nodded courteously. "But I need longer than that. There are things I want to do; things I need to do." Silently, I added, 'to honor Helena'.

With a weary huff that blew out his cheeks, Weingarten let his hands flop listlessly and loudly onto his desk. "Well, if that's really what you want," he muttered.

"Thank you," I repeated more sincerely than the first time. Pushing myself from the seat opposite him, I brushed at the legs of my pantsuit. "I'll finish the week," I told him.

"What about the Jewkes trial?" he asked, his head snapping up.

"Everything's ready," I offered with a small smile. "The defense is all set, it just needs someone to deliver it. A well-trained parakeet could manage, so Harris should be fine."

A wry smile tweaked his mouth and one eyebrow crept upward.

"I'll bring you the files this afternoon," I continued, nodding before turning toward the door.

Just as my fingers grasped the brass handle, Weingarten's voice halted my movement.

"Give this some more thought Brooke, I don't want to see you making a mistake."

Twisting my head over my shoulder, I studied his face, wondering for a moment whether his concern was genuinely for me, or just for his business. "I don't need to think about it," I eventually said. "I know I'm not making a mistake."

Ironically, every night over the following days I was stuck in my office later than usual, tying up the loose ends of the cases I was working to ensure they were complete enough, that if a moron like Harris took over where I left off, he couldn't do too much damage.

For the rest of that week, neither Weingarten or Ressler mentioned the subject of my career hiatus. In fact, both men seemed intent on avoiding me. I had a feeling Ressler in particular was angry about my decision, and, although I knew that spelled the end of my partnership hopes (at least in the near future), I couldn't find it within myself to be distressed by that fact. Instead, I was invigorated with a new spirit. There were more important things than a job title and a big fat bonus. I wanted to live, even if just for a month or two, as Helena had lived. I wanted to embrace opportunity, experience new things and throw myself into life with the joy and passion she'd had. It was my tribute to her. Perhaps, upon reflection, it was a naïve way of trying to feel closer to her. But, whatever it was, I was determined to do it.

That Friday evening, I found myself staring at the clock, watching the second hand and wondering how I would put all of my big plans into action. I had secured my sabbatical. Work was done, I could have got up that instant and begun living. But how does someone start living?

"You know what we should do?" Helena's voice reverberated in my head as I recalled a night we'd spent drinking wine on her sofa. "We should travel."

"Now?" I'd asked, laughing.

"No," she'd responded. "We should take a long vacation, see some of the beautiful places in the world."

The memory sparked something within me. Shaking myself from my zombie-like state, I lunged for my computer's mouse, and jerked it to enliven the darkened screen. Hurriedly, I searched for available flights for the next day. Scanning the list of destinations, one leaped out at me: Paris. With a few more taps of the keyboard, I discovered there were seats available. It seemed like a sign. Without hesitation or thought, I bought a ticket and leaned back in my seat with a smile. Life was about to start.

"Am I really going to do this?" I whispered, grinning.

"Do what, Brooke?"

Face jolting from my computer screen, I swiveled to find Randy Gregoire's figure in the doorway.

"Nothing to concern you," I sighed, aware that even _his_ presence wasn't quite enough to put a dampener on my excitement. Sitting up, I turned the computer off, before reaching to my bottom desk drawer and yanking it open.

"You know," he crooned, "I heard a filthy lie about you today."

"Did you?" I muttered disinterestedly, not looking around as I picked my laptop bag from the drawer and got to my feet.

"Someone told me that you're taking a sabbatical," he continued, the smirk evident in his voice.

"Hmm," I huffed, slinging the bag onto my shoulder and kicking the drawer closed with my black, three-inch pumps. "Well, that's none of your concern, either," I stated smartly. Pushing my chair under my desk, I gave the room a brief scan, ensuring I'd forgotten nothing, before striding to the door.

Randy did not move. "Why don't you let me take you to dinner?" he asked, leaning against the doorjamb and crossing one foot over the other.

"I assume you came here with some purpose beyond irritating me," I replied calmly, stilling my feet just a pace from the door.

"C'mon, Brooke," he chuckled. "You've gotta give in to this sexual tension sooner or later."

Both eyebrows snapping up, I cocked my head to the right. "Sexual tension?" I muttered.

"Sure," he nodded. "All this sarcasm and scorn you lay on to mask how you feel. I know you want me, don't pretend you don't."

"I think you're confusing antipathy for attraction," I informed him tartly. "Easily done, I'm sure." As it became clear that he still had no intention of budging, I reached out to push him away from my path.

His hand quickly darted from his pocket, and his fingers clamped around my wrist. "What's your problem, Brooke? I'm trying to be nice."

"No," I stated, twisting my arm free of him, "you're trying to use me for sex."

"Same thing," he offered, with a shrug of one shoulder.

"Just get out of the way before I call the police, Randy," I demanded through gritted teeth. Lifting both hands, I shoved at his chest, forcing him back a pace. Able to get through the small gap I'd made in the doorway, I quickly crossed the threshold and strode down the hallway.

Thankfully, he didn't attempt to follow me, but his voice drifted down the corridor. "You know, it's gonna happen one day Brooke, you're going to be begging me to take you."

Not dignifying him with a response, I kept walking, until I had rounded the corner and reached the elevators. "Asshole," I mumbled, as the doors swished open and my route from the building was finally secured. Breathing deeply, I tried to force all thoughts of Randy from my mind. After all, I reminded myself, tomorrow was a whole new day.

Tomorrow, I'd be in Paris.

# Chapter Four

I didn't manage to get much sleep the night before the flight. My plans being so last-minute, I had a lot of packing to do, not to mention my passport to find, which, alone, took three hours. Eventually, however, with my hastily packed suitcase and a carry-on bag of essentials, I caught an early cab to Newark.

Although I'd only bought a seat in the coach cabin, when I got to check-in, I was upgraded; apparently there were some frequent-flier miles I'd clocked up earlier in the year, when I was working on a case that took me to Oregon to interview an expert witness. I'd ended up making several trips to see the guy, and in the end, he didn't testify on our behalf. Back then, I'd been pissed about the waste of time. But as I was handed my business-class ticket, I was very grateful. Not only did it mean I'd have a quieter, more comfortable journey, but it offered the glimmering possibility of catching up on some of my missed sleep.

When I reached my seat, I found myself by the window, with an empty spot to my left. With a contented sigh, I tucked my carry-on into the overhead compartment and ran both hands through the loose dark waves that curtained my face. Holding my hair in a ponytail, I slumped into the spacious leather seat. I quickly melted into it, finding my exhausted eyes closing without any need to compel them.

However, they weren't closed long enough to allow sleep to come to me. I felt a rush of air sweeping over me and heard the soft thump as a body sat down next to me. Eyes opening as reflexively as they closed, my face turned toward the sound of the moving air.

"Sorry," the body who'd disturbed the air said. "I didn't mean to wake you." His voice was as rich and deep as his chestnut eyes. The tone also seemed to suit the strong jaw and neatly styled hair that was slicked off his forehead with a little gel. I guessed he was in his late thirties or early forties, small laughter lines around his eyes the only thing that suggested he was a day over twenty-five.

I found my eyes moving over the smooth skin of his face and becoming transfixed by a tiny mole on his upper lip. The speck moved as he began to smile.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"No," I blurted, blinking and shaking myself from my thoughts. "I mean, yes," I corrected. "I'm fine, and you didn't wake me."

"Oh, well good," he nodded.

My lips parted in preparation to speak again, but any attempt I was about to make was halted by the appearance of a very attractive, very tall flight attendant, who placed her well-manicured hand on the man's seat and leaned down toward him, flashing him a copious view of her cleavage.

"Hi, Lance," she smiled with a sparkling set of blindingly white teeth. "I thought you were sitting in first class."

"Oh, err," he mumbled. "Well, I was, but I..um...I moved for an elderly lady."

"That's so sweet of you," the flight attendant said, her grin growing broader. "If you need anything, just give me a shout."

"Thanks, Cat," he replied, offering her an easy smile in reply.

I waited for the woman to right herself and walk a few seats ahead before turning to give him a skeptical lift of one eyebrow. "You moved for an old lady?"

"Yeah," he said, his eyes shifting slightly from left to right. "They have those seats that turn into beds up there," he said, nodding in the direction of the first class section of the plane. "Thought she'd be more comfortable."

I hummed my understanding of his story, but I still wasn't buying it. The man was one of the worst liars I'd ever come across, his hands moved restlessly over the front of his black pants and his gaze didn't remain still for a second.

"What?" he chuckled self-deprecatingly, noting the doubt in my tone.

"I don't believe you," I told him before quickly listing his many tells.

His response was to laugh and hold his palms up in a 'you got me' gesture. "What are you, an attorney or something?"

A corner of my mouth rose.

"You _are_ an attorney," he stated, nodding. "Damn," he muttered to himself, dipping his face and shaking his head. "I'm sorry," he added, lifting his face and managing to meet my eyes with the same sincerity he had the first time he spoke to me. "Okay, I know this is going to sound creepy, but I asked to be moved so I could sit next to you."

Taken aback by his sudden, very frank explanation, I found only one question on my mind and my lips. "Why?"

"Well...I don't want this to sound shallow, but I thought think you are one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen, and I wanted to get to know you."

"Oh," I breathed, unable to find a complete word. He was attracted to me? Running on only an hour's sleep, and wearing a comfortable pair of jeans and a sweater, that seemed unlikely. I wanted to ask if he was sure, but even in my own brain that sounded like a ridiculous question.

My long silence started to make him uncomfortable. "If you want me to move, I will," he offered.

"No," I quickly replied. A little too quickly. "Um, if you want to stay, I don't mind."

"Really? You sure; it's a long flight?" he warned, with a warm smile. "And, maybe you wanted to sleep anyway."

"No," I responded with a brief shake of my head. "It'll be nice to have someone to talk to."

His face brightened as he lifted his right hand. "I'm Lance," he offered.

"So I heard," I nodded, wrapping my fingers around his large, strong ones. "Brooke," I smiled.

"It's nice to meet you, Brooke," he said, squeezing my hand gently before releasing it. "What's taking you to Paris, business or pleasure?"

"Um," I hesitated, not knowing exactly how to answer. The trip certainly wasn't business in the strictest sense, but it was a mission; a calling. However, that 'calling' was to have fun. "Pleasure," I confirmed, unconsciously sweeping a few strands of hair behind my ear. "How about you?"

"Business, unfortunately," he replied. "But, hopefully, I'll still have some time to see the sights."

"Oh?"

"I'm attending a conference," he explained, twisting his upper body toward me.

Unconsciously, my own body moved to mirror him. "I see," I nodded. "And, um, what is it you do, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Only seems fair," he grinned. "After all, I know what you do. I'm a pilot."

Eyes opening a fraction wider, I stared at him for a moment. "You're a pilot?" I asked.

"Yeah," he nodded, reaching for the zipper on his high-collared jacket. Tugging the fastener down a few inches, he revealed the white dress shirt with a set of wings embroidered on the left breast pocket.

"Makes sense," I nodded.

"What do you mean?"

"The fact that the flight attendants know you, and you were able to get your seat switched," I said, gesturing with a nod of my head to the attractive blonde who'd been leaning over him.

Lance was an indisputably magnetic man; tall, broad shouldered, and exuding just the right amount of confidence without being arrogant. And he was more than just easy on the eyes, he was easy to talk to. Although it had been a long time since I'd casually chatted with a stranger, nothing about our conversation seemed awkward or unnatural. And the more he talked, his voice as delicious and smooth as warm syrup, the more I realized I was developing a rather serious attraction to him.

After almost three hours of sitting in his company, I found my gaze unintentionally flitting to his lips, and my thoughts drifting to fantasies of what he might look like with his shirt off.

"Brooke?" he said, breaking my musings.

"Hmm?" I asked, forcing my eyes back to his.

A question flashed across his face, but he didn't give it voice. "I said, how come you're going to Paris alone?" he chuckled.

"Oh," I breathed. "It's...um...a long story."

"We've got the time," he suggested with a quirk of one shoulder.

Inhaling, I felt my face fall as I began to tell him what had prompted my sudden desire to experience more than my tunnel-visioned, career-driven existence.

"Sorry," he whispered, consolingly. "I didn't mean to upset you," he added sincerely.

"It's alright," I quietly offered, shaking my head. "It's not your fault."

"So, you've vowed to start living for something other than work?" he asked, clearly trying to draw me away from sorrowful thoughts of Helena. "That's great."

"Yeah," I nodded a little reluctantly, "I guess."

"You guess?"

"Well, it's just a little scary; throwing caution to the wind."

"Hmm," he hummed, his lower lip jutting out fractionally. He was silent for a few seconds, and then the thoughtful expression faded. His mind, it seemed, had settled on something. "In the spirit of throwing caution to the wind," he began quietly, tipping his head a little closer to mine. "Can I tell you that I've been thinking about doing something for the past three hours?"

"What's that?" I wondered aloud.

His intense, brown eyes moved from mine to my mouth. Without another word, his face slowly drifted nearer. His movement, so gradual, gave me plenty of warning; plenty of time to pull back or tell him to stop. But I did neither. Instead, my tongue quickly leaped over my lips, moistening them.

Just a breath from me, his eyelids dropped closed, and his head tilted so our noses did not collide. After what felt like an incredibly long moment, during which I felt my heart rate triple, his soft, inquiring lips merged smoothly with mine.

The second we came together, I experienced a spark; something that had long been dwelling dormant erupted, sending a rampage of warmth to my cheeks. Pulse thrumming in every cell, I felt my fingers begin to tremble as I lifted them to his jacket and clung on for dear life.

My reaction was, I know now, disproportionate to what Lance was doing. It wasn't a frenzied, passionate kiss. It was calm, easy and almost experimental. However, it stoked a fire in my loins that I'd not felt burning for a very long time.

After sampling my lips with his, he eventually opened his mouth slightly. My tongue responded rapidly and reflexively, forcing its way between his parted lips and racing over the warm, sweetness that I found within. His tongue entwining with mine, I found a hint of coffee and chocolate on his taste buds. As their rich flavor struck me, I moaned longingly. But the sound wasn't a desire for coffee or for chocolate, it was a desire for him. It was a desire for much more than just his lips and tongue. I needed to feel his hands on me.

Restlessly, I shifted in my seat, feeling the flood of warmth between my legs. Seeming to suddenly come to my senses, my eyes snapped open and I pulled back from him. "God," I muttered, inhaling hasty, shallow breaths.

"Wh- What's wrong?" Lance asked, shaking his head in confusion.

Staring at the mild disorientation in his eyes, I had to fight the urge to simple tug him back to me. To avoid the temptation, I released my hold on him and slowly pulled my hands back into my lap. "I...um..." I quietly uttered. "This is crazy."

"It's throwing caution to the wind," he agreed, smiling.

"But, we don't really know each other," I whispered.

"We're only kissing," he whispered.

"Yeah," I acknowledged with a roll of my eyes, "but-"

"But?" he urged, concerned by the sudden way I'd cut myself off.

"I..." I tentatively began. For several seconds, I silently debated how frank I should be with him. After all, I didn't want him to gain the wrong impression. But, then again, what did it matter what impression he had of me. After we got to Paris, there was a good chance I'd never see him again. "Um," I mumbled. "Well it's just that, things were getting a little intense. And I have a feeling that if we were somewhere less public, then we...err..."

Lifting his large right hand, he curled a gentle index finger around my chin and coaxed my face to his.

"What are you saying, Brooke?" he calmly asked.

"I..." I shakily replied, feeling my limbs melt under the heat of his gaze. "I...I want you," I whispered.

# Chapter Five

Almost before the words were out of my mouth, Lance was getting to his feet. Dumbstruck, I looked on, wondering if I'd offended him. Or perhaps he was put off by a woman being so forward. Although, I couldn't imagine many men being left cold by an overt come-on.

He walked back down the aisle before lightly tugging the elbow of the blonde flight attendant, Cat. Twisting and craning my neck so I could see over the top of the seats, I watched them share a brief few words before she nodded and smiled agreeably. I could lip-read the word 'thanks' from him, and then he smartly spun on the ball of his foot.

With long strides he came back up the aisle, and as he reached his seat he leaned forward. "Come with me," he said, offering me his warm hand and an even warmer smile.

I opened my mouth to speak, but a series of unintelligible mumblings were all that emerged.

"Come on," he chuckled. "Let's go somewhere a little less public."

Unsure what he meant, I found myself nevertheless taking his hand and allowing my body to be pulled from the seat. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I was aware that I would not have accepted his invitation so readily just two weeks before. But then, two weeks before, I wouldn't have been on a plane to Paris, either.

He lead me up the plane, toward the nose, until we reached the thick security door that separated the cockpit from the rest of the plane. Stopping, he released my hand and tipped his face up to the ceiling. Finding what he was looking for, he stretched onto his toes to reach the handle of a hatch in the ceiling.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

Not providing an answer, he tugged the hatch down and with it came a small ladder. "Up you go," he encouraged with a flick of his head.

"Should we be doing this?" I mumbled, anxiously.

"It's fine," he insisted, one hand snaking around my hip and guiding me to the steps.

Placed directly in front of him, I felt the heat of his solid frame at my back. As my hands tentatively folded around the ladder's white rails, he shuffled forward, pressing himself more firmly against me. A very obvious, very large bulge was thrust to the small of my back and I felt all of the air leave my lungs.

"I want you too, Brooke," he whispered, head dipped down so his cheek was resting against mine and the words brushed my skin. "I want you so bad."

The tiny part of my brain that was still functioning rationally paused and wrestled over whether I was about to do something I'd regret.

Live for the moment, I reminded myself. Grab opportunities; experience new things. Well, Lance was certainly an opportunity and having sex with someone who'd been a stranger to me less than four hours before was definitely new.

Not that my internal conversation mattered anyway. The larger, lustful part of my mind was in control of my actions and had already compelled my feet to climb.

The ladder lead to an attic space above the cockpit. It had two bunks, one either side, and a narrow space between them. Both bunks were really just mattresses with white pillows at the head, red blankets folded at the bottom, and beige drapes that were hung on a rod above and swept open.

"I know it's not much," his voice called from below, as he began to follow. "But it'll give us some privacy."

"It's fine," I replied, turning to watch his dark head emerge through the hatch.

Smiling, he quickly took the last few rungs and yanked the opening back into place behind him.

"What if someone comes in?" I asked.

"They won't," he replied softly, taking a step toward me. "Cat's told the flight crew that I'm getting some shuteye up here."

"But-" I muttered.

"Don't worry," he smiled, placing both hands on my hips and tugging me toward him. "I promise, we're not gonna be disturbed." His fingers drawing lazy patterns, his grin brightened as he pressed himself against me.

The heat radiating from him was verging on scalding, and the pressure of his body caused my heart to leap into my throat. Struggling to swallow, I drew shallow breaths as I felt the rapidly flowing blood flush my cheeks.

He released me just long enough to chuck his jacket, allowing it to fall to the floor. Then, his hands were on me again, more insistent than before, hungry, lustful. As his head bent forward to claim my mouth, his fingers swept up the inside of my sweater, coming into contact with the bare skin beneath it.

At his touch, I arched, pressing my breasts more firmly into his hard chest as I accepted his open-mouthed desperate kiss. Tongues tangling and darting frantically back and forth, and breath coming in pants, he rubbed the bulge in his pants against my abdomen, causing me to moan deep in the back of my throat.

Desire pooled between my legs; raging and raw, the craving to be touched was flooring in its intensity and its suddenness. With mouths continuing to move voraciously over each other, my tongue was far too busy for words. Desperate to feel some relief from the ache, I reached to his right hand and eased it away from my breast.

He allowed me to guide him toward my jeans and when I released him long enough to unbutton them, he no longer needed direction. His fingers instantly slipped inside my pants and massaged me through my underwear.

"Ugh," I grunted into his mouth, grinding feverishly against his hand.

His tongue stilled, and I felt his lips lift in a smile. Tearing his mouth from mine, he met my wild, hungry eyes. "You're so sexy," he uttered, his voice suddenly deeper and tinged with lust.

I couldn't help but wonder how many women he'd seduced like this; he seemed well-practiced. However, those thoughts abandoned me in a hurry when he gently hooked the crotch of my panties aside. "Oh, God," I whimpered, as his long, thick fingers parted my folds. Carefully, he stroked upward, lubricating himself with my arousal before reaching the tight, engorged and needy bud of my clitoris.

With expert movements, he rolled the pad of his index finger in small, slow circles. Feeling the strength seep from my legs, I hurriedly grabbed his shoulders to keep myself upright. Lance noted the effect he was having and smiled.

"God, Brooke," he murmured. "You're so warm...so wet."

"Argh," I cried, my eyes closing and head tipping back on a neck that no longer wanted to hold it. "Lance," I panted, "I'm so close."

"I know," he whispered, replacing his finger with his thumb and allowing the longer digits to slide down to my entrance.

With a frantic jerk of my hips, I begged him to penetrate me. I did not care whether I looked like a slut. Nor did I care whether it was obvious how desperate I was and, therefore, how long it had been since I'd been touched that way. All that mattered was that he finished what he'd started.

I expected him, like every other man I'd known, to force his fingers deep into me in a quick, aggressive thrust. Men I'd slept with, if they bothered to prepare me at all, liked to use their fingers in the same way they used their dicks. However, Lance was full of surprises. He barely entered me at all. Instead, he used the tip of his index finger to circle my sex in the same rhythm he was stimulating my clit.

"Oh, God," I exhaled, my nails digging into the hard muscles of his shoulders.

Gradually, so gradually, it made me want to scream, he slipped one finger into my channel. Even then, he only went as far as his second knuckle. In complete control over not just his body, but also mine, he traced the spongy flesh for a few seconds before pressing against the front wall.

The speed and accuracy with which he found my g-spot was truly something to behold. Yelping, I bucked against him, my head suddenly snapping upright and eyes wide. "Jesus," I hissed.

"Good?" he asked, with a knowing chuckle.

"I...I..." I stammered, mouth dry and uncooperative.

His dark, dangerous eyes fixed on mine, he applied pressure and began to move his finger back and forth.

"Shit," I screeched, losing my grasp of him and hands flailing to resume my hold.

Sparks of molten heat were shooting up from the juncture of my thighs, filling my belly. As though a vise had clasped my brain, I was focused on just two things: that feeling, and the sensual, lustful look in his eyes.

Fingers moving more purposefully as he sensed the coiling of the spring, Lance urged me to keep my eyes open. "I want to see them when you come," he explained.

At any other time, I might have felt self-conscious about that, but I was too far gone to register anything beyond his command. Spiraling higher, I rocked against him, rubbing myself against the thumb that had stilled.

And then, before I was aware of what was happening; before I had expected it. The wave crashed over me, stealing my breath and making me senseless to everything beyond it. I forced my lids to remain open, and kept my eyes on his. What I saw within those bright, vibrant depths was enough to make me shiver with a second orgasm.

# Chapter Six

My entire body was thrumming with the aftershocks of the climax. I was in a daze as the next few seconds passed, I wasn't aware of Lance undressing me; wasn't aware of him undressing himself either. My conscious brain only kicked in again when I was laying on one of the bunks, looking up at him as he confidently rolled a condom down the length of his shaft.

Lower jaw dropping open, I simply gaped at the size of him. I'd known he was big, I'd felt that when he was still clothed. However, I was not prepared for just how large he was. Not just impressive in length, it was also thick. It was easily bigger than anything I'd seen in the flesh, and a good match for what I'd seen in the few porn flicks I'd watched.

God, or mother nature, depending on your point of view, had been very kind to Lance. Being well-hung was not the end of his gifts. Above his noteworthy groin was a thin waist, defined abdominal muscles and a broad, bulky chest.

"You okay?" he asked, his hands falling from his sheathed manhood and his face peering down at me.

"Yeah," I nodded, breathlessly.

"You sure?" he asked, running a hand through the hair that was no longer sitting quite so neatly and had fallen onto his forehead.

"Come here," I smiled, holding out my hand to him.

Reaching out, he interlaced his fingers with mine, taking a step as I gently drew him closer. "You're beautiful," he said, eyes moving over my naked form.

Forcing myself into a sitting position, I lifted my face to him, silently requesting a kiss. He provided it instantly and generously, his lips moving sensually and teasingly over mine before his tongue and mine resumed their acquaintance.

As the kiss lingered, he lifted one knee onto the bed and placed it between my slightly parted legs. Slowly, he lowered his weight, urging me back into the mattress. Melting into the bed, I instinctively spread my thighs inviting him to settle between them.

Graceful and steady, Lance lifted his other leg onto the bunk and braced his hands either side of my arms. The rubber of the condom brushed my inner thigh and my hips involuntarily writhed in response.

"Hmm," he mumbled against my lips, before leaving them to trail my neck, my breastbone and then the tight peaks of my nipples with his tongue.

Both of my hands tenderly cupped the back of his head, fingers lacing in his thick hair. "Oh," I mewled contently, curling one leg over his lower back.

His hot, wet mouth sucked enthusiastically on my soft flesh as his lower body began to settle into the cradle of my hips. Squashed against the top of my thigh, I realized his straining member still hadn't been attended to. I couldn't be sure how long we'd been in the flight crew's sleeping quarters, but Lance was unquestionably showing more restraint than any boyfriend I'd had. The very fact that he'd brought me to orgasm _before_ focusing on his own needs made me feel a rush of affection for him.

"I want you inside me," I breathed.

Head lifting, his dilated pupils struggled to focus. "Sure you're ready?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah," I nodded. "I'm more than ready." In truth, given the size of him, I wasn't entirely sure I was ready. I did, however, know that I was as ready as I was ever going to be. I'd never felt so horny in my life; never been so desperate to feel a man fill me.

"Okay," he nodded, before his face sank down to mine and he kissed me again. His right hand meanwhile had left the mattress and was moving between our bodies. Carefully, he took himself in his fingers and guided the condom-covered tip toward my waiting sex.

Both gasping rapidly, our lips separated. I looked up into his face, fascinated with the little tick of his jaw as he seemed to struggle with his profound patience and control. The fact that his mounting need, which was almost becoming unmanageable, was for me, made me feel indescribably sexy.

Urging him to let himself off the tight leash he'd forced on himself, I wrapped my other leg around him, crossing my ankles just above his buttocks. Then, I pulled him to me.

The fat, rounded tip of his shaft entered slowly, stretching the tight circle of my entrance. As I felt that delightful swell of flesh, just the right side of painful, I tossed my head back into the pillow and released a groan of pleasure.

No longer needing to be guided, Lance left his manhood and both hands returned to the mattress. My fingers stroked up the length of his forearms, before trying to curl around his thick biceps. I found them so taut that I realized he was still holding back.

"More," I panted, tightening my legs around his waist.

He inched a little further, making my eyes pop with the sensation. He felt even bigger than he'd looked. My channel flexed, muscles contracting and releasing hurriedly in their attempt to expand for him.

"Ugh," he groaned, eyes shut and chin dipped to his chest.

Puffing out rampant breaths, I continued to coax him, just as desperate to satisfy him as I was to find my own pleasure at being joined with him. "I want you," I whispered, hands clasping his upper arms roughly. "I want you deep inside me."

"Brooke," he wheezed, hips jerking slightly as the last vestige of his control fought against his primal desire. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't hurt me," I insisted. "Please, Lance, I need you."

"Oh, God," he panted, hips driving suddenly forward until he was buried to the hilt.

"Argh," I cried out, my brain reeling from a bizarre mixture of discomfort and intense pleasure. Stretched and filled so deep that I thought his shaft might penetrate my stomach, I clung to his sweaty skin not wanting him to ever leave me.

"Are...are you alright?" he asked shakily.

"Yes," I replied quickly. "Yes! Oh, God. Lance, you feel so good."

"You feel good," he echoed, kissing my temple, then my cheekbone and finally finding my lips. "So tight" he mumbled against my mouth. "So good," he added, before gently sliding his hard rod from me.

I groaned as his rigid length swept along the slick softness of my body until he was just hovering at the entrance. "Harder," I whispered.

This time, he didn't ask questions. With a masculine grunt of breath, he slammed his hips to mine, forcing his erection deeper than before.

"Oh, yes!" I screeched, finding an explosive pleasure that I'd never experienced before. Clitoral orgasms had always been my thing, with my g-spot occasionally having been stimulated by hand – mostly my own. Until Lance, I'd never noticed anything particularly pleasurable in good, old-fashioned thrusting.

Whether it was his size, his style or something else, I do not know. But I do know, that I quickly found myself on the verge of climaxing once more.

"Brooke," he breathed, withdrawing and readying himself to drive into me again. "Oh, damn, you're so beautiful," he muttered.

"Faster," I begged. "Harder."

My quietly spoken plea triggered something in him, causing him to break into a rapid pumping rhythm. Each time, he went as deep as he possibly could and withdrew almost completely.

"Yeah," he mumbled. "Oh, Christ."

The movement of his shaft was hurried, but no less conscious of me. Although I didn't seem to know exactly what he was doing that felt so good, but he continued giving me exactly what I needed. Feeling the familiar tightness building, I began to roll my hips, stimulating my clit against his pubic bone whenever it was close enough to be pressed against me.

"Lance," I yelped, head thrown back into the pillow. "Yes, yes," I mumbled. "Yes!" I screamed, the sound echoing around the small quarters and joining the throbbing of my racing heart beat against my eardrums. As the climax struck me like tiny electric shocks, my entire body shook, writhed and jerked beneath him.

"Oh, God, Brooke," he hissed, suddenly stiffening. He held that tense pose, with eyes tightly shut and even the muscles in his buttocks clenched, for a fraction of a second. And then, his hips jerked against mine and he exhaled a shaky breath. "Jeez," he mumbled, slowly opening his eyes as his lower half continued to roll in lazy circles that, unbeknownst to him (or maybe not unbeknownst to him), was causing my orgasm to roll on and on; less intense than in the first few seconds, but undoubtedly still there.

"Wow," I sighed, staring at the curved, white ceiling. "That was incredible," I added, thinking aloud.

"It was amazing," he breathed, letting the weight of his upper body slowly press me into the mattress before resting his face in the crook of my neck. "You're amazing," he whispered, lips grazing my skin.

"Ha," I chuckled. "I'm not so sure about that."

"I am," he affirmed sincerely.

I could feel his member softening, but he did not pull it from me. I was glad that he didn't. In no hurry to break the closeness I felt with him, I would have been happy to lie like that for hours.

"Brooke," he hummed, lifting his weary head, "where are you going to be staying in Paris?"

"Um," I replied, shaking my foggy head. Unlike him, I was in no state to talk about anything other than what we'd just done and, even then, preferably in words of one syllable or less. "Um," I continued to mutter nonsensically. "Well...I don't actually know," I told him quietly. "I mean, I left New York very last minute and didn't bother to book a hotel. I figured I could just wander around and find one with a free room."

"Oh," he replied nodding before resting his forehead to mine. "Well, yeah, you could do that, I guess." After a moment's silence, he added, "Or you could spend a couple of days with me."

"Hmm?" I asked, wrapping my arms around his back and drawing patternless shapes on his clammy skin with my palm.

"I'll have some free time during the conference," he explained. "So, we could spend it together. What do you think?"

Suddenly panicked, I was quiet. I'd thought we were just fooling around. It hadn't entered my head that he might want to pursue a relationship outside of our mile high club adventure.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Lance, I," I began apologetically. "I should have been more clear before we...did this, I'm not really looking for anything heavy right now, you know? I'm trying to...well, I'm just trying to have some fun."

Lifting his head from its perch on mine, he tipped it back just far enough that he could look into my eyes. With the same broad smile he'd worn when I first saw him, he brushed a strand of hair from my face. "That's all I'm talking about," he said tenderly. "Having fun."

"Oh," I sighed, reflecting his grin. "You mean the kind of fun you've just shown me?"

"Something like that," he chuckled.

"In that case, why not?" I laughed, lifting my head and pressing my lips to his.

### Thank you for reading!

## Please visit your favorite eBook retailer to view the next books in the "Sex in Paris Series"
Last Chance to Love

by

Susan Lewis
Copyright © 2017 by Susan Lewis

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Last Chance to Love

All rights reserved.

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. No part of this work may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording and faxing, or by any information storage and retrieval system by anyone but the purchaser for their own personal use.

This book may not be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of Susan Lewis, except in the case of a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages for the sake of a review written for inclusions in a magazine, newspaper, or journal—and these cases require written approval from Susan Lewis prior to publication. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.

# Chapter One

Workaholic

Kyle Needham slammed his open palm on the desk and thrust his chair back. "You haven't got enough to go on, Allie," he insisted. "If we publish this, he's going to sue."

The young woman he spoke to paced the width of his office. "It's the truth," she argued, tossing the words over her shoulder. "Every single word of it is the truth. He can't get away with pretending to be Mr. Squeaky Clean." She continued to stride, her long legs taking her across the office in four steps. Reaching the wall, she spun on her heel and made short work of the return journey.

"I'm not saying you're wrong," Kyle sighed, recognizing the stubborn glare in her fiery brown eyes. "But you do not have enough evidence."

"What about the statements from his ex-wife?" she quickly asked, halting her feet directly opposite his desk and folding her arms beneath her bosom.

Needham slowly shook his head, refusing to meet her stare. "It's not enough, Allie, and you know it."

Sucking her bottom lip between her teeth, she chewed thoughtfully on the soft flesh. She waited patiently for her boss to lift his eyes to hers, but sensed the wait was in vain. "I'm not letting this go," she told him, as she flicked her head, tossing a few strands of dark brunette hair from her face.

"This isn't up for discussion any more," Needham responded flatly. "I'm reassigning you and as far as I'm concerned, that's an end to it."

"But-" she began.

"That's the end of it," he repeated, his tone stern.

A tiny muscle in Allie's jaw clenched as she fought to maintain an already slender hold on her temper. "You want more evidence," she huffed, exhaling a breath she'd been holding for almost too long. "Fine, I'll get more evidence, but don't take me off the story."

Shaking his balding, weary head, Needham cast his eyes to the computer screen to his right. Fixing his gaze there, he pulled his chair back under the table and, with a sigh, lifted his hands to the keyboard.

"Chief," Allie urged. "Chief," she repeated more loudly than before, as it became apparent that she was not going to regain his attention. Allowing her arms to flop listlessly by her sides, she glanced helplessly at the ceiling. "I've been working on this for two months, you can't just-"

The case for her story came to an abrupt halt, as a light tap sounded on the office door's window. It was followed by the slow creak of hinges and a scruffy mop of sandy blonde hair that appeared in the opening. "Sorry to interrupt," the face beneath the hair mumbled.

"It's fine," Needham stated, before Allie could open her mouth to tell the newcomer to go away. "Come in, Grant."

"Oh," the nervous youngster blurted. "It's okay, sir," he added, shaking his head. "I just came to get Allie." Turning his focus towards the irascible female reporter, he flashed an apologetic smile. "There's a phone call for you."

"Just take a message," she sighed, barely looking at the boyish-faced new recruit, whom she'd quickly come to view as being like a pesky younger brother.

"Umm," he stalled. "Well, it sounded kinda important," he carefully insisted, stepping back a pace, as though he anticipated an explosion.

Her eyes quickly left the frightened looking Grant to find her editor smiling benignly at her.

"Go ahead," he nudged, jerking his head toward the door. "We're done here anyway, remember?"

"We're not done," she argued, taking a small step backwards. "I'm not going to leave this," she added, pointing her index finger at her employer. Despite herself, she took another step backwards, extending her right hand behind her and reaching for the door handle. "I've never let a story go yet," she reminded him.

Needham wasn't sure whether that was indicative of a threat or a promise, but he watched her go unable to dismiss his admiration for her steely determination; something that had prompted him to hire her six years previously. Knowing that he'd only managed to win round one, he sighed in preparation or the inevitable round two.

Allie left the editor's office, closing the door more firmly than was necessary.

"I'm sorry, Al," Grant mumbled still lurking nearby, but careful to keep out of arm's reach. "I didn't know you were discussing something important."

Closing her eyes, Allie tried to take a calming breath. It did little to help, but, by the time she opened her eyes again, she couldn't quite find it within herself to be angry at the office gofer. "It's all right," she said, aware that the words were spoken with such lethargy that even she didn't believe the sentiment. "He's trying to kill the Pelzer exposé," she explained, her feet moving apathetically towards her desk.

"Oh," Grant responded. "That sucks," he shrugged, knowing how many hours she had devoted to building the story and having spent a few late nights searching for background on her behalf.

Tossing him a glance, she nodded. "Yeah, you could say that."

"But it's not going to stop you, right?" he added, enthusiastically. "You're Allie Mclaren, nothing stands in your way."

She managed a light chuckle, as she tried to show her gratitude for the impromptu pep talk. However, by the time she tossed herself into her chair, she couldn't manage to keep the smile in place.

"Oh," the young man added excitedly, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I know you said you weren't interested, but that guy from the press conference last week keeps calling. He offered to take you to dinner on Friday, and if that's no good, a movie on Saturday."

Shaking her head, she picked up a pile of haphazardly scattered papers on her desk. "I told him, I'm too busy," she sighed, repeating herself for what felt like the hundredth time.

"Well," Grant urged, squeezing her tense shoulder beneath his long fingers. "He seems keen, so if you change your mind..." As his words trailed off, he quirked his eyebrows suggestively.

"Is that the phone call you dragged me out her for?" she demanded, ignoring the innuendo of his brow and rummaging frustratedly through the sheaves of paper.

"No," he laughed, removing his hand and pointing at the phone in the far corner of her desk. "Line two," he told her, before his head jerked up at the screech of his name. "Duty calls," he muttered, following the direction of the impatient yell.

Allie raised her left hand in a half-hearted wave, before reaching for the telephone. Quickly gripping the receiver, she scooped it up onto her shoulder and clamping it to her cheek. With both hands once again free, she returned to her search through the mess on her desk. "Allie Mclaren," she said flatly into the phone.

"Oh, Ms. Mclaren," a female voice returned. "I'm calling from Dr. Reynolds office. He'd like you to come down to see him."

The frantic movement of Allie's fingers slowed, before coming to a complete halt. "What is it?" she asked in barely more than a whisper.

***

Dr. Reynold's office was as homely as any doctor's office can be. The cream colored walls were adorned with Monet prints and he offered his patients a high-backed brown leather chair. Everything on his mahogany desk was neatly arranged and, for reasons she couldn't explain, Allie had always wanted to shift something out of line or, better still, tip his pen holder over.

This time, however, she paid no attention to the compulsively organized desk. Instead, she sat quietly and almost completely still. The only movement was the light swing of her right leg, which was crossed over its partner. She watched the black court shoe, as it swayed back and forth. Momentarily her eyes traveled to the bruise on the inside of her ankle, which was not very well masked by the tan pantyhose she wore. Another war wound; an injury she'd picked up while in the scrum of a press conference. Her brain was unable to focus on anything other than the slow, hypnotic motion of her foot. It was as though anything else, anything even slightly more significant, would be overwhelming.

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting." The deep voice came from behind her, but she didn't bother to turn around. She could hear the soft brush of his pant legs, as he made his way swiftly across the room. Allie caught a brief glimpse of the doctor in her peripheral vision, as he approached her right hand side and continued his route around the desk.

"That's all right," she said, her gaze lifting from her shoe, as she forced a smile.

Dr. Reynolds didn't return the grin. The middle-aged man, with a slight potbelly, gently smoothed over his tie as he sat down in a chair almost identical to the one Allie was using. "Thanks for coming in so quickly," he nodded, running a hand through his black hair, which was speckled with strands of white.

"Well," Allie murmured. "Your secretary said it was important."

The doctor offered a hum in response, while the hand that had been in his hair dropped to the side of his face. One chunky index finger rubbed thoughtfully at his jaw. "We've got the results from your blood test," he stated. "I'm afraid it's not good news."

"I'm still anemic?" Allie offered, trying to preempt what the doctor had to say.

"I'm sorry," the doctor said, looking Allie directly in the eyes. "It's much worse than anemia."

"What are you talking about?"

"Allie," Reynolds said gently. "You've got leukemia."

There followed a deathly silence. Allie could no longer hear the steady roll of traffic outside, she couldn't hear the hum of the air conditioning. "Cancer?" The word was half question, half resigned statement.

"I'm so sorry," Reynolds responded calmly and professionally.

"But..." Allie stammered, her head shaking in disbelief. "I...No," she eventually insisted, as though that simple statement of denial would mean that it wasn't true.

"You're suffering from the acute myeloid form of the disease," Dr. Reynolds said in the same even manner he'd used since he walked into the room. "I want to put you on an aggressive course of chemo right away."

Allie's head stilled, as she began to digest the doctor's words. The beat of her heart became more prominent, the rhythm no more quick than usual, but every pulse stronger than the one before. Her breathing slowed, as she drew in deep lungfuls of oxygen. "Am I going to die?" she asked simply, fixing Reynolds with an unflinching stare.

There was a moment's pause before he responded. "There's a chance that with strong doses of chemotherapy and radio-"

"How long?" she interrupted, knowing that the man's brief pause answered her question more truthfully than the positive spin he was now trying to put on the situation.

Reynolds cocked his head to one side, regarding the stoic features of the young woman before him. "I don't know," he honestly replied. "These things aren't an exact science. It depends how quickly the cancer spreads to your organs or..." The thought trailed off, as he noticed the glazed eyes of his patient. "Allie," he nudged. "I know an excellent oncologist."

Allie was no longer looking at her doctor. Instead, she was looking through him. Her eyes landed on the window, the thousands of people that were going about their daily business. She couldn't help but wonder what was on their minds. What stupid, unimportant things were they worrying about? Moreover, what inconsequential things had she spent the last fifteen years worrying about? How much time had been wasted? How many opportunities squandered?

Dr. Reynolds was still talking, explaining her options and the success rates of chemotherapy. But Allie didn't hear him, as she rose slowly to her feet. "Thank you for your time," she mumbled, tossing the strap of her leather briefcase over her shoulder.

"I really think we need to discuss this further," Reynolds replied, placing his hands on the desk and pushing himself upright. However, he knew that his young patient was no longer listening. "It doesn't have to be right now," he quickly added, hoping to draw her attention back to him. "But if we start chemo as soon as possible, there's a chance-"

Allie had already reached the door when those words found her ears. Her fingers firmly gripping the handle, she twisted her head over her shoulder. "An aggressive course?" she asked, repeating his words from a few minutes earlier. "Which means it's going to make me sick, very sick. I'll have to spend days, maybe even weeks or months in the hospital and then what?" she demanded.

Reynolds made no effort to reply, he knew it was a rhetorical question. He simply offered a sympathetic shake of his head.

"I don't want to die like that," she insisted. "If this is it, then I'm going to make the most of it while I'm still able to." Her unwavering statement ended with a smile. "I'm not wasting any more time," she told him, yanking the door open and striding through the waiting area with her head held high.

# Chapter Two

Breaking Out

Three soft taps reverberated from the door and filled the small living room, causing Allie to wrench herself from her comfortable corner of the couch. Tossing the book she'd been reading onto the glass coffee table in front of her, she padded barefoot across the hardwood floor. With a quick glance at her watch, she reached the door and gently pulled it open.

"Hey!" The greeting was joined by a swirl of action, as a blonde-haired woman breezed across the threshold. "I know you said two," she quickly added, barely pausing for breath, as she pulled at the tight-fitting skirt that was riding up her thighs. "I got caught at this stupid meeting, you know how it is." It was barely an apology, but it was as close as the woman ever came to offering one.

"It's okay," Allie responded, eyes wide as she found herself once again amazed by the mass of energy that was squeezed into an incredible hour-glass figure. She had been friends with Rosalind Evans for almost five years. And, in all of that time, she'd been at a loss to quite explain why. On the surface of it, the women had nothing in common. They were in the same business, sort of, but writing for a fashion magazine was hardly Allie's idea of serious journalism. Rosalind was also a party girl, more concerned with having a good time than with where her life was heading. If she wanted to get ahead in her career, she did it by flirting with her male features editor, not by putting in any additional work. In short, she was the polar opposite of Allie. And, if Allie were honest with herself, perhaps that's why she was so drawn to the wild child. Rosalind did all of the things Allie couldn't or wouldn't let herself do. So she was able to live vicariously through her best friend.

Closing the door, while she mulled over the truth of that thought, Allie spoke again, "I just wanted to ask your advice about something."

"Ooh," Rosalind exaggeratedly cooed. "You, asking for my advice?" she chuckled. "You're the grown up one, Allie, remember?"

"I know," Allie agreed with a nod, as she gestured towards the couch. "That's why I need your advice."

Not needing to be asked twice, Rosalind followed the silent invitation to sit. Although, with her thigh hugging skirt, she could not lounge back in the seat and had to remain perched precariously on the edge. "So," she sighed, flicking her overly long bangs from her eyes. "What can I do for you?"

Settling beside Rosalind, Allie tucked one leg beneath her butt and sank back against the couch's plush cushions. "This might sound kinda strange," she confessed, with a self-deprecating smile. "I mean..." she added, but didn't seem able to proceed from there. "I've been doing a lot of thinking over the past two days," she said, slightly more confident with the change of tack. "And I've decided that I want something different from life."

"Okay," Rosalind slowly offered, elongating the 'o'. "You're going to join a commune?" she asked.

"No," Allie responded, laughing at the absurdity of the notion.

"Good, because I wouldn't have been able to help you with that."

Dipping her face, Allie searched the floor, her gaze focusing on the strange patterns made by the knots in the wood. "Listen," she sighed, wringing her hands awkwardly, before tiring of her their movement and thrusting them between her knees. "I was just wondering if you would share your secret."

"Secret?" Rosalind's eyes shifted unconsciously from left to right, as she tried to decrypt her friend's request.

"Yeah," came the quick response. "How do you attract so many guys?"

Rosalind let forth a scoff that caused her to snort in a very unladylike manner. "Allie, plenty of men are interested in you. You're not interested in them, that's the problem."

Allie blinked, as she shook her head. "No, you don't understand. What I mean is how do you go about having a..." she hovered over the word, trying to find the right way to complete the sentence. "...casual thing."

A slow grin quirked Rosalind's glossy pink lips, until she was beaming broadly. "You want to have a fling?" she asked, the smile so evident in her voice that Allie didn't need to see her face.

"Maybe," Allie shrugged defensively, unsure why her friend's gentle teasing had prompted that reaction in her.

"Allie, you're not really the one night stand type."

"What if I've changed?" Allie responded, her face still a picture of solemnity.

Rosalind's brow began to crease thoughtfully, as the large grin faded from her features. "What's all this about?" she asked, making a move to lean back into the couch, but stopping herself, when her skirt gripped her more tightly.

"People change," Allie replied, her eyes drifting to her own legs and the blue jeans that covered them.

"I know," the blonde woman nodded. "But not you," she added, offering another flash of her teasing smile.

This time she was rewarded with a reluctant mirroring of the gesture. "I've just been doing a lot of thinking," Allie confessed. "About what I've been doing with my life. I've always been so focused. First on my education, then getting my dream job, then working my butt off to be the very best."

"You are the best," Rosalind told her matter-of-factly, with no hint of humor or insincerity.

"But I've missed out on so much," Allie responded, with a frustrated sigh. "I never really got to let my hair down."

"And now you want to?" her friend supplied, filling in the blanks.

"Yeah," Allie nodded.

"Why now?"

"Why not now?" she countered. "I mean, there may not be a tomorrow, right?"

Chuckling lightly, Rosalind couldn't argue that piece of perfect logic, even if it sounded as though a very different woman was sitting by her side. "I'm still not sure you're the love 'em and leave 'em kind though. I mean, do you really want to start hooking up with strangers?"

Allie bit her lower lip, while she considered the question. "No, I suppose not," she agreed. "But maybe I don't have to," she quickly added, straightening herself in the seat and meeting Rosalind's eye for the first time since the pair had sat down. "Maybe all those lost opportunities aren't lost for good," she suggested, a hint of playfulness in her voice.

Giving another tug on the hem of her skirt, Rosalind peered suspiciously at the friend who, until that afternoon, she would have sworn she knew better than anybody else. "What are you thinking?"

***

She'd been sitting for what felt like hours, watching the black cursor flash in the top left corner of the bright white, very empty box. The normal buzz of activity surrounded her. She could hear Kyle talking loudly on the phone, through the door he'd left ajar. A photocopier whirred in the corner of the bullpen, a low drone of voices assaulted her ears from all angles and there was the constant rhythmic tap of computer keyboards. She, however, could write nothing.

Allie had abandoned her assignment long before, knowing she had the better part of a week to complete it and that the simple task would, in reality, take her no longer than a few hours. It was not a sparse word document that filled her screen. Instead, she was looking at a naked email.

'How does someone go about asking a man they haven't seen for over five years, whether he wants to meet up for casual sex?' Allie silently asked herself, blinking at the screen.

"Hey, Al," an excited voice interrupted her musing. Grant's desk was just a few feet away and rather than get up, he used his sneakered toes to propel the small wheels of his chair towards her. In his hands he held a manila file and on his face he wore an excited grin. "I think we can still get him. Look at this," he offered, using one final thrust of his legs to reach Allie's desk and flinging the document towards her.

She hummed disinterestedly, as she accepted the file. "What's this?"

"It proves that a large amount of money went missing from Pelzer's charity," he enthused.

"How did you get hold of this?" she asked, her head snapping up.

"Perhaps best you don't know," he muttered, leaning conspiratorially closer and still bearing his broad grin.

"Grant," she said, as though chastising a child. "You know we can't use this." She picked up the file, careful to keep it closed and handed it back to the man by her side.

"But," he protested.

"Do you have any idea what could happen to you, me and the paper?" she interrupted.

"You wouldn't have said that last week," he muttered, remembering how doggedly she had been willing to pursue the case and how little regard she'd had for what was ethical or legal.

"It's not worth the risk," she told him flatly.

"So, you think we can get him some other way?" the young gofer asked optimistically.

"I don't know," she shrugged, turning back to the glare of the screen.

"I don't get it," Grant huffed. "What's changed? I thought you wanted to nail this guy."

"I did," she tossed off-handedly. "I do," she added, realizing she'd spoken in the past tense. "Look, I was too single-minded, there's more to life than airing Pelzer's dirty laundry." She glanced at Grant over her shoulder, and was met by a look of incredulity, as though he half expected her to reveal that the statement had been an instance of her dry humor.

"Are you feeling okay?" he eventually asked, leaning back in his chair and regarding her carefully.

"I'm fine," she replied. "I'm moving on," she added breezily. "If Kyle is killing the story, then we've just got to accept that."

Grant prodded the inside of his cheek with his tongue, still unsure whether to take her seriously or not. "So, that's it?" he asked, folding his arms across his chest.

"Grant," she sighed. "Life is too short to be chasing lost causes."

"All right," he quipped. "Who are you and what have you done with Allie Mclaren?"

"Ha ha," she sarcastically responded. Focusing on her computer screen, she lifted her hands to the keyboard. "I've just got other things on my mind right now," she told him, as her fingers unconsciously began to move across the keys. "Time waits for no man," she added, as the speed of her typing increased. "Or woman," she added quietly.

"Okay," Grant sighed sulkily, pushing himself up from his chair and gripping the back. "When you come back to your senses and change your mind, you'll let me know, though?" he suggested turning his back to her as he dolefully wheeled his chair back to his desk.

"Sure," Allie called in response, not even aware of what he'd said. She was much too absorbed in the letter that was taking shape before her eyes. Her brain wasn't consciously dictating the words that appeared on the screen, her fingers moved fluidly, almost independently of her. In a little under a minute, she had found the right way of phrasing her invitation.

Leaning back, she scooped her hair off her shoulders and pressed it in a loose ponytail at the back of her head. She scanned through the email just once, hesitated momentarily, before muttering, "What the hell?" As the words were murmured under her breath, she lunged forwards, grasped the computer's mouse and clicked 'send'.

***

It was three days later when Allie found herself pacing the stretch of thick cream carpet by the foot of her bed. She wore a large bath towel around her body and a smaller one wrapped around her damp hair. Her iPhone was gripped tightly in her right hand, while her eyes flicked nervously between the floor and the black cocktail dress laid out on the bed.

"I just don't know how to play it," she spoke into the phone. "I mean, should I just be upfront about what I want?"

"What do you want?" Rosalind replied, as she crunched on an apple.

"We've already been over that one," Allie sighed, ceasing the nervous movement of her feet.

A moment of noisy chewing was followed by a distorted, "Just want to make sure you know what you're doing."

"I know," Allie replied, her voice low as she stared unflinchingly at the dress before her. "The problem is I don't know how to get it."

"Well," Rosalind began. "If it were me, I'd just see how the night goes. Maybe he'll make the first move. If not, then don't be afraid to do it for him."

"I'm not sure I know how to make the first move," Allie responded, her eyes growing wide in fear at the thought of it.

"Oh, come on," Rosalind laughed. "You mean to tell me you've never initiated sex before?"

"Not like this," she protested. "Not on a first date, knowing that it's just going to be one night."

"You saying you don't want to do it?"

"No," Allie instantly countered. "I definitely want to. I'm just nervous that's all."

"Don't be," Rosalind cooed warmly. "You're going to be fine. Just be yourself and let things play out at their own pace. I'm pretty sure you won't have to drag him back to your lair."

"Okay," came Allie's forced confidence. She grasped the corner of the makeshift turban and yanked her hair free. "I'm going to have to get ready, or I'll be late."

"Go get him, girl," Rosalind encouraged smiling. "Hey," she added suddenly. "Are you sure everything's okay?"

"Yep," Allie quickly lied. "Everything's fine. We'll...umm...talk again soon." Feeling awkward about her dishonesty, Allie tried to wrap the call up quickly. Thankfully, she received no resistance from the other end. "Bye," she stated, pulling the cell phone away from her ear.

"Have fun," Rosalind managed to squeeze in, before the call ended.

Tossing the phone onto the bed, Allie sucked in a strangled breath. "You've done this before," she scolded herself. "It's just a date, it's no big deal."

# Chapter Three

First Encounter

The hotel restaurant was quiet and atmospheric. A string quartet in the corner of the room played a selection of waltzes. The lighting was dim, but three tealight candles in the center of each table, illuminated the faces of the diners.

During the course of getting dressed, she'd managed to calm her nerves considerably. However, when she arrived at the hotel and found an incredibly handsome looking man carrying a single red rose, the butterflies in her stomach began flapping again in earnest.

Carl was even better looking than she remembered. His shoulders were broader; his chin, which had always been smooth, was covered in light stubble; and his hair, which had always been slightly too long and slightly too unmanageable, was short and neatly styled with just a touch of gel. Meanwhile, the faded T-shirts and ripped jeans, which had been his staple dress at college, had been replaced by a dapper charcoal suit and deep red dress shirt.

Throughout the dinner, Allie had slowly relaxed, thanks largely to the third glass of red wine she was sipping on by the time desert was brought to the table.

"So," Carl mused, digging a fork into the chocolate torte in front of him. "I was really glad to hear from you, but...err...why did I hear from you?" He chuckled, causing two small dimples to dent his cheeks.

Allie felt her own face flush, as her brain supplied her with a very vivid image of what she'd contacted him for. She couldn't bring herself to glance up into his piercing blue eyes, as she dismissed the question with a shrug. "Who knows what makes us do things," she replied.

"Very true," he acknowledged, leaning forwards with the fork stretched towards Allie's mouth.

The unspoken offer was greeted with a smile, before she parted her lips and allowed him to slip the morsel of rich, luxurious chocolate into her mouth.

"You know," he said, his eyes watching the subtle changes in her features, as she savored the mouthful. "I still think about you a lot."

"Mmm," Allie hummed, her eyelids flickering closed, as the gooey sweetness melted on her tongue and trickled down her throat.

Carl's fascination grew more intense, as he continued to speak. "I sometimes think about what could have been," he murmured, as he slowly began to withdraw the silverware from her grasp.

This time Allie's moan was one of frustration rather than pleasure.

"Good?" he laughed.

Catching his eye, Allie saw something burning in them that she felt sure was mirrored in her own. "Very," she nodded, somewhat breathlessly.

"I said," he emphasized, returning the fork to the plate. "I still think about what could have been if you'd stuck around at that party, maybe had come back to my place."

"Me too," Allie admitted, her eyes drifting down to the sure and steady movements of his large, strong fingers as they delicately sliced another chunk of the desert.

"Yeah?" he smiled, glancing up at her.

"Yeah," she confirmed, fixing him with an unashamed grin of her own. Moving of its own volition, she found her right foot stretching forwards slightly, until it came into contact with his calf. The table was small, making the intimate gesture easy. She regarded Carl's face closely, assessing his reaction to the presence of her foot.

He said nothing, but his smile was briefly interrupted by a twitch of his lips, only to be replaced by a broader grin.

Satisfied, Allie quickly slipped her foot back and easily slid the four inch heel from it. "In fact," she told him huskily, reaching forwards once more and rubbing the inside of his knee with her stockinged toes. "That's why I got in touch."

"Really?" he asked, humor quickly drifting from his face as Allie's foot moved ever higher.

She was glad to find his legs widely parted and did not hesitate in following his right leg all the way up the thigh. "Yes," she whispered, as her toes met the warmth of his crotch and she felt the unmistakable jerk of interest.

"And...err," he croaked, before clearing his throat. "What do you think we ought to do about that?" The question was asked with a hint of desperation and Allie knew there could be no way to misinterpret the dilation of his eyes or the swelling at his groin. She had him now. The work was done and, Rosalind was right, it hadn't been difficult at all.

"We could go upstairs," she suggested, seductively brushing the ball of her foot over the ever-increasing bulge pushed against the fly of his pants. The effect she was so obviously having on him, caused sparks of electricity to shoot through her own body. Heat flushed every inch of her skin and restlessness teased at the juncture of her thighs.

"Upstairs?" he echoed, higher brain function quickly leaving him as blood flooded in the opposite direction.

"I booked a room," she told him with just a hint of faux innocence. "Just in case," she added. Not waiting for him to reply, Allie quickly removed her foot, slipped it back into the shoe and thrust her hand across the table. She grasped his right wrist and began to lift herself from the chair.

His hand being gently tugged, Carl released the fork he still clutched, causing it to clatter loudly back onto the plate. Following her lead, he rose from the seat. Wincing at the discomfort in his pants, he silently thanked whoever decided to keep the restaurant so dark.

Turning her back to him, Allie confidently strode from the room, keeping Carl's hand firmly gripped in her own. She gracefully made her way out of the restaurant, swaying her hips just a little more than was necessary and guessing that his eyes would be focused in that general direction.

She was right. Carl's gaze was fixed on the curve of Allie's ass. It was pert and snuggly sheathed in the little black dress she wore. Entranced by the soft movements of those tight muscles, he barely realized that they were no longer in the dim confines of the restaurant, but the brightly lit lobby. As Allie came to a slow halt by the elevator doors, he tossed a glance around him and took a step forward.

She didn't need to ask why he'd nestled himself against her butt. The erection that prodded at the base of her spine was no doubt noticeable. Nevertheless, he delicately wrapped his free arm around her middle and dipped his head to press his lips to her cheek.

"You smell good," he whispered into her ear, taking another breath of the delicate hint of fruity sweetness and vanilla that lingered on her skin.

"So do you," she repaid the compliment, noting that the smell of him hadn't altered much over the years. Sandalwood and something vaguely citrus smelling, which she guessed was from his shower gel. Her attempt to inhale more of him was interrupted by the ping of the elevator and the soft whirr as the doors opened.

The pair waited, Carl still tightly pressed against Allie's back, as a middle aged couple exited the car. Then, wrapping her own arm over the one he held around her abdomen, Allie shuffled forwards.

When the doors closed without admitting anyone else, Allie finally released her hold of Carl. She whipped around quickly and, placing her hands on his chest, propelled him back against one of the mirrored walls.

Carl expelled a surprised lungful of air. "You've changed," he noted, smiling down at her, as she stared up at him like she was a starving woman and he was a plate of the chocolate torte they'd shared downstairs.

"Is that bad?" she asked, pressing her hips against his and reveling in the warmth of his groin against her mound.

"No, no, no," he quickly assured her, his hands snapping up to her hips and stilling their seductive circular motion. "No," he repeated. "It's not a bad thing. It's a very good thing."

"Good," she acknowledged with a brief nod, before suddenly closing the short space between their mouths. She'd kissed Carl before, albeit once and briefly, but she remembered the sensation of those strong, insistent lips. Even though she'd been the one to make the move, he had preempted her and returned her kiss with enthusiasm.

A deep, guttural groan of approval rumbled from deep within Carl's chest, as Allie slipped her tongue between his lips. His own joyfully entwined with hers, playing a sexy game of tag within the tight confines of their joined mouths. Meanwhile, his fingers slid from her hips and down to her butt. Gripping both mounds of flesh, he pulled Allie towards him, increasing the already firm pressure between their bodies. As she began to trace the roof of his mouth with her chocolaty tongue, it was no longer enough. It was nowhere near enough. He needed to be closer.

Feeling the restless shudders of Carl's hips, Allie whimpered. Things were moving fast, much faster than she'd expected, but his need was matched or perhaps even exceeded by her own.

Both so caught up in the intensity of the kiss, neither noticed the elevator come to a halt, nor the doors opening. However, they were interrupted by the overly noisy clearing of a man's throat.

Carl instantly drew his face away from Allie's and his eyes darted to the open door. She was a little slower to respond, but eventually they were both staring at a forty-something gentleman in a tuxedo.

With his hand casually placed on the elevators frame, keeping the doors open, the stranger grinned at Carl, before turning his focus to Allie and quirking his eyebrows suggestively. "Your floor?" he asked, sniggering as he stood aside to clear a path for the couple.

Allie sank her embarrassed face into Carl's shoulder, before giggling. "Come on," she urged, placing both of her hands over the fingers that continued to grip her bottom. Peeling him away from her, she tugged Carl out of the elevator.

He stayed close to her, trying once again to conceal the pronounced evidence of his arousal. He too broke into laughter, as they snuck past the stranger, deliberately avoiding his eyes, as if he were the principal.

Allie broke into a light jog in the hallway, wobbling slightly on heels that were certainly not made for the activity. Fortunately, they only had to pass four doors before she found the one she was looking for. "Here we are," she announced, removing the card key from its secure place in her bra.

"You know," Carl mused, watching her swipe the card and push open the door. "A more suspicious man might think you'd planned this whole thing."

"Is that a problem?" she asked, tossing the question over her shoulder, as she entered the room.

Following her, Carl shook his head. "Not at all," he replied, his eyes darkening with renewed lust. Once across the threshold, he quickly wrapped his foot around the door and kicked it shut. Pausing momentarily, he appraised Allie, allowing his gaze to slowly take in every inch of her body. Lazily, he slipped his hands into his pockets, and leaned against the closed door.

Allie was surprised by the sudden lack of frenzy in his actions. However, she savored the way he enthusiastically devoured her with his eyes. Eventually, however, the heat of his stare became too much. Demurely, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and peered sheepishly down at the floor.

"Get over here," he urged with a jerk of his head.

"Why don't you come here?" she quietly suggested in response.

Carl tipped his head to the side, as though he were considering the counteroffer. "Is that what you want?" he asked.

It was the turn of Allie's eyes to take a leisurely trip down his body. Slowly, her gaze wandered over the dark hair that had become slightly ruffled in the elevator, the playful glint in his eye and cute dimples in his cheeks. Moving down, she lingered on his chest, imagining what lay beneath that expanse of deep red cotton. Further still, she admired his slim hips and finally the way his manhood strained at the fabric of his pants. "Oh, yeah," she mumbled, remembering vaguely that there had been a question asked of her.

Carl didn't need to be told twice, lunging forward; he crossed the short distance between them. Instantly, he wrapped both arms around Allie and his mouth claimed hers hungrily.

Caught off guard by the abrupt change in his mood, Allie almost toppled backwards, but his strong hands held her upright. She was brought back to her senses as he sucked her bottom lip between his teeth and nibbled lightly on the soft skin.

Hearing her plaintive mewling sent Carl beyond the point of control. Keeping a firm grasp of Allie, he turned her around and, continuing to suck passionately on her lower lip, pushed her towards the door.

Allie's back met the hard wood with a soft bump and she instinctively parted her feet slightly.

Carl's body moved as though hers was calling to him, slipping his right leg between hers and pressing his thick, muscular thigh against her mound. Gasping, he tipped his head back. "You are so sexy," he quickly panted, his hands sliding down her legs and gripping the hem of her dress. "You have no idea how many times I've thought about this," he added, roughly yanking the black fabric upwards. As it got to her hips, and his fingers brushed nothing but naked flesh, he glanced down. There he found only a thin strip of hair covering her outer sex. "So sexy," he repeated, seeming to talk to himself more than her.

Allie barely heard him, but there was no opportunity to dwell on it, as his hands continued their mission frantically bunching her dress at her waist. Her own fingers were trembling uselessly, but made an effort to grab for his leather belt. She hadn't even managed to free the loose end from the loop of his pants, before his own hands took over.

He gently removed her fingers from his way and, as he began to quickly release the belt and unbutton his fly, Allie grasped his strong shoulders. When he moved to kiss her again, she shifted her head to the side, desperately trying to watch as he freed himself from his pants. When his fingers began to emerge from the parted fabric at his groin, she sucked in an excited breath.

Allie hadn't had many lovers, but she knew enough to know that Carl was generously proportioned. His length was pretty impressive, but the girth was even more so. His shaft had a slight curve that caused the smooth domed head, which was already weeping clear fluid, to point towards the ceiling. The sight of him caused another surge of heat to pulse through Allie's body and she began to feel her arousal seep onto her inner thighs. "I want you," she breathed, shuffling her feet further apart.

Carl met her eyes, with a grin. "Just a sec," he urged, his free hand disappearing into his back pocket and quickly returning with a small square of foil.

Allie watched him rip the wrapper open and place the circle of latex over the damp head of his penis. With practiced ease, he rolled the condom down to the base of his shaft. "Oh, God," Allie whimpered. "I want you."

Carl was already moving. As he guided his covered member towards her entrance, he drew the tip over her clitoris, prompting a muffled sob of delight from her. Then he slowly slipped between her outer lips. Releasing his grasp on his shaft, Carl's hands moved to Allie's hips. Digging his fingers possessively into the thin layer of skin, he slid his feet inside hers and nudged at her, until her stance was even wider.

"Carl," she begged, her nails almost puncturing the thick fabric of his jacket. "Fuck me," she whimpered, trying to edge her hips towards him, but being held tightly against the door.

He flashed a quick grin, before sliding forwards. His entry was slow, inching into her tight passage, until he had to pause only halfway inside her. "Jesus," he hissed.

"Oh, God," she panted, feeling her body stretch almost painfully with the unfamiliarity of being penetrated. "Ahh," she moaned, as he edged deeper still.

Carl stilled, his breath coming hard against her cheek and neck. "You okay?" he asked through gritted teeth, struggling to maintain control over the demands of his body.

"Yeah," she gasped. "Fine," she assured him. "It's just been a little while." Her inner muscles fluttered and spasmed, slowly stretching her to accommodate him.

"Am I hurting you?"

"No," she quickly responded, as discomfort began to give way to intense pleasure. "No, don't stop."

Convinced by the desire in her voice and unable to hold back any longer, Carl plunged forwards, burying himself to the hilt. Their hips came together hard and the rough fabric of Carl's pants was pushed firmly against Allie's clitoris.

"Yes," she squealed, thrilling in the sensation of being completely filled, one that had been so long absent from her life.

"You're so tight," Carl wheezed. "Feels so damn good," he added, almost incoherently, as he drew his hips back. There was no long, slow slide into her warmth this time. The need to return was too great and he slammed deeply within her.

Allie moaned her pleasure, her right leg lifting and curving around his hip. When he thrust once more, her back slid up the door with the force, and she screeched in delight. "God," she panted heavily. "That's it," she urged him. "Faster."

Carl silently obeyed, only drawing back about halfway, before hurriedly sheathing himself once more. He knew he wasn't going to last long the way they were going, but from Allie's strangled attempts to breathe and the way her fingers had gone into spasm at his shoulder, he guessed her orgasm wasn't far away either.

The short sharp contact of his covered pubic bone against her clitoris was driving her insane. She used her leg to try and coax him closer, rubbing herself against him whenever he was held within her body.

Carl's lower half was moving like a jackhammer, slamming her buttocks against the door with each thrust. Allie could feel the tightening in her stomach and sucked in a breath, as she waited for the wave to break.

Another grunted thrust and Carl was spilling his own climax into the rubber. "Allie," he murmured, his hips making a series of jerky movements.

The rapid, uneven motion of his hips prompted a warmth in Allie's abdomen and she felt the world melting away. "Yes, yes, yes," she sobbed, the orgasm less intense than she'd expected, but seeming to roll on and on for what felt like hours.

# Chapter Four

Blast From The Past

The early morning sunlight streamed through the window and landed on her exhausted eyes. Allie blinked and groaned in protest, wondering why the sun was hitting her at completely the wrong angle. The bedroom window that faced east was at the foot of her bed, not to the right. It was then that she became aware of the strange weight around her abdomen. Forcing one eye open, she glanced down at the white sheet and found a strong arm draped over her middle. In her sleep-muddled brain, it took a few moments to work out she wasn't in her own bedroom, and a few seconds longer to remember why.

But when realization did finally strike, the events of the night before came flooding back to her: their hurried coupling against the door, followed by a shower and a rather more leisurely session under the warm jets. Then, unable to get enough of each other, they'd made love for a third time on the bed. It was one of the most intense nights of Allie's life and she was glad that Carl's stamina allowed him to keep up with her sex-starved body's need to make up for all those nights she'd spent alone.

Opening both eyes, she gazed at the high ceiling and couldn't prevent the inane grin on her face. 'So, this is what I've been missing,' she silently said to herself, tossing a sideways glance at Carl.

His hair was no longer neat. In fact, it was a mess from where she'd grasped handfuls of it the night before. He was sleeping peacefully, a low rumble that couldn't really be called a snore coming in a steady rhythm with each inhale.

Allie smiled again, as she looked at his handsome face. She was glad that he'd been the one to break the drought. Not only was he a very considerate lover, but he seemed to know exactly what she needed and when. Allie guessed that he'd either been with a lot of women, or was simply a very quick study of her. Because by the third time they'd had sex, she'd cried out in orgasm four times before he finally allowed himself to come.

Carefully, she took hold of his thick wrist and lifted his arm from her body. Noticing the deadweight, she guessed he was sleeping very deeply indeed, and realized the chances of waking him were minimal. So, with a little less care, she slipped her naked body out from under the sheets and wandered to the bathroom. Stifling a yelp, as her bare feet touched the cool tiles, she closed the door softly behind her.

Once under the jets of the shower, she couldn't help but relive the hour or more she'd spent in there with Carl. Closing her eyes, her hand slipped over her soapy stomach and crept between her legs. She winced, realizing how sensitive the activities of the night before had left her. Nevertheless, she continued to lazily stroke two fingers between her swollen lips. Gently, she stimulated her tender flesh, focusing on the tiny engorged bud. It didn't take long for a slow, relaxed orgasm to relieve her. But she knew it would only do so temporarily.

With still damp hair, and wearing the black dress she arrived at the hotel in, Allie emerged from the bathroom. She wasn't surprised to find that Carl was still sound asleep, although he had moved, rolling facedown into the middle of the bed. Moving to the tiny cabinet on the left hand side, she picked up the hotel's notepad and pencil. After scribbling a few words onto a piece of paper, she ripped it from the pad and placed it lightly on the pillow next to Carl's head.

With only a passing backwards glance, Allie made her way from the bedroom and across the suite's living area. With a spring in her step and contentment she hadn't felt in a long time, she left the hotel room and shut the door with a quiet click.

When Carl finally woke up, he would find no trace of her, except a handwritten note, which read. 'I had a great time. Thanks!'

***

It was a little after midday when Allie arrived in her apartment building. She got a disapproving look from her elderly neighbor, Mrs. Jessop, in the hall, and guessed her dress and slightly bedraggled hair fairly screamed, 'slut'.

Strangely, though, she didn't avoid the older woman's eyes. Instead, she offered her a warm, "Good afternoon," as the smile she'd worn ever since she woke up continued to brighten her features.

It wasn't until she was in the safety of her own apartment and slumped on the couch, with her legs propped up on the seat, that she realized she truly didn't care what Mrs. Jessop thought. She didn't care what anybody thought. Maybe she had acted like a slut, but she was not ashamed of it. She'd always gone after what she wanted, she'd just been under the impression that what she wanted was only a career. How wrong she was. There were so many more things to want, crave and desire in this world. Then, the reminder of what had caused her drastic change in attitude bombarded Allie and the smile she'd been unable to remove from her face, disappeared of its own accord. Fortunately, however, fatigue came to her rescue, preventing her from dwelling on her fate, as she drifted off into a pleasant sleep.

Allie slept the entire afternoon away. By the time she woke, it was almost five o'clock and she was ravenous. Pulling herself up from the couch, she dragged her lethargic limbs to the kitchen and threw open the refrigerator. She stood for several moments, sleep still fogging her brain, before she reached forwards to a pasta meal. It took her less than thirty seconds to rip the cardboard open and toss the tray into the microwave.

Leaving Percy Spencer's wonderful invention to work its magic, she wandered into the bathroom, tossed some cold water on her face and then peeled herself from her dress.

When the microwave's incessant beep announced that dinner was served, Allie walked back onto the kitchen dressed in a pair of plaid pajama bottoms and a crisp white T-shirt. Her hair was scooped back from her face and clipped loosely at the nape of her neck.

Grabbing a fork from a drawer and a plate from the rack, she quickly removed her meal from its packaging and returned to the living room with it. Stifling a yawn, she slid her plate onto the coffee table and allowed the steaming pasta to cool. Her eyes moved over the table, looking for some distraction for a couple of minutes. A copy of Rosalind's magazine, which she'd left a couple of weeks previously, had remained unread. She still had no intention of picking it up. Instead, her eyes continued to move and eventually landing on her laptop, she quickly swept the computer up with her right hand.

She wasn't exactly sure what to expect when she opened her emails, but she'd secretly hoped that she would find a message from Carl. Sure enough, her inbox had just one unread email, and it was from him. Like her note to him, it was brief. 'I had a great time, too. If you ever want to meet up again, you know how to find me.' Allie smiled, wondering if she should take him up on the offer. Sex with him was certainly good. However, it would get too complicated if she spent more than a night with him. He might start to think that she wanted a relationship and, even if he didn't, if he saw her on even a semi-regular basis, there were things he might notice. Bruises, loss of weight, things she wouldn't be able to hide from someone who saw her naked. No, there was no question. As wonderful as Carl was, it could only be a one night deal.

Besides, she reminded herself, the whole idea was to make up for all of the lost opportunities she'd had. And, she had to admit, part of the reason sex with Carl had been so good was because it was entirely free, uncommitted, maybe even meaningless. Allie knew, without question, that was what she hungered for.

Closing the email inbox, she opened a new browser and typed words she never thought she would write, 'www.facebook.com'. Allie had always been a firm believer that Facebook was a complete waste of time. Now, however, she began to see a way of using it to her advantage. She wanted to contact men from her past, men who previously she simply hadn't had time for. Consequently, with the exception of Carl, who she'd bumped into quite by accident and exchanged email address with, she hadn't remained in touch with any of the guys who were now on her list of potential lovers. What better way to find them, than through Facebook? "Who would have thought," she muttered, typing her details to open a profile on the site. "I'm actually grateful to Mark Zuckerberg for creating this crap."

It didn't take long to find a number of friends she'd attended college with and through many of them, she was able to find others, who for one reason or another weren't listed on the college network. Soon, she'd already got over 150 'friends'. There were four men that she remembered particularly vividly and, writing quick private message to all of them, she hoped that they would remember her, too.

By the time she set the laptop back on the table, her dinner was cold, but she found she wasn't hungry anyway. She left the goopy, unappetizing mess and kept her eyes on the computer screen. Leaning forward, she lent her elbows on her knees and placed her chin on her hands. As the seconds ticked by, she tapped her index finger against her cheek. She knew that it was stupid to sit there waiting, she was well aware of the fact that people had lives and weren't logged onto Facebook twenty four hours a day. Nevertheless, the anticipation would not allow her to think of anything else.

So she continued to sit, as the minute's ticked by, willing just one of the men to write to her, even if it was just to say, 'No, I'm sorry, but I haven't got a clue who you are.' After fifteen excruciatingly long minutes, the small red '1' appeared at the top of the message icon. Allie slipped from the couch and settled on the floor, pulling the laptop close to the edge of the coffee table, so she could reach the keyboard with ease.

The first man to reply was Stephen Lanzmann. He worked on the college paper and that meant Allie had had more time for him than most men. They even went on a couple of dinner dates. However, when he tried to move things further, Allie convinced herself that it would be a bad idea to sleep with someone she worked with, even if it was just on the college paper. She believed, somewhat illogically, that it would lead people, especially future employers, to assume that that's how she got ahead in the workplace. So, their blossoming relationship was ended before it ever went anywhere.

She opened his message with no small amount of trepidation, wondering if perhaps, even though he'd been outwardly very understanding of her decision all those years ago, he was secretly pissed off. The opening line appeared to suggest that her concern was in vain. 'Oh my, God! Allie Mclaren, how long has it been?' He went on to discuss old times, asking whether she remembered some of the stories they'd worked on together. Then, he asked the question she'd wanted to ask him. 'Would you like to meet up some time?'

Not bothering to appear to play it cool, Allie chose not to wait before replying. Soon, a date for the following week was arranged. And, just as she was about to close the laptop, she found another new message. Within ten minutes, she had a second date, just three days after her planned meeting with Stephen. She wavered momentarily over whether to see the two men so close to one another, but shrugged off any concern the old Allie would have had, insisting that she didn't have the luxury of time. Besides, she reminded herself, she wasn't the old Allie any more. If there had been any residual doubt over that, Carl had washed it away.

# Chapter Five

No Regrets

The first three days of the working week dragged slowly for Allie. She rushed a few pointless assignments, but her heart wasn't in her work at all. She spent most of her time scrolling through the Facebook profile of Stephen, trying to piece together his life since college.

By the time she headed home early on Wednesday afternoon, she'd learned that he'd recently split with a girl he'd been engaged to. There was no overt reference to the cause of the breakup, but, from the messages of sympathy Stephen had received from friends, which included unflattering remarks regarding the lady in question, Allie guessed there had been infidelity on her part.

All of this meant there was a good chance Stephen would be open to her suggestion of a guilt-free, no-strings evening of fun. He needed a sexual sorbet. Nothing too serious, just a night of purely physical pleasure to help get over the woman who'd broken his heart.

After a long, unhurried bath, during which time she shaved, exfoliated and tweezed her body to perfection, Allie dressed in a long red dress with plunging neckline. She'd got no plans to leave the apartment, but Stephen didn't need to know that. Besides which, she wanted to wow him.

It was exactly seven o'clock when a firm knock sounded at the door. She rolled her eyes good-naturedly, remembering his almost obsessional punctuality. Smiling, she wandered to the door and pulled it open. "Right on time," she announced.

Stephen Lanzmann was no jock, like Carl, but he was no less attractive. He had wavy, sandy blonde hair, which Allie noted was just long enough to rake her hands through. In a dramatic move from college, Allie found him embracing his inner geek. He'd ditched the contacts and returned to wearing thick-rimmed glasses. He wore fitted, dark blue jeans with a black dress shirt and a grey suit jacket. His light brown eyes took her in slowly, before a smile that was all bright white teeth emerged on his face.

Allie remembered that smile well. It was a dazzling grin, a genuine look of pleasure or joy, which reached his eyes and possessed such magnetism that it was impossible for anyone to dislike him.

"Hi," he greeted, lifting his hand in a slightly nervous wave.

Allie had known this would be different from her experience with Carl. Stephen was an inherently shy guy. He wasn't going to make any moves on her, especially if he felt self-conscious or tense. So, she had to remind him what it had been like between them when they were friends. Stepping forward, she opened her arms and pulled him into a hug. "It's really good to see you," she enthused, genuinely. "Why don't you come in?"

It took a while for Stephen to force his limbs to react to the embrace and by the time he was wrapping his own arms around Allie's tiny frame, she was already drawing back. "Err, thanks," he grinned. "You look great," he added.

"You too," she smiled standing aside and offering him entry into the apartment.

Stephen gratefully accepted, stepping across the threshold and slowly taking in the living room in front of him. He wasn't surprised by what he saw. No artwork on the walls, no pictures, clean wooden floors, no clutter, no ornaments collecting dust. It was simple, uncomplicated. It was very Allie.

"Do you want to sit down?" Allie urged, draping an arm around Stephen's waist and turning him in the direction of the couch.

"Umm, sure," he nodded, following her lead and lowering himself onto the leather, L-shaped furniture. "Aren't we heading out?" he added.

"We can if you want to," Allie replied, settling next to him and making sure her thigh was pressed tightly against his. "But I was thinking we could stay here."

"Oh," he responded in surprise. "Well, sure," he quickly added. "I mean, it's quieter here. We can talk properly."

Allie smiled to herself, placing a hand on his leg, as she leaned closer to his ear. "I wasn't thinking about talking, either," she whispered.

"You weren't?" he questioned, his eyes moving down to her fingers and the suggestive way they crept around to his inner thigh.

"No," she huskily announced. "I was thinking about that night we went to the cocktail bar and what happened when we got back to my place."

Stephen swallowed hard. "Nothing happened when we got back to your place," he said. There was no hint of accusation; it was just a simple statement of fact.

"That was a mistake," she whispered, her lips brushing against his smooth, soft cheek as they moved. "My mistake," she added.

"Allie," he sighed, twisting in his seat, so that her body was not quite as close to his. "I don't think this is a good idea," he noted. "I've just got out of a-"

"It's all right," she quickly interjected forestalling him. "I know you're not looking for anything serious. Neither am I," she smiled, tipping forwards and offering him a view of her naked cleavage. "I just want a chance to relive a chance I should have taken."

It was struggle for Stephen to take his gaze from her generous curves. However, he eventually managed to meet her eyes with a questioning furrow on his brow. "Why?"

"I don't want to live with regrets," she replied simply, kicking her shoes off and pushing herself up onto her knees. "I don't want to be left wondering what could have been." She smiled as she took hold of the long skirt of her gown and swung one leg over Stephen's thighs. "I'll make sure you don't regret it," she informed him, settling into his lap.

Unsure what to do, Stephen lifted his hands only to leave them hovering at Allie's back for a few moments. Then he placed them flat on the couch again. "I don't want you to think that we can just pick things up where we left them," he insisted, shaking his head. "Things have changed. Our lives have changed and we can't...I mean...."

"Just one night, Stephen. That's all I want. One night to feel what I should have experienced nine years ago."

"I don't..." he stammered, the war between the demands of his body and the warnings of his brain becoming harder to fight.

Allie knew that talking wasn't going to get her any further. Instead, she reached behind her and began to pull the tiny zipper of her gown. The top of her dress instantly went slack and, as she slipped her arms out of the thin spaghetti straps, the red fabric pooled at her waist.

Her exposed breasts where directly in Stephen's eye line. If he leaned forward just fractionally, he could taste the pink buds in their centers.

Over recent weeks, weight loss had meant she'd gone down a cup size, but Stephen's admiring eyes, as wide as saucers, reassured her that they were still attractive. "You can do whatever you want with me," she encouraged him, placing her right hand at the side of his head and stroking the backs of her fingers through the hair at his temple..

Although his face betrayed nothing of what her words had done to him, Allie felt the denim of his pants press rigidly against the crotch of her panties. His hands moved slowly to her legs, finding their way beneath the fabric, until he was touching her bare flesh. Then, Allie saw the change in his eyes, the shift from nervous nerdy guy to a man who knew exactly what he wanted and was going to get it.

Lunging forwards, Stephen placed his face between her breasts and delicately licked the inner curve to his left. The gentle teasing prompted Allie to jerk, rocking her hips against his. Both of her hands worked their way into the thick hair at the back of his head, twisting handfuls in encouragement. Stephen licked her other breast as he had the first, before placing his warm mouth on her areola and teasing the already erect nipple into an even harder peak.

Allie closed her eyes and tipped her head back, pushing her highly sensitive flesh further into his mouth. Stephen responded by grazing his teeth over the puckered skin and was rewarded with a strangled, "yes."

Slowly releasing the warm pebble from his lips, Stephen leaned back once more. Looking at her flushed cheeks and ragged breath, he smiled. Continuing to massage the muscles of her thighs, he ran his tongue over his bottom lip. "Get up," he ordered, in a manner vastly different from the nervy demeanor he displayed when he arrived.

Allie cocked her head to the side, assessing the change in him and intrigued by a facet of his personality she'd never seen before.

"Get up," he repeated, sliding his hands out from beneath her dress. Lifting the fingers of his right hand to his face, he slid the heavy-framed spectacles from his nose, before uncaringly tossing them on the couch to his right.

Somewhat amused, Allie did as she was told, shuffling back down his legs. The toes of her right foot found the hard floor and she eased herself upright. Feeling suddenly uncomfortably exposed, she made a move to pull the bodice of her dress over her torso, but Stephen stopped her with a sharp, "No."

Pushing himself from the couch, he stood before her. Near enough to touch her, but keeping his hands to himself. "Take it off," he encouraged.

Lapping at her dry lips, Allie followed his direction. Gripping the dress, where it clung to her hips, she nudged it down, until gravity took over. She was left in nothing but a black, lace thong. Preempting his next instruction, she hooked her thumb in the underwear, but again, she was stopped by a forceful, "No."

Stephen shook his head, and held out his open left hand towards her. "Leave the panties," he said.

Allie had once briefly dated a man who enjoyed controlling their lovemaking. So the experience was not entirely new to her. However, she had never in her wildest dreams imagined Stephen as sexually dominant. He was always so mild-mannered and easygoing, sometimes even shy, as he had been when she first opened the door. To see him reveling in a very different side of his personality was both arousing and slightly scary. However, she took the hand offered to her.

Stephen grasped her fingers and tugged them towards him, placing them over the bulge in his jeans. Guiding her hand, he encouraged her to rub him through the thick fabric, until she no longer needed the tutorial. Removing his own hand, he began to shrug his jacket from his shoulder, tossing it to the floor. "Don't stop," he commanded, his fingers quickly moving to the small buttons of his shirt.

Stephen was much slimmer than Carl, his chest was not as muscular or as prominent, but it was sleek and toned. Each inch of skin he uncovered was completely smooth, until he reached his navel, where a thin trail of fluffy dark hair disappeared beneath the waistband of his pants.

The shirt was shucked in the same way the jacket had been. Stephen didn't even bother to glance at where it landed, his eyes fixed instead on Allie's eyes. He gave her an intense look of gravity that almost dared her to stop stimulating him with her hand.

She sensed the challenge and redoubled her efforts, cupping him firmly, before continuing a steady massage with the heel of her hand.

"Fuck," Stephen muttered softly, overwhelmed by the way she gently squeezed his testicles. Sensing the shift in the balance of power, he purposefully pulled her hand away from him. "Come with me," he said, keeping a grasp of her wrist and tugging her after him.

Allie thought that he was heading towards the bedroom, not stopping to question how he would know where it was. However, Stephen's destination was much closer, as he took a left around the couch and came to a stop. Turning her, he nudged her forwards, until the high back of the couch was pressed against her stomach.

"Do you really want this?" he asked, his hands finding the dip of her waist.

Her answer was instinctive. "Yes," she responded, her voice unwavering in its certainty.

Stephen's hands left her body and she heard the rustle of clothes, and then felt the rush of air that indicated he'd bent and then righted himself hurriedly. As his hands came back to her, so did the rest of his body. The thick coarse hair at his groin brushed against the top her right buttock. His rock hard manhood was squeezed between his belly and her lower back.

Allie sucked her lower lip between her teeth and bit down hard, as the anticipation of feeling his length move inside her became almost a physical pain.

Stephen seemed to sense her impatience and a low rumble of laughter rolled through him. His right hand meanwhile moved over her buttock and sought out the small piece of fabric between her legs. "Were these expensive?" he asked, his voice now thick with arousal.

The apparent non-sequitur caught Allie off guard. "Umm," she mumbled. "I...err-" Any further attempts to answer the question ceased as a short rip was joined by a flood of cool air to her sex.

"I'll buy you another pair," Stephen mumbled, placing his chin on her shoulder and taking her earlobe roughly between his teeth. As he gripped it tightly and ran the tip of his tongue over its curve, he leaned forward. Pushing his upper body against Allie's back, he bent her over the back of the couch.

Allie grasped the leather edge with both hands, as she felt Stephen's member slip down the cheek of her bottom and eventually come to rest between her legs.

Lifting his upper body, he placed the flat of his right hand on her back, telling her that he wanted her to remain still. Meanwhile, he shifted his hips, poking the heavy head of his shaft clumsily between her slick folds. It didn't take long for it to find its goal, though.

He penetrated her in one, slow but fluid motion, uttering muttered curses and drawing in shuddered breaths through an open mouth. Allie could tell that he wasn't as generously sized as Carl, but the angle of his entry caused him to brush against the front wall of her passage, finding her G-spot.

"Stephen," she gasped, pushing herself further into the couch and rubbing her clitoris against the hard edge.

"Ugh," he grunted, his hips meeting her bottom.

Strands of Allie's hair was sticking to her sweaty forehead, as she bucked beneath him, urging him to move and stimulate that sweet spot once more.

Stephen, however, was not going to be rushed. He gently slipped from her, before repeating the slow, smooth thrust. Again and again, he repeated that motion, breathing deeply, almost as though he were meditating.

Allie was far from relaxed. Her hips jerked with as much movement as they were capable of and she pleaded in soft whispers and strangled moans. It was exquisite torture. He brought her so close to orgasm, but never took her all the way.

"Just breath," Stephen urged.

"I...am...breathing," she replied brokenly, as he brushed over the sensitive skin of her sex once more. Her legs kicked out involuntarily and she wrapped her right foot around his calf.

"Trust me," he continued in a lower tone, draping himself over her back and leaning towards her ear. "It'll come," he assured her. "Deep breaths."

Unable to do anything else, Allie followed his instructions, inhaling deeply, before releasing the breath through an open mouth. Having always held her breath when she felt a climax building, she was certain breathing would do nothing to help her, but she continued to do as directed.

"That's good," Stephen cooed, as his hips met her ass in the same gentle rhythm. He knew she was teetering on the edge and he also knew exactly what would push her over it. Withdrawing almost completely from her, he simply held himself still, the mushroomed head of his manhood stretching her entrance. Then, without warning, he slammed himself forwards, his balls slapping against her inner thighs.

The sudden, forceful thrust caused Allie to open her mouth and release a grunted breath of surprise. However, that exhalation quickly turned into a squeal of pleasure, as molten lava shot up from her sex and warmed her entire body. The small muscles of her sex spasmed quickly, squeezing Stephen in short, sharp bursts.

The intensity of the sensation caught Stephen off guard, and he suddenly found his eyes rolling back in his head, as his shaft lengthened and released its sticky climax in strong bursts. Breathing hard, he slumped over her, his muscles no longer capable of keeping him upright. "I don't think..." he panted. "It would have been like that nine years ago."

Having still not quite found her way back to Earth, Allie giggled girlishly, while her sex continued to lazily milk Stephen's spent shaft.

# Chapter Six

Best Friends

Carrying a clear plastic container of caramel Frappuccino, Rosalind gently grasped her sunglasses and perched them on the top of her head. As she rounded the corner, she saw that Allie's front door was ajar and her brow creased. Approaching, her steps slowed and she drew back the cup of icy liquid, as though prepared to use it as a weapon if necessary. With her free hand warily outstretched, she pushed at the partly open door. "Allie?" she asked, while the hinges creaked and the door slowly swung wide.

She was met by a broad male back, dressed in a black leather jacket. He was running a hand over the nape of his neck and twisted at the sound of Rosalind's voice. "Oh, hey," he said in a husky southern accent.

"Umm," she mumbled in response. "Hey," she echoed bewilderedly.

"I'm just leaving," he explained. "Allie's...err..." he paused, glancing to his left. "Just coming," he added, when he noticed movement coming from the bedroom.

Rosalind took a step forward. Pushing the door wider, she leaned her upper body into the apartment and tried to follow the focus of the man in front of her. There, she found Allie dressed in only a bathrobe. Her loose hair was mussed from sleep, except Rosalind guessed there hadn't been much in the way of sleep. Allie's face was set in a silly contended smile, but there were bags under her eyes.

"Allie, sweetheart," the man crooned. "You've got a visitor," he informed her, gesturing with an open palm towards Rosalind's top half.

Allie glanced from the face of the man to Rosalind's confused features. "Hi," she greeted, her tone lifting in question.

Righting herself, Rosalind stepped into the room, pushing past the leather-jacketed stranger. "You forgot?" she demanded.

"Forgot what?" Allie responded.

Opening her mouth to speak, Rosalind sucked in a breath, before remembering that they weren't alone in the room. Quickly pressing her lips together, she twisted to face the man. "Do you mind?" she asked rudely.

"Oh," he replied, uncomfortably. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right," Allie chipped in, wandering towards her date from the night before and placing a placating hand on his chest. "Look, umm..." she murmured.

"It's okay," he quickly stated, sensing her disquiet at the tension unmistakably mounting between the two women. "I'll get out of your hair," he added, motioning towards the door. "You know," he chuckled. "I had a great time last night."

"Me too," Allie smiled, following him closely as he reached the threshold.

Before leaving, he leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on Allie's lips. "It'd be nice to do this again sometime," he suggested quietly.

"Maybe," Allie stated, waving him off.

Rosalind didn't take her eyes from the pair. As she watched the exchange, her mouth dropped in disbelief.

With a frustrated sigh, Allie closed the door and rapidly turned on her friend. "Did you learn those manners in finishing school?" she demanded. "You know, this is my home, Ros."

"And you know, we had a date for lunch," Rosalind snapped back. "I was waiting in the restaurant for over an hour," she added. "Have you any idea how worried I was."

"So worried you stopped at Starbucks on the way," Allie pointed out, striding across the room and tossing the words over her shoulder as she breezed into the kitchen.

Glancing down at the cup in her hands, Rosalind huffed in response to the accusation. "What the hell is going on with you?" she insisted. "You don't turn up to lunch; you don't even remember we're supposed to be having lunch. You've got strange men in your apartment, and when I called you at work yesterday, they told me you were off sick."

Allie didn't bother to lift her head at the long list of complaints Rosalind seemed set on airing. She was intently focused, instead, on fixing herself a cup of coffee. Huffing, she slammed cabinet doors, as she tried to find a fresh jar of the instant stuff. "I've been feeling a little off color," she stated, choosing to only acknowledge the last of Rosalind's points.

"Well, you clearly felt a lot better when you picked up Mr. Texas."

"Kansas," Allie matter-of-factly snapped.

"What?"

"Stephan is from Kansas," she explained, closing another cabinet with a sharp bang.

"I don't care where he's from," Rosalind erupted, marching into the kitchen. "Look," she sighed, trying to keep a tenuous hold on her desire to grab her friend and shake some sense into her. "I just want to know that you're all right. You've been acting so strangely these last few weeks."

Giving up on her search for coffee and trying to remember the last time she actually went grocery shopping, Allie perched herself on a stool by her breakfast bar. Lifting her face to Rosalind, she shook her head. "I've been having fun these last few weeks, there's nothing wrong with that."

"All right," Rosalind conceded. "There is nothing wrong with having fun. But there's more to it than that." The tension seeming to suddenly pop, she slowly wandered to where Allie sat and took the stool next to her. Fortunately, on that day, she was wearing pants and had no problem settling herself on the seat. "We're supposed to be friends, aren't we?"

"Of course we're friends," Allie automatically responded.

"So why can't you talk to me about whatever it is that's bothering you?"

"Nothing is bothering me," she countered, placing her hands on the counter in front of her and steepling her fingers. "I've been having the time of my life, Ros," she added, smiling to herself.

Rosalind could tell that her best friend's thoughts had taken her elsewhere and didn't bother to attempt to bring her back for some moments. She took the opportunity to really look at Allie, to note the genuine look of happiness that radiated from her. However, she knew on a deeper level all was far from well with the woman beside her. It was a feeling in her gut, something she could never put into words, but a sensation that she simply couldn't ignore.

"I've been looking at the world differently." It was Allie who broke the silence, as she continued to thoughtfully gaze at her entwined hands.

"But why?" Rosalind asked, beginning to feel as though she were beating against a brick wall. "What's happened?"

Allie considered how she would answer for several seconds, before lifting her gaze to Rosalind and fixing her with open, honest eyes. "I've been given a wake-up call," she said softly.

"What the heck does that mean?" Rosalind scoffed back. "You going to die?"

Allie knew that the suggestion had been made in jest; a thought so outrageous that it didn't occur to Rosalind that it could be true. She wanted to deny it, to laugh and reassure her friend. However, she couldn't. Instead, an uncomfortable silence descended on the pair.

The smile quickly vanished from Rosalind's face to be replaced by one of mortification. "Allie," she whispered, that one word asking a thousand questions and expressing a hundred emotions.

***

The women talked well into the evening and, in the end, Rosalind spent the night on Allie's couch. They only briefly discussed the disease, Allie admitting that she'd not bothered to read anything about it, and that, if she were honest, she didn't care. She knew enough to know that her days were now numbered, all she wanted to do was enjoy them while they lasted.

Naturally, Rosalind expressed concern and urged Allie to go back to the doctor, or to at least consider the possibility of chemotherapy. But she realized, even as she was speaking, that Allie's mind was firm.

By the Sunday morning, Allie wasn't sure whether she felt better or worse for having unburdened herself. In some ways, it was a relief to no longer carry the secret of her illness alone. On the other hand, spending the night talking about cancer and death had put those things back at the forefront of her mind and depressed her deeply. What she need, desperately, was a new distraction. Another man, another old flame, another good fuck.

Hustling Rosalind into the shower and inviting her to raid her wardrobe, Allie settled on the floor by her coffee table and opened her laptop. As she waited for the computer to come to life, she allowed herself to drift back over the years; searching for faces that she'd like to see again. Her brain slowed in its hunt, lingering over a man she'd met at a journalists' conference the summer before. He'd given her his card and asked her to call, but she'd never bothered. In fact, she'd stupidly tossed the card in the trash when she'd got home. However, she did remember that he worked for the LA Times and his name was Mitch, so he should be traceable.

Going straight to the Los Angeles Times' site, she began scrolling through articles, only glancing at the by-line of each. Eventually, she found one written by Mitch Hatley. "Hatley," she mumbled. "That's it." As she spoke, she clicked on his contact address and wrote a quick note, simply mentioning where they'd met and asking him to contact her.

With that done, she logged onto her email account and was struck by the number of alerts she'd been sent from Facebook. Several people, some she was certain she'd never met, had added her as a friend. However, one name stood out among the rest. Quickly, she opened a new browser and signed into the site, eager to read the private message he'd left her. It was brief, but it sent a delightful shiver down her spine.

'Allie, so good to see you on here! I know it's been a long time since high school, but hope you remember me. Funny enough, I've been living in San Francisco for a year. I had no idea you were working for the Chronicle - that's nothing against the paper, I just don't read the news. Anyway, the point is, I would have got in touch sooner if I'd known you were so close. Would be amazing to see you.'

"Who's Reece?" the question was asked just before a crunch of toast echoed around the room.

Startled, Allie wrenched her neck around to find Rosalind leaning on the back of the couch peering at the laptop screen. "For God's sake," she muttered, trying to catch her breath from the fright. "He's...umm," she added, trying to regain some composure. "He's..."

"He's hot," Rosalind offered, glad to have something lighthearted to concentrate on after the soul-draining conversation of the night before. Her head tilting to the side, as she tried to get a better look of the small profile picture in the corner of the message.

Allie cast her gaze back to the screen and noted that Rosalind was right. Reece had always been attractive, but he had grown even more so with age. His dark, almost black hair was cut in an Ivy league style with just a few strands of his short bangs clinging damply to his forehead. Although she could only see his head and shoulders, it certainly seemed as though he was topless and the bright azure sky suggested that he was on a beach somewhere. His grin was as bright and wide was always, causing his deep brown eyes to sparkle.

"So, you know him?" Rosalind asked, nudging her friend from her assessment of the image.

"Err, yeah," she responded, peering reluctantly over her shoulder. "We were at high school together."

"Oh," Rosalind replied, taking another loud bite of toast. "You were close?" she probed.

"Well," she hedged. "Yeah," she acknowledged, unable to keep her focus on the woman behind her and allowing her eyes to move back to Reece's. "We dated for a while. He was my first love," she added quietly.

"Really?" Rosalind said grinning. "Well, why the hell did you let him go?"

Allie chuckled, dipping her head. "We went to different colleges and just drifted apart," she admitted, wondering why she'd let that happen.

"And?" Rosalind urged.

"And what?"

"Are you going to see him?"

"Oh," Allie blurted. "I'm not sure," she shrugged.

"What?" Rosalind almost shouted, rounding the couch and throwing herself on to it. Quickly leaning forwards, she rested her chin on Allie's shoulder as she tried to get a better glimpse of him. "Why the hell wouldn't you want to see him again?" she demanded. "Was he an ass?" she quickly added, not waiting for a response. "Did he cheat, lie?"

"No, no," Allie shook her head. "Nothing like that."

"Then what's the problem?"

Allie silently gazed at the picture of a happy, handsome, hunky Reece. "He's not like the others," she eventually explained.

"Because he really meant something to you," Rosalind offered. It was phrased as though it could have been a question, but they both knew it wasn't.

"I wouldn't want to ruin what we had before," Allie nodded.

"Well," Rosalind said thoughtfully, leaning back on the couch and popping the last piece of toast into her mouth. "I don't see how you can ruin what you had. That'll never change," she said sagely, the words muffled by crunching. "But you have got a chance to add to those memories."

Allie cocked her head to the side, still staring at the computer screen. "I suppose," she reluctantly agreed. As far as she was concerned, although Rosalind's logic was sound, it didn't mean things would work out that way.

"Look," Rosalind announced, leaning forward once more and placing both hands on Allie's shoulders. "I don't necessarily agree with the way you're dealing with things," she said. "But," she quickly added, knowing that Allie would simply repeat the same arguments she'd put forward the night before. "In the spirit of having no regrets, I think you'd be really stupid not to make the most of this."

# Chapter Seven

First Love

To Allie's delight, Reece was still the force of energy, fun and life he always had been. Although they'd originally planned to just have a casual dinner, they had ended up going on to a club, drinking several cocktails and dancing into the wee hours. It was almost two o'clock in the morning when they arrived, hand-in-hand at her apartment door.

"Well," he sighed, releasing his hold on her and placing his palm on the wall. "I haven't had a night like that in a while."

"I don't believe you," Allie muttered good-humoredly, fumbling with her key in the lock.

"I'm serious," he insisted, smiling in a way that prompted tiny wrinkles to appear at the corners of his eyes. "You're a bad influence."

"Ha," Allie exhaled. "You remember that time we had a date for the movies and you didn't get me home until after midnight?" she asked. "I was grounded for a month."

"Well, there you are," he quickly responded, lifting the index finger of his right hand to emphasize his point. "I was with you that night, too. Bad influence!"

Allie turned to face him fully, leaning her right shoulder against the door. She hummed a sarcastic 'yes', as her eyes moved up his six foot frame.

"Of course," he said, turning suddenly more serious. "As I recall," he added thoughtfully, his index finger moving to trace the curve of Allie's waist. "We never actually went to the movies that night."

"No," Allie agreed, her tongue quickly stroking over her lips, as she anticipated his next move.

"Do you ever think about it?" he asked, his finger slowly stroking up and down her side from her hip until it reached just beneath her breast.

"How could I forget?" she countered, feeling her cheeks flush with heat. She wasn't sure whether the blush was caused by the subtle, unbelievably sensual movement of his finger or the memory of losing her virginity to him.

Pausing as the tip of his finger reached the waistband of her jeans, Reece swept his digit almost absent-mindedly towards her naval. "Did I ever thank you?" he asked, watching the movement of his own hand with great interest.

"For what?" Allie asked, trying to keep her voice even, while Reece's gently explorative touch caused every muscle in her body to tremble.

Leaning forwards and dipping his tall frame, Reece placed his mouth a mere breath from hers. "For letting me be the one," he explained. "For giving that gift to me."

His breath was intoxicating and it had little to do with the scent of the mojitos he'd drunk. Allie heard his words, as though they had been spoken some distance away. At that moment, the central focus of all her senses was just how near he was. On some subconscious level, she must have registered his words though, because the gratitude seemed incongruous, almost laughable to her.

Allie remembered well, the year she'd dated Reece; the patience he'd shown, the way he'd never pushed things further than she was willing to go. And she vividly remembered the night she'd been ready; the care he'd taken, his gentle reassurances, the unhurried way he'd prepared her for him and the almost reverent way he'd treated her body.

As the months and years passed, and she'd discussed 'first times' with girlfriends, she realized how lucky she'd been to have a night so memorable for the right reasons.

"Thank you," Reece whispered, nudging her from her thoughts.

"Thank you," she echoed.

Slowly, Reece leaned closer and Allie held her breath in anticipation. But, just before their lips came together, he changed course. Grazing his rugged cheek across hers, he pressed a kiss against her cheekbone. During the three weeks of Allie's sexual liberation, that one innocent kiss was arguably the most erotic moment yet. It didn't seem to suggest or promise anything. To a casual observer, it might even have looked platonic. However, Allie drew in a shaky breath, as her upper body was silently drawn to his. She nestled against his warm chest, which was covered in a light blue, cotton shirt.

"Well," he sighed, suddenly righting himself. "I guess, I better get going."

Allie fixed her eyes on his much darker ones. "You don't have to," she said huskily, finding her throat dry. Placing her palm on his sternum, she ran her hand down the center of his shirt, before pausing over his abdomen. There, her fingers could feel the firm, taut muscles beneath. As she gently stroked that hard washboard stomach, she felt him involuntarily twitch.

"Don't...umm," he paused, clearing his throat as he tried to assert control over his unruly muscles. "Don't you have to work in the morning?"

"No," she answered simply, a naughty smile teasing at her lips, as she shook her head.

Covering Allie's hand with his own, Reece began to pull her torturing fingers away from his abs. He'd intended to just do that, but as his thumb brushed over her wrist and felt the racing urgency of her pulse, something swept over him. Using his hips, he turned Allie, pushing her back against the still closed door. Quickly, he bent forwards, his mouth passionately claiming hers.

The breath was sucked from Allie's lungs in a surprised gasp of pleasure. She couldn't begin to count the number of times Reece had kissed her and she thought she'd experienced every sensation he had to offer, but this was so different from anything she'd felt as a high school senior. This was like gasoline being thrown on a fire. This was an insatiable, desperate hunger.

Reece's tongue moved over Allie's drawing back and forth in imitation of a much more intimate act. Meanwhile, his hands had sought out her breasts, each globe fitting perfectly into his palm. His fingers stroked the outer curves, massaging her gently.

Allie arched forward, pushing more firmly into his hands, while her hips rubbed against him. He was too tall to gain any satisfactory contact with his groin, which was swelling at her naval. However, his thick thigh between her legs was pressing her clothing against her ever more restless sex. Grinding against that muscular leg, her arousal flooded her panties.

His breath coming hard and fast, Reece eased his mouth from Allie's and rested a slightly sweaty forehead against hers. "What are we doing?" he panted.

Giggling, Allie continued to gently gyrate her hips. "If you don't know, then we're doing something wrong," she laughed.

He found himself chuckling too, his eyes dipping to the breasts his hands continued to caress and the uncomfortable bulge in his restrictive black jeans. It would be so easy just to follow the demands of his body, but then what? "Please," he groaned almost painfully, his hands reluctantly leaving her bosom and sliding down to still her hips. "I mean," he began, pausing and lifting his head as he tried to clear it of the exclusively lustful thoughts bombarding it. "What does this mean?" he asked, looking down into her eyes and immediately regretting doing so. They were smoky, unfocused and heavy with arousal.

She continued to smile at him, pushing against his hands and thrilling at the strength he held within them. "You taught me about this, remember?" she joked.

"Allie," he groaned, struggling to resist the urge to go back to her kiss-swollen lips. "Are we getting back together?" he asked, his brow creasing. "Is this just a..." he faltered. "What is this?"

Relenting, Allie gave up the fight to resume contact with his thigh and placed her ass back against the door. However, she refused to stop grinning at him. "I don't want to get involved," she told him. "That's got nothing to do with you," she quickly added, seeing a flash of hurt cross his features. "I just can't be in a relationship right now."

"Okay," he said, nodding his understanding, but eagerly awaiting her next words.

"Beyond that," she sighed. "We don't have to give it a label, do we?" she suggested.

"Allie," Reece shook his head, his hands slowly leaving her body altogether. "I've never been a one night stand kind of guy." He wasn't able to look at her as he spoke, knowing that his control would evaporate the moment he did. "I mean..." he added, taking a small step back.

"It's not a one night stand," she quickly reminded him. "We're not strangers and we've done this before."

"I know." Swallowing a large lump in this throat, Reece glanced up at the hallway's cream ceiling. "I think that makes it worse," he sighed. "It could never just be sex with you, Allie."

Sensing that she was losing him to chivalry, Allie realized she was going to have to stop trying to win this game with a battle of words. Lunging forwards, she quickly grabbed his waistband and tugged him towards her. Using both hands, she hurriedly set about unfastening his pants.

"Allie," Reece half-heartedly argued, his fingers moving down to grasp hers. "I don't want us to do something you'll regret in the morning."

She fought against him, moving one hand quickly to avoid him and then returning to her task. "Trust me," she insisted. "I know exactly what I'm doing."

"Al-" Reece attempt to say her name was halted as her fingers crept between the gap in the thick denim and clasped his semi-erect shaft. "Oh, God," he gasped, when her hand enclosed his thickness.

"I regret the fact that we didn't do this more," she told him, her tone sultry and soft as her hand slowly began to move up and down his length. "I regret that I never did this," she added, easing him through the gaping fly, while sliding her back down the door.

Reece watched her settle on her knees with a mixture of excitement and panic. "We're in the middle of your hallway, Allie, what if one of your-" his words, which had been spoken rapidly were brought to a screeching stop, as the tip of her tongue circle his bulbous tip.

Allie lapped at the clear fluid dripping from him, before opening her mouth wide and sucking that soft domed head between her lips. Gradually, she inched further taking more and more of him.

"Oh, God," Reece whispered, his eyes falling closed. He lifted his hands to the door, bracing himself at arm's length.

She had known he was big, but had forgotten just how large. Having been the first penis she saw in the flesh, she'd had no frame of reference at the time. Now, especially after the seven lovers she'd recently had, she fully appreciated Reece's assets. She guessed he was easily over eight inches in length and holding her hand around him, her long, slender fingers barely met, causing her to marvel at how he had not caused her great pain the first time he'd entered her.

She knew there was no way she could take all of him in her mouth, she was not experienced enough in the art of fellatio. However, the noises coming from above her assured her that she must have been doing something right.

A stream of nonsense came from Reece's mouth. "Jesus...Yes....So good....Ugh....Allie," he gasped, as her soft, wet tongue traced the thick, distended vein on the underside of his shaft.

Feeling suddenly more bold, Allie bobbed her head forwards, releasing a long, low hum as she drew him passed her gag reflex and down into her throat.

"God!" Reece exclaimed loudly. "Please," he panted, lowering his voice, as he was, on some level, still aware of the very public display they'd make for any of Allie's neighbors. "You've got to stop. I'm so close."

Allie was tempted to ignore his pleas, part of her wanted to feel him come in her mouth. However, another part of her wanted to ensure that the evening didn't end quite so soon. Slowly, she drew back, letting her tongue linger over him for much longer than was necessary, before releasing him altogether. She looked at his member, glistening with her saliva, while she swept the back of her hand across her mouth.

"Ahh," Reece sighed in semi-relief and semi-frustration.

When Allie finally looked up, she noticed that his eyes were closed, his head tilted back, as he gulped in air through an open mouth. The powerful effect of knowing she had done that to him was unimaginably sexy. "So," she drawled saucily, as she gracefully pulled herself upright. "You still want to go?"

Sensing her movement, Reece opened his eyes and dipped his head to find her face, beaming up at him. "No," he shook his head.

"Good," she nodded, reaching behind her blindly and finding the doorknob with practiced ease. With a quick twist, she was stepping backwards into the apartment. She grinned at the picture he made, with his massive, stiff, wet cock poking out of his pants and a look of pure surrender on his face. Reaching out, she offered him her right hand.

Without hesitation, Reece grasped her fingers with his own and happily allowed himself to be tugged into the apartment.

Kicking the door behind them, Allie didn't let go of Reece's hand, but to ensure there would be no more gentlemanly compunctions to spoil the evening, she also wrapped her free fingers around his shaft. "Come with me," she urged, as she lead him towards the bedroom.

Reece followed with a humorous, "Yes ma'am," while his hand caressed the tight, ass cheek in front of him.

As soon as she crossed the threshold of the bedroom, Allie released Reece and grasped the hem of her shirt with both hands. Quickly, she whipped it up and over her head, dumping it on the carpet by the foot of the bed. Her hands just as rapidly reached behind her, unclasping her bra. It too, was dropped carelessly.

Reece smiled as he watched her, but as she moved to remove her jeans with the same speed, he shouted, "Woah!" Slowly stepping forwards, he continued a quieter mantra. "Woah, woah, woah."

Bewildered, Allie froze. She was frightened that he was about to become noble on her again, but the condition of his manhood, which seemed to have become even bigger, suggested not.

"I want to savor this," he said, his hands reaching out to her waist. "You're so beautiful," he mumbled, his eyes moving leisurely over her semi-pale torso. His gaze moved up and he lingered over her breasts, the rigid pink tips and the areola puckered with gooseflesh. Ducking his head to that sexy, sensitive flesh, he placed his mouth over one of those warm pebbles.

Allie's hand automatically drifted to the back of his head, encouraging him. Her fingers tangled in his thick, black hair, as she released a contended moan. "Reece," she whimpered.

Too soon, however, he was moving. His mouth trailed kisses down her body, around the curve of her breast and over her stomach, as he fell to his knees. When he came to the waistband of her jeans, his hands swept from her hips to the brass button just beneath her naval. Gradually, he unclasped it and began to tug the blue jeans over her hips. Reece was met by the powerful musky aroma of her arousal. Glancing up at her, he found Allie looking back at him. Her hands were both resting on his head, fingers drawing lazy patterns over his scalp. Her eyes were pleading with him, but he couldn't be sure whether they were desperate for him to continue slowly kissing every inch of her or to simply hurry up and enter her.

"Reece," she said, almost too softly to be heard.

Gripping her hips more firmly, Reece's strong arms propelled her to the right, until her legs were brushing against the foot of the bed. Then, with a strong shove, he tossed her onto the mattress.

"Ahh," she squealed, giggling.

Quickly, he pulled her jeans and her panties down to her ankles. When his upper body came back up her legs, he gently held her knees and parted them. Her sex opened like a flower, gleaming with her juices. His eyes quickly flicked up her body, to find Allie gripping her bottom lip with her teeth and the bed sheets with a ferocious grasp of her manicured nails.

Gradually, he lowered his mouth to the sweetness that was calling to him. Gently, he stroked his tongue between her swollen outer lips and felt her instantly jerk beneath him.

Allie tightened her grip on her lip, until she tasted blood. She whimpered helpless, her hips flailing restlessly, as Reece continued to slowly explore her sex. She tried to keep her upper body up, resting on her elbows, as she became mesmerized by the movement of his head between her legs. However, as Reece moved to her clitoris and began focusing his attentions there, Allie felt her strength abandon her and she flopped back onto the bed like a rag doll. When she felt two, strong fingers enter her, she began mewling and writhing beneath him, her eyes fluttering closed.

Reece knew she was close and lapped ferociously and firmly at the tiny bud, as he unhurriedly thrust back and forth with the index and middle fingers of his right hand. She smelt and tasted sweet and clean, with just a hint of saltiness. That nectar was flowing so fast and hard that it was dripping over her buttocks and pooling on the sheet beneath her. Pushing his face more firmly into her, he moaned, prompting vibrations to rock through her.

Allie opened her mouth and exhaled a breath, trying to cry out. Instead, nothing erupted forth. She mutely screamed his name, as her thighs unconsciously clamped his head firmly, holding him in place.

# Chapter Eight

Could This Be Real

Allie slowly removed herself from the arms of Morpheus to find her warm pillow moving. It was a small, almost imperceptible undulation, accompanied by a soft, rhythmic thud against her ear. She recalled falling asleep to a faster, harder version of that rhythm. Gradually she opened her eyes and found her hair draped over a tanned chest. As she tried to move, she realized one of her arms was beneath her, while the other was clinging to the warm torso, half-beneath her. Her right leg was tossed over another, more muscular, hairy leg and her inner thigh had something large, warm and flaccid nestled against it.

"Mmm," she hummed delightedly, tightening her hold on the comfortable pillow.

"Hey," a deep voice, groggy with sleep, muttered above her.

Tilting her head, Allie looked up at Reece and smiled. A few unruly strands of his thick hair had fallen onto his forehead, this coupled with the joyful grin on his face, gave him an almost naïve, boyish quality. Allie wasn't fooled, however. The events of the night before left no doubt. Reece was far from naïve, and if Allie had thought he knew his way around a woman's body at the age of eighteen, it was nothing to what he seemed to have learned in the interim.

"Hey," she responded warmly. Turning, so she was lying more completely on top of him, she shuffled up his body. "Wow," she grinned, kissing his lips briefly.

"Yeah," he acknowledged, sleepily. "Wow, is right."

"I would ask where you learned some of those moves," she whispered thoughtfully. "But I don't think I want to know."

Reece, dropped his head back on the pillow and chuckled. "It's not like that," he insisted. "I mean, I'm not some jerk who-"

Allie silenced him with another kiss, allowing this one to linger a little longer. "It's all right," she said, when she finally pulled away. "You don't have to explain anything to me."

With a nod of understanding, Reece fixed Allie with a serious expression. "Last night was incredible," he said.

"For me, too," she told him, smiling.

"So, umm," he hesitated. "Can we see each other again?" he asked, placing his hand at the back of his head and tilting his chin, so he could watch her reaction.

Allie's smile faltered. She was so very tempted to say, 'yes'. She wanted to see Reece again, wanted to spend more nights, like the last one, with him. She knew, in the seconds after she'd woken, that being with him had been so very different from the others. Each time with the others, she'd experienced a thrill, a temporary satisfaction that burned with as bright a desire almost as soon as the moment passed. With Reece, however, some much deeper need in her had been quenched. She couldn't give that need a name, but she knew it existed.

"Allie," Reece nudged, nervously waiting for her reply.

"I..." she mumbled, shaking her head, as confused thoughts warred. One part of her brain screaming at her to see more of him while she still had the chance, while the other part reminded her not only of the problems associated with seeing him frequently, but also that she hadn't yet fulfilled her goal. There were still three men she'd contacted and had arranged dates to see, and there were a further four that she remembered and wanted to track down. "It's complicated, Reece," she eventually huffed, rolling off him and grasping the sheet around her naked torso.

"It's not," Reece countered, sitting upright. "It doesn't have to be complicated at all. I want to spend more time with you."

"But my life is so hectic right now," she told him, shuffling out of the bed and taking the large sheet with her. Twisting, she wrapped herself as though she were wearing a toga. "I told you last night, I can't think about a relationship right now."

"I'm not asking you to," Reece insisted, still sitting on the bed and making no effort to conceal his nakedness. "Allie, please," he said, lifting his palms. "I didn't want to make you panic, I just wanted to see you again."

"You said, it could never just be sex with you and me," Allie replied, wandering agitatedly to the foot of the bed.

"It can't," he reiterated firmly. "Are you telling me that last night was nothing but sex to you?" he countered, a dark cloud passing over his brow.

"No," Allie responded. "Of course it wasn't, but..."

"Hey," he soothed, shuffling off the bed and moving towards her. "You said we didn't have to label it, right?"

Silently, Allie nodded her head.

"So, let's not label it," he urged, moving close enough to touch her, but keeping his hands to himself. "It's not a relationship, but it's more than sex. We don't need to know any more than that."

Allie considered that proposal. It didn't solve all her problems, but with him standing there completely naked, it was incredibly tempting. "Can we think about it?" she asked quietly.

"Okay," he replied, with a nod. "On one condition," he added.

"What's that?" she asked.

"That we go back to bed right now," he smiled, cocking his head at the mattress.

Allie couldn't prevent the smile that spread across her face. "I don't know," she murmured, with mock suspicion.

"If I haven't left yet, it's still the same date, right?" he asked jovially, both arms reaching out to her and tugging her towards him.

"That's your logic, is it?" she giggled.

"Yep," he confirmed proudly. Keeping a firm hold on the sheet, he spun her before pushing her back onto the bed. The sheet stayed with him, unraveling from Allie, until, when she landed on the mattress, she was naked once more.

She laughed loudly as she fell, screeching when she realized he was ripping the sheet from her. However, her laughter soon tapered off, when she noticed Reece wasn't laughing with her. "What's wrong?" she asked, looking up at him.

Reece was gazing back at her, a look of horror on his features.

"What is it?" Allie quickly blurted when she was met with silence.

Reece's jaw slackened in dismay, as he lifted his hand and pointed at her torso.

Allie followed the line of his finger and found herself looking at a large blue bruise beneath her left breast. She didn't notice Reece moving, but he stepped towards her and placed his palm on her right knee. Allie's eyes flashed to his face in alarm. She opened her mouth to speak, but was forestalled when Reece gently parted her legs. There, on her inner thigh, was another bruise, this one much larger than the first.

"I hurt you," Reece whispered, barely able to say the words for the bile rising up from his stomach.

"No," Allie quickly stated, covering his hand with her own.

"Look at you," he mumbled, flinching and sweeping his hand out from beneath hers. "They weren't there last night, Allie," he said, standing straight and raking his fingers through his hair. "I did that to you."

"It's not your fault," Allie tried to placate him. "I just....I bruise easily," she awkwardly explained.

"Allie," he shook his head, disbelievingly.

"It's true," she insisted. "I'm a little anemic."

Reece stood silently, watching her carefully, as he seemed to assess whether her body language suggested she was telling the truth. He couldn't make up his mind. The fact that he remembered the night well and was certain he hadn't been even remotely rough with her supported her explanation. And yet, something in her eyes troubled him.

"I promise," she added sincerely. "You did not hurt me," she insisted, looking him directly in the eye.

That, he was fairly certain, was the truth. "Are you sure?" he urged.

"I swear, Reece," she stated, shuffling towards the edge of the bed, until her legs were hanging off the end. "Now," she sighed, desperate to change the subject. "What were you saying about coming back to bed?"

***

Tossing her purse into the deep bottom drawer of her desk, Allie kicked the thing closed before angrily throwing herself into her chair.

"Hey, you feeling any better?"

Lifting her head to the sound of Grant's voice, Allie scowled at him. "Huh?" she asked.

"Are you over the flu you had last week?"

"Oh," Allie finally sighed, remembering the excuse she'd given for taking the latter half of the previous week off work. "Yeah, thanks," she grumpily added.

"You're a little late, I was wondering if you weren't coming in today, either," he noted good-naturedly.

"You keeping track of me?" she snapped.

"No," he innocently replied. "No, I was just worried about you."

Allie had wanted to take another day off. She'd intended to do just that. However, after she'd been unable to convince Reece to get back into bed with her, she felt too depressed moping around the apartment.

He'd left shortly after discovering her bruises, although he'd assured her that he no longer believed he'd hurt her, he still felt responsible for harming her. No matter how many times she told him she hadn't even known the marks were there, he refused to make love to her again.

He'd gone, leaving her with nothing more than a kiss on the forehead and a promise that he'd call.

"I'm sorry, Grant," she sighed, leaning both elbows on the desk and massaging her temples with her index fingers. "Things are just..." she stalled, before changing tact. "Anyway, I shouldn't be taking it out on you."

"Hey, no sweat," he replied, beaming at her like a loyal puppy.

Allie had suspected for some time that Grant had a crush on her. She'd brushed it off, because he was too young and she was too busy. His willingness to excuse her bad moods and his eagerness to help with whatever shitty job she called on him to do, were proof of something beyond professional admiration.

As Allie allowed that thought to marinate, an idea came to her. Perhaps all she needed to lift her spirits was a good screw. And Grant, although not exactly the kind of guy she'd usually go for, was someone she knew and would, undoubtedly, be only too eager to please.

"Grant," she said picking her head up.

"Yeah," he called back.

Allie opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. She tried to picture herself with him, maybe in one of the store cupboards, or upstairs in the morgue, amongst all the dusty old files. However, the image just wouldn't come. Instead, all she could see was Reece.

"Allie?" Grant probed, noting some kind of conflict behind her eyes.

Shaking her head, Allie dismissed the thought of Grant and tried to picture someone else. Kyle, he wasn't bad looking. Stephen or Carl. Still, the only face that occupied her brain was Reece's.

"Are you okay, Allie?"

"Yeah," she nodded numbly. "Sorry, I just..." she mumbled, pushing her chair back and rising to her feet.

"Did you want something?" Grant asked.

"No," she responded. "No, thanks," she assured him, making her way across the open plan office space. "I think I need a coffee," she absentmindedly tossed over her shoulder, as she plodded towards the break area.

She stood for several minutes, her fingers clamped around the handle of the percolator, as she tried to work out what the hell had happened over the course of twelve hours. Suddenly, her desire to make up for a lack of sexual experiences was narrowed to a desire to simply have more sex with Reece. This was something she hadn't expected: that one of the men she'd dated over the last few weeks would become a preoccupation. She thought about all of the others fondly, she remembered her time with them as exciting and she certainly didn't have any regrets. But this was different, the night before wasn't just another good memory to add to the collection. Was he really that good? She shook her head at the rhetorical question. He was absolutely that good. However, there was much more to it than his performance.

There was no longer any question in her mind: she had to see him again. Whether or not that fitted with the original plan didn't matter. Whether he had seen bruises on her body didn't matter. The only thing Allie cared about was spending another night with Reece. She could only hope that one more night would be enough to quench her thirst for him.

# Chapter Nine

One Last Night

But one more night, turned into two nights, three, four and then five. The frequency with which she saw Reece was complicating matters. Allie had taken to trying to cover her bruises with foundation. Sometimes it worked well, especially when she was able to wake before him and apply the make-up to the blue patches of skin. Other times, Reece noticed the discoloration. However, Allie was satisfied with the fact that he believed her to have anemia and, as long as he didn't see any large or particularly bad contusions, she felt sure he would continue to believe that.

Lying to him was not something that came easily, though. Truth be told, she hated it. She couldn't look him in the face whenever he mentioned the marks on her flesh or the fact he thought she'd lost a little weight.

And it was all made so much worse by the fact that the more time she spent with him, the more time she wanted to spend with him. She loved being in his company, it didn't matter what they did and it had gone far beyond just fulfilling a sexual desire. On the third night, they didn't even have sex. Instead, cuddled up on her couch, watching an old Cary Grant movie, they'd both drifted off into peaceful sleep and remained there 'til morning.

She was happy, happier than she had been in a long time. Ironically, the knowledge of that made her profoundly depressed, because she was acutely aware of the fact it couldn't last. She'd found true happiness, a man she could imagine herself growing old with, and she wasn't going to get the chance to grow old at all. Her low moods were yet another cause to lie to Reece. She'd tell him she had a lot on at work, that she was stressed and just needed to unwind, which, at first, he had no reason to disbelieve. As time passed, she knew he'd begin to suspect there was something more to her mood swings.

Meanwhile, she'd been cancelling or postponing dates with old flames she'd met online, including Mitch Hatley. He continued to write and send text messages, while she politely stalled him. Allie was reluctant to give up the idea of grabbing that particular lost opportunity, but, at the same time, wondered if she could ever want to sleep with any man except Reece \- she certainly couldn't imagine it. Her dreams were filled with him and her waking fantasies refused to drift to any other man, no matter how handsome.

In short, Allie knew that her relationship with Reece, for, like it or not, that's certainly what it had become, had to end. She simply couldn't continue to lie, and she didn't want to torture herself with the taste of a life she would never really get to experience.

But breaking things off was going to be difficult. Like a crack addict, she lacked all will power around him. He only had to flash a glimpse of that gorgeous smile or say her name in that deep, baritone voice of his and she was unable to resist. Nevertheless, she had to find the resolve from somewhere.

***

"You've been quiet," Reece noted, reaching for the glass of Shiraz in front of him.

Allie was just pushing the food on her plate around, feeling far too sick to put anything in her mouth. "I've just been thinking," she shrugged.

"About?" he prodded.

"Us," she replied, sucking in a steadying breath, as she mentally prepared herself for the conversation she'd rehearsed a hundred times.

Reece could see she was nervous and guessed good news was not on her mind. "Okay," he nodded, replacing the glass on her small kitchen table and leaning forwards. "What is it?" he asked.

"Reece," she sighed, staring at the fingerprints he'd left on the glass. "I told you, I can't be in a relationship right now."

"I know."

"So, we can't do this anymore," she continued, realizing that he simply didn't see the problem.

"Why not?" he smiled.

"Ree-"

"Look," he quickly interrupted, knowing exactly what she would say if he allowed her to continue. "You said no relationship, we're not in a relationship."

"Do you know how many times we've seen each other over the last several weeks?" she argued, leaning back exhaustedly against the uncomfortable wooden chair.

"Most nights," he admitted. "But that doesn't mean anything," he added. "There's no pressure, Allie," he urged. "You're busy, that's fine. You don't want to tell your parents that we're dating again, that's fine, too."

"Reece," she muttered, shaking her head.

"It's completely casual, Allie. If that's what you want, you got it."

Drawing in a shaky breath, Allie tried to remind herself of what was at stake; why she had to call a halt to things now. "And what do you want?" she asked, wondering if a different angle would help her cause.

"What do you mean?"

"Let's forget what I want for a second," Allie said, meeting his eyes. "What do you want?"

Placing his palms on the table either side of his plate, he glanced down thoughtfully. "Honestly," he mumbled. "I don't know." Turning his eyes back to her, he shrugged one shoulder exaggeratedly. "I'm not promising you romance and roses, Allie, because I don't know where this is heading any more than you do. What I do know is that I like being with you." He paused momentarily, before smiling to himself. "I _really_ like being with you, so I'll take whatever it is you're offering."

"I'm not offering anything, Reece," she responded sadly, tears welling in her lower lids.

Refusing to answer right away, Reece sat quietly, running his fingers up and down the stem of the wine glass. "You want me to go?" he asked.

"I can't offer you anything," Allie continued, ignoring the question. "I should never have let things go as far as they did. I shouldn't have agreed to meet you in the first place," she told him, hot tears beginning to spill onto her cheeks. "Sooner or later, this has got to end." Sniffing she tried to hold back the droplets that trailed zigzag patterns down her cheeks. "I think it might be better for both of us, if we just end it now."

Scraping his chair backwards on the tiled floor, Reece shot to his feet. Allie had half-expected him to just turn around and march out of the door, but he rounded the table and crouched beside her. Placing one hand on her leg and the other curled around her chin, he turned her to face him. "Allie, what's going on?" he asked.

"Nothing," she sniffed, trying to remove her face from her grasp.

Reece refused to let go. "I know you're lying to me," he responded flatly. "Look, whatever it is, you can tell me."

"I can't," she sobbed, the dam breaking and tears flowing with abandon.

"Yes, you can," he insisted firmly. "Are you pregnant? Did you kill someone? Are you on drugs? Is your husband coming home any minute?"

No longer able to form intelligible words, Allie made abortive attempts to answer. However, to Reece a reply wasn't necessary at that moment. Shuffling onto his knees, he placed his arms around her waist and pulled her towards him. Allie moved without any fight, her arms quickly clamping around his neck and embracing him furiously, as she continued to sob into his neck. For several minutes, they clung to one another like that, Reece gently rocking her and whispering nonsense words of comfort.

Eventually, still weeping heavily, Allie began to press her lips to Reece's neck and the top of his collarbone, which was visible in his T-shirt. As she continued to nibble, and lick at his skin, her sobs softened.

"Allie," he nudged, rubbing his hand reassuringly over the small of her back. "It's okay."

Her lips moved up the side of his neck, sucking on the thin layer of flesh. "I need you," she gasped breathlessly, starting a trail up his chin.

"Allie," he breathed, torn between his desire to comfort her and the need to finish their conversation. "Maybe we should..."

"Please Reece," she begged her mouth teasing at the corners of his lips.

His tongue reflexively ran along his bottom lip and tasted her salty tears. Slowly, he released his tight hold of her waist and lifted his hands to her face. Cradling her head in both of his large hands, he drew his thumbs under her eyes, wiping away most of the tears that had spilled there. "Whatever it is," he said softly. "We can get through it together."

Almost imperceptible, Allie shook her head.

"So, this is it?" he asked. The question was spoken quietly and without accusation.

"I'm so sorry," she whimpered.

Reece inhaled a jagged breath. "What do you want from me now? One last fuck?" He was hurt, that much was evident and Allie didn't blame him for that. And that had, after all, been the original plan. Except it wasn't 'fucking'.

"It was never just sex," she stated calmly, fresh tears stinging at the backs of her eyes.

Reece's fingers slowly slipped from her face. "I'm not so sure any more," he shook his head, as he rose to his feet. "I mean, if you can't talk to me...If you don't trust me," he added. "Then, what the hell has this all been about?"

Leaping to her feet, Allie grasped his forearm, sensing that he was about to make a move for the door. "It's not about trust," she countered. "You know I trust you."

"Then why can't you tell me?" he yelled in frustration.

"It's not that simple," she screamed back.

"Why not?" Reece snapped.

"Because I think I'm falling in love with you," she returned, the words flowing before she had time to think about the consequences, let alone stop them.

Residual anger caused Reece's chest to rise and fall in jerky heaves, as he gradually processed her blurted admission. It was said too quickly to have been a ploy, it was too nonsensical in regard to the things she'd been saying just moments before to have been a lie. In fact, he could see the panicked look on her face, which told him she wished she could take the profession back.

Allie waited anxiously for his response, her heart pounding violently against her ribcage.

Unhurriedly, he opened his mouth. "Why does that make things harder?" he asked calmly.

Shaking her head, Allie avoided his eyes. "I can't explain," she said.

For the first time in the few weeks they'd been seeing each other, Reece began to sense that she did indeed want to tell him whatever it was she was keeping hidden. Her eyes were pleading him to understand, her face hopeful that he wouldn't just call her a 'bitch' and walk out of her life. He wanted to reassure her that his feelings hadn't changed. And yet, words seemed cheap, ineffectual.

Giving in to a drive that had compelled him from the very moment he met her, Reece quickly closed the three steps between them. Wrapping his arms round her, he covered her mouth with his own, while pushing her backwards.

Caught completely off guard, Allie stumbled backwards, her butt meeting the edge of her kitchen table.

As Reece clasped and unclasped his lips wetly over Allie's, he reached behind her and blindly swept his hand from left to right. There came a cacophony of noise as silverware hit the floor, plates and glasses smashed and the heavy half-full bottle shattered, splashing Reece's blue jeans with red wine.

Placing his hands on her hips, he lifted her with ease, onto the small surface of the table. Placing himself between her legs, Reece gripped the front of Allie's casual button-down shirt and ripped it open.

Everything was happening so fast that she couldn't preempt his next move. However, Allie shrugged out of the torn shirt, trying desperately to keep her mouth connected to his.

Reece's hands traveled to her waist, where he found the top of her black pants. With deft fingers, he unfastened a small button at the top of the pants, before pulling down a delicate little zipper. Allie could feel him tugging at the black fabric of her panties, she lifted one cheek off the table and then the other, helping him slide the clothing down her legs.

"I want you," Reece muttered, forced to remove his lips from Allie's, while he pulled the clothes down to her ankles. Once there, he abandoned them in his hurry to unfasten his own pants. The black leather belt and fly was quickly opened and, with the help of Allie's hands, the jeans and his boxers were shoved off his hips. Gravity helped them down his thighs and his impressive erection sprang free.

"Wait, wait, wait," Allie gabbled, placing her hands on his shoulders to prevent him closing the space between them. Her hands trembling violently, she clumsily grasped his shirt and tugged it over his head.

Realizing what she wanted, Reece took over, sliding the shirt off with ease and tossing it into the pool of clothes at his feet. "Okay," he asked breathlessly.

"Yes," she panted in reply, spreading her thighs as wide as she could in welcome.

Reece was desperate to be inside her, but he hesitated. An annoying part of him, felt compelled to ask whether he was doing the right thing. Brushing it aside, he realized it probably didn't matter anyway. After this, he and Allie may never see each other again. So, he wanted to make sure he made the most of every second he had left with her.

Wrapping the fingers of his right hand around his shaft, he shuffled forwards, until the tip was nestled against Allie's sex. "I'm sorry I yelled at you," he breathlessly said, holding himself completely still.

Allie was blindsided by the apology, and had been staring down at where their bodies were about to become one. "That's okay," she quickly dismissed.

"No, it's not okay," he insisted. "I shouldn't have lost my temper."

"It's all right," she repeated. "You have every right to be angry with me."

"I'm not so sure," he said, his hands delicately tracing the cup of her lacy black bra. "Maybe you've been more honest with me than I've been with you."

"Reece," she whimpered impatiently, as she was teased by the tip of his manhood just dipping into her entrance. She lifted both arms, wrapping her hands around his neck and gripping her own wrist at the back of his head.

Gently, Reece pushed his hips forward, feeling the familiar way her tight warmth stretched and lengthened to greet him. Allie breathed deeply, as he smoothly slid deeper, a cry of ecstasy escaping her trembling lips when he finally filled her and she felt a small explosion of pleasure.

"Oh, God, Allie," Reece moaned, experiencing the rapid clamping of her muscles. He tried to edge deeper still, but it was no use, he was already buried to the hilt in her softness. "I could stay like this forever," he whispered, his cheek next to hers. "I love the feel of you." There was a moment of silence, in which he made a decision. She had been more honest than he, and it was time to rectify that. "I love you, Allie."

# Chapter Ten

Last Chance to Love

Everything had happened so quickly. Allie wasn't sure how they'd ended up on the bed. By then, they were both completely naked. Reece sat cross-legged and she was sitting on his lap, with her legs wrapped around him. As Allie slowly undulated on top of him, they held each other tightly.

Reece's face, sticky with sweat, was pressed against her chest. The palms of both hands spread wide on her upper back, helping her remain upright and simultaneously pulling her closer to him.

Allie's hands were on Reece's shoulders, although the slick perspiration kept causing her fingers to slip. She tried to use him as leverage, lifting her body in short rhythmic bounces.

She did realize that somehow they'd achieved a moment of calm. Things were suddenly much less frenetic than they had been in the kitchen. There, after Reece had made his declaration of love, he'd begun to thrust with powerful strokes that tipped the table back on two legs. Over and over again, he'd pounded hard and fast. Until that moment, Allie had thought she'd seen every color in the spectrum of Reece's lovemaking, from quick and passionate to slow and tender. Suddenly, however, there'd been a different quality. As the spiraling sensations caused Allie's limbs to give out and she'd lain back on the table, she was aware that the desperation in Reece was not a drive for her, but a drive to show her something.

She didn't have time to work out what that something was, because no sooner had they orgasmed together in an abrupt eruption of masculine groans and feminine screams, than Reece swept her from the messy table and carried her to the bedroom.

Here, although their movements were more relaxed, there was that same sense of desperation, as they clung fiercely to one another. With the less intense experience of leisurely rocking against Reece, Allie's brain was able to ponder what was happening between them. Had Reece's energetic performance in the kitchen been his attempt to show her what she'd be missing if she stopped seeing him. Maybe. But he needn't have bothered. Long before then, she'd realized what she was about to give up.

Had he been making sure that the last time was memorable? Perhaps. But then why had he told her he loved her?

"Allie," he suddenly grunted, his lips just beneath her collarbone.

"Yeah?" she hummed absentmindedly, as she once more rolled her hips and ground her clitoris against the hard bone beneath his neat thatch of coarse hair.

"God," he blurted, jerking upwards. "I..." he breathed. "I don't want this to be the last time."

Her hands instantly slipped over his shoulders and around his back, tugging him nearer. "I don't want it to be, either," she whispered, tearfully. Her thighs no longer strong enough to lift her, she became still except for a slight movement of her hips as she rubbed her mound against him.

Slackening his own grip on her, Reece shifted back slightly, so he could look up at her face. "But it has to be?" he asked solemnly.

Allie silently pleaded with him not to make her answer, but he continued to look at her expectantly. "Yes," she eventually responded her voice soft and on the verge of cracking.

Reece's eyes dropped to Allie's shoulder. Then, with a sigh of defeat he flopped back onto the bed.

Allie went with him, her legs still straddling his and her upper body pressed against his hard chest. Her arms however, unraveled from around him, her palms landing on the mattress either side of his shoulders.

Reece continued to hold his loose grasp of her and his right hand rubbed soothingly over her shoulder blades. "Can I ask you something?" he softly wondered.

His thick, hard manhood still tightly tucked inside her, Allie found it strange that the mood had shifted so profoundly. However, like him, she suddenly had no interest in finding the momentary release of an orgasm. It seemed much more important to savor the feeling of closeness, to commit it to memory, so she'd be able to recall it whenever she needed him. "Yes," she replied, settling her head on his chest and placing her ear to the strong, reliable beat of his heart.

"Will there ever come a time when you can tell me? Or am I always going to wonder what the hell happened between you and me?"

Allie closed her eyes, listening to the soft rumble of his words as they reverberated in his chest. "I don't know," she replied honestly. It was something she hadn't even thought about. Would he one day read her obituary and realize what had been going on? "One day," she sighed. "You might understand."

He made a small humming noise, as though he accepted, but wasn't entirely satisfied with the answer.

Allie was blindsided by the image of Reece opening the paper or browsing the Chronicle's website only to find that she was dead. Knowing him as she did, she realized he would not only be distressed, but he'd feel betrayed. Would the time they'd shared over the past two weeks be tainted? There was no question in her mind that, to him, it would be. Not only that, she sensed he'd be angry with himself for not putting the signs together. She could visualize the deep hurt, rage and frustration in his eyes and it caused her physical pain. How could she do that to him? The only man, with the exception of her father, who had ever really meant anything to her, and she was going to hurt him more deeply than any human being whose life she'd ever touched.

But, then again, did she really know him as well as she thought she did? After all, he'd just turned nineteen when she went off to college and they called it quits on their relationship. A person can change a lot in that time; she'd certainly changed. And perhaps she didn't know him at all in the first place. It was possible that the Reece in her head was an adolescent fantasy, rose-tinted by the very fact of him being her first love.

Everything about the strong man lying beneath her indicated he was exactly what he claimed to be. Could she possible be mistaken? Was he really just another looser who would say and do anything just to get a girl into bed? No, that much she knew wasn't true.

"Can I ask you something?" As she parroted his request, Allie braced her weight on her arms and pushed herself from his chest. Once she was in a sitting position, her hair curtaining her face, she peered down at him. Immediately regretting the speed with which she'd straightened, she felt a wave of lightheadedness and closed her eyes momentarily to stop the world spinning.

"Sure," he replied, his hands moving to her hips and holding her gently.

Taking three quick breaths her dizziness gradually abated, and her eyes returned to him. "Did you mean it?"

His right eyebrow lifted in question. "What?"

"Earlier," Allie responded, motioning with her head towards the kitchen. "When you said you love me, did you mean it?"

He regarded her for a split second, confused by the doubt he noticed in her features. Suddenly, he was moving, carefully cradling her waist as he flipped her to the right. Once her back hit the bed, he rolled atop her. "What do you think?" he answered simply, his deep, earnest eyes burning into her soul.

Allie let out a muffled "Ahh," as she felt his stiff shaft edge further, filling her completely. She bucked against him, coaxing him further still, until the head of his manhood was deep inside her. "Reece," she murmured, almost too breathless to speak.

"Do you think I'd lie to you about that?" he asked, his voice indicating more control than he was actually in possession of. "Do you think I would have taken you to bed that first time, if I didn't love you?"

"I'm not that girl anymore," she replied shakily, as she jerked beneath him again.

With a lightly exhaled chuckle, he dipped his head towards her. "I've noticed," he whispered, before kissing her mouth. As his tongue slipped between her parted lips, he drew his hips back slowly. With the same measured pace, he returned to her body releasing a long, low moan into her mouth as he did so. "Christ," he gasped, ripping his lips from hers. "Allie, honey, I'm close."

"Not yet," she begged. Her eyelids were suddenly far too heavy and they flittered closed. "Just a little longer Reece," she panted. Pushing her hand between their joined bellies, she blindly groped for the base of his shaft, but he was too deeply held within her. Abandoning the notion of trying to delay his climax, her fingers moved to increase the onset of her own. However, as the pad of her middle finger met the swollen and tender flesh above her entrance, Reece's own hand swiped her away.

"Let me," he murmured urgently. "I want to make you come," he added, before closing the space between their mouths once more.

Allie felt herself melt into the mattress, as Reece's thumb gently rolled tiny circles against her clitoris and his tongue roamed possessively over hers. He continued to thrust, but did so slowly with deliberate pauses between each movement. Wrapping her right leg over left thigh, Allie smoothed her hands down his back, until her fingers met the firm, clenched muscles in his butt. Clasping him hard, but careful to keep her fingernails out of his soft skin, she urged him on.

The silent communication worked, and Reece stepped up the rhythm of his lower half, increasing the pressure of his thumb on her sensitive nub. "That's it," Allie gasped, turning her head to the right and gulping in a lungful of air. She could feel her body tightening in anticipation and began panting in shallower breaths.

"Ugh," Reece groaned, as Allie's hands unconsciously dug into his buttocks. It was pain just the right side of pleasure and he plunged into her with renewed vigor.

"Yes," she murmured, as he stirred some new pleasure point. And then it came, like a powerful wave against the rocks, knocking the air from her body and sending trembled jolts of pleasure through every nerve ending. "Oh, Reece," she breathlessly screeched, as her body began to pulse.

Quickly removing his hand from between them, Reece pulled back one final time. His last thrust was forceful, deep and accompanied by a masculine cry of pleasure.

Allie opened her eyes just in time to see his face, contorted in a mixture of agony and ecstasy, as she felt his warmth begin to flood her in strong surges.

"Ahh," Reece groaned, his hips still lazily pumping, as he emptied himself. "Oh, God," he panted. "Allie," he breathed, his lower half slowly stilling, as his upper body flopped listlessly forwards. "Allie," he repeated, gasping for breath.

Feeling his hot breath in the crook her of her neck and the pound of his heart next to her own racing one, Allie's left hand slipped from his rounded buttock and grasped the back of his head. Gently, she ran her hands through his hair and stroked the nape of his neck, until his breathing had returned to something resembling normal.

"Am I crushing you?" he mumbled.

"No," she instantly replied.

"You sure?" he countered. "I'm not too heavy?"

"No," she insisted. "You feel good," she added, wrapping her legs around him to prevent him from leaving her even if he wanted to.

Reece sighed happily against her skin. "Feels so good," he muttered.

Allie could feel his shaft softening within her and sensed it wouldn't be long before he would get up. Once he did, that would be it, she'd never be with him like this again. "Reece," she whispered, almost unaware of the fact she'd spoken his name. "The last weeks have been incredible," she said.

"For me too," he responded, his right cheek still nestled on her shoulder.

"I mean, really incredible," she continued. "I want you to know that."

Forcing his heavy unresponsive body up, Reece held his weight on the palms he rested by Allie's upper arms. "It's all right," he said, his voice thick with post-orgasm exhaustion. "I don't exactly know what this has been," he added, hair falling over his forehead in the way Allie found so cute. "But I don't regret a moment of it."

It was then that Allie realized she couldn't in all honesty say she felt the same. There was something she regretted. Something she would regret, until the cancer ended all regrets. "There's something I've got to tell you," she softly announced.

"You don't have to," Reece told her, shaking his head, as he slowly pulled his flaccid member from her.

"No, I do," she quickly countered, mourning the loss of him, as his body slickly left hers. "Please, Reece," she begged, grasping his forearms and hurriedly sitting up.

"Allie," he sorrowfully sighed. "It doesn't change anything."

"It will for me," she insisted. "I don't want you to leave without knowing why. I don't want to push you away like this." Allie's words came quickly and coherently, much more coherently than her brain was functioning. "I..." she stumbled, her words suddenly lodged in her throat by unshed tears. "There's something..." she attempted again, but halted when her vision blurred and unruly droplets spilled onto her cheeks.

Easing himself away from her, Reece sat down on the bed by her side. Allie instantly, turned to him and crawled onto his lap. He didn't fight her, and as she settled, he wrapped his arms around her middle.

"I'm sick," Allie sobbed quietly into his chest.

Reece only just understood her muffled words. "Okay," he responded, at a loss as to how that fitted into the situation.

"I'm really sick," she continued.

"I don't..." Reece mumbled, shaking his head in confusion.

"I wanted to live the life that I'd missed out on," she cried. "To make sure I had no regrets, so I started seeing men from my past."

Reece remained silent and baffled. However, the last part of her sentence was quickly filed away as important to clarify, when she was able to speak with full sentences.

"It was just meant to be sex," she sniffed, lifting her face to his.

Realizing that he probably no longer needed clarification, Reece suddenly felt very uncomfortable with where her confession was heading.

"I didn't...I didn't bargain on the way I feel about you," she explained. "I want you, Reece," she said, wiping tears from her cheeks, which were just as quickly replaced with fresh ones. "But I know we can't be together." The world began to spin again and Allie was forced to close her eyes. "I can't do that to you," she murmured. "I can't hurt you."

"Allie," Reece soothed, one palm slowly circling her back, while the fingers of his other head massaged her slender thigh. "I'm not sure I understand."

Opening her eyes, Allie tried to focus on him. "I'm sick, Reece," she repeated. "I've got leukemia," she added. "I'm dying."

Reece's mouth fell open, as he felt Allie's head flop back onto his shoulder. "I don't..." he whispered. "You can't..." he fumbled. "Allie." He spoke her name reverently, as he pulled her tightly against his chest. It was only then that he wondered why she'd gone suddenly quiet. The tears had stopped. "Allie," he nudged, lifting her face to him and finding her head much heavier than it should be. "Allie," he repeated, panicked by her closed eyes and listless form. "Allie," he tried more urgently, as he scooped her off his lap and laid her out on the bed.

Quickly, Reece placed his ear next to her mouth and was glad to feel soft, shallow breaths. His eyes landing on the jeans he'd abandoned by the edge of the bed, he leapt for them and started to turn each pocket inside out. Eventually, he grasped his cell phone and punched three hurried numbers. "Come on, come on," he quietly muttered. "Yes," he sighed with relief when the call was answered. "I need an ambulance."

### Thank you for reading!

## Please visit your favorite eBook retailer to view the next books in the "Last Chance to Love Series"
Romancing The Cowboy

by

Nicole Price
Copyright © 2017 by Nicole Price

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Romancing The Cowboy

All rights reserved.

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. No part of this work may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording and faxing, or by any information storage and retrieval system by anyone but the purchaser for their own personal use.

This Book may not be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of Nicole Price, except in the case of a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages for the sake of a review written for inclusions in a magazine, newspaper, or journal—and these cases require written approval from Nicole Price prior to publication. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.

# Chapter One

I loved my marketing job in the city. It was everything to me. I was slowly moving up the corporate ladder, and I was thrilled. Yes, I worked long hours and made the job my life, and yes, that meant my social life kind of took a backseat. Yet I didn't care, I convinced myself. I was living life my way.

The job paid very well and allowed me to afford a great apartment in the East Village. I had so much in which to be thankful.

I was able to afford nice clothes, including some designer outfits, and I was slowly building up a collection of my favorite Louboutin shoes. In a few years, I would surely be able to move into an even bigger place and have more luxuries. Yes, life was good.

***

"I just feel that you should get out more and maybe meet a guy," Melinda, my best friend, said to me from across the table where we were having coffee. We had bonded over dirty clothes one day at a Laundromat in the Village, and immediately become very close. However, with my long hours, it was becoming increasingly difficult to spend time with Melinda.

"I'm fine. I told you that I need to work hard so that I can continue moving up in my company. Things have been going great. My boss is happy, and remember, I recently got that raise. What more could I ask for? Well, other than another few pairs of Loubotins." I smiled at Melinda.

Melinda shook her head, "But you don't have a man."

"Since when is that the be-all and end-all in life? Give me a break." I took a drink of my cappuccino and noticed a young couple holding hands and smiling at each other as they strolled past us.

Suddenly, the strolling couple stopped a few feet away. The man leaned down and kissed the girl, and she giggled. They seemed so in love, too in love. It wasn't realistic. That's not how life was.

"I don't need a man, Melinda," I continued. "I have everything I need."

"But you're alone."

"I have you."

"Well, don't expect me to take care of your needs, if you know what I mean." Melinda laughed and shook her head, her long, dark hair blowing in the breeze.

"Ha, ha. I don't need you to take care of me. I have my trusty vibrator. I'm just fine."

"Sometimes, a little human companionship is needed." Melinda said with a smile.

"Come on. Why are you giving me such a hard time?" I said, rolling my eyes at Melinda.

"I just want you to be happy, Anna. You work so hard, but there's more to life than work. I just want you to have what I have."

Melinda had been with the same guy for the last few years. He treated her better than anyone she had been with previously, and recently, he had begun talking about marriage. I was happy for her, but that wasn't my thing. I had no desire to settle down with one man.

"I am happy. I'm happy with my home, my job, my raise. What more could I ask for?"

"If you say so." Melinda said as she sipped her coffee.

I tried to lighten the mood. "Anyway, the old vibrator doesn't talk back. I get what I need from it. It's a win-win." I smiled and Melinda chuckled.

***

I was back at the office, working late, my mind trying to figure out the best way to go with the new marketing campaign. Suddenly, I heard a voice, and I almost jumped. I hadn't heard anyone approaching me. Looking up, I noticed my boss.

"Anna, are you still here?" asked my boss, a tall man named Joe. He was wearing a white shirt that was slightly rumpled from the long day in the office.

"I just had to finish up a couple of things, Joe. I think the client will be very happy."

"I don't know how I'd handle things without you around here. You've been great. But it's late, and you should be getting home now."

I looked at my watch. "Yeah, I guess so." Where had the time gone? I could feel a headache starting to form in the back of my head, and I realized how tired I was as a yawn began to overtake me.

"Excuse me, Joe. I guess you were right. I should be going."

"OK, I'll see you tomorrow, Anna. Have a good night."

"You too." I began packing my things, and once I was on the street, I hurried to the subway, looking forward to a hot bath and a glass of wine.

Thankfully, the subway was fairly empty, and I was able to get a seat and go over the research on a new account we had landed. However, I became so wrapped up in the file that I almost missed my stop.

Sighing, I got out and walked the two blocks to my building. It was a clear, crisp night, and I enjoyed the walk. It invigorated me. I felt alive in this busy city that never slept.

At my apartment, a fourth-floor walkup, I smiled, thinking that each day I walked these stairs I was getting a great workout. Many people paid for stair stepping, but I got it free. I chuckled. I did love it here. My apartment was great.

When I walked into the kitchen, I poured a glass of wine and took a long swallow, savoring the liquid as it ran down my throat. Then I went to the bathroom with its large, claw footed tub and ran a hot bath, making sure to put plenty of bath bubbles into it.

My head was now aching, and my back had knots in it, so when I eased myself into the soothing, hot tub, I immediately felt my tension slipping away. It felt wonderful. I had everything I needed. I couldn't believe Melinda had given me a hard time about working so hard.

Oh, well, I guess that was her thing, but it surely wasn't mine. People didn't realize that you didn't need a man to be happy. Life was more than that, I thought, lying in the bubbles and sipping on my wine.

The heat and the soothing water were so relaxing that I almost fell asleep, but my phone's ringing brought me back to reality. It was Melinda, asking if I wanted to go to a gallery exhibition in a few weeks.

"Yes, that would be fun," I said. "I would really enjoy that."

"Great, and Dave," she said, referring to her boyfriend, "has a cousin coming into town, so I thought you might like to meet him."

"Melinda, I'm warning you, don't try to set me up."

"I'm not. He's just here for a few days."

"Fine," I said, chuckling to myself. Melinda just didn't give up.

***

The last couple of weeks had been hell at work, and my hours had been long and grueling. Yet through my tired state, I was optimistic, realizing that the price of success didn't come easy. I knew my hard work would pay off in the end, I told myself as I rushed to my desk one morning, sipping on a double expresso and starting on the day's tasks.

Soon, the hours had flown by and it was lunchtime. My co-worker, Bonnie, invited me to grab a sandwich with her, but I declined, needing to finish up the work I had promised Joe.

My head throbbing, I downed two pain pills and headed to the break room for a cup of coffee. On the way back, I spotted Joe, and his unsmiling face signaled that something was wrong.

"Oh, there you are, Anna. I need to talk to you," Joe said, looking down at the floor.

"Have I done something wrong?"

"No, Anna, but can we talk in private? Come to my office?"

"Sure," I said, my heart now beginning to race. What was going on? Once inside Joe's office, he hit me with the shock of a lifetime. Ushering me to sit down in front of his massive, oak desk, Joe remained standing, going to the floor-to-ceiling window that gave a view of the Manhattan skyline. He seemed to be thinking, and when he turned back to me, he was rubbing the side of his head.

"I have some bad news, Anna. I don't know how to say this but..." Joe's words trailed off, and I knew whatever he had to say would not be good.

"Anna, business hasn't been great, and with us losing clients, we've had to make some tough decisions. Unfortunately, we just can't keep all the employees. I'm sorry to tell you, but we have to let you go."

"What?" I said, my mouth hanging open in shock. "Are you kidding me, Joe? This is a joke, right? You can't be serious."

"Anna, I'm sorry. This isn't a joke. I wish we could keep you, but unfortunately, we can't. There's nothing I can do."

"But you said my work is invaluable to the company, that the company needs me."

"This is not about your work. If it was up to me, I'd keep you around, but the President of the company has made these decisions. I have no say in any of this."

"Wow!" I shook my head and stood up. "I don't even know what to say."

"Listen, Anna. I will of course give you a good recommendation. With your resume and my recommendation, you should be able to land on your feet with no problem."

"Um, sure, Joe." The whole conversation was surreal. I couldn't believe this was really happening. "

"Are you OK, Anna?"

"I'll be fine."

***

I had finished the week out at work, and now, I stood in my apartment, alone and wondering. I needed to get a new job. I had been looking a little over the week and had already sent my resume to several companies, but of course, a good job would take time. Thankfully, I had a little money in savings, but it wouldn't last forever.

"Damn, why me? Why now? Everything was going so great," I said, pacing my apartment. I looked out the window at the street below, which was tree-lined and narrow, barely any room for cars to drive through. That's what I had loved about this place. It was charming, and reminded me of the early 20th century, but if I didn't get a job soon, I could lose all of this.

The phone's ringing brought me out of my musing. It was Melinda. "So, how are you, Anna?"

"Not great, but I'll survive. Something will come along. I have to believe that."

"Well, are you still up to going to the gallery with us tonight? I'd really like you to come."

"I don't know. I'm probably not good company. I'm kind of in a bad mood." I said sarcastically.

"Yeah, I know that, and that's why you need to get out. You can't wallow in misery at home. You need to relax and not think about work for a while."

"I know. It's just that it's so fresh. I just lost the job."

"I realize that, but I want you to come. Please, Anna. It means a lot to me," came Melinda's pleading voice through the phone.

"Fine, I'll be there. Give me the address again," I said. I knew she wouldn't leave me alone if I didn't acquiesce to her wishes.

After hanging up, I fumbled around, trying to find something to wear and eventually settled on jeans and a dark blouse. Melinda had told me that this exhibition was very casual, which was fine with me. I didn't feel like dressing up.

I hurried to the gallery, which was only a few blocks away, and when I reached the building, I saw Melinda standing outside with Dave, who was tall and blonde-haired. Dave was talking to a man of medium height, with dark hair and stubble on his face. I assumed that was the man Melinda wanted to set me up with.

"Hi, Anna. I'm so glad you could join us," Melinda said, giving me a quick hug. After saying hello to Dave, I was introduced to his cousin.

"This is Rob. He's from Upstate, but he's thinking of moving here," Melinda said, her dark eyes gleaming.

"Oh, that's great," I said, plastering a smile on my face and trying to appear interested, but the last thing I cared about was meeting a guy. I had much bigger things to worry about.

"Anyway, Dave's friend is a sculptor, and this is his first exhibition. His work is amazing," Melinda said, leading the way down a flight of steps and entering a large room which was filled with spot-illuminated statues, many of them nudes, either angels or fairies.

As I scanned the room, it was obvious that a lot of effort was put into the very deliberate random placement of each piece on its pedestal.

"Look at these pieces. Aren't they beautiful?" Melinda asked.

"They are," I answered, looking at a sculpture of what appeared to be a mermaid. That was a smart move on the gallery owner's part, I thought. If you don't label each piece, the customer can see it as a mermaid, fairy, or angel. Thus, you will please many people and widen your market. I laughed to myself, the marketer in me always thinking.

# Chapter Two

It had been a couple of months since I was laid off, and I still hadn't landed another job. Nothing seemed to be working right. I couldn't find a job, and, according to Melinda, I couldn't find a man.

It hadn't worked out for me with Dave's cousin. After meeting him at the gallery, we had gone to dinner once, but there just wasn't anything there for me. I felt no sparks, so I ended it. But that was the least of my worries.

I thought my resume and my letter of recommendation from my former boss would surely get me a job, but the type of position I was going for was tougher than I realized. Plus, I needed a certain salary if I wanted to remain in my apartment and keep my same standard of living.

I had thought about getting a roommate, but quickly realized that wouldn't work. I only had one bedroom, and most roommates wanted their own room. So, I was on my own.

My savings account was rapidly diminishing, though, and when I was on the phone with my mom one night, she suggested something that hadn't crossed my mind.

"Why don't you come home for a while, Anna? Get away from the city and regroup."

Her words startled me. Going home was the last thing I wanted. I loved my life in the city. My hometown was dull, a small town in the middle of nowhere, and the biggest action was at the local roadhouse where everyone got drunk.

"Well, I need to be in the city in case I get an interview."

"If you get an interview, you just fly back, sweetie. In the meantime, you can come home and not worry about going through all your money. I'm afraid you won't be able to afford your apartment."

My mom was right. I was living on the edge, and I had thought about asking my parents for a loan, but perhaps it was better not to. I hated being in debt to them. However, wouldn't it be worse living with them? I'd feel like a kid again.

My mom's voice broke into my thoughts. "It would just be for a short while, Anna, until you get another job. In the meantime, you can let the apartment go and hold onto what money you have left."

The idea, while kind of scary to me, did make sense, so I said, "I'll think about it, Mom."

"Well, I want you to seriously consider it, sweetie. Please, promise me."

"OK," I said, and after we hung up, I poured some wine for myself and went to the window. I hated the thought of giving this place up.

But what choice did I have? I wouldn't be able to afford it in another month anyway, so it would be better if I left rather than being evicted for non-payment of rent.

"Damn, I can't believe this is happening," I said as I paced the apartment. "This is so not what I had planned."

***

"I can't believe you're really going," Melinda said to me as we stood inside of my apartment, the movers taking the last of the boxes to the truck. Luckily, I had found someone to sublet my apartment, so I didn't have to worry about that, but still, it hurt leaving this place. I took a look around the empty room and sighed.

"So much for my big city dreams. Now, it's back to Nowhere Land," I said, using the nickname I had made up for my hometown in Indiana.

"But you'll be back, right?" Melinda asked, looking worried.

"Yeah, of course. I'll only be there a short while. Hopefully, something will come up soon."

"I'm going to miss you so much, Anna. You could have moved in with me, you know," Melinda said, tears beginning to form in her eyes.

"Dave is moving in with you. There'd be no room. Now, don't start crying right now. I really can't take it. You're going to have me bawling like a baby. I have to be strong," I said, taking a deep breath and holding back the tears that were threatening to pour out of me.

"I'm sorry. It's just going to be so lonely without you around."

"No, don't say that. You've got Dave." I shook my head.

"Yeah, but he's not you. I can't talk to him about the stuff you and I talk about."

"I know, but we'll talk on the phone every day, and in no time at all, I'll be back," I said, trying to be brave. I had to believe that I would be back soon, very soon. It was the only way I could go through with this whole thing.

"OK, if you say so," Melinda said, wiping her eyes. "So, is there anything else I can do?"

"Nope, that's everything," I said, gesturing around the empty apartment, which now seemed so huge without all the furniture inside.

"Listen, Melinda. Do you mind if I have a minute alone? Just me and the apartment," I asked, trying to smile.

"Sure, I'll be downstairs waiting." Melinda and I were going back to her place tonight, and tomorrow, she would be dropping me at the airport.

When she left, I walked around the room and sighed. "Goodbye, apartment. I'm really going to miss you, more than you know," I said out loud, and then I laughed. Missing an apartment? Had I lost my mind? Apparently so, if I was now talking to an empty apartment. What had gotten into me?

I walked around, lost in my thoughts. This was the end for me. I still couldn't believe it. My life as I knew it had been ripped out from under me in one fell swoop. The whole thing felt surreal and very scary. I had no idea how it would be living back home with my parents.

"Well, at least I can catch up on my sleep. There's not much else I can do," I said, walking into the bedroom. An object on the gleaming hardwood floor caught my eye, and I bent to pick it up.

It was a diamond earring I had bought for myself six months ago. I figured a girl needed to treat herself every now and then, especially since I didn't have a man to lavish gifts upon me.

"It must have fallen out of my jewelry box. Damn, this is expensive. I can't afford to lose it." I shook my head, thinking I could pawn the earring if I ever got into serious trouble. "I hope the other earring is OK," I said, placing it into my purse and walking out of the room.

I walked back into the living room, took one last look at the street outside, and sighing heavily, I walked to the door and out of the apartment. I was leaving all this behind and beginning a new life. It terrified me. What was I getting myself into?

# Chapter Three

It felt surreal as I walked through the door after my mom. She had just picked me up from the airport, and now we were home, my childhood home.

"Everything is always the same around here," I said, walking into the living room that hadn't changed in 20 years. My parents still had the same green, upholstered couch and matching green chairs. The same dark coffee table was in front of the sofa, and the walls, in my opinion at least, were still boring and beige with pictures of family and friends.

"Well, you know you're dad and I don't like change," her hazel eyes crinkling at the corners as she gave me a big smile.

"Yeah, I know, Mom, but still, you could update some things around here."

"Why get rid of what we have? It's a waste of money. Anyway, why don't you go up to your room and get settled. I'll start dinner." My mom kissed me on the cheek and turned towards the kitchen.

"OK, Mom, sounds good." I walked up the beige-carpeted stairs. My room was at the end of a long hallway, and when I closed the door behind me, I stood against it and sighed. This was going to be tougher than I thought.

I shook my head as I looked around the room. It too hadn't changed. My room was still occupied by the same light oak dresser and matching night table. My bed was still covered in a light blue comforter, and several porcelain dolls were on shelves around the room.

I smiled when I saw the dolls. I had loved collecting porcelain dolls. Maybe I should bring them back to the city when I returned, I thought, going up to one and running my fingers down its curly, dark hair.

"God, this is so weird," I said, looking at my reflection in the mirror. I can't believe I'm really here, but I guess I better make the most of it."

***

"So, Anna, it's great to have you back," Dad said, smiling at me from across the long, pine table.

"Thanks, Dad, but I probably won't be here long. As I said to Mom, it's only a matter of time until I find another job."

"I know you can't wait to get back to your fancy city life," Dad said, shaking his head, which was covered with gray hair.

"It's not a fancy city life, Dad. I just happen to love living in the city. You know me. I've never been much of a small town girl."

"Yeah, but ever since you moved away we never get to see you," Dad said.

"Well, I tried to come home as much as I could, but I was busy. You guys could have come to see me too."

"Yeah, but you know your father, Anna," Mom said, winking at me. "He hates travelling to New York City."

"I'm here now, so let's make the best of it."

"That sounds good, Anna, and I was thinking," Dad said, his blue eyes studying me intently.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Well, maybe you could get a job while you're here. I know it wouldn't be anything fancy, but it would give you some spending money."

"I don't know, Dad. Like I said, I don't expect to be here long."

"Your dad makes a good point, dear. You'll feel better if you're bringing in some money, and plus, it'll keep you busy," my mom said, pushing a stray piece of her short brown hair out of her face.

"That's true. There's not much to do around here."

"So, start applying to places. I hear the feed supply store is looking for help," Dad suggested.

I chuckled. The feed supply store? How unglamorous. I worked in the corporate world of marketing. A feed supply store would be the furthest thing from my old job.

"I know what you're thinking, Anna. You think you're too good to work there. But it's just a job until you get back to New York. Don't knock it," Dad said.

"Yes, I know, Dad. You're right. I guess I could go over there tomorrow and speak to them."

"That's the spirit."

***

As I was getting ready to go over to the feed supply store, I automatically dressed in my work clothes, a dark, pencil skirt and a white silk blouse and high heels.

My Dad had already left for work. He was an accountant at a small company in town, but Mom greeted me when I walked into the kitchen.

"You look great, Anna. Where are you going?" Mom asked.

"I'm going to the feed supply store, like we talked about yesterday. At least working will keep my mind off of my depressing life."

"Stop talking like that. Your life isn't depressing. You have a great life." Mom smiled at me and handed me a cup of coffee.

"A great life? I moved back in with my parents. That's not exactly something to be proud of, Mom."

"I'm just saying that you shouldn't be so hard on yourself, Anna. Your father and I are very proud of you. We really are."

"Thanks, Mom." I stood in front of the granite counter in the middle of my parents' kitchen and sipped my coffee. "Anyway, I had forgotten how good your coffee was. I missed it."

"Thanks, dear."

"Would you like to eat something, Anna?"

"No, Mom. You know I've never been big on breakfast." I finished the last of my coffee and said, "Well, I should get going."

"So, you're going to the feed store like that?" Mom asked, frowning.

"Why? What's wrong?" I looked down at myself and thought I looked good.

"No, no. There's nothing wrong. It just seems, though, that you're kind of overdressed." Mom put her hands up, shrugging.

"Oh. So, you think this is too much?"

"Maybe just a little, sweetie."

"I guess I should go change then. Thanks, Mom." I walked away, shaking my head. Of course, I was overdressed. What was I thinking? I wasn't going into a corporate office. I was going to a feed store.

I hurriedly changed into dark slacks and a dark blouse, and then I went back downstairs. "Better, Mom?"

"Much better. Although, you could probably wear jeans." My mom said.

"Well, I think I'll just wear this outfit. Anyway, can I borrow the car?"

"Of course." Mom handed me the keys and I left the house. When I got into the car, my hands started clenching the wheel. I was actually a little nervous. What did I know about working in a feed store? I needed to calm down, so I called Melinda.

"Anna? How are things? Are you OK?" Melinda sounded worried and I couldn't help laughing.

"Of course I'm OK." I told her about going to the feed store and when I was done, I sighed. "Pretty pathetic, right, Melinda?"

"It's not pathetic. You're doing what you have to, Anna. I admire you for getting out there and doing that. You've been so tough throughout all of this."

"Well, I'm not feeling very tough. Inside, I'm nervous. I don't know how to act or anything. What do I say to the people at the store?"

***

I pulled up to the store and groaned. "I can't believe I'm really doing this," I said, looking at my reflection and smoothing down my long hair. Then, before I could change my mind, I got out of the car and walked to the door, passing a man going the opposite direction and carrying several bags in his arms.

I smiled and walked past him, entering a dimly lit room with a long, wooden counter at the front. An older man with white hair stood behind the counter talking to a younger man who was very tall, well over six feet.

The young man was laughing at something the older man had said, and when I walked up to them, the man behind the counter smiled.

"Hey, pretty lady. How can I help you?"

"Hi, I heard you were looking for help," I said, plastering a smile on my face.

"Yes, we are. We're just looking for someone to work behind the counter. Of course, we'll have you doing other little errands as well, but it's fairly simple. Have you ever worked a cash register?"

"Well, it's been a while since I've done anything like that. Oh, here's my resume, by the way." I reached into my briefcase and pulled it out, handing it to the man behind the counter.

He chuckled and said, "Very impressive, but I don't need to see a resume. You look like you're not from around here. What brings you to town?"

"Actually, I grew up here. My parents still live here." I told the gentleman my parents' names, and he said, "Oh, yes, I think I've spoken to your father before. OK, so what brings you back here?"

Not wanting to get into anything, I said, "I'm just making some changes in my life." I was hoping we could go somewhere to talk.

"Well, Anna," the man said, looking down at my resume. "You seem like a smart young woman, so I think we can offer you the job. Oh, and by the way, my name is Doug. I own the place with my wife Darla. Can you start tomorrow?"

That's it? I wanted to blurt out, but instead, I just smiled and said, "Sure, tomorrow is good for me."

"Good, then come in around 8, and we'll get you trained. It won't take long."

"OK, sounds good." After we set up a time to meet, I started to turn away, but the man stopped me and said, "And Anna, you don't have to dress up around here. Jeans and a tee-shirt are just fine."

The handsome man standing in front of the counter chuckled and I felt my face getting hot from the blush that was beginning to spread over it.

I wasn't really dressed up, I thought. I had changed out of my earlier outfit, but apparently, I was still overdressed. I felt like such a fish out of water, but there was nothing to be done.

Doug's voice broke into my thoughts. He said, "Oh, and by the way, this is James. He's one of our best customers. You'll be seeing James around here a lot."

James offered his hand, and when our fingers met, I felt an instant connection. Perhaps it was the combination of his good looks and confidence. I can't really say, but whatever it was, I reacted strongly to him. I quickly pulled my hand away and took a deep breath. What was wrong with me?

"Well, nice to meet you, Anna. Talk to you later, Doug." James turned around and confidently strode out of the store.

I looked away and smiled at Doug. "Anyway, I look forward to starting work. Thank you so much for giving me this opportunity."

"See you tomorrow," I said, walking out of the store and expelling a huge breath of air. OK, one thing down. I now had a job to occupy my time and give me some spending money. Now, I just needed to hear back from a marketing firm in New York.

# Chapter Four

"Congratulations, Anna," my dad said to me that evening as we sat at the dinner table.

"Well, it was pretty easy. I'll say that. I was surprised they hired me on the spot, but I guess that's how it's done around here."

"So, you still planning on going back to the New York?" My mom frowned when she said the words.

"Mom, of course. You know that?"

"I don't know. I just like having you around here. It gets lonely without you."

"Um, Donna, you have me," Dad said, shaking his head.

"Yeah, I know, Bill, but you can't make up for Anna. She's my little girl."

"Oh, you two." I laughed at my parents. They could be cute at times, I thought, trying to look on the bright side.

After we finished our meal, I helped my mom clean up and then I said, "I think I'm going to take a walk, get some fresh air."

"Yeah, you don't get that in the city, do you?" Dad asked.

"Dad, be nice." I went outside, walking towards the woods. My parents' home was situated on forty acres of land, much of it forest, and when I had been young, I loved walking through the trees and being alone with my thoughts.

It really was beautiful out here, I thought, walking towards the tall pines and oaks that filled the woods. A full moon was out tonight, so it lit my way perfectly.

"God, I forgot how peaceful and relaxing this was," I said out loud, walking over the hard dirt and breathing in the crisp, clear air. The stresses of the last few days and weeks began to slip away as I walked through the magical woods.

"I could stay out here forever," I said, looking up at the stars which twinkled in the clear sky.

Suddenly, I felt that everything would be OK. All my worries began to dissipate and I felt, no, I knew, that I would be fine. There must have been a reason for all of this happening, and I would come out of it better than ever.

Looking down at my phone, which I always carried, I realized it was later than I realized. I had lost track of time. I had better get back home, I thought to myself. Tomorrow was a busy day.

My mom looked worried as I walked into the door.

"Where were you?"

"Just walking, Mom. You know me. I always enjoyed walking."

"Yeah, I know. I was just worried."

I walked upstairs to my room, and all of a sudden, I was nervous again. I had never worked in a feed supply store, but how difficult could it be, I reasoned. Surely, my old marketing position took a lot more skills. I just needed to relax and do this. Once the first day was over, I would feel a lot better about things.

***

"Ah, Anna, so glad to see you," Doug said as I walked into the store the next morning. Today, I wore a pair of jeans and a simple tee-shirt, and I noticed him smiling as he eyed my outfit.

"I see you're already getting used to things around here."

"I guess so. So, do you need me to fill out paperwork before we get started?"

"That would be great," said a female voice from behind me. I turned to see a petite woman with short grey hair standing there. "I'm Darla by the way."

"Oh, hi. Nice to meet you."

"Well, why don't you come with me, Anna?" Darla asked. We can go over things in here, she said, leading me to a small room in the back of the store.

Two metal desks with folding chairs took up most of the room, and a coffee pot was on a small wooden counter. Several cups sat nearby.

"Have some coffee if you'd like," Darla said, motioning to the pot, and me, needing my caffeine, gladly took her up on her offer.

Darla placed some paperwork on one of the desks. "Here you go, Anna. We just need this so we can get your checks made out to you. We pay every Friday. Did Doug go over the pay with you?"

"No, he didn't," I said, realizing that I had no idea what I was being paid. What an idiot, I thought to myself.

"Well, it's not much, but after you've been here 90 days, we will give you a raise." She mentioned a number that was well beneath what I was used to receiving, but I just smiled, gritting my teeth. What did I expect? This was a small feed store, not a Madison Avenue marketing firm.

"OK, I'll leave you alone while you fill out the paperwork. I'll be back in a few minutes." Darla waved, and when she was gone, I sighed. God, I couldn't believe that this was now my life, I thought, settling onto the hard, metal chair and beginning to fill out the forms in front of me.

***

"It's lunchtime, Anna. Why don't you go grab a bite to eat?" Darla asked me. I was standing behind the counter after helping ring up some purchases for a customer.

I walked out from behind the counter, grabbed my purse and started for the door. I wasn't really paying attention and almost walked into James, who placed his arms out and said, "Hey, be careful."

"Oh, sorry," I said, not wanting to meet his eyes. A blush was beginning to spread over my face. Damn, I was making a fool of myself around this gorgeous man.

"No problem. So, how's your first day going?" James asked.

"It's been going well. I'm just going to take a little lunch break.

"Well, I don't want to take you away from your break. Go have fun. I'll see you around," James said, breaking into my thoughts.

"OK, great." I walked out of the store, and when I was in my car, I immediately called Melinda.

"How's it going, Anna? Do you like the job?"

"It's OK, nothing special or anything. Anyway, I have to tell you about this guy I met. He's really hot."

"Wow! He really must be something. I never hear you getting excited about men. You're always too busy with other things."

"I know, but maybe because I don't have a lot going on, I'm starting to wake up.

"Maybe he'll eventually ask you out," Melinda said.

"I doubt it. A guy like him is probably married. Anyway, I just wanted to talk to you. I'm on my lunch break."

I was still sitting in my car, which was parked at the curb in front of the store. "I should probably get going. I'm going to try to get some coffee. The coffee at work is not the greatest. My morning cup tasted like it had been burning in the pot for hours. My poor stomach couldn't handle it. God, I miss the city."

"Well, I miss you. I can't wait until you're back here again, Anna."

"Yeah, me too. It's so strange being here." I looked out of the window, spotting James leaving the store and carrying a large, white sack.

"I better go. The guy I was telling you about just left. He probably thinks I'm waiting around for him. I feel weird. I'll call you later," I said, hurrying Melinda off the phone and starting the car up.

It was too late, however. James had already spotted me and was approaching my car. I opened the window as he came closer and smiled sheepishly.

"What are you still doing here, Anna? I thought you were grabbing a bite to eat."

"I was. I just..." All of a sudden, I felt at a loss for words. This man made me feel uncomfortable like no one ever had. What was it about him?

"Hey, you OK?" James asked, putting the sack onto the curb.

"Yeah, I'm fine. My friend was on the phone. We were catching up, so I kind of got carried away with the conversation. Anyway, I should be going. I'm sure I'll see you around." I waved and put the car into drive and without saying anything further, pulled away.

Sighing, I drove down the street towards the diner. Damn, I really needed to get a grip. I was a professional woman. Why was I acting like such an idiot around this James guy? What was happening to me? I used to be so in control. Now, I couldn't even hold a simple conversation with a handsome man without feeling embarrassed.

# Chapter Five

"Anna, we're very happy with your work around here," Doug said to me one morning. It was a few weeks after I started at the feed store, and I was getting accustomed to the place and getting to know all the customers. In addition, I found myself looking forward to work, especially since James was often there.

"Thanks, Doug. I appreciate that." I smiled, seeing James entering the store.

I had gotten better in his presence. I no longer acted like a young schoolgirl and was able to hold normal conversations with him. We chatted whenever he came in, and he told me a little about his ranch. He was easy to talk to, and I found him a pleasant surprise. He was not only handsome, but a nice person too.

"You are really getting used to things around here. You've become a regular part of this place, quite different from a few weeks ago," James said, leaning in front of the counter.

"Yeah, I was just getting acclimated to being back here. The whole thing has been a bit of an adjustment," I said, thinking that's putting it mildly.

"Yeah, it's tough moving from the city, I'm sure. But you have to admit, Anna, it's pretty nice out here. You don't get this kind of beauty and quiet in the city."

"You're right. Believe me, I realize that there are a lot of great things about this place. For instance, I've begun walking in the woods again. I used to do that all the time when I was young. It's also nice to not have to worry about being robbed when you're out for a nightly walk." I laughed and James joined me.

"When I left here, I never thought I'd move back. High school seems so long ago. Funny, though, I don't remember you, James."

"Well, I didn't remember you at first, Anna, but then it hit me. You were a cheerleader. You were a year younger than me, but I used to see you around."

"Oh, wow. I'm sorry," I said. "I don't remember you. I feel terrible."

"No, don't feel bad. I was kind of a geeky kid back then. Kind of forgettable."

I highly doubted that, but I kept my mouth shut. "Well, I'm just glad I know you now. It's been great to have someone my age to talk to. Lately, all I do is hang out with my parents and Darla and Doug. It's not a lot of fun," I said, and then began to feel self-conscious. Did James think I was asking him out? I didn't want to give that impression.

"I'm not asking you out or anything. That's not my intention, believe me."

James looked at me strangely after the words came out of my mouth, and he said, "OK, no problem."

Had I insulted him? That wasn't my intention either, so I said, "I'm sure you're busy with other things."

"Yeah, sure." James looked at me, seeming as if he wanted to say something, but I continued on.

"Anyway, I'm sure you have a wife, right?"

James was quiet for a moment, and then said, "No." He looked up at the ceiling as if lost in thought and then he turned back to me. "Well, what about your old friends from school? Have you talked to any of them?"

"The people I hung around with moved away from here too. Anyway, I'm fine, and I don't want to get too used to things around here. I mean, I will be leaving again after I get another job."

"So, New York is the place for you, huh?"

"Yeah, I don't know how to describe it, but there's just something about that city that gets my blood pumping and excites me."

James said, "Yeah, I can tell. You get the biggest grin on your face when you talk about it. Well, I hope you'll get back there soon. You deserve to be happy."

"Thanks, James. I appreciate you saying that."

"Well, I'd better be going. I'll be back later. You said the supplies I ordered should be in by then?"

"Yeah, that's what Doug said."

***

I was finishing up with work, and the day was getting darker and darker as it wore on. "That big storm is coming up faster than I thought. It's not looking good," Doug said, and just then, a booming, crackling sound of thunder erupted from above.

"Yeah, I had forgotten about the storms around here." I looked out the window and saw a bolt of lightning split the sky. "That's one thing I didn't miss." I commented.

Just then, Darla walked out from the back office, saying, "James just called. He can't get here to pick up the supplies. He asked if we could drop them off on our way home."

"Yeah, I can get Ben to do that," Doug said, referring to one of the young men who worked in the warehouse area in the back.

"No, don't worry about it," I said. After spending a lot of time chatting with James, I had learned where he lived. His property happened to be one I passed everyday on my way home, so I thought I could help out. Plus, I kind of liked the idea of seeing James at his ranch.

"I go right by there, Doug. I can drop off the supplies. Just ask Ben to put them in the trunk of my car."

"You don't mind doing this, Anna?" Doug looked at me uncertainly.

"No, I'd be happy to do this. But hurry. I want to get going before the rain starts."

"OK, thanks, Anna."

"I'll talk to you guys later," I said, pulling away and heading to James's place. He lived on an old dirt road, and his driveway was several miles down. When I reached it, my heart started beating a little faster in anticipation of seeing him.

As I drove down his long, graveled driveway, I began clenching the wheel in anxiety. Hopefully, James wouldn't mind me dropping the supplies off, I thought, my stomach now churning.

The driveway was about a quarter of a mile long, and I took that time to take several deep breaths. Eventually, I came to a large farmhouse.

As I got out of the car, James stepped out of the house, saying, "Doug called me. He said you'd be bringing the supplies. Thank you so much. I really appreciate it."

"Oh, sure. No problem." I expelled a breath of air. James seemed happy to see me, so I opened the trunk and James began to take the sacks out.

When I tried to help, James said, "No, don't bother. These sacks are heavy. I don't want you hurting your back. I wanted to drive in myself, but I found a hole in the fencing that was fairly substantial. I needed all hands, including myself, and I couldn't make it down before the store closed.

"Oh, wow. So, is everything OK now?"

"Yeah, the guys are just finishing up, and we just rounded up the last wandering cattle," James said, chuckling. At that moment, a man came from the direction of the barn and began helping James with the sacks.

James said, "Why don't you go inside the house, Anna? It's going to start raining any minute."

As I walked into the house, another thunderous crackling exploded from the sky, and I jumped. I walked into his living room, clenching my hands and trying to calm down.

He had a large, leather sofa and a leather ottoman sat in front of it. Several leather chairs were next to the couch and a fireplace was in one corner. The floor was hardwood and covered with several dark rugs.

"So, thank you again," James said, coming into the living room and smiling at me.

"Oh, no problem." I looked out the window and rain was pouring out of the sky. "Damn, it's really coming down."

"Yeah, why don't you stay here for now, Anna? Wait until it clears up."

"Well, I don't want to impose on you or anything..."

"You're not," James interrupted. You just did me a big favor, now let me return the favor. Stay awhile and have some dinner with me."

"I guess I could do that. Let me just call my parents and let them know where I am," I said, starting to chuckle.

"What is it?"

"I'm just not used to checking in with my parents. It's tough getting back into that frame of mind," I said, pulling my phone out and explaining the situation to my mom.

Once I had hung up, James said, "The weather channel just issued a tornado warning, Anna," he said, pointing to the large screen TV he had turned on.

"Oh, wow! Just what I needed, a tornado."

"I'm sure it'll be fine. You remember how it is around here."

"Yeah, I know."

***

"You OK, Anna?" James asked, after coming back from the kitchen and handing me a glass of wine.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just hate these storms. So, anyway," I said, curling my legs up under me on James's couch. "Tell me more about you. We have the time. Lots of it," I said, pointing to the dark, stormy skies outside.

"Well, there's not much to tell. I took over the ranch from my father. I love it. It's a part of who I am."

"That's great. I admire you for that. You're doing what you love."

"Well, what about you? Haven't you been doing what you love since high school?"

"Well, I worked my butt off in college just so I could graduate early, and I got the job of a lifetime, but now," I shrugged. "I lost it all."

"Hey, don't say that about yourself. It sounds like you put a pretty good life together. It's not your fault your company laid you off."

"Yeah, but I feel like a failure." I took a sip of wine. "I mean, you have your own successful ranch, and you have your own home, but what do I have? Nothing. I mean I have a degree, but it means nothing, apparently. I work in a feed store."

"Come on, Anna. Don't talk like that. I for one am happy you work in that feed store." James's blue eyes twinkled.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, if you hadn't taken that job, I wouldn't have gotten to know you. It's been great being able to talk with you, Anna."

"Really?" I asked.

"Uh, yes." James chuckled.

# Chapter Six

I woke up and looked around, the strange bed startling me for a moment. Then it all came back to me. I had spent the night with James because the storm hadn't eased up, and he had graciously offered me his bed.

As I sat up, I groaned, holding my head. I had a headache, but that was probably from the wine I had consumed the night before. I had drunk more than normal, trying to calm myself during the storm, which had caused the house to lose electricity.

James had made the best of it, though. He had lit the place with candles, which gave it a romantic atmosphere, and I started to relax as the night wore on. We ended up chatting until the wee hours of the night.

As I got out of the bed, I walked to James's dresser and looked in the mirror. I looked a mess, my eyes were a little bloodshot and my hair was straggly.

Damn, I didn't have any makeup with me, I thought self-consciously, going to the bathroom and washing up. I was wearing a long tee-shirt James had lent to me the night before, so that I wouldn't have to sleep in my clothes. I quickly changed back into my clothes before joining James in the kitchen.

"Hey, there you are. Did you sleep OK?" James asked as I entered the room. He was at the stove, frying up eggs and what looked like ham, and the scents wafted over to me.

"Thank you. I slept great." I sat at a stool in front of the long counter in the center of the room and James brought me a cup of coffee.

"Oh, thank you so much," I said, stirring cream and sugar into it and taking a quick gulp. "Very good, James. I'm impressed."

"Thank you, and breakfast is coming right up. How do you like your eggs?"

"Over hard would be great."

"I had a good time with you, James. It was a lot of fun."

"Yeah, I will call it our storm party."

"Yeah, I guess it was. Well, you've just been great. I can't thank you enough, but I guess I should be going."

"Uh, that's not going to work. I've been up for a while, checking on things. The road out of here is blocked with a fallen tree, and the intersection at Maple is completely flooded out. Tom and Jose, two of my ranch hands, texted me this morning. They haven't been able to get here. That means you won't be able to leave yet. I'm sorry."

"Oh, well. I guess I can help you with things around here," I said, kind of happy that I couldn't leave. I really wanted to stay.

"Well, I'll put you to work," James said, smiling.

***

The day had flown by and now, it was early evening. I had spent the day helping James around the ranch, helping him feed the cattle, helping him with the horses, and he had even taken me for a horseback ride, something I hadn't done in years.

I sighed when I thought about how he had helped me off the horse. I was in his arms, his face so close, and my heart had begun racing, hoping he would kiss me. Unfortunately, he had let go. Did he feel anything for me, I wondered. I sure was feeling things for him.

It was getting tough. I really wanted this man. James's voice broke into my thoughts, saying, "I had a great day, Anna." We were both on the couch, our legs touching, and I turned to James, needing him to kiss me at that moment.

"I did too, James." I said, reaching out and patting his shoulder. Suddenly, James leaned in close to me, and his lips found mine.

It felt exquisite, and butterflies began fluttering in my stomach. This man's lips were electric, and I melted under the feel of them.

"Anna, I hope this is OK," James said, pulling away, and I couldn't help it. I had to laugh.

"This is more than OK," I said, pulling him to me again, and soon, we were both caught up in the kiss. It was wonderful, everything I could have wanted, and soon, I felt James's finger moving down my arm, and I shivered at his touch and pressed myself closer to him.

His fingers kept moving downwards, and then they trailed back up, reaching the top of my shoulder. Then, for just a moment, they stopped, and James pulled away from the kiss. "Are you sure you're OK with this?" he asked.

"I'm more than OK." I smiled at him and James's finger slipped under my shirt and found my bra. He began rubbing my nipple through it, and I exploded inside. It had been so long, far too long, since a man had touched me, and my body immediately responded.

My nipple hardened and my insides became wet, and I moaned from the sheer pleasure. "Ah, Anna, you feel so good," he said, continuing to rub my nipple very gently through the fabric of my bra.

"Well, you have no idea how good that feels." I said, and at that moment, James's finger slipped under the bra, feeling my skin, and I almost jumped. It was too much. His finger found my nipple, and he began rubbing it again.

"Oh, that feels wonderful, James." I said, leaning my head back and allowing the sensation to overtake me.

"Well, you feel wonderful." He pulled his finger out and started to rise from the couch, pulling me with him.

"Come here," he said, leading me to the thick rug in front of the fireplace. As he did so, he began removing his shirt, and I almost gasped at his rock hard chest and abdomen. His broad shoulders accentuated his tight waist and he looked perfect to me, my dream man.

I reached over and began stroking his chest, saying, "Wow! You have quite the body."

"I try." He shrugged and said, "Can I see yours?"

All of a sudden, I was shy. I was nowhere near as perfect as James, and I hesitated, looking down at the floor.

James seemed to read my mind because he said, "I think you're beautiful, Anna. Please, don't feel self-conscious around me." His eyes looked deeply into mine, asking me to trust him, and I decided I would.

I took off my top, removed the bra and stood in front of James, who reached out and began caressing my breasts. "You are even more beautiful than I thought. God, Anna, I want you so much."

"I want you too," I said, leaning up and kissing him. James continued to caress my breasts and his sweet lips kept kissing mine, and it was all too wonderful.

I became lost in the moment, but then, James pulled away and began tugging at his jeans. I watched expectantly as he pulled them down, removed his boxers, and revealed his manhood.

Again, I was amazed. His manhood was not only long, but quite thick, and I couldn't wait to feel it inside of me, filling me up.

I reached out and began stroking the long shaft, and James moaned. "Oh, that feels good. It's been so long."

I smiled, continuing to stroke, my fingers moving from the tip to the end of his long shaft and back again, but James stopped me after several moments. "If you keep doing that, I'm going to come. Let me see you."

I removed my jeans and panties, not self-conscious anymore, and James helped me to the rug, and when we were lying next to each other, he reached out a finger and placed it inside of my wet spot.

"You feel so hot, Anna," he said, finding my clit. I gasped at the unbelievable sensation and let him continue to stroke my clit, feeling the waves of pleasure passing over me and getting wetter and wetter by the minute. This was just too good, I thought, reaching over and playing with James's manhood again.

Several minutes, later, on the verge of orgasm, James pulled his finger out of me. "I want to feel myself inside of you, Anna."

"Please do," I said, watching as he grabbed his member and gently guided it into me. My insides were sore for just a moment as his large member filled me up, but when he started pumping away, I forgot everything but the wonderful sensation.

James reached out a finger at the same time and began playing with my clit, and the whole thing was too much for me, way too much. I couldn't help myself. I gave myself up to the amazing orgasm that awaited me, and James was right behind me.

Afterwards, wiping the sweat from his face, James said, "That was wonderful, Anna"

"Yes, it was. I can't even tell you." I laid in James's arms, smiling. This was just what I had needed, but now, I began to have doubts.

I was falling for James, and that was the last thing I needed right now. I would be going to Manhattan again. I couldn't afford to let myself have feelings for this man. What had I gotten myself into?

### Thank you for reading!

## Please visit your favorite eBook retailer to view the next books in the "Romancing The Cowboy Series"
Voyage With The Billionaire

by

Sarah Miller
Copyright © 2017 by Sarah Miller

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Voyage With The Billionaire

All rights reserved.

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. No part of this work may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording and faxing, or by any information storage and retrieval system by anyone but the purchaser for their own personal use.

This Book may not be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of Sarah Miller, except in the case of a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages for the sake of a review written for inclusions in a magazine, newspaper, or journal—and these cases require written approval from Sarah Miller prior to publication. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.

# Chapter One

As I stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around me, I found his bare back directly before me. He was in front of the mirror, lathering his face with shaving cream under what looked like intense concentration.

"Morning," I offered quietly.

He gave me a soft grunt in response and the smallest hint of an unwilling smile.

I hovered by the edge of the shower cubicle, tucking the towel around me and allowing my damp, chestnut hair to cause drops of water to run over my shoulders. "You...um...got a busy day?" I asked.

"Yeah," he responded with a shrug.

Things had been like that between us for a long time; I don't know exactly when the shift happened. I guess it must have been a slow slide into monosyllabic, stiff and awkward conversations. But, I was aware that it had been getting worse. Maybe it was me. Maybe I'd been too occupied, maybe I hadn't shown him enough attention or affection. That thought prompted a question: how long had it been? Two months, three? Yes, it must have been three, because it was the night of his brother's birthday party. Since then, it had been like living with a roommate, rather than a husband.

"Hey," I breathed, stepping forward and smoothing my hand over his back. It felt awkward, wrong somehow, but I forced myself to do it nonetheless. After all, it had always seemed so natural and right. It was a blip, that was all, one of those periods that all couples go through. I had to ride out the discomfort, because, if I didn't, things would surely just get worse.

Silently telling myself that this was the man I loved, I tenderly stroked my way down to the base of his spine before leaning forward and kissing his shoulder. It became instantly apparent that I wasn't the only one who felt a sense of unease.

Carl stiffened and his eyes shifted to watch my reflection in the mirror. "What are you doing?" he asked.

Snaking both arms around his waist, I pressed myself to him and met his pale blue gaze in the mirror. "I know it's been a while," I joked, "but don't tell me you've forgotten how."

"I haven't got time," he said flatly, shaking his head and grabbing his razor from the edge of the sink.

"I'm naked under here," I countered. "You're half naked, it doesn't have to take long." In truth, I'd never been a fan of quick fumbles, but, right then, something seemed infinitely better than nothing. In that moment, I needed to feel wanted, alluring, sexy. I needed to feel a connection with him; something to remind me of the fact we loved each other.

However, he seemed to feel very differently placing both hands on my wrists, he removed my arms from around his waist. "Not right now," he muttered.

"Kids are asleep," I pointed out, persisting despite the hurt of what was obviously a rejection.

"Zara, I'm not having this discussion with you. I've got to get to work." As he determinedly stared at his reflection and swept the razor up his face, he didn't even bother to look at me.

"Do you realize how long it's been since we last made love?" I asked quietly, feeling suddenly very cold in our warm bathroom and tugging the towel more tightly around myself.

Carl exhaled and shook his head, as though he were having one of those unending, circular conversations that our three-year-old was so fond of. "I've been very tired, and very busy," he huffed. "Can we talk about this later?"

"We never talk any more," I muttered. "That's the whole point, we don't talk, we don't have sex. It's like living with a stranger."

Finishing his shave with a few angry strokes of the razor, he tossed the foam covered blade down and turned. Swiping a towel from the rail, he rubbed at his face. "What do you want me to say, huh?" he demanded.

"Well..." I mumbled, feeling as though I were being chastised like a naughty child. "I don't know," I admitted, shrugging. "I just want to know what's happening with us. It didn't use to be like this, but for the past six months or so, it's been..."

"What?" he irritably snapped.

"We've been distant," I sighed.

"And that's my fault?" he blurted.

"I didn't say that," I quickly countered. "It's not your fault, I know I've been busy, too. And I guess, we've both taken our eyes off _us_. But I'm trying to make an effort now," I reasoned.

"What part of 'I haven't got time now' did you not understand?" he muttered, rubbing a hand over his short crop of light brown hair. "I've got to get to work," he added, spinning on his heel and striding into the bedroom.

I followed him until I reached the doorway, where I hovered and leaned against the frame. Silent and dejected, I watched him as he scooped up the shirt he'd left on the bed and thrust his arms into it.

"When we first got married, you always had time," I pointed out solemnly.

Tossing his eyes to the ceiling, he buttoned the shirt before tucking it into his charcoal pants. "What do you expect Zara, that the honeymoon would last forever? Real life gets in the way of all that."

"I'd just hoped..." I mumbled, staring at the carpet just in front of his feet. I was frightened that if I looked up I might start to cry, and I knew he'd think me even more foolish for that. "I hoped that we'd still have that spark."

"Marriage, mortgage and kids are pretty effective in killing the spark," he informed me matter-of-factly. "Nobody ever tell you that?"

"Is that really what you think?" I asked, pushing a strand of damp hair off my cheek and tucking it behind my ear. "You think that the spark is dead?"

"It died a long time ago, Zara," he insisted, fastening the cufflinks on his wrists as he moved to the full-length mirror in the wardrobe door.

I knew he was right. I hadn't been able to admit it, not even to myself. But that feeling I'd always used to get around him had gone. And it wasn't just those tingles of excitement – I wasn't naïve enough to think that it would always exist. But something deeper, something more fundamental, just wasn't there when I looked at him. In fact, as I stood on the threshold between our bathroom and bedroom, staring at him as he brushed invisible creases out of his sleeves, I felt...nothing. I wasn't even angry with him. I couldn't stir up any emotional response to the sight of him, and that frightened me.

"Then, maybe," I offered quietly. "Maybe we need to find out whether it can be revived."

"And how do you suggest we do that?" he asked, giving me a cursory glance over his shoulder.

"Perhaps we should spend some time apart," I mumbled softly. I hadn't made a plan to suggest it. I hadn't even known that thought was in my head until the words came tumbling out of my mouth. And once they were released, hovering in the thick atmosphere that hung between us, I waited expectantly for some reaction from him.

What I got was the same apathy I felt when I looked at him. Carl simply shrugged as he turned back to the bed and whipped his jacket from it. "Maybe," he muttered, nodding.

"Temporary...just a short time," I added, the sudden realization of what I'd proposed striking me with cold, harsh reality. Was I seriously implying that we live apart? We'd started dating over a decade before, we'd lived together for eight of those years, and we'd been married for seven. Life without him was a little difficult to remember, a future without him was almost impossible to envisage. He'd become a part of me. As stale as our relationship had become, the complete lack of our relationship was frightening.

"Yeah," he replied, meeting my eyes squarely for the first time...well, the first time in a long time. "I think you've got a point, Zara. Maybe we do need to find out what we mean to each other. This," he sighed, gesturing between us with a weary movement of his right hand, "isn't doing us any good and it's not good for the boys either."

Our children, five-year-old Ethan and three-year-old Max, had been affected by the frosty atmosphere between their parents, I was sure. By trying to muddle through, and hoping that the problem would go away on its own, Carl and I had been hurting not just ourselves, but them as well. And that, I felt sure, was one area of our lives upon which we were both seeing things the same: Carl and I were both devoted to Ethan and Max.

"Yeah," I softly agreed, nodding gently. "So, a trial separation?" I asked, seeking clarification.

"I think it's probably for the best," he said, slipping his arms into his jacket. "We can talk about it more when I got home."

"And when will that be?" I asked, with something that sounded a lot like bitterness creeping into the edge of my voice. I had a feeling I knew what the answer I'd receive; the same one I got almost every day.

"Late, probably," he predictably replied. "I've got a meeting that I know is gonna run past five, and that will probably be followed by a senior management debriefing."

"Alright," I sighed. "Well, I'll just see you when I see you then."

"Yeah," he sighed, turning to the door and walking briskly through it.

My hair still dripping wet, I stood staring wide-eyed at the wall directly in front of me, the wall that bore a silver framed photograph of Carl and me on our wedding day.

Panic gripping my heart, I wondered if I had done the right thing. This was it, it would either help repair our relationship or it would make one (or both) of us realize it wasn't even worth salvaging. How could those smiling people staring back at me have managed to screw things up so royally?

# Chapter Two

Within just two days of that fateful conversation, I found myself back at my parents' house. Fortunately, they only lived a couple of streets from the home I'd shared with Carl, which meant that we both got to see the children every day. Neither of us wanted to use Ethan and Max as weapons to hurt the other, so when it came to splitting their time between the two houses, conversations were amiable. Anything else, however, was simply not spoken about. We didn't even bother to define the details of our separation.

I'd expected surprise on the part of my parents, assuming that they'd seen only the happy facade of my marriage. I'd thought Carl and I had effectively concealed the less blissful side of our relationships. Apparently, we hadn't.

"Can't say I'm shocked," my mom gently said one evening as we shared a couple of glasses of white wine.

Perched on a stool in front of the kitchen's center island, I peered at her curiously, "What do you mean?"

"Sweetheart," she soothed, settling opposite me and refilling my glass. "Things haven't been right between you two for months. I can tell when you're not happy. So..." she added, exhaling slowly. "You want to tell me what's going on?"

With an unknowing shake of my head, I tried to explain what had been happening over the previous weeks and months. When I finished, she was thoughtfully silent as she sipped on her chardonnay. I had wanted to ask what was on her mind, but, in truth, I was frightened to. I didn't want a second opinion to confirm my foreboding sense that my marriage was over. Carl didn't love me anymore; maybe I didn't love him, either. In any event, what we'd shared had managed to slowly disappear right under our very noses.

"Well, you know," Mom eventually said, "spending time apart from your spouse is never a bad thing. It can make you realize just how much that person means to you."

"I hope so," I whispered.

"Hmm," she pensively nodded. "And in the meantime, maybe you should think about having a little vacation," she added, the seriousness in her brow suddenly replaced with a smile that brightened her whole face.

"A vacation?" I repeated. "I don't know if I'm in the mood. Besides, who would I go with?"

"Go on your own," she insisted, sweeping a smooth hand through the dyed blonde bangs that sat upon her forehead. "Before I had you, I used to vacation alone all the time," she continued.

Eyes widening in surprise, I stared at her. That was something she'd neglected to ever say before.

"Even after your father and I were married, I'd sometimes go off for a week," she gabbled, unaware of my incredulity. "Oh, it's so freeing. Gives you a chance to get in touch with yourself, really think about your life and what matters."

Having never even been on a day trip, much less a vacation alone, the thought was intimidating to say the least. And yet, there was some appeal to it. Perhaps it was the excitably way my mom started to recall her own adventures. Or maybe it was that I realized what she'd said was right: if I really wanted to figure out my own messed up head and heart, I needed some quiet solitude.

"Hey," Mom suddenly blurted, spinning on her stool with something that looked a little like a tipsy sway and grabbing her laptop from the counter behind her. "You ever thought about a cruise?" she asked, opening the computer and tapping feverishly at the keys.

"A cruise?" I echoed.

"Yeah," she nodded, her eyes moving over the screen in front of her. "Oh, the Mediterranean," she enthusiastically gushed. "What do you think?" she asked, swiveling the laptop so I could see the photographs of crystal blue waters and stunning coastline.

"It's nice," I offered with a shrug. "But I can't afford it." That statement was, and was not, technically true. I couldn't afford it, but Carl and I still had a joint account and he certainly could. We were still married, so his money was my money. Nevertheless, I had no intention of splurging on a luxury vacation. And, I figured, the money issue alone would be enough to gently but indefinitely cut my mom's ardor for the subject.

It wasn't.

"Don't be ridiculous, your father and I will pay for it," she swiftly responded.

"No, Mom," I insisted, shaking my head. "I don't want you to do that. You and dad have to think about-"

"If you say the future, I'll come round there and smack you," she grinned. "We're not over the hill yet," she added. "And we can afford this, so let us treat you. God knows, you need a little pampering."

Despite myself, I smiled. However, I was still clinging to my aversion of the matter. "What about the boys, I've never been away from them for more than one night before?"

"Honey, the boys will be fine," she insisted. "When Carl's not with them, they'll be here with us. And, sure, they'll miss you, but it won't scar them to be away from you for a few days. And it'll do you the power of good, you'll come back happier and that's great for everyone."

I didn't share her complete confidence in the suggestion that I would come back happier than when I left, but, I supposed, she'd had a point. "Vacationing alone, though?" I mumbled, that concern still weighing at the back of my mind.

"Trust me," Mom insisted bluntly. "It'll be fine. You're a strong woman, Zara. I think being with Carl all this time has made you forget just how tough you can be on your own."

With a doubtful quirk of my head, I looked at her dark brown eyes, which sparkled care of her fourth glass of wine.

"Besides, it's good to do things that scare you from time to time," she continued. "You're worried you're stuck in a rut? Then don't just complain about it, get the hell out!"

***

Nothing else could really be said in reply to my mother's piece of wisdom. Or to put it another way, she wouldn't let me try to argue with her any more.

So, by the end of that week, I was all packed and saying a tearful 'goodbye' to my boys.

As it happened, neither Ethan nor Max seemed too perturbed by the prospect of not seeing their mom for ten days. That stirred up a bizarre mixture of joy, pride and melancholy. They were growing up much faster than I'd realized and were, apparently, losing the need they once had for me.

Carl had an entirely emotionless reaction to the news of my trip, simply acknowledging that it might do me good. I'd hoped that he may say something about missing me, but no other words came from him.

So, that was it. Mom and Dad hustled me to the airport, and I boarded a plane to Barcelona, where I was scheduled to meet the cruise ship.

Europe wasn't completely new to me; Carl and I had been to Paris and the South of France on our honeymoon. I loved all of the rich culture, the striking architecture, and long history attached to the continent. And Spain was no disappointment. Although I didn't have much time to explore the city before meeting the boat, I did ask the cab driver to take a scenic route, and I got to see glimpses of the Sagrada Basilica , the cathedral and Casa Batllo.

Soaking in the sights, the beautiful sun, and the bustle of the city, I managed to forget, for the time being at least, that I was thousands of miles from home and all alone. I still missed my babies, of course, but I was beginning to understand the excitement and freedom Mom had spoken of. It was liberating!

Fittingly, the cruise ship was called Liberty, and she was a colossal craft, with three main restaurants, a casino, a ballroom, thirteen bars, two full-size pools, a gym, a spa, a nightclub and three decks of luxurious and spacious cabins. My mom had neglected to tell me that she had booked me what was essentially a suite, with a balcony and sitting area to go along with the king sized bed.

Making a mental note to mention her extravagance when I called her, I flopped gratefully onto the bed and found myself smiling at the ceiling. It felt good; not just the bed, although it was just about the most airy mattress I'd ever laid on. What felt really good was being away from all the stress. Out there, in the middle of the Mediterranean, I had nothing to worry about, no responsibilities. At that very moment, I could do whatever I chose. And what I chose to do was take a nap.

# Chapter Three

The next morning, feeling refreshed, I headed down to the main restaurant for breakfast, with a new spring in my step. I have to admit, I felt a little self-conscious eating alone, but quickly I came to ignore the slightly pitying looks older women, with husbands and teenaged children, were giving me. Soon, I was simply enjoying my fruit salad and yogurt, as I admired the stunning view from the windows. Unfortunately, that view was often disrupted by people strolling along the deck. But, what I could see of the coastline of Nice, France, was truly beautiful.

Leaning back in my chair, I chewed on a juicy chunk of mango and couldn't help but wonder what Carl was doing. It was a funny kind of thought: both depressing and gratifying all at once. It felt great to be having a good time without him. Hell, it felt great just to be having a good time. I was reminded that I could not only exist, but _live_ without my husband. And, if the cold, hard truth be known, I didn't miss him. I missed the boys, of course. But I didn't miss Carl. That, in and of itself, was the cause of the more somber sensation. After all, shouldn't I have been missing him?

"Excuse me," a bright voice from behind me uttered.

Twisting in my seat, I turned to find a hunky blonde man, who could have been no more than twenty years' old. He wore a white A-shirt under a Hawaiian floral patterned shirt and blue board shorts. With trendily scruffy dark hair and crystal blue eyes, he grinned at me with a perfect set of blindingly white teeth.

"Hi, there," he said. "Um...this may seem like a strange question," he began, "but have you got any plans for when we dock in Monte Carlo?"

"Err..." I hesitatingly replied.

"I'm Blaine," he stated, seeming to realize he'd neglected to introduce himself. "I couldn't help but notice you're alone," he continued. "And I figured maybe-"

"Oh, well," I interjected hurriedly. "I'm married," I pointed out, lifting my left hand, which still bore both my engagement and wedding rings.

His smile widened as he shook his head. "That's not exactly what I had in mind," he chuckled. "Although, you're a very attractive woman," he added hurriedly. "What I actually wanted to ask was whether you'd be interested in joining a scuba class I'm running."

"Oh," I breathed, my cheeks reddening with embarrassment. How could I have possibly thought he was coming on to me? After all, I was almost ten years his senior. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." I babbled. "It's not that I think I'm irresistible or anything," I added. "I just...Well, I just assumed. And I don't know why I assumed, I shouldn't have...obviously."

"It's fine," he assured with a good-natured shrug. "You're a woman on your own, a strange man comes up and starts asking you what you're doing at the next port, it's an understandable mistake."

"Hmm," I responded, hoping to detach myself from the whole, hideous conversation as quickly as possible.

"So, anyway," he chuckled. "How about it?"

"Huh?"

"The scuba," he explained. "I give beginners classes, or if you've dived before, we can do something a little more advanced."

"Oh," I nodded. "Well, I've never been diving."

"You wanna?" he excitedly asked. "I promise it's like nothing else you'll do on this trip. And once you've experienced it, you'll be hooked."

"Well...I...." I awkwardly muttered, trying to think of a good excuse why I couldn't go. In truth, I wasn't turned off by the idea of scuba diving as much as I was perturbed about spending any more time around the young stud I'd just made a fool of myself in front of.

Cocking his head to one side, he flashed me what I guessed was the kind of persuasive smile he used on the whole of the female sex. And I could see why. It worked. "Come on," he urged. "It'll be fun, and I'll take good care of you, I promise."

Remembering what my mom had said about adventure and freedom, and realizing that letting a little embarrassment stop me from doing something, was completely contrary to that ethos, I shrugged. "OK," I sighed.

"Great!" he enthused. "Well, we'll be convening on the harbor when we dock and then heading straight down to Port Hercule and the yacht. You don't need to bring anything other than yourself, and a bathing suit," he said with a subtle lift of one eyebrow, so subtle I couldn't be sure I hadn't imagined it. "Oh, and it's probably a good idea not to bring anything that could be lost in the water, you know, jewelry or watches and stuff. Safer to keep it locked up in your cabin," he added.

"Alright," I nodded.

"Good," he replied, mirroring the movement of my head. "I look forward to seeing you this afternoon...." he lingered over the word, lifting the syllable as if it held a question. It was a question that took me a few seconds to comprehend.

"Oh, Zara," I breathed, offering him my hand.

"Look forward to seeing you then, Zara," he said, extending his own fingers toward mine and taking them firmly. As he kept hold of my hand, he leaned forward slightly. "By the way, if you weren't married," he said in a hushed tone, "I totally would."

Jaw dropping open slightly, I was sure I must have misheard, but I didn't get a chance to ask him to repeat it, because by the time my brain had caught up with my tongue, he'd already slipped his hand from mine and was strolling back the way he'd come from.

It would be a complete lie to say there was no part of me that wasn't flattered by the comment. Sure, it had been coarse and without even a hint of romance. But, it had been so long since I'd felt like the object of someone's desire, that even that small crumb of acknowledgment was a balm to my wounded ego. Of course, knowing that he was young and hot, and could probably have his pick of younger women than me, didn't hurt either. Although, I have to admit, it occurred to me that he was the kind of guy who enjoyed getting as much sex as he could; which generally meant not being too picky about who it was with.

Nevertheless, he hadn't said what he said in the hopes of getting anywhere. 'If you weren't married...' those were his words. So, as I finished my fruit and tried to decide if I even knew what scuba diving was, I determined to stop analyzing Blaine's comment to death and accept it as a compliment.

***

The heat in Monte Carlo was sweltering.

Blaine had a small minivan loaded with all his equipment, but when he told the dozen or so of us that there was no air conditioning in it, most of us opted to walk the five hundred and fifty yards to the marina. When we got there, we were directed to a yacht called the 'Banque Populaire'. It wasn't long until we were hustled aboard.

During the short journey out to open water, Blaine went through a detailed safety briefing, explaining how the oxygen tank operated, teaching us several hand signals we might need to communicate while under. He then repeated the warning he'd given me about jewelry, which prompted me to double-check my left hand and earlobes – I'd left what little jewelry I did wear in the cabin's safe. Finally, we were shown how to get into the wet suit. That was an experience all in itself. Even though I chose to wear one of the 'shortie' suits, which stopped at the elbow and the knee, getting into it was still one of the most difficult things I'd ever had to do.

But, as it happened, nobody taking the class was an expert, so we were all laughing together. And Blaine was very attentive in helping – especially the ladies, which was, of course, another clue to the kind of guy he was.

After what felt like an eternity of simply listening to the theory of diving, I was loaded down like a pack mule by the oxygen tank and given a ridiculously tight mask, which, I was informed, was _supposed_ to feel like it was cutting off the circulation to my brain. And then, one by one, we were permitted to climb down the steps and enter the water.

The first thing that struck me about diving was how difficult it was to get used to breathing underwater; something that seemed so alien to my body had to be forced to start with. Slowly, however, I stopped having to concentrate on that aspect of the task, and that's when I really started to appreciate the beauty that could be found in the part of our world that was familiar and exotic all at once.

But, with some thirteen people around me, there wasn't much to view beyond wet-suited legs and arms. In search of a more natural encounter, I swam a little way from the group. Then, I swam a little further and, apparently, further still. When I turned back, expecting to see the class behind me...they weren't there.

Alarmed but not panicking, I gradually broke to the surface, spitting out the mouthpiece and lifting the mask from my eyes. Letting the lapping water lull me along its surface, my gaze darted about me. But there was no sight or sound of anyone. Not a person, and not the yacht we'd sailed on, either.

"What the...?" I mumbled. I couldn't understand it, I felt sure I hadn't managed to stray that far from the others. And I certainly couldn't have gone so far as to no longer see the yacht. Unless...the yacht had gone. Was it possible, they'd all returned to the ship and hadn't noticed I wasn't with them?

Panic beginning to well in my stomach, I turned, still searching for a sign of something I knew damn well I wasn't going to see.

"Oh shit," I murmured beneath my breath. "Shit, shit, shit."

The only thing I could spot that I recognized was the faint outline of the port on the horizon. It would be a long swim back, but it was the only option available to me, so with a deep sigh, I began to move in that direction.

With the tank on my back, swimming was made that much harder and, as my progress became slower, I started to get more and more concerned about being stranded.

However, just as tears of frustration and fear were welling in my eyes, I heard the sharp burst of an air-horn behind me. Treading water, I span around and found a huge white yacht some 100 yards from me.

"Help!" I hollered, lifting one hand and waving frantically. On reflection, this all seemed unnecessary – they'd seen me well enough and were just trying to get my attention.

Never having been so grateful in my life, I forced my tired limbs to stroke closer as the yacht continued to move toward me.

# Chapter Four

I was helped aboard the luxury craft by two men. One was a lanky guy of about thirty, wearing canvas shoes and a pair of long shorts. The other was a little older, broad and tan, with dark hair, a bare chest and red, clinging swim shorts. The more well-built of the two, grabbed the strap of the tank as I climbed the steel ladder, and seemed to hoist me up with it. The skinnier guy, took my hand and urged me up with a concerned look in his eyes.

"Are you OK?" he asked.

"Yes," I spluttered, breathing deeply more from relief than from exertion. "Yes, I'm fine, I think."

"What happened?" the other man probed, easing the heavy tank off my back and dumping it down on the deck.

My legs shaky, I clung to the rail for support. "I don't really know," I admitted. "I was with a scuba group and I must have got separated somehow."

Seeming to realize I wasn't sure on my feet, the darker haired man looped an arm around my waist and steered me toward a set of furniture laid out in the middle of the deck. Coaxing me to a chair, he pushed me gently into it. "You know the name of the boat?" he softly inquired.

"Um..." I mumbled, my addled brain struggling to remember my own name, let alone the yacht's. "Oh, it was...erm...Banque Populaire," I said. "But before that, I was on the cruise ship."

The man before me sank to his haunches and placed his hands rather familiarly on my knees. "We can try and get in touch with the yacht," he stated, peering over his shoulder to the slender man.

With an eager nod, and a, "Sure," he assented. The question not needing to be asked of him, he sprinted off through a set of open glass doors and into what looked like a large living space.

"Are you sure you're alright?" the man asked, peering up at me with a solid, strong jaw and dark eyes. "Do you know how long you were in the water?"

"Not really," I admitted. "But I'm fine," I insisted. "Just glad you came along when you did."

"Well, it's no problem," he grinned. "Let's get you out of that suit," he suggested. "I'll go and get you a towel."

Taking slow, deep breaths, I tried to compose myself while he was gone. I felt as though all the blood had drained from my face, and I wasn't entirely sure what had caused it. Yes, I'd been rattled by the fear of being alone in open water. But I realized the man who had rescued me was also rattling me.

It didn't take more than two minutes for him to return with a massive, fluffy bath towel. "Here," he offered, shaking the folds out and wrapping the warm towel around my shoulders.

"Thank you," I replied, noting as I gripped the terry edges that I was shaking even more than I had been while I was in the water. Just shock, I tried to tell myself. Nothing more.

The mysterious man opened his mouth to speak again, but as he inhaled his friend appeared at the doors.

"Skipper got hold of the Banque Populaire," the tall man announced. "The scuba group has gone back to the Liberty."

"Liberty?" the man in red shorts replied.

"The cruise ship," I explained.

"Yeah," the other guy nodded. "Anyway, we contacted the Liberty and she's just pushed off. They won't be docking again until Bastia."

"They know they've left one of their passengers behind?" the other guy bluntly and rhetorically asked.

"Skipper told him," came the reply. "They can't come back, so the young lady will have to catch up with them."

"That's OK," I wearily sighed. "I'll figure something out."

"No, no," the dark-haired man replied. "You don't have to figure anything out. I'll see that you get to Bastia."

"Is that where you're heading?" I asked, surprised by the coincidence.

"No," he replied, grinning. "But that doesn't matter, I'm not going to leave you to find your own way."

Shaking my head, I unwound myself from the towel and got to my feet. "I really couldn't impose on you like that," I stated. "You've done more than enough, thank you. If you could just drop me at Port Hercule, that will be fine."

"Really," the man replied, placing his large smooth hands on my bare forearms, "I insist. You're no imposition, I promise."

"But...I mean..." I stammered. "I've got no clothes, and no money to get anything."

"That's no problem either," he countered, unwilling it seemed to be dissuaded. "We'll make port, and can pick you up a few things in Monte Carlo and then head off to meet the Liberty at Bastia when they dock in...?" As he hovered over the sentence, he twisted his face toward his friend.

"Not for two days, apparently," came the reply, "I guess, they're sailing along the Italian coastline before coming back on themselves."

"I really can't ask you to do that," I replied. "I can just..." my words stumbled to a halt when I realized I had nothing else to say. I could just...what? I couldn't get a hotel, I had no money for clothes, or a taxi much less a plane ticket.

"Come with me," the man said with a gently insistent smile as he draped an arm around my shoulders.

Blithering attempts to argue with him were ignored as he led me into the yacht's stunning main deck. The living area was incredibly spacious with a grand piano in the corner and leather couches on both sides. We passed through swiftly before taking a small set of steps to the upper deck.

His arm still around me, he led me down a corridor and paused when he reached the third door on the left. Pushing it open, he revealed a bedroom that was almost as large as the one I'd left on the Liberty. It wasn't quite a suite, but it was still nicer than any hotel room I'd ever been in.

"You're welcome to stay here," he offered.

"Oh, no, really," I mumbled. "I couldn't."

"You know what," he chuckled. "I think I know why this seems so awkward."

"You do?" I wondered peering at him curiously, the Mediterranean still causing my hair to cling to my forehead. It hadn't occurred to me until then to be concerned with what I looked like, but when I imagined the sight of myself, I couldn't stop thinking what a mess I must have been.

"Yeah," he replied, oblivious to the self-critical thoughts roaming through my mind. "I'm sorry," he sighed. "I'm Gethin Pavetti," he added, offering me his right hand.

"Gethin?" I echoed.

"My Mom's Welsh," he responded with a shrug.

"Pavetti?" I murmured in the same tone. "As in...Pavetti?" I continued. The Pavetti family were huge in real estate; owned complexes all over New York and California and were well known for buying and selling luxury homes for people of similar wealth and means to themselves.

"And you are?" he chuckled.

"I'm sorry," I blurted, quickly taking his hand. "Zara," I told him. "Zara Kane."

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Zara," he said. "Now, we know each other, it's less awkward, right?" he added, with a boyish grin.

There was something about that smile that bothered me; something about it that prompted a feeling in the pit of my stomach that should have been a red flag. "A little," I lied weakly. In truth, it was no less awkward. In fact, it might have been _more_ awkward now I knew I was on the yacht of a multi-billionaire, looking as if I'd just been spat out by the sea.

"Why don't you take a warm shower?" he suggested. "I'll send out for a selection of clothes, and whatever you like is yours."

"You can't-" I began to object, but he was hearing none of it.

"It's already a done deal, Zara. Besides, I'm not in the habit of abandoning women in need of help."

With that he nudged me into the bedroom and closed the door behind him. A brief flash of concern rocked through me: was I being kidnapped? But, even though I didn't know him from Adam, I couldn't bring myself to imagine Gethin as the threatening type without laughing. There was something about him that seemed so...well, nice and normal. If I'd met him in any other circumstances, I would not have imagined him to be the owner of yachts and jets and mansions all over the country.

***

He had meant what he said. He'd ordered almost an entire wardrobe of clothes, and any argument I gave that suggested I didn't need so much just for two days was quickly dismissed. That night, we shared a dinner, during which we talked about all kinds of things...expect anything personal. It wasn't a conscious decision on my part to steer from those areas, but I was glad it worked out that way.

By the time the following morning rolled around, I was amazed at just how comfortable I felt in his company. It was as if I had known him forever. His younger friend, who I eventually found out was named Tom, headed back to his own place in Monte Carlo the night they'd pulled me from the water, which left me completely alone with Gethin. Well, alright, alone with him and his small crew of ten.

My days were spent lounging on his sun deck, trying to disguise my interest in his diving technique and my even greater interest when he climbed back on board with swimming shorts that clung to his generous form. I was well aware that I shouldn't have been looking, but I couldn't tear my eyes away – he was impressive to say the least.

We fell into friendly banter; a relaxed easiness on the surface which had, for me at least, a frisson of something else bubbling beneath the surface. And when the two days had passed frustratingly quickly, and we were spending our last evening together, I found myself ridiculously melancholy. Although I wouldn't have been able to admit it at that time, I was going to miss Gethin. I was going to miss him much more than I missed Carl.

Over a casual dinner in the main living space, Gethin seemed equally quiet and introverted. When he did speak, it wasn't with the usual cheerfulness that I'd become accustomed to. Instead, he began opening up about himself: he told me that he'd been married, and was recently divorced.

"To be honest," he said, "I'm a bit of a screw-up all round."

Not recognizing the self-critical man before me as the one I thought I'd come to know, I shook my head. "I'm sure that's not true."

"Well, I made a mess of my marriage," he sighed. "And my dad was the successful one where business is concerned. I don't run anything, I just let it all run itself. But there is one thing I got right," he added, smiling as he stood up from the couch and moved to the large glass doors. Thoughtfully, he gazed out into the dark. "My daughter," he breathed. "She's probably the best thing that ever happened to me."

Unable to prevent myself from smiling at the affectionate way he spoke about his girl, I got up and wandered to the window. "Nothing quite like being a parent, huh?" I softly uttered, settling by his side our arms brushing against each other.

"You got kids?" he asked, with a soft smile.

"Two boys," I replied, nodding as I found myself running the palm of one hand reassuringly over his broad shoulder blades. It seemed natural, we'd been unconcerned with personal boundaries ever since he pulled me onto the boat.

I realized that was the point in the conversation at which I should have said, 'And, by the way, I'm married. Separated, but still married.' However, I avoided it. I can't say exactly why. I guess, it wasn't something I was ready to discuss. But I should have done. I should have been as open with him as he had been with me.

"You know," he said, turning to face me. "I've really enjoyed these last few days."

"Me too," I responded without hesitation.

"I'm glad you agreed to let me bring you to Bastia," he continued, his right hand lifting to my cheek and the backs of his fingers brushing almost imperceptible across my skin.

My heart skipping a beat, I tried to smile at him. "I'm glad you offered," I whispered. "Thank you."

"No," he responded, shaking his head. "Thank you." His eyes were focused intently on mine, almost oppressively. I was held captive by them. And then, his face began to move. It was a slow glide forward, I had plenty of time to pull away if I'd wanted to.

But I didn't want to.

My eyelids fluttered closed as his sweet lips gently met mine, and my entire being called silently for him.

# Chapter Five

The kiss ignited something; something I hadn't experienced in months, maybe even years. It was passion. Pure, untamed, unabashed passion. My body wasn't simply reacting out of duty or what I perceived to be expected of me. No, in those intense, electrifying moments, my entire form was aflame with a hot, pulsing desire.

As his tongue slipped smoothly between my parted lips, bringing the faint taste of cream and chocolate laced with Tia Maria, I felt as though all the strength left my body. Leaning into him, and appreciating for the first time just how solid and muscular his chest was, I moaned joyfully.

The sound, slight as it was, must have called to him like siren, because his tongue suddenly started to move more ardently over mine, swirling around it and coaxing it into a sensual, playful dance.

Grasping the front of his shirt with both fists, I pulled him closer, even though there was no 'closer'. Our bodies were flush; my tender, craving mound was rubbing against the top of his thigh while a subtle swell in his pants began to make itself known against my lower abdomen.

Liquid heat flushed through my entire body, scorching my cheeks and sparking a sudden, desperate longing between my legs.

Gethin's hands slowly slid down, skimming over my shoulders before caressing the curves of my waist and settling at my hips. As if sensing the growing restlessness at my core, he tugged me to him, his thigh slipping seamlessly between mine.

"God," I gasped, tearing my lips from his as I began to tremble.

While his bright, vibrant eyes darkened in a way that should have indicated danger, he smiled softly. "You're beautiful, Zara. Do you realize that?"

"I...I..." I muttered, my brain refusing to cooperate with my mouth.

"I've wanted you from the moment I saw you," he added, his voice seeming to drop an octave as it took on a sexy, gravelly quality. "I've been dreaming about you; I've been imagining what it would feel like to hold you; what your skin would taste like..." His lips curving in a broader grin, he slowly dipped his head forward and gently kissed my neck.

Inhaling shakily, I breathed in the heady scent of his minty shampoo mingled with a sharp, masculine sandalwood. My hands moved of their own volition, sweeping up into his thick, dark hair and massaging the back of his head and neck.

His lips, meanwhile, were trailing a teasing path from the base of my throat up to my ear, nibbling lightly and occasionally licking until he reached my lobe and sucked it into his warm mouth.

Fisting his hair, I urged him on as I found my body began to writhe unbidden against him. "Oh, Geth," I panted. "I've been dreaming about you, too."

The impressive, and very warm, swell in his pants was prodding me, impatiently. Yet, his hands and mouth continued to caress me lazily, as though we had all the time in the world. And, in some ways, I was content to let whatever it was that was happening between us drag on and on forever. But there was a hunger that besieged me; a craving that demanded immediate gratification; an emptiness that needed to be filled. Waiting wasn't an option.

"You smell so good," he mumbled, his mouth relinquishing its claim on my ear as he pressed his cheek to mine and slowly inhaled.

The sound of his voice, deep and rumbling, was fueling the fire that raged in me. It rumbled in his chest and vibrated through me, causing me to feel as though I would melt into the floor. But much more than the physical effect of that sound, his words were stimulating the most erotically sensitive part of my entire body: my mind. To feel desirable and attractive, after months of being invisible to my own husband.

"God, Zara," he groaned, his fingers moving skillfully downward until he reached the hem of my dress. "I've gotta have you," he whispered with animalistic need.

"Yes," I whimpered, waiting anxiously for him to pull the fabric up my thighs.

However, he didn't yank my clothing. Instead, his index fingers carefully crept just the barest inch under the dress and began stroking the soft flesh of my outer thigh. My breath catching in the back of my throat as I tried to fill my lungs, I left one hand grasping his hair while the other slipped down to his shoulder and twisted the cotton of his shirt.

Gethin tipped his head back, smiling as he peered at my no doubt, sluttishly reddened cheeks and parted lips.

"Please don't stop," I panted, realizing perhaps that it was far too late to play the meek or reluctant virginal-type. Or maybe I didn't even want to. It didn't really matter what he thought of me, after all. After that night, I'd never see him again – what the hell if he remembered me as the 'easy lay' he'd picked up the in the middle of the Mediterranean...literally.

"I'm not going to," he reassured, his grin broadening while his hands continued to tease me.

Unable and unwilling to wait for his touch to move higher, both of my hands shot down to his larger ones. Pausing only momentarily, to admire the smoothness of his skin, I forced his palms higher. "Please, Gethin," I mewled. "I need you."

"I'm here," he soothed calmly. He'd allowed his hands to be moved by mine, but he didn't take over as I hoped he would. There was still no rampant pawing at my underwear. Instead, his hot palms lingered at my thighs, while the pads of his fingers brushed the lacy material that circled the tops of my legs.

As if a spring were being tightened, I felt the tension in my belly increase. The clawing of my vacant and wanting core intensified, and I groaned as my hips involuntary bucked causing my sensitive bud to brush against the heat of his bulky thigh.

"You're so sexy," he whispered, his face dropping to my shoulder and his lips beginning to offer featherlight kisses along the line of my collarbone.

Head feeling extremely heavy, I let it flop back and released a breath toward the slatted ceiling. "Jesus," I hissed, my hands leaving his and sweeping up to the waistband of his pants. I had never felt so aroused in my entire life; it was as if I would explode if I didn't find some release. The subtle glances and harmless flirting of the days before had already been a form of foreplay. The moment he started touching me, I was ready to scream with desire that was almost painful.

As I grappled gracelessly with the clasp of his belt, my left hand smoothed over the crotch of his pants, rubbing the hot, rigid rod that fought to break free of its confines. With a suddenly very dry mouth, I realized just how impressively he was endowed. The outline in his swim shorts, although eye-widening, hadn't done him justice. "Oh, God," I mumbled, as another flush of arousal pooled in my core and dampened my panties further.

"Hmm," he groaned, his hips undulating gently. "Zara," he whispered, lifting his head fractionally. "If you keep that up, I'm not going to be responsible for my actions." It was said with a tint of amusement, yet there was a serious undertone.

"Sounds promising," I hoarsely replied.

Lips quirking in a half smile, he allowed one lazy hand to curve around to my inner thigh and gradually glide upward. The entire time, he kept his eyes firmly on mine, as if daring me to break contact. When his fingers slowly pressed against the crotch of my underwear, I finally blinked.

"You're so warm," he noted softly, a twinkle in his dazzling, chocolaty eyes.

Eyelids flickering as I tried to keep them open, my hands paused: one still cupping his gargantuan bulge and the other gripping the lose end of his black, leather belt. Moving entirely of its own will, my body bucked and I trust myself more firmly against him.

Through my drenched underwear, his fingers brushed my swollen lips, moving expertly, as though he already knew my body intimately. Without any fumbling, he found the engorged center of my pleasure and rolled the pad of his middle finger over it.

"Ahh," I panted, beginning to shake violently.

"God, Zara, I wanna be inside you," he murmured. "I want to feel your warmth around me."

"Yes," I whimpered, tears of anticipation welling in my lower lids. "Yes," I repeated, clenching the fingers of my left hand and squeezing his manhood with gentle vehemence.

I strained groan emerged from deep within him, and then it was as if a switch had been flicked. His mouth crashed down onto mine, tongue demanding an entrance I was only too willing to offer. His hands, meanwhile, snatched out from beneath my dress and snaked around me. Adroitly, he tugged the zipper down and began peeling the fabric from me.

With quiet murmurs of pleasure, I gripped the shirt at his abdomen and began yanking it free from his pants. As soon as I had access to bare flesh, I allowed my fingers to wander luxuriously over the ridges of his muscular stomach.

My dress puddling at my waist, Gethin smoothly cupped each of my breasts in his large hands, the thumbs stroking appreciatively over the tightly erect nipples. I continued to whimper and moan against his mouth, while his tongue moved erotically within the confines of mine. And, with a wriggle, I forced the dress off my hips.

Coming up for air, he gasped as he wrenched his lips from mine. "You're perfect," he softly uttered, his hands still moving gently over my breasts as his eyes joined in the appreciation of them. However, suddenly, he was moving again, arms sliding around me before lifting me easily.

Automatically, I wrapped my legs around his waist, kicking off the flat sandals I wore. My hands clung to his shoulders while my naked torso rubbed against the soft fabric of his shirt.

With a force that knocked the air out of my lungs, he pushed me back against the glass doors.

Moving in sync, my face tilted down, while his tipped upward and once again our tongues engaged in a frenzied battle. Pinned between the door and him, I clawed at the only parts of his shirt I could reach, as if trying to rip it from him. I'm not sure if that's what I actually had in mind or if my hands were growing as restless as the rest of me.

But with another flurry of strong, masculine power, he turned. His arms keeping me captive, he took smooth purposeful strides. I was vaguely aware that the cool glass was no longer at my back and that we were moving, but my brain was far too busy on other things to focus on the whys and where's.

It was only when I was sharply deposited on the leather couch and his weight was suddenly bearing down on me, that I realized where we'd gone. But, by that point, his erection was pushing libidinous against my inner thigh.

Gethin lifted his upper body from me, leaving my lips bereft as he made short work of his shirt. He didn't bother to unbutton it; he just whipped it hurriedly over his head. Once it was tossed aside, he grabbed the lace panties at my hips and tugged them from me in one swift and easy move.

At that point, while I lay there completely exposed to him, the reality of what I was about to do struck me. I was about to have sex with someone who was still, essentially, a stranger. I was about to sleep with someone other than my husband; I was about to be unfaithful. But we were separated, right? I wasn't doing anything wrong. Who was I kiddin'? Even if it was wrong, I knew I would still go right ahead and do it. I couldn't call a stop to it. I didn't want to even try.

Pushing his pants and his underwear off his hips, Gethin's broad, imposing manhood sprung free. It was beautifully smooth and solid with the slightest upward curve. Like the rest of him, it was sleek, strong and exuding an overwhelming masculinity. Keeping his eyes solidly on my face, he carefully took his member in one hand and leaned back down until the soft pink glans was nestled against my entrance.

I took my bottom lip between my teeth, and held my breath as I waited for him to enter me. For a long moment, we were both still and silent, the only sound I could hear was my heart pounding in my chest and the blood rushing in my ears.

"You're beautiful," he eventually breathed, as his hips began a slow, but persistent drive forward.

I winced as his girth stretched me way beyond what I was used to with Carl, but my body was ready enough that it wasn't painful. Instead, the muscles fluttered and my sex swelled, drawing him deeper.

"Ahh," I cried out as he settled, his hard rod buried completely within my soft core.

"You feel good," Gethin whispered, his mouth hovering above me. Just a breath away, his lips brushed mine with their teasing sweetness. "You alright?" he asked quietly.

"Yes!" I screeched, my body alive with currents of electricity coursing through me. I shuddered and bucked beneath him, reveling in the sensation of completion. But it wasn't enough. I need to feel him moving within me. "Oh, Geth," I breathlessly uttered. "Please!"

Knowing what my inarticulate plea was for, he complied, gradually sliding from me only to surge back once more. I arched to meet him this time, releasing a strangled cry of pleasure as our bodies met and merged again. And then, he lost that cool, calm control.

Raw, animal lust overtook him and he began thrusting powerfully. Deeper and deeper, he plunged into me, ruthless and demanding. He seemed to know not only that my body could take it, but also that it was exactly what I wanted. Untamed passion. Unrefined, primal pleasure. The base act of wild, uncontrolled sex. In other words, the things that had been missing from my own life for so very long.

Again and again, our bodies slapped roughly together. My breathy cries, mingling with his red-blooded groans, rose up along with the smell of sweat and a lascivious musk. My fingers moved over his smooth, clammy back, the fingernails raking over his shoulders and spurring him on.

With each drive, he edged me a little closer, until I was on the very precipice of mind-numbing ecstasy. Sucking in a deep breath, I held it as the world narrowed and every muscle in my body tensed. And then, suddenly, lightning bolts crackled in my brain; spots danced in front of my darkened lids and my entire form convulsed like a fish that had been hauled onto the deck of a ship.

In the midst of my rapture, I heard the sound of Gethin's voice, which seemed very far away. "Zara," he groaned, the muscles in his shoulders tensing as he gave into his own release.

"Ah," I sobbed, my eyes beginning to lazily open as I felt his warmth pulse into me in strong, intense bursts.

"Oh, Zara," he huffed, pulling in deep breaths that caused his chest to writhe deliciously against mine. "Ugh, that was..." he mumbled. "That was incredible."

"Hmm," I hummed in agreement, a contented smile etched on my face.

"I don't want you to leave tomorrow," he abruptly announced, his features stiffened and serious as he lifted his head and stared intently down at me.

Still unable to wipe the dopey smirk from my lips, I gazed obliviously into eyes that I would quite happily have drowned in. "What?" I chuckled.

"I don't want you to leave," he repeated, his strong jaw unrelentingly tense. "Stay with me."

I wasn't sure whether it was a request or a demand; there had been an absolutism to his words, but a slightly plaintive edge to the voice that had spoken them. And while I tried to wrap my orgasm-muddled head around that, I also grappled with the broader implications of what he was suggesting. "You..." I mumbled, the corners of my smirking mouth faltering only slightly. "You want me to stay on the yacht with you?"

"Yes," he replied firmly.

"Well, that's...that's crazy," I sighed, giggling.

"No it's not," he insisted solemnly. "I don't want you to go, Zara." Lifting his hand to my face, he brushed a strand of hair from my cheek. "Stay here with me," he whispered, this time with obvious entreaty in both his tone and his ardent eyes.

"Well..." I mumbled. "I don't suppose I'm really in a position to say 'no'," I chuckled.

His features instantly brightening, he slowly brought his face back to mine. "You won't regret it," he promised softly, before our lips merged and words became entirely unnecessary.

### Thank you for reading!

## Please visit your favorite eBook retailer to view the next books in the "Romancing The Cowboy Series"
Romancing The Bull Rider

by

Rebecca Davis

# Chapter One

Dinner Guest

I distractedly chewed my food, my attention too focused on the novel I was reading to notice much of anything else around me. Although the sterile, cool air of the hospital caused goose bumps on my arms, which was hard to ignore, or maybe that was a result of the place I was at in my book. The heroine was moments away from certain death, but the hero was right outside the door, ready to barge in and rescues her. I sighed.

If only my life were a romance novel. I could get out of this small town, away from the monotony of my job, and the loneliness of my bed. Of course, I'd have to leave my family, but that would be a small price to pay for some excitement in my life. I took another bite of my turkey sandwich, and then set it down on the cellophane wrapping it had come in. I flipped through the pages faster, wanting to witness the heartfelt reunion between the two main characters when the hospital's intercom buzzed.

"Nurse Montgomery to the ER. Nurse Montgomery to the ER."

So much for having a peaceful lunch break. I really should stop expecting the luxury of finishing a meal in this place. I gathered my trash and tossed it into the garbage can on my way out of the cafeteria. As I stood waiting for the elevator, I seriously considered what my life would be like if I were to leave this town. I'd been born and raised here in this small town of Onalaska, Georgia. But the town was dwindling, people were leaving, factories were closing, jobs were being lost. Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful everyday for the things I have, but I can't help but wonder if there isn't more out there.

The elevator dinged, and I stepped inside the crowded car. There were a couple of nurses who were new to the staff. They gave me polite smiles and carried on with their private conversation as if I weren't even there. I stared at the glowing numbers as they slowly ticked down, until they finally stopped on the first floor.

"This is me," I mumbled as I stepped out into the ER. "You paged me?" I said to Claire, the secretary on duty.

"Oh, hey Rebecca. Doctor Masters is looking for you. He's in the fourth exam room on the left."

"Thanks," I said, as I headed back toward the hallway of exam rooms. I wasn't all that surprised Doctor Masters paged me specifically. We worked well together, and I was one of the few nurses who could handle his brusque, no-nonsense attitude.

I carefully pulled open the curtain and peeked inside. "You asked for me, Doctor Masters?"

"Yes. Come in."

Stepping inside, I pulled the curtain closed to protect the patient's privacy, and went to stand beside the doctor.

"What do we have today?" He said. There was a young boy lying on the table, face pale and clammy, eyes closed.

"Broken ankle. It needs to be set, and I need your help," Doctor Masters said as he moved around the bed. "He's already been given a mild sedative and some pain medication. I had to send his parents back to the waiting room. His mother was inconsolable."

I nodded. I would've preferred to have been able to speak to the patient directly, but he was clearly out as a result of the sedative. It was for the best. Setting a bone was painful, and not something any child should have to be conscious enough to experience. "What's his name?" I asked.

"Billy Jenkins."

The Jenkins boy. I should've known. His family had lived on my street for almost three years now. I smoothed the hair from his forehead and leaned closer. "It's okay, Billy. It's me, Rebecca. I'm going to be right here the entire time, okay?"

I knew he couldn't answer me, and I doubted he could even hear me, but I was a firm believer that a kind voice during a trauma like this was helpful. Other nurses and even a majority of the doctors thought I wasted my time, but I didn't care. In my mind, I was helping and that's all that mattered to me.

"Are you ready?" Doctor Masters asked.

"Yes," I leaned over the boy's body in an effort to keep him still in the off chance he jerked involuntarily while having his ankle set. It wouldn't be the first time it happened.

I closed my eyes and tried to prepare myself for the unmistakable sound of the bones being cracked and set back into place. I heard Doctor Masters quietly count to three, and then I cringed. No matter how many times I did this, I would never get comfortable with that sound. It always reminded me of the time I'd fallen off my grandfather's horse and broke my leg. I swore the sound of it had been worse than the pain itself.

"All right, let's get this foot into a cast before he wakes."

"Ok," I responded. I once again smoothed the hair from the little boys face and smiled. There didn't appear to be any signs of distress on his face, and I was thankful for that. "Would you like me to let his parents know things went well?" I asked.

"Yes, that would be great," he said, scribbling on the boy's chart, not bothering to look up from it. "Have me paged as soon as you get that cast on, and I'll give his family discharge instructions."

"Okay," I told the Doctor. I scurried out of the room to gather the supplies for a cast, including another set of hands. Thankfully, I only had an hour left of my shift. It had been calm compared to some nights, but still, I was exhausted. It would be heaven to get home and climb into my bed.

***

I pulled into my driveway and shut off my car, but not before I saw the silhouette of someone sitting on my porch. My heart leapt into my throat. I rarely had visitors, and I never had them at this late an hour. I turned my headlights back on to get a better look at who was lurking, but it didn't do much to help. So, I rolled down my window and stuck my head out.

"Hello, can I help you?" I asked nervously.

"For God's sake, Becca. It's only me," a familiar voice shot back.

"Michelle?" I breathed a sigh of relief and got out of the car. What was my sister doing here? Better yet, why was she on my porch like this? "Why didn't you use your key?" I asked as I climbed the steps up to the porch.

"I lost it," she said.

I frowned. She lost my house key? That was comforting. I made a mental note to have my locks changed.

"Please don't look at me like that," Michelle said, standing and following me inside. "It's probably somewhere in all my boxes."

Right. She was in the process of moving. I'd forgotten. "How's that going anyway?" I asked as I kicked off my shoes and turned on the lights. The scent of my lilac air freshener filled the room and made me smile. It was so much better than the smell of that awful cleaning solution they use at the hospital.

Michelle shrugged. "It's going slow. Jax isn't making it very easy on me. Every time I go to the house to get more stuff, he's there, begging me not to leave, to give him another chance." She plopped down on the couch. "I don't know how much longer I can go on like this. I'm so close to giving in." She said as she looked up at me for judgment.

"Oh, Michelle, you can't do that." I sat beside her and gave her a hug. "Every time you feel like going back, remember what he did to you."

"I know." She sighed. "But Nana and Grandpa always told us to forgive and forget. It's the quickest way to a happier life."

I smiled at the memory of my grandparents and how they would always say things like that. They were wonderful people, taken from us much too soon. "Yes, they did say that, but they also always told us not to be doormats, remember?" I shot back at her.

She nodded, but remained silent.

"Jax has been mooching off you for over a year, Michelle. He's refusing to get a job; he's blown your savings, and you caught him cheating on you." I shook my head and gave her a sympathetic smile. "Forgive him if it will make you feel better, but don't forget what he's done, and please don't take that loser back."

At that, Michelle laughed. "Thanks, Becca. You always know how to make me feel better." She hugged me then stood. "I'm sorry I was lurking on your porch like some weird stalker."

I laughed. "You don't ever have to apologize for coming here. My door is always open to you. And probably to the rest of this town, too, thanks to a lost key." I winked.

Michelle groaned. "I swear I will find your key."

"Thanks. You hungry?" I responded.

"Starved." She told me.

Despite being grateful for my job, I was not grateful for the weird schedule I was on as a result of it. Working nights really messed with my internal clock. Here it was, almost midnight, and I was starting dinner. This was not good for my waistline.

"I'm not sure what I have, but I'm sure I can throw something together." I went to the kitchen, and Michelle followed. After a quick inventory of my cabinets and refrigerator, I found some leftover chicken and pasta. I tossed them into a baking dish, covered it with a jar of spaghetti sauce and mozzarella cheese, and put it in the oven. Not my most gourmet meal, but it would do.

I turned to find Michelle sitting at the breakfast bar, arms propped on the counter top, watching me. I smiled and asked, "What?"

"Nothing." She shook her head and straightened. "How was work?"

I shrugged. "Same old, same old. Broken bones, runny noses, heart attacks. Nothing exciting."

"If you hate it so much, why don't you quit, Becca?"

I hated how intuitive my sister was; she knew me too well. It was impossible to hide anything from her, and I knew she'd heard the melancholy in my voice. I sighed. "I don't hate it, but I just wish I was doing something more fulfilling, you know?" I shrugged and turned to check on my impromptu casserole.

"Well, you know what I think of your career choice." Michelle said as she joined me near the stove, opening the cabinet and retrieving two plates. "Mom and Dad totally strong-armed you into being a nurse."

I really didn't want to have this conversation with her again. Was she right? Of course, but I didn't need to tell her that. She knew it already. I'd become a nurse because my parents wanted me to, convinced me it was the smartest thing to do. It was a source of stability in an unstable town. Even though it wasn't my life aspiration to be a nurse, I couldn't be angry with my parents. They'd been looking out for my best interests, and they'd been right. Because of my job, I was able to live comfortably and had even bought my own house last year.

I took the pasta from the oven and set it on the counter. "If you promise to drop this, I'll open that expensive bottle of wine I bought last month."

Michelle grinned. "Deal."

I laughed. It was so easy to distract her with the temptation of a fine wine. While she scooped food onto our plates, I grabbed the bottle of wine and two glasses. I was glad she was here tonight. I really didn't want to be alone.

# Chapter Two

Night Shift

I hated working the night shift, but I did enjoy working on the fourth floor. It was much calmer than the ER or even the children's wing. This ward was reserved for adult patients who'd been admitted for various reasons. In the five years I'd worked at this hospital, not once had the ward been full. Tonight wasn't any different. After working in the ER for the past week, I welcomed the silence. Maybe I'd finally get to finish my book.

I sat behind the nurses' station, checking the patient schedule to see who needed vitals checked or medication when John, one of the orderlies, came down the hallway, wheeling a patient in front of him. I stood, knowing I'd have to check in that patient and get him settled. As he got closer, I couldn't help but notice how attractive the patient was despite being badly bruised.

"Good evening, John." I nodded.

"Rebecca. This is Lucas Hudson. He's been admitted for the night for observation." John held out the file for me to take.

I took it and tucked it under my arm. I'd look it over once the patient was settled. It would be rude to do so now when he was clearly uncomfortable in that chair. "Room four o six is empty." I told John.

John wheeled Lucas into the room, and I followed. After getting Lucas settled into the bed, John left. Suddenly, I was very self-conscious around this man. He was very sexy with dark brown hair and eyes to match. Beneath all the cuts and bruises, he had strong cheekbones and a masculine jaw.

"Hi, Mr. Hudson. I'm Rebecca, and I'll be looking after you tonight."

"Well, maybe being stuck here won't be so bad after all." He said with a smile. I wished I'd been sitting down, because the effect was devastating. Deep, southern drawl combined with a crooked smile that showed off perfectly, straight, white teeth was a deadly combination.

I nervously cleared my throat, unsure how to respond to that. It was a compliment, wasn't it? No one had ever said anything like that to me before. "Um..."

He laughed at my obvious discomfort. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," he said with a broad smile.

"No," I shook my head, "really, it's okay, Mr. Hudson."

He groaned. "Please call me Lucas."

"Right." I nodded. "Okay, Lucas, is there anything I can get for you? Some water or a magazine maybe?"

He shifted in the bed. "Some water would be good. That damn bull did a number on my windpipe."

I stared at him. "Bull?" I asked confusingly.

"Yes, I was trampled by a bull," he said, as if it were an everyday occurrence and no big deal.

Again, I had no idea what to say to him, so I grabbed the empty pitcher from the bedside table and left to go fill it with ice and water. How on earth had that poor man been trampled by a bull? I was curious to know, but thought it might be rude to ask. He must work on some sort of farm. That was the only plausible explanation. It's not like bulls ran wild around here.

When I returned, he was fully upright in bed with the television on and turned to a local news station. I moved the bed table over to him and poured a cup of water.

"Here you go." I offered.

He graced me with another gorgeous smile. "Thank you, ma'am."

"Oh, please call me Becca." As soon as the words left my mouth I wished I could take them back. Only my sister called me Becca. It had been a childhood nickname that I'd hated, and was pleased when I became a nurse and was able to insist people call me Rebecca. Why on earth I'd just told him to call me Becca was beyond me.

"All right, Becca." He grinned.

I stood there for a moment longer than necessary, knowing I should just leave, but unable to make my legs cooperate. "How did you get trampled by a bull?" I blurted out.

He stared at me for a moment, in shock or anger I wasn't sure, but I held my breath hoping he wouldn't be upset or report me for bad behavior. In his silence, I was able to get another long look at him. He was possibly the sexiest man I'd ever seen in this town, and I knew he wasn't from around here.

"I'm a bull rider." He finished his water and set the cup on the table, focusing his gaze on me. "How else would I have been trampled by a bull?"

Amusement danced in his dark eyes, and I felt foolish for asking such a dumb question in the first place. Of course he was a bull rider. That explained not only his injuries, but all the muscles in his arms and shoulders and legs, and even in his back. Yeah, I hadn't missed those. It was impossible not to notice them.

"I...uh, I don't know." I laughed. "I'm sorry. It's not every day we get someone in here who's been in this type of accident. It kind of threw me for a loop."

"That's okay." He winked, and that small gesture sent butterflies through my stomach.

"Okay, well, if you need anything, just push this button," I held up the device with the paging button, "and I'll come back in." I smiled.

"All right then, thanks for your help." He told me with another great smile.

God, that voice, that southern drawl – it sent shivers down my spine. Growing up in this small Georgia town, I was accustomed to hearing men and women speak this way, but there was something oddly unique about the way Lucas spoke. It was like a combination of southern gentleman and city boy.

"Okay," I said again, still smiling. _He must think I'm an idiot for how much I'm smiling at him._ I thought to myself

"Doctor Nichols usually makes his final rounds around ten o'clock or so, but if you need him for something sooner, please let me know."

"I have a feeling I will be just fine under your care." He quickly responded with another wink.

My heart raced. I may not have a lot of experience when it comes to men, but I could tell when one was flirting with me, and Lucas was definitely flirting with me. I felt the blush on my cheeks, and I turned my face away before he could see it. With a firm nod, I left his room even though I didn't really want to. But I had other patients to tend to. Not many, but I couldn't necessarily neglect them simply because the sexy bull rider in room four o six had piqued my interest.

It took me almost an hour to make my rounds, and when I'd finished with everyone else, I returned to Lucas's room. "Hello again. How're you feeling?" I asked him.

"Sore." He responded.

I didn't miss the way he straightened in bed or the way his face lit up when I'd entered the room.

I went to his chart and checked his medication dosage. "Hmm, looks like you're not due for any more pain meds until midnight." I looked up at him and frowned. "Can I get you an ice pack or heating pad to help ease the pain a bit?"

"No, thank you. But I could go for some conversation if you have the time." He said, while nodding to the chair in the corner.

I'd never had a patient ask me to sit and talk with them before. I'd had patients babble as I checked their vitals or administered their medication, but this was different. Lucas wanted me to stay in his room longer. I had just finished my rounds, and the ward was quieter than usual tonight. What harm could come from sitting and having a conversation with him?

I pulled the chair from the corner and positioned it near this bed. Then I sat. "So, you're a bull rider huh?"

"Yes." He smiled. "I'd always thrived on danger when I was a child. Then when I became a teen, I became an adrenaline junkie." He laughed. "Bull riding seemed like a natural progression."

"Is this your first injury?" I asked inquisitively.

"No. It's my worst, but not my first." He shifted in bed, and I saw how he winced in pain.

I began to stand, and he held up his hand to stop me. I abruptly sat back in the chair. "Are you sure there's nothing I can do for you?" I'm a nurse. It's my job to help ease people's pain. I feel useless sitting here doing nothing.

"Could you help me prop these pillows behind my back?"

I stood and retrieved an extra pillow from the supply closet down the hall. Taking Lucas's hand, I eased him forward, noticing how large and warm his hand was. And it was rough, no doubt a result of his chosen profession. My Nana had always told me a man with rough hands was a man with a soft heart. I couldn't help but wonder if that was true of Lucas. I gently tucked the pillows behind him, and then continued to hold his hand until he was settled.

He rubbed his thumb along the back of my hand, sending a delicious electric shiver through my body. "You have such soft skin," he said.

I could feel my cheeks blaze to life. I quickly averted my gaze. "Thank you." I sheepishly responded.

"I'm sorry if I overstepped my bounds. I've just never met anyone with such an amazing bedside manner. And I've met my fair share of doctors and nurses."

I smiled and sat back down. "Well, you've definitely chosen a unique and dangerous profession, Lucas."

He smiled at me, and I thanked God I was already sitting. I didn't think my legs could handle another knee-weakening smile like he was giving me.

"I'm still fairly new at it. I've only been riding professionally for about a year now. It's exciting and allows me to travel."

That was something I'd always dreamed of doing. I realized the more he talked, the more engrossed I became in his life, his stories, in him. I'd never been faced with this type of situation before, but wondered if it was unethical to become romantically involved with a patient.

Oh, now I was just being silly. Just because we had an obvious connection didn't mean we were going to become romantically involved. For all I knew, he had a wife. I glanced at his left hand. No wedding band. Okay, but that didn't mean he didn't have a girlfriend or fiancée somewhere in the world.

"Tonight's show was my homecoming of sorts. Guess I really blew that, huh?" He laughed, as I snapped back to reality.

I tilted my head to the side, my ears buzzing. "Homecoming? You're from around here?"

"Yeah, the next town over. Covanta. Do you know of it?"

I nodded. It was the closest city to our small town, and it was where the hospital received its supplies from. The news he lived so close by excited me much more than it should.

"I've been on the road this past year with the rodeo, and we just finally returned to Covanta. There was a big hoopla about my return. You know the story. Local boy returns with rodeo as a star." He laughed again.

I couldn't ignore how jovial he was despite his accident and subsequent injuries. It was a breath of fresh air to experience his positivity when so many patients had all doom and gloom attitudes.

"If nothing else, you'll be remembered as the local boy who returned and got trampled by a bull." I smiled, unable to believe I'd actually just said that. It was kind of rude and uncaring.

Thankfully, Lucas smiled and said. "Touché."

"And how long is this homecoming celebration of yours?" I asked.

"Originally, two weeks, but now with my injuries, it will more than likely be postponed a bit. A lot of the guys wanted more time off anyway. They have family in Covanta. This will give them time to spend some time with them." Lucas paused. "I guess my mistake really does make me a hero."

I forced a laugh. The news he'd only be around for a couple of weeks hit hard. I was thoroughly enjoying talking to him, getting to know him, and was sad to know he'd be leaving again so soon. I hid my disappointment as best I could, not wanting him to know how much of a hopeless romantic I was. I'd always believed in love at first sight, but it was a belief that had gotten me in trouble more than once.

The buzzer at the nurses' station beeped loudly. I stood. "Duty calls," I said.

"Hey," he reached out and took my hand, his touch doing funny things to my insides again, "will you come back when you're done?"

I broke into a full-fledged smile. "I'd love to." And with that, I left his room to tend to my other patients.

# Chapter Three

Four O Six

"Hello, Mr. Robertson," I said cheerfully as I entered the room. "What can I do for you?"

"I need more water." His voice was raspy, and listening to him made my own throat hurt.

"Okay, coming right up." I took the pitcher and filled it with cold water. He'd drunk the last pitcher so fast the ice hadn't had time to melt. I brought it back into his room and poured him a cup, holding it out for him. He took it and drank it down in one gulp. Then he held it out for more.

I poured him another cup, only half full this time, and handed it back. "Go easy, Mr. Robertson. You don't want to strain your throat after your surgery."

"Thank you," he rasped, and then winced. "Could I get another blanket? It's quite chilly in here."

Smiling, I nodded. Mr. Robertson was probably as old as this town, but he just kept on racking up the years. He'd just celebrated his ninety-fifth birthday last month. Of course, you wouldn't know it if you saw him. He was very active for his age. I grabbed a blanket from the supply closet and return to put it over him. I was embarrassed to admit I was anxious to get back to Lucas's room.

"Is there anything else you need?" I asked as I adjusted the call button and positioned it around the bed railing so he had easier access to it.

"Nope. I think I'm good."

I nodded. "Well then, get some rest." I said with a smile before leaving his room.

My heart raced as I walked down the hall toward Lucas's room. I couldn't help but feel as if I'd made an instant connection with him. And he had definitely been flirting with me earlier. Besides, sitting with him beat sitting alone at the nurses' station all night.

"How are you doing in here?" I asked Lucas once I got to his room.

Lucas gave me a smile and said, "much better now."

I felt the heat of embarrassment creep up my neck. He clicked off the television and nodded at the chair I'd sat in earlier. I sat, feeling a lot more relaxed now than I had earlier. "Watching anything good?" I said as I motioned toward the television.

"I was watching a recap of the sports news to see if there was any mention of the rodeo. I'm curious to know how the guys did."

"I'm surprised your room isn't overflowing with all your bull rider friends." I told him.

In a small town like this, when someone landed in the hospital, everyone always came to visit or at the very least to get the latest gossip.

"Oh, I'm sure they'll swarm the place tomorrow. The show can't stop simply because I was hurt." He told me with a sly smile.

I wondered if the show would stop if someone died, but I didn't ask that. It seemed insensitive and quite frankly, morbid. "So you said you'd be around here for a few weeks. Where is your next stop?"

"We're heading back to Texas."

"I've always wanted to go to Texas." I smiled. There were a lot of places I wanted to go, but for some reason, Texas had always been at the top of my list.

"It's a beautiful state." Lucas said as he adjusted in the bed to face me. "Enough about me, tell me about yourself. How long have you been a nurse?"

"Almost five years now."

"Did you always want to be a nurse?"

I was asked that question a lot, but there was something truly sincere about the way Lucas asked. It was like he was genuinely interested in my answer. "No." I shook my head. "I've always wanted to work with animals. Not a veterinarian or anything, but to do something that involved helping them, like an animal rescue."

Lucas chuckled and asked, "How on earth did you become a nurse then?"

I shrugged and averted my gaze. "This town isn't exactly thriving, but leaving isn't exactly an option. I was born and raised in this town. My parents and my siblings are here, and I've never really been anywhere else. Nursing was a stable career choice."

"Yeah, but life is much too short to spend it doing something you don't love."

I looked up at him, amazed at how profound that statement was. Michelle was constantly telling me I should do something different, something I wanted to do and not cater to my parents' wishes, but hearing it put that way... It was like a light bulb going off in my head.

"What do you do when you're not here taking care of people like me?" Lucas continued to say.

"I like to read quite a bit, and I enjoy baking. Actually, I like to create my own recipes by just throwing things together and seeing how it comes out. More often than not they come out inedible." I said laughing. "And I spend a lot of time with my sister, Michelle. She's going through a bit of a rough time right now."

"I read a lot, too. There's not really much else to do when you spend so much time on the road, you know. What's your favorite book?" He asked curiously.

I was shocked to find out he liked to read. Not many of the men in this town did. At least, not any I'd met that I'd been interested in.

"Wow, that's a tough question." I laughed. "Hmm, if I had to only pick one, it would have to be _The Great Gatsby_."

Lucas sat up and swung his legs over to hang off the side of the bed. "Did one of my rodeo buddies show up and tell you to say that?" He said as he jokingly pretended to look out of the room and into the hallway.

I turned to see what he was looking at, but the hallway, as I expected, was empty. Turning back to him, I shook my head. "No. It's just my favorite book."

His posture softened, and he smiled again. "It's mine, too."

My eyes widened, and I sat forward in the chair a little. No wonder he reacted the way he did. Granted, that book was a classic, and lots of people had read it, but it wasn't necessarily something people owned up to.

"It is?" I asked.

"Yeah." He nodded. "One of the guys caught me reading it one night and hasn't let me live it down. He calls it a "girly" book, and he teases me about it every chance he gets. I wouldn't put it past him to have told you about it."

I smiled. "Rest assured, I have not met your friend, and he hasn't told me anything about you or your reading habits."

"It's a very tragic love story, don't you think?"

Once again, Lucas managed to shock me. I kind of expected him to say he loved Gatsby and how he was wealthy and smart and threw such extravagant parties.

"Yes." I sighed. "The ending always moves me to tears."

"I'm tired of being in this bed. Can I get up and walk around?" he asked suddenly.

It wasn't unheard of for patients to get out of bed and walk the floor, but it also wasn't something we generally encouraged, especially at this late hour because it could disrupt other patients. But I didn't want to tell him no.

"Uh, yeah, I guess that would be okay."

"Would you care to join me?" He was already out of bed, standing in front of me, hand extended.

I swallowed hard and took his proffered hand, which was so warm and large compared to mine. Doing this would probably get me in some sort of trouble, but I supposed I could just tell anyone who asked that I was helping him around. At least that would explain our hand holding, which was both awkward and wonderful at the same time. Once in the hallway, Lucas released my hand, but he stayed close enough to me our shoulders touched as we walked.

"You mentioned your sister Michelle. Is she your only sibling?" He asked, as we continued to walk.

"No. I have another sister, Christina, but she's living in New York now with her husband. He's an attorney, and she just got a job in a fashion house."

"That's impressive."

"Yeah, I'm really proud of her. What about you? Any siblings?" I countered.

"No, I'm an only child. My parents are alive and still living in Covanta. My grandfather is still there, too. He owns a huge horse farm." He smiled. "At his age, he has trouble with the upkeep, but refuses to sell. It was my grandmother's dream to live on a horse ranch, and he can't bear to part with it since she passed."

"I'm sorry." I responded with a slight frown. "Both of my grandparents were very important to me, too. They taught me and my sisters so much. They died when I was young. There's not a day that goes by that I don't miss them."

Lucas gently nudged me with this shoulder, an obvious gesture of compassion and empathy. I smiled at him, realizing again just how handsome he was.

"I hated being an only child." He laughed. "It was awful always being alone like that."

"I can't even imagine." I told him. My sisters were my best friends, my childhood playmates. Not having them in my life was unfathomable.

"Eventually, when I'm ready to start a family, I want to have a lot of kids. I think to compensate for my lonely childhood." He said with a wink, causing my heart to flutter. "I had to go through a CAT scan after my last accident. The rodeo manager wanted to make sure I hadn't done any serious damage to my brain."

"I've noticed you don't have a wedding band on your finger," he said as we reached the end of the hall and away from all the occupied rooms. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

Wow. I hadn't expected our conversation to take a turn in this direction. I mean, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't flattered or intrigued. But I think he was trying to change the subject because of the look of concern I had on my face after he mentioned possible brain damage.

"No, no boyfriend." I politely responded.

He grinned. "I'm honestly surprised. A beautiful woman like you...single?"

"Well believe it." I said with a sly grin. We then turned and headed back the way we came.

"Could I take you out sometime?"

My steps faltered when his question registered in my brain. Lucas wanted to take me out? I wanted to say yes so badly, but... I couldn't get any more involved with this man, not when he was only passing through and would be leaving in a few weeks. I was at that point in my life when I was ready to settle down; I wasn't looking for a fling.

"No, I'm sorry. I don't think that's a good idea."

# Chapter Four

Second Chance

It had been three days since Lucas was discharged from the hospital, and I missed him terribly, which was so silly. I barely knew him, had only spent one night talking to him. Of course, I had spent a majority of that night with him learning just how much we had in common, how sweet and compassionate he was. Even after I'd turned down his invitation to go out, he still wanted me around, wanted to talk and spend time with me. I did feel bad about turning him down like I had, but I just couldn't allow myself to get any closer to him, to open up my heart to a man who would be leaving in a few weeks with no definitive return date.

I'd told Michelle all about him, and she thought I was crazy for not taking a chance on him. She just didn't get it. She was younger than me by a few years; she still had time to find a decent man – unlike that lowlife she was still in the process of leaving – and settle down, start a family. I didn't have that luxury. My mother reminded me every chance she got that I wasn't getting any younger and that no man wants a woman in her mid-thirties. That always made me feel good considering I was only twenty-eight. I had a couple years before I even reached thirty.

Still, my thoughts had been consumed by memories of Lucas. I sighed as I washed my hands, preparing to check in and see where I was stationed today. Maybe Michelle was right. Maybe I should've taken a chance with Lucas. No harm could come from a single date, and it would be an easy transition back into the dating world. I was comfortable around Lucas; he was easy to talk to, and he made me laugh. Too bad I had no idea where he'd gone when he left the hospital.

I dried my hands and left the nurses' lounge. "Hey, Julie, where do you need me today?" I asked the head nurse on duty.

"Sarah called in sick today, so I need you to cover her at the In-Patient Medical Center. I'm working on getting someone else in here so they can take over there, and you can go back up to the fourth floor."

The In-Patient Medical Center was technically part of the hospital, but it was in the new portion that had been built right before I started working here. It was like a walk-in doctor's office for people who needed a check-up after being admitted to the hospital or for anyone who needed non-life threatening medical attention, but didn't have a doctor of their own. As far as places to work within the hospital, it was one of the easiest places to be. I would love to be permanently assigned there.

"Or maybe I'll find someone to take your place up on four. Doctor Masters is working the medical center today, and I swear you're the only one who likes that guy." Julie said as she laughed.

I shrugged. "He's not so bad."

"If you say so." Julie responded as she handed me a chart. "This is our first patient of the day. Post admission check-up. Vicki already signed him in."

I took the chart from her, not bothering to really look at it and went to the in-patient waiting room. I pushed the door open, prepared to call the patient back when I stopped cold. There was only one person in the waiting room – Lucas.

My heart stopped, and I smiled at the sight of him. He sat in the uncomfortable chair, back stiff as a board, and he had a bouquet of daisies in his hand. Daisies – my favorite flower, homage to the character Daisy Buchanan from _The Great Gatsby_. I cleared my throat, and he looked in my direction. When he saw me, he stood, smiling. How could I have forgotten how handsome he was, how great his smile was in the couple of days I hadn't seen him?

"Rebecca," he said as he approached, "these are for you."

It was completely unorthodox for a patient to bring a nurse flowers like this, but it was hands down the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for me. I took them, bringing them to my nose to smell them. "Thank you, Lucas, but you didn't have to do this."

"Sure I did." He said. "You took such good care of me the night I was here. I wanted to let you know how much I appreciated it."

Nodding, I smiled. "Follow me." I wasn't horribly embarrassed by the gesture, but I also didn't want another staff member to overhear anything and question what was going on. I led Lucas to the open room at the end of the hall.

I stepped into the room behind him and closed the door. I sat the chart I was holding on the counter, and then paused. The flowers were professionally wrapped in plastic paper, but it seemed kind of rude to just set them on the counter. I grabbed a paper cup from the dispenser, filled it with water, and put the flowers in it, propping them against the wall so they wouldn't fall over. Then I turned back to Lucas, who was standing near the bed, smiling.

"What?" I asked self-consciously.

"You are so much more beautiful than I remembered." He told me in the most genuine tone.

My eyes widened at his compliment. I hadn't expected that. "Thanks," I said, feeling the slow heat creep through my body. I hoped inside that I wouldn't blush too hard in front of him. "Uh, go ahead and have a seat." I nodded to the bed.

Lucas hopped up on it, and I flipped open his chart, needing something to distract me from where my thoughts were leading – me, him, a private room, that bed. God, I had to stop the naughty thoughts.

"So, how are you feeling?" I asked as I picked up the chart to jot down some notes.

"Much better. I'm a little sore first thing in the morning, but once I get up and move around it's better. How are you?"

I couldn't stop from glancing over my shoulder at him and smiling. "I'm well, thank you." I took a moment to double check that his weight and height were noted in the chart, and then I went through all the medical history questions with him. I was stalling, knowing I had to actually go over to him and take his vitals.

Swallowing hard, I set my pen down on his chart and reached for the blood pressure cuff. "Hold out your arm, please." I asked.

When he did, I wrapped the cuff around his arm and kept my head down until I was finished. I then quickly took his temperature.

"Am I dying?" he asked with a chuckle.

"No, so far so good." I responded as I stood in front of him. "Can I see your wrist, please?" When he turned his hand so his palm was up, I placed two fingers against his pulse point. I was struck with how smooth his skin was right there, how warm it felt.

"I can assure you, my heart is working just fine." He said sarcastically.

The low, deep tone of his voice caused my insides to tremble. I looked up at him, awestruck by the intensity of his gaze. "You're heart's racing," I whispered.

He leaned forward a little, putting himself closer to me. "That's because you're touching me, Rebecca."

The way he said my name felt like a lover's caress, something that should've been shared someplace private and romantic, not in the hard, sterile environment of an exam room.

"I'm almost done," I said, trying not to look him directly in the eyes for fear I would blush even more.

He put his other hand over mine, holding my fingers to his wrist. "Will you please let me take you to dinner?"

Now my heart was racing, too. I licked my lips, wanting to tear my gaze from his and tell him no again in a pathetic attempt to protect myself from heartbreak, but I had a feeling it was already too late. When I hesitated, Lucas lightly caressed my hand with his thumb, sending a jolt of burning desire through me. If such a simple touch had this effect on me, how would I ever survive a date with him?

"It's just dinner, Rebecca." His voice whispered through my mind. "I will be the perfect gentleman, I promise." He smiled, and my resolve cracked.

"Okay." I nodded. "Dinner."

His face lit up with excitement, and I guess a bit of shock, too. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." I laughed.

Lucas took my hand and brought it to his mouth, giving my knuckles a soft kiss. "I'll pick you up at seven."

"I will give you my address before you leave today."

"Perfect." He responded.

Taking my hand back, I gave him a smile, wanting him to know I was excited about our date, but not wanting him to know how nervous I was. It had been a long time since I'd been on a date. I had no idea what to wear or what we'd talk about or... What if he wanted to kiss me? Would I let him? I let my gaze settle on his lips, and then lower, to his muscular arms and chest. I could envision my hands roaming over his while we kissed. Oh yeah, I would most certainly let him kiss me if he tried.

"All right." I said, as I closed his chart and tucked it under my arm. "Doctor Masters will be in to see you shortly."

Lucas nodded. "Any chance I can convince you to keep me company until he arrives?"

"I'd love to, but there are other patients who need my attention, too."

He frowned. "I should probably tell you that I don't like to share." He winked, and then his face broke into the sexiest smile ever.

"Neither do I," I said before walking out and leaving him in the room alone. As I closed the door, I could hear his soft laugh, and I shook my head. Lucas Hudson was definitely one of a kind, and I was sure he'd be a lot more than I could ever handle, but I was determined to have some fun trying.

Half an hour later, when Lucas was finished with Doctor Masters, I was at the front desk with the receptionist, Diane, trying to help locate prescription history for a patient. He came out of the back and stood at the desk, grinning. I straightened and pulled a folded piece of paper from my pocket.

"Here's that information I promised you, Mr. Hudson."

He took the paper, his hand brushing against mine when he did, and smiled.

Mutual understanding passed between us, and I was thankful he got it without me having to tell him. I'm sure there weren't any rules about a nurse dating a patient, but in a small town like this, news could travel fast, and I didn't want anyone to know my personal business. Plus, I wanted to keep Lucas all to myself for a while, especially considering he was only here for a short amount of time.

Who knows? Maybe a hot, passionate fling with a sexy bull rider was exactly what I needed to spice up my life. And I had no doubts it would be passionate. I could tell that just by the way he looked at me. My heart raced thinking about it now.

"Okay, well, I guess I'm out of here," Lucas said, disrupting me from my thoughts.

I smiled. "Have a good day, Mr. Hudson."

"I will." He smiled. "Although I have a feeling my evening is going to be a hundred times better." Lucas tapped his hands on the desk, and then turned to leave.

I blew out a shaky breath, knowing my concentration was shot. It was going to be a very long day. But I couldn't wait to call Michelle and tell her. She'd be so excited for me!

# Chapter Five

Dinner

I had just finished slipping my shoes on when the doorbell rang. My heart leapt into my throat. Lucas's punctuality was an admirable quality, but now I had to actually face him and spend the entire evening with him. I was excited, but my nerves were gnawing at me. Taking a deep breath, I went to answer the door and was greeted by a large bouquet of white roses. I laughed, and Lucas lowered them so I could see his handsome face.

"Really, Lucas. If you bring me flowers every time you see me, I'll be able to start my own floral store." I took the flowers from him and stepped aside to allow him to enter. "They're beautiful. Thank you. And they smell amazing." I told him as I took a big whiff of the flowers.

"They're not nearly as beautiful as you are, Rebecca." He said with a cunning smile.

"Thank you." I responded as I turned away from him, not wanting him to see me blushing. "Let me just put these in some water, and then we can go. Would you care for a drink?"

"No, thanks." He said as followed me into the kitchen. "Wow. This is a nice kitchen."

I retrieved a vase from under the skin and filled it with water. "It was because of this kitchen that I bought this house. I told you I like to bake." I glanced at him and smiled. "And you need a lot of room to move around while baking."

"Well, you'll have to teach me how sometime."

"To bake?" I laughed and put the flowers into the vase then washed my hands. "I don't think I've ever taught anyone to bake before."

"I promise I'm a quick learner." He winked; his body extremely close to mine. I inhaled sharply and nodded. "Good. Are we ready?" He finally asked.

"Yes." I smiled and as we headed out the door, I grabbed my sweater from the back of the recliner. Not that I would really need it. The weather was warm so I probably wouldn't need it, but it had become a habit to always have a light sweater or jacket when I left the house. It was another invaluable piece of wisdom my grandparents had imparted to me.

Lucas was a perfect gentleman on the drive to the restaurant. He opened every door for me, held it until I was through it, and then entered behind me, always keeping a respectful distance. He had this uncanny ability to make me blush simply by being himself.

When the hostess showed us to our table, Lucas pulled out my chair and waited for me to be seated before he took the seat across from me. "Your waitress will be right with you," the hostess said before turning and leaving us alone.

I looked around the restaurant, letting the ambience settle over me. I'd been to this steakhouse dozens of times before, but being here with Lucas was like seeing it for the first time. It was a quaint place with a brick fireplace in the center giving off enough heat to take the icy chill away from the air conditioning.

"I hope this place is okay. It was highly recommended to me," Lucas said, picking up his menu.

"Yes, it's perfect. I've eaten here before. You're in for a real treat." I smiled and perused my own menu, although I really didn't need to. I couldn't afford to eat here on my own very often, but when I could, I always ordered the steak gorgonzola with the fresh garlic bread and chef salad. Maybe I should skip the bread this time, though. I didn't want to have garlic breath for the remainder of my date. And if he did try to kiss me... Yeah, I was going to skip the bread just to be on the safe side.

"What's good here?" Lucas asked as he looked up from his menu.

"Everything." I laughed and closed my menu, setting it down. "This place is known for their steaks. You can cut them with a fork they're so tender."

"Okay, that's it then." Lucas closed his menu and placed it atop mine. "The steak it is. Would you like to get a bottle of wine?"

I wasn't really a drinker. My uncle was a recovering alcoholic, and I saw what he did to the family, how much contention and problems he caused. Not that I ever thought I'd become an alcoholic.

Lucas reached over and touched my hand, the heat of his touch jerking me back to the present moment. "It's okay if you don't want to. Honestly, I'm not much a drinker myself, but knowing I'm alive and well after my accident and this is our first date, I thought we should celebrate."

Sighing, I smiled. "I'm not really a drinker either, but you know what. I think tonight calls for a glass or two of wine."

Taking my hand, he kissed my fingers in the same way he had before. It was such a sweet thing to do, and I liked it. The last guy I'd gone out with was a jerk. I swore he only asked me out because he thought I would get kinky in the bedroom with him and play nurse. I shuddered at the memory. Thank goodness Lucas wasn't anything like that.

"Do you prefer red or white?" He asked, as he picked up the wine list.

"Something sweet." I responded with a smile.

When the waitress approached a moment later, Lucas ordered an expensive bottle of red wine. I knew it was expensive because when I'd graduated from nursing school, my parents had brought me here to celebrate and my father had ordered the same exact bottle. I really hoped he didn't think he could impress me by spending money. I was already impressed by him.

"Are you ready to order?" The waiter's voice broke our intense gaze at one another.

"I am," I said. Lucas nodded at me to go ahead. "I will have the steak gorgonzola with the chef's salad. No onions, please, and the dressing on the side."

"Very good choice." The waitress smiled. "And for you, sir?"

"I will have the twelve ounce sirloin and a loaded baked potato, extra sour cream, and a chef's salad." Lucas handed her our menus and smiled.

"Great. I will be back with your wine and salads shortly."

When she left again, Lucas took both of my hands into his, his thumbs caressing my fingers. Who knew such a simple touch to that part of my body would feel so erotic? I wondered what it would feel like if he did that on other parts of my body – every part of my body. I pulled my hand from his and took a sip of my ice water, hoping it would cool me down a little. I'd only met this man three days ago, and I was already having those types of thoughts about him. God, what was wrong with me?

"So, what do you do for fun when you're not working or reading or baking?" he asked.

"I like to watch movies, either at home or at the theatre. But I'm not a big fan of television." I chuckled. "There's too many reality shows on for my liking, and let's face it, the things that happen on those shows are not reality."

"No, they certainly aren't." He smiled. "Would you like to go see a movie after dinner? We can drive into Covanta and go to the multiplex."

There really wasn't anything currently playing that I wanted to see, but I didn't want to appear rude. It was a nice offer, and the idea of spending even more time with him was appealing.

"We could. It's such a nice night to be stuck inside though." I responded.

Lucas glanced down where he still held my hand and a faint smile emerged on his face. That look would be the death of me if I weren't careful.

"I've never felt such soft skin before," he said, more to himself than to me.

"As much as I wash them, I have no choice but to use a lot of moisturizer." I responded.

That was probably the dumbest thing I'd ever said on a date, and I've said some pretty stupid things before. It was my nerves. They caused me to ramble incessantly about the craziest things, like hand moisturizer, for example.

He looked up at me, and his eyes had darkened. My heart rate spiked. I could only imagine what he might be thinking. I knew what I was thinking, and it was not appropriate dinner conversation.

"I have an idea. I'll take you to the rodeo so you can see what I do, and you can meet some of the other guys."

Excitement swelled inside of me. I'd never been to a rodeo before. I'd seen them on television and in the movies, but I had a feeling a real life rodeo was nothing like the way Hollywood portrayed them.

"I would love that, Lucas."

"Really?" He responded with surprise.

"Yes." I laughed. "You did spend an entire night at my job, so I guess it's only fair I go see yours."

He laughed, but before he was able to respond, the waitress returned with our bottle of wine and an appetizer. She popped the cork and poured each of us a glass. And then she was gone again.

Lucas lifted his glass and I did the same. "To being alive," he said with a smirk, "and to you, for taking such good care of me. But most of all, to us and the start of what I think is going to be an amazing friendship." He gently tapped his glass to mine, and then took a sip.

I brought my glass to my lips and drank, hoping he didn't see the disappointment in my face. He'd said friendship. I didn't know why that upset me so much. It's not like I expected him to become my boyfriend on the night of our first date, but I had hoped he was looking for more. I should've known better, though. He was only passing through, and I was probably just someone to occupy him while he was here. When he left to go to Texas, I was sure he'd find another young woman to entertain him. I quickly pushed those thoughts out of my mind and chalked it up to my overanalyzing nature. _Live in the moment_ I told myself.

He set his glass down and plucked a scallop from the plate between us; then he held it out to me. "I hope you like these."

"They're my favorite," I said, leaning forward and taking the scallop from him. I heard a faint groan from him when my lips closed around the toothpick, pulling the food from it. And then I saw how his eyes darkened again. I washed it down with a drink of wine.

"Your turn," I shot back as I held out a scallop for him. He took it, as his gaze locked on mine.

It was wrong how sexy it was watching him eat. The way his lips puckered, the way his throat worked, his Adam's apple bobbing, the way he licked the taste from his bottom lip. I realized then just how badly I wanted him to kiss me. In fact, I wished he would do it right here and now.

"You have no idea how happy I am that you agreed to go out with me tonight," he said, taking another drink of his wine.

"I'm happy I'm here, too, Lucas." I smiled. The best part was the date had only just begun. We still had all of dinner and the rodeo after.

# Chapter Six

Rodeo

"Dinner was wonderful, Lucas. Thank you," I said as we drove toward Covanta and the rodeo.

I hadn't expected dessert, but when he'd offered to share a slice of cheesecake with me, I wasn't able to say no. The menu had advertised it as classic New York Style Cheesecake, but Lucas had informed it wasn't anything like traditional New York cheesecake. All I knew was it had been delicious. And filling! I'd eaten way too much.

"You're very welcome." He said, looking over at me with a smile. "I honestly don't think I've ever had such an enjoyable meal. Eating on the road usually consists of grabbing something greasy from a fast food place or a sub with dry, stale bread from a gas station convenience store."

"I don't know how you do it." I said laughing. I was by no means a foodie, but I did enjoy food – cooking it and eating it.

"It's a small price to pay for doing what I love."

"Don't you ever get tired of being on the road?" I said, as I twisted in my seat to face him. "I mean, you've said you wanted a family someday. Do you think you'll ever be able to find that with how much you travel?"

"Yes, I do." He nodded emphatically. "As much as I love Bull Riding, I know it's not something I can do for the rest of my life." He laughed. "Could you imagine? Being in my fifties trying to ride a bull."

I smiled, but didn't laugh. I hated how insecure I felt right now. Lucas was a wonderful man, and if things were different, I wouldn't hesitate to get serious with him, to settle down and pursue that family we both wanted. But I could not let myself fall for him when he was on borrowed time.

"Here we are," he announced as he pulled into a large, dirt parking lot.

The place was a lot bigger than I expected. Of course, never having been to a rodeo before, I really had no idea what to expect. Lucas parked the car and was over to my side, opening the door for me before I had my seatbelt unhooked. I took his proffered hand and got out. The air was warm, the breeze light. The sky was dark, though, sprinkled with the brightest stars I'd ever seen.

Lucas laced the fingers of our hands, and led me toward the large barn-like building set off to our right. "This is where we keep the horses when we're not performing. The bulls are kept over there." He pointed to another large barn to our left.

"So, what exactly do you do? Do you ride the bulls or are you one of those guys who ride the horses and lasso the bulls?"

"I'm primarily a bull rider, but there are times when I get on a horse and lasso. But I usually only do that when one of the cowboys isn't able. Even though we have a full staff of people who tend to the animals, we all pitch in and help out. We're like a big family around here."

"That's great." I said, smiling.

Lucas pulled open the door and motioned for me to enter. I stepped inside and was awestruck by how big it was. Not only were there individual stables for the horses, there was a ring with a secluded viewing room.

"Wow," I whispered, my eyes widening in an effort to take everything in.

"Come on. We can watch." He opened another door, and I followed him up a small flight of stairs to the viewing room, which was nothing more than a long hallway-like room with tall, bar-like chairs that faced the plate glass window.

I stood in front of the window and looked down at the ring. There were two men riding horses, trotting around the ring. One of the men swirled a rope over his head and looped it perfectly around a nearby post as his horse galloped by it. The cowboy pulled his heels into the horse's side, slowing it to stop.

I watched, entranced, as the two men worked. It looked more like practiced grace, a well-rehearsed show, which I suppose it was. But what was better was the way it made me feel. Standing here watching man and horse work together in unison reminded me of my childhood, on the farm with my grandparents. Witnessing my grandfather break a horse with a loving but firm hand.

"Those are two of our best," Lucas said, coming to stand beside me. "The one on the brown horse is Dylan, and the other is Greg. When a rider is bucked from the bull, those two will ride in and lasso the bull if the rodeo clowns can't get the bull back to the pin. They are the last resort so the bull doesn't hurt or kill anyone."

I jerked my head to look at him. "That's possible? For a bull to kill a rider?"

"Yes." He smiled as if amused with my naivety. "But it doesn't happen nearly as often as you'd think, and they're part of the reason why." He nodded toward the two men in the ring.

I placed my hand over my racing heart. "My God, Lucas. Aren't you afraid of that happening to you?" I couldn't fathom doing a job day in and day out that had such a high risk of death.

He turned his body to me and caressed my cheek with his hand. I leaned into his touch, loving how warm and gentle it was. I allowed my eyes to flutter closed momentarily, simply enjoying the tender moment.

"I'm a lot more careful then most bull riders."

"How so?" I asked, opening my eyes to meet his gaze.

"You learn to develop a relationship with the bull, and like any animal, you become attuned to its mannerisms. If I feel it getting ready to move a certain way, I counter it. But if I can feel it being overly ornery, I will let it buck me and get the hell out of the ring." He laughed. "Not all riders will do that. They'll try to ride the meanest bull just to show how good they are."

"It all still sounds very dangerous."

"I'm sure some of the guys are doing practice rides right now. Want to go watch?" He said.

The excitement in his voice, the sparkle in his eyes reminded me of the look a child got when I handed them a lollipop after getting an exam. I laughed, unable to control myself. "Yeah, I'd love to." I finally responded.

Taking my hand again, we left the viewing room and across the lot to the other barn. This one wasn't as nice, but it was just as big. It smelled a lot worse, too. My grandfather had a bull once, to the behest of my grandmother, and the thing was always relieving himself. This barn brought on that memory. I made a face, which Lucas noticed and laughed.

"I should've warned you about the smell. I'm sorry." He gave my hand a squeeze. "I guess I'm just so used to it that I didn't think..."

"It's okay. I grew up around animals. It's been years since I've been near any though, so this is nice."

"What kind of animals?" He asked inquisitively.

"Horses, cows, chickens, pigs, and lots of cats and dogs. My grandfather taught me all about them."

"My grandfather is the one who first introduced me to horses, and then bulls. He dabbled in bull riding, but mostly for fun and when his friends would bet him he couldn't stay on longer than them." Lucas said with a laugh. "He's the reason I love the rodeo so much."

Unlike the horse barn, this one didn't have a private viewing room. The practice ring was located behind the barn in the open field. We stood near the reinforced wooden fence that comprised the ring. Lucas rested his arms on top of the fence, and I tentatively reached out to grip it, unsure if the bull would come charging at us.

"Over there," he pointed to a gate located on the opposite side of the ring, "is where the rider mounts the bull. When the buzzer sounds, the gate is flung open, and the bull charges out. That up there," he pointed to a large time clock hanging on the side of the barn, "is the timer. The longer you can stay on, the more points you earn."

"What's the longest you've ever stayed on?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"Seven point two four seconds."

"Seconds?"

Lucas laughed. "It's a lot harder than it sounds. Watch." He nodded to the ring.

I turned and the buzzer sounded. God, that was loud. Just as Lucas said, the bull came charging out of the gate, he jumped and bucked, trying to dislodge its unwanted rider. Looking up, I noted the clock was moving rapidly, counting out the seconds the man remained on the bull. My heart raced as the numbers ticked higher and higher.

"Is there a record for your rodeo?" I asked.

He nodded. "Billy currently holds the record at ten point six four seconds."

"Wow." I said as I turned my gaze back to the bull rider, adrenaline spiking through my body. Simply watching was exhilarating. I couldn't begin to imagine what it must be like to be in that ring doing that.

A moment later, the man was thrown from the bull. He was on his feet and running toward the fence, jumping over it to safety before the bull could reach him. I clapped loudly, impressed with the show.

"That's incredible," I said in awe.

"We're having another live show next week. You should come and watch me ride." He turned so his back was to the fence.

I couldn't deny the short show I'd just seen was amazing, but could I watch Lucas do that? What if he got hurt again? How could I ever sit by and watch something happen to him. Although, it was an invitation to see him again, and that wasn't something I could say no to. I smiled.

"Yeah, okay. You don't mind if I bring my sister along, do you?"

"Not at all." He pushed off the fence. "Care to take a walk?"

I nodded, and we walked hand in hand away from the bull riding ring and into the open fields behind it. The grounds were well tended to, but the further they got from the barns, the darker it became. The illumination from the moon and stars wasn't enough to fully bathe them in light, but it did wonders for setting the mood.

"It's beautiful out here," I said.

"Not as beautiful as you." Lucas put his arm around my waist and winked. I realized he said that every time I commented on the beauty of something. I hoped he didn't think I was phishing for compliments.

"My sisters and I used to play in fields like this when we were kids. We'd pretend we were stranded in the middle of nowhere and we'd wait for prince charming to rescue us." I laughed, remembering how adamant I used to be about having a cowboy on a brown and white horse rescuing me.

He stopped walking and tugged me to him, wrapping his arms around me. My breath hitched, but I didn't attempt to pull away. His arms felt too good, his body too strong and safe against mine. I rested my hands on his biceps and looked up into his handsome face.

"Do you still dream of prince charming coming to your rescue?" he asked, a faint smile playing across his face.

"He already has," I whispered, feeling empowered by the intensity of the moment.

Lucas lowered his head, his mouth aligning with mine, and then his tongue grazed over my lips, parting them. I dragged my hands up his arms, over his shoulders, and around to the back of his neck, welcoming his kiss. It was tentative at first, but then became a little harder, more self-assured, deeper. His arms tightened around me, bringing me so close to him I wasn't sure where I ended and he began. I moaned softly, never wanting the kiss to end. And he must've felt the same way because he kissed me so long I was left gasping for breath when he finally tore his lips from mine.

"I want to see you again, Rebecca." He said, with bated breath.

All I could do was nod in agreement.

# Chapter Seven

Sisters

I carried the final moving box inside and set it on the kitchen floor. Wiping the dust from my hands, I looked around and smiled. "This is a really great place, Michelle."

"It's so small," she complained.

I refrained from rolling my eyes. It was my only day off this week, and I was helping my sister finish moving and unpacked, so she could stop sleeping on Mom and Dad's couch. Yet, all she could seem to do was complain. I knew firsthand how hard it was to live alone, how long and lonely the nights could be, but this situation was a hundred times better than the one she was leaving behind.

"Yes, it might be small, but it's all yours. You don't have to share anything with anyone," I said as cheerfully as possible, hoping it might make her feel better.

Michelle flopped down on the couch, which was placed haphazardly in the middle of the living room, and sighed heavily. "Yeah, it will be nice not to be constantly picking up after that bum and tripping over his stupid shoes. I swear he owns more pairs than I do."

I laughed, happy to see Michelle's mood pick up so easily. I sat beside her, surveying the dozens of boxes littered throughout the apartment. It was going to take forever to unpack everything. She'd asked me to cook for her and bake my special chocolate chip walnut cookies, I was afraid we'd never find the proper utensils or ingredients in time.

"We should probably start with the kitchen first if you expect me to cook for you."

Nodding, Michelle said, "Yeah...or we could just order in, save both of us headaches."

"Oh, that would be wonderful." I concurred before resting my head on the back of the couch and momentarily closing my eyes.

I hadn't gotten much sleep last night. After Lucas dropped me off, he called and we spend a few hours on the phone. Once we did finally hang up, I couldn't stop smiling or thinking about him, about that kiss. Even now I could feel his lips on mine, feel his arms around me, holding me. I sighed dreamily.

"What's got you floating around on cloud nine?" The sharp voice of my sister said, cutting the air.

I lifted my head and looked at my sister, knowing she was going to freak out as soon as I told her. She was always on my case to start dating again, but I'd never really had any interest – until. "I had a date with Lucas last night."

Her eyes widened and she sat up straighter, turning toward me and crossing her legs beneath her. "The sexy bull rider from the hospital you told me about?"

I nodded. "Yup, that's him. Lucas Hudson. Even his name is sexy, don't you think?"

Michelle laughed. "Uh, yeah! So, tell me all about it, and don't leave out a single detail."

For the next half an hour, I detailed my date to her, telling her everything. When it came to the part of the date when he kissed me, I glossed over it. It wasn't because I didn't trust her with the information, I did, but for the time being, I wanted to keep it kind of private, something special between just me and Lucas. I should've known she wouldn't let it slide though.

"Whoa. He kissed you? And you let him?"

"Of course I let him." I gave her an odd look, annoyed with the fact she had this misconception I was some sort of prude when it came to men and physical contact. Granted, that's how I'd lived for the past several months, but what she didn't know was just how much I'd missed the touch of a man, the companionship that came with being in a relationship.

She laughed. "Sorry, no reason to get defensive. So, how was it? Are you going to see him again?"

"It was the single best kiss of my entire life," I said, letting the memory of it consume me once again. God, what I wouldn't give to have him here right now kissing me.

"Aw, Becca." Michelle said as she leaned forward and hugged me. It was nice to know that no matter what life threw at her, how low she was in life at the moment, she could put all that aside and be happy for me. And I could do the same for her. "That's great." She smiled. "So, when's your next date?"

My heart raced at the mere mention of seeing him again. "Well, he's performing with the rodeo next weekend and asked me to come watch. He said I could bring you along if you wanted to go."

"Hell yeah, I do!" She laughed. "I need to meet the man who brought my sister out of her self-imposed solitude and put that rosy glow back in her cheeks."

As much as I loved her, Michelle could be so dramatic at times.

"He said he wanted to see me again, but we haven't actually made another date." I continued.

I frowned at that realization. It's not like he'd be around forever so why hadn't he made plans with me? I couldn't read too much into it. Maybe he wanted to see if I would follow through on my promise to watch him ride. Or maybe he'd only been being nice after our kiss, unsure what else to say, so he blurted that out in the heat of the moment. Guys did things like that all the time, didn't they? Say they'd call or that they should go out again, but then disappear off the face of the earth?

Lucas wasn't like that. I had to believe that. He was too much of a gentleman. I'm sure he was just busy with the rodeo and other responsibilities. He did grow up in Covanta after all. He was probably visiting with his family and friends. I couldn't fault him for that. Family had always been the most important thing to me, and it was high on my list of attractive attributes.

"He wants to have kids, you know," I said, standing and preparing to start unpacking.

"He told you that?" My sister responded.

"Yeah." I laughed. "We talked about so much last night, Michelle. He loves the rodeo and clearly doesn't want to give that up yet, but he was very clear about his desire to someday settle down and start a family."

"I don't think I've ever met a man, let alone been on a first date with one, who openly talked about the future and a family like that. He sounds like a keeper, Becca."

I paused with a stack of bowls in my hands. A keeper. I sighed. Yeah, he was definitely a keeper, long term boyfriend and husband material. I'd known that after talking to him in the hospital that night.

"Too bad he's leaving in a few weeks to go back on the road," I said, sadness clouding my voice, as I made my way into the kitchen to put the bowls in the cabinet.

Michelle followed me into the room, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. "How long before he leaves?"

"A couple of weeks." I shrugged, not wanting to think about that inevitable day.

"So that gives you a few weeks to change his mind." Michelle smiled triumphantly as if she'd just figured out a big, first world problem.

A short laugh escaped me. "Yeah, right. I have no intention of trying to convince him to stay. The rodeo is his life, his dream, his career. I can't be that selfish, Michelle."

"No, maybe not, but you can get him to fall in love with you...if he isn't already." She winked and pushed off the frame, walking toward me. "I know firsthand how hard and sucky long distance relationships can be, but if you two really like each other, there's no reason this can't work. Like you said, he's not going to be with the rodeo forever."

"No, he's not," I shook my head, conceding to that point. "But how do I know he won't meet someone else in the next town he stops in? Or that he doesn't already have several girlfriends scattered across the country?"

Michelle sighed. "Do you really believe that?" When I didn't answer, she said, "I didn't think so."

"I don't know." I shrugged. "I'm probably getting way ahead of myself here. It was just one date. For all I know, it meant nothing to him."

"Well, for what it's worth, I think you need to keep an open mind about this. Don't let something like his job sway you." My sister summarized with a level headed approach that was normally only reserved for me.

The tone of her voice made my stomach twist. She sounded way too much like our Mom, and I would've told her that, if I knew it wouldn't start a big disagreement. Michelle hated it when people pointed out how similar she was to our mother. It was the quickest and easiest way to offend her, which isn't something I wanted to do, but the truth of it smacked me in the face.

We spent the next several hours unpacking and organizing, working in comfortable silence most of the time, and when we did talk, it was about where things were going to go and decorating ideas for the apartment. As the day progressed, I could see Michelle's excitement building. This was the first time she'd ever been on her own and not living with parents or a boyfriend. I remembered how scared I was when I first moved out on my own. Thankfully, I had the support of Michelle, and I was determined to return the favor. I wanted her to succeed.

"I say we grab some food," Michelle said, glancing at her cell phone to check the time. "It's almost five."

"Sounds good. I'm starving. Do you just want to have a pizza delivered, or do you want to go somewhere and get something?" I asked.

"Pizza is fine. I'm not leaving the house looking like this." She held her arms out to her sides and looked down at her ratty, dust covered clothes.

I suppressed a smile. "Okay, I'll order it. Want our usual? Extra cheese, sausage and peppers?"

"Yes, and be sure to get some garlic knots, too!"

I laughed. I'd skipped having garlic bread last night because I didn't want to have bad breath should Lucas have kissed me. It was a good call on my part, but tonight I didn't have to worry about that, so I planned to order double. Garlic knots from the local pizza shop were among my favorite. In fact, I liked them so much, I found a recipe to make them myself.

Retrieving my cell phone from my purse, I swiped my thumb across the screen and was pleasantly surprised to find a voicemail and three text messages – all from Lucas. Actually, giddy was probably a better word. I was giddy. I read the text messages first.

Thinking of you.

_Wish I was with you right now instead of with a group of sweaty dudes._ That one made me laugh out loud.

I miss you, Rebecca.

Then I played the voicemail, which I guessed – correctly – was from him. "Hey, Rebecca. Just taking a quick break and thought I'd give you a call since you haven't responded to a single one of my texts. Or maybe you're just trying to tell me something." He chuckled. "I really do want to see you again. Give me a call so we can make another date."

I sighed, clutching the phone to my chest as if that would somehow bring me closer to him. Then I typed back a quick text response: _helping my sister move and get settled. Will call later this evening. I miss you, too._ As I pressed send, I couldn't remember a time when I'd felt so happy, and I wanted this feeling to last forever.

# Chapter Eight

Special Trip

It had been almost three weeks since my first official date with Lucas, and we'd spent as much time together as we could. My days off were devoted to him, and even on the days I had to work, we'd try to sneak in a meal together as often as we could. And last week, when I had to pull double shifts for four days in a row, he'd driven all the way from Covanta just to spend my breaks with me. I never realized sitting in a hospital cafeteria eating bad food could be so much fun. Then again, any time I spent with Lucas was fun.

He'd gotten into the habit of kissing me every single time he saw me now, and that was one of the best parts of seeing him. His kisses were addictive, and I was beginning to want more – a lot more. And that kind of terrified me because nothing had changed: He was still leaving. I wasn't sure I could give myself to a man in that way, and then have him leave me. It would break me.

As it was, I was already falling in love with him, something I promised myself I wouldn't do for this very reason. But here I was, hopelessly in love with Lucas Hudson. I sighed and finished packing the baked goods I'd made into the cooler.

Yesterday, Lucas had invited me out to his grandfather's ranch, which he'd been helping out at during his stay in Covanta. It's how he spent his time when he wasn't with me. I felt bad every time he left his family to be with me, though. I knew he didn't get to see them very often, and I didn't want to become one of those women who tears a guy from all of his family and friends. But every time I bring it up, he assures me it's not a big deal, that his family understands and only wants him to be happy.

I double checked to make sure I had everything I needed, and then I loaded up my car and pulled out of my driveway. Lucas had offered to pick me up, but it was silly for him to drive down here to get me only to drive back to Covanta. Plus, I was looking forward to the silence of making the drive alone. I was so conflicted about my feelings for Lucas. Okay, maybe that wasn't exactly accurate. I knew how I felt about him. I think I loved him. But I was struggling with whether I should tell him that or not. I turned up the radio and picked up a little bit of speed.

****

"You made it!" Lucas beamed as I got out of the car and made my way up the crazy long driveway.

He walked toward me, and I could tell by the twinkle in his eyes what he was planning. As soon as I was close enough, he wrapped me in a strong hug, his lips landing on mine in a soft, teasing kiss. Every single time he kissed me like that, my heart melted. My body would ignite with need. My breaths would become short, ragged pants that made me want to beg for more just so I could experience him stealing all breath from me.

"Did you really think I'd miss this?" I asked, pressing my palms to his chest, loving how solid and warm it was beneath my touch.

He shrugged. "I often worry you're becoming sick of me."

I laughed and shook my head. "Trust me, Lucas, that's not going to happen."

Smiling, he took my hand, lacing our fingers. "Good because you'd have a really hard time getting rid of me." He said smiling as we walked toward the house.

Correction: the mansion. At least, that's what it looked like to me anyway. It was a four story brick masterpiece that loomed high above the trees that surrounded it. Gorgeous pillars adorned the front of the house, and a rose covered lattice comprised one side of the house. I looked up, taking in the full sight, and realized there were stained glass windows in the cupolas that sat atop the main roof.

"Wow, Lucas, this place is gorgeous." I slowed my steps just so I could stare at it in awe a bit longer.

Noticing what I was doing, Lucas stopped walking and stood behind me. He put his arms around me, resting his chin on my shoulder. "This was my grandmother's dream house. My grandfather had it built for her as a ten year wedding anniversary gift. They'd lived in a rat infested apartment for years just so he could save enough to make the down payment to the builders. That's how she always told the story anyway." Lucas chuckled.

"That's so romantic," I whispered. I wondered what it would be like to have a man be so in love with me that he'd go to such great lengths to make me happy. Would I ever know love like that? Or was it just a silly fantasy?

Lucas softly kissed my cheek, then that sensitive spot right behind my ear. I suppressed a shudder as delicious sensations ricocheted through my body. "A few years after the house was finished, they built the barns and filled them with horses."

"I love horses. My grandfather taught me to ride as soon as I was able to walk." I laughed, looking at him over my shoulder. No matter how often I saw him, his handsome, striking features always stunned me.

"You know how to ride?" He asked.

"Yeah, but it has been a long time."

He grinned. "Good because we're going to take a stroll over the estate today."

Excitement bubbled up in my stomach, and I was powerless to stop it. "Really?" I turned so I was facing him, my hands resting on his shoulders. "I haven't been riding in so long."

"That's okay." He enveloped me in another hug. "I have the perfect mare for you to ride. She's gentle, takes direction well." He brushed his nose against mine. "Unless you just want to ride with me." There was that familiar, mischievous glint to his expression.

"As tempting as that is, I'm really excited to get on a horse again." I told him.

"Whatever you want, sweetheart." Giving the tip of my nose a kiss, he once again took my hand, and we headed back toward the house. "Did you bring the goodies?"

"Yes." I laughed. Lucas had become rather enthralled with my baking skills, and there wasn't a day that went by that I didn't have something sweet waiting for him.

"Good. I packed a picnic lunch for us. There's this great little pond near the edge of the property. I thought we could stop there and have something to eat."

"Sounds wonderful." I said with a smile.

An hour later, Lucas brought his horse, Jackson, to a stop near the pond he'd mentioned earlier. I brought Daisy to a stop beside them, admiring the view. Not only of the surrounding view of nature, but of Lucas. He was good on a horse, a natural. I'd seen him ride at the rodeo, but there was something different about seeing him ride today. It's like he was more relaxed, at peace with everything around him.

He dismounted and tied Jackson to a nearby tree, giving the horse enough length to reach the pond and drink from it. Then Lucas helped me off Daisy and tied her up the same way. "So, what do you think?" he asked.

"Breathtaking," I said. "Really, Lucas, I can see why your grandmother loved it here so much. God, if I lived here I don't think I'd ever leave." I chuckled. "It really is no wonder your grandfather can't bear to part with it, and I hope he never does."

"He's offered it to me, you know?"

"He has?" My eyebrows rose in shock.

Lucas nodded and began to spread out a blanket on the ground. "Yeah. He's told me more than once that if I buy this place from him, it can stay in the family, and I can stay away from the rodeo." He grabbed the picnic basket and set it down; then motioned for me to sit beside him.

"I thought he supported your rodeo career." I said as I sat beside Lucas.

"He does." He put his arm around me, pulling me close. I put my head on his shoulder. "But as his only grandchild, he worries."

I sat in stunned silence, trying to process what Lucas had just said. If he had the opportunity to buy this place, and he didn't, then he must really love the rodeo. In that moment, any lingering – albeit farfetched – hope I had about him suddenly deciding to give up life on the road to stay here with me were dashed. Lucas was a rodeo man. No one or nothing could ever change that.

"I can understand that," I said, "about him worrying. It's not like you're in the safest profession."

Lucas squeezed me closer to him and kissed the top of my head. "No, but just like my grandfather couldn't give this place up, I can't give up bull riding. It's in my blood."

"Yeah."

We fell silent for a few moments, each of us lost in our own thoughts. I stared at the pond, mesmerized by how serene and peaceful it was. There were two ducks in the water, floating around as if they didn't have a care in the world. They probably didn't.

"Hungry?" Lucas asked after a while.

I straightened and smiled. "A little."

I watched as he unpacked the basket, memorizing everything about him from the way his fingers worked to pop the cork on the bottle of wine he'd packed, to the way his muscles tensed then relaxed with each movement he made. I noticed the way the light breeze tousled his hair, and he'd absently reach up to push it out of his eyes; and the way he'd twist his mouth into contemplation as he worked.

And I had the sudden urge to cry.

How would I ever be able to say goodbye to him? In such a short period of time, he'd stolen me, heart and soul. Tears stung the back of my throat, and I swallowed against them, not wanting to ruin this perfect moment he'd created for us. No. I could wait until I got home later and cry in the privacy of my own room. I would grieve for the impending loss of Lucas on my own time, alone.

"To us," he said, raising his glass.

"Us," I agreed, barely able to choke out the words. No matter how short lived 'us' really is.

# Chapter Nine

Night Sky

After a lovely lunch and a lot of stolen kisses, Lucas suggested we ride a bit more. I think we travelled the entire expanse of the estate by the time he motioned for us to stop. We were in front of what appeared to be an abandoned barn, yet it looked like it had been fully maintained. It was weird it was so far away from the main house and all the other barns. But I didn't question Lucas about it. I was having way too much fun just being with him.

He dismounted, and I did the same – without his help this time – and then he gathered a blanket from the saddle bag. It was the same blanket we'd sat on for our picnic.

"Follow me," he said.

We entered through a small side door that creaked when Lucas opened it, and for a moment I was afraid it would fall off its hinges. I looked around, amazed there was so much fresh hay inside. For being unused, I didn't expect it to be so...clean. During my visual perusal, I noticed an open skylight pretty cool.

Lucas spread the blanket out on top of the hay, directly below the skylight. "I thought maybe we could just watch the stars for a while. They're starting to come out."

I smiled. "That would be lovely."

He settled on the blanket, and I lay next to him, both of us on our backs, staring up at the darkening evening sky. Our silence was comfortable, which was refreshing, and I allowed my mind to wander places I hadn't let it go before: the dream of a future with Lucas. Marriage. Children. Making love to him every night. I sighed and closed my eyes.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

"No." I turned my head so I was facing him. "Everything is absolutely perfect."

He gave me that same sexy smile that made my knees weak the first night I'd met him, and I rolled onto my side. Lucas did the same, his arm going around my waist and pulling me closer, so close our bodies were pressed together. And then he kissed me. Softly at first, then a bit harder until I felt like my whole body was on fire, and he was devouring me. We'd kissed a lot, but never like this, never with so much passion I thought I'd overdose on it.

"You're absolutely perfect," he said, smiling against my lips.

I chuckled, tracing the curve of his cheek, the angle of his jaw. "Thank you for everything, Lucas. These past few weeks have been amazing."

"Yes, they have." He gently guided me onto my back and brought his body over mine. "And they're about to get a hell of a lot better." He said. His grin was wicked, his intentions clear.

I had no intentions or desire to stop him. I wanted this just as much as he did, and damn it, if I had to let him go soon, I was going to have something to remember him by, something I could recall during the long, lonely nights.

Lucas slanted his mouth over mine and kissed me slowly, softly, savoring every second of our embrace. And then he slipped his hand up under the hem of my shirt, his strong, calloused hand grazing over my belly button, causing me to shudder. Goose bumps erupted on my skin when he traced lazy circles around my stomach and ribs. Kissing him like this seared my senses, and I couldn't feel anything other than his body melded against mine, his tongue twisting and turning around mine. And I couldn't taste anything other than the sweet, sugary remnants of fruit on his lips. He tasted and felt heavenly.

I pushed him over onto his back and flung my leg over his waist, straddling him. He looked momentarily surprised, but then his hands landed on my hips, and he held me as I leaned down to claim his lips. I'd never been what anyone would call sexually aggressive, and I really didn't consider what I was doing right now overly aggressive, but I did get a rush from taking control like this. And Lucas didn't seem to mind in the least.

Pulling away, I reached for his shirt, tugging it out from the waist band of his jeans, and then I began to unbutton it, my fingernails grazing along his bare skin each time another button was undone. Every time I did, his stomach would hollow and he'd inhale sharply. He made no move to stop me though. In fact, when my hands fumbled around his waist, trying to yank the back of his shirt free from his pants, he lifted just enough to make that possible. I guided his shirt from his shoulders and was struck by how gorgeous his chest was. I mean, I knew he was muscular, but good God, those muscles should be labeled a deadly sin.

I trailed my fingers down the length of his upper body, noting how soft the light dusting of hair on his chest and stomach was. Then I leaned down and kissed his chest. He groaned, which only empowered me more. I moved down his body, kissing as I went. The feel of his hard body beneath my lips burnt me alive. He gripped my shoulders, and I looked up at him under my lashes. His eyes were closed, his mouth parted on a sigh. I dragged my mouth up his stomach and chest, nipping at his neck and jaw before plunging my tongue into his mouth, kissing him with a ferocity that made it nearly impossible for me to stay still.

I wanted him.

I would have him.

I once again slid down his body, flicking the button on his jeans open, and then slowly pulling his zipper down. My gaze was on him, desperate to know if he was okay with this, if he was upset in any way that I'd decided to take control like this.

He rolled his eyes and moaned. "Rebecca," he said.

My heart was racing so damn fast I fought to breathe. I looked up at him with a sultry smile moments before pulling his thick, hard flesh from the confines of his jeans and wrapping my slender fingers around his shaft.

Lucas looked down at me and watched as I took him into my mouth. He was so big, my cheeks and lips stretched to an almost uncomfortable degree, but the taste of him far outweighed any mild discomfort I had. Besides, once I did this for a little while, it would be so bad. I just had to allow my body time to adjust to him.

He reached down, gathering my hair and holding it away from my face. "Fuck," he groaned, drawing out the word.

I slowly drew back until nothing but my tongue rested on the underside of the head, and then I licked over it with erotic hunger. Down his shaft and up again. From the way he was panting now, I had to assume he liked it. No man had ever tasted as good to me as he did. I wanted to stay like this with him forever, to shut out the entire world, ignore everyone and everything, and just have it be the two of us.

"Oh God, yeah." His eyes rolled back as I drew him into my mouth again, cupping his sack in my hand. "Rebecca, baby, I'm gonna come," he warned me. I sucked him harder for a moment, unsure if I wanted to actually let him come in my mouth, but he made that decision for me when he pulled out of my mouth and guided my lips back to his.

"Lucas," I breathed out his name as his mouth crushed mine.

"That was..." He shook his head. "I have no words, but now, it's my turn." He winked.

I held my breath, knowing full well what his intentions were. Panic seized me, and I opened my mouth to tell him no, but I couldn't get the word to form. I swallowed hard, reminding myself that this was Lucas, and he'd never do anything to hurt me. Yet, I couldn't quite let that thought alone settle my nerves. My eyes widened, and I shook my head back and forth.

Lucas's hands stroked up my legs, his fingers deftly working the button on my jeans. The sound of my zipper being pulled down echoed around the barn.

"Lucas," I whispered, my voice wavering. I couldn't stop myself. I wanted him to know. He deserved to know.

He stopped and looked at me. "Don't tell me you've never..."

"No," I said. "No one has ever..." I could feel the heat rise on my cheeks, and I silently cursed myself for blushing so badly.

Lucas refused to hide his smile as he brought his mouth to mine and gave me a tender reassuring kiss. "Are you a virgin, Rebecca?"

"No," I whispered, "but I've never had anyone..." I swallowed hard, suddenly feeling very foolish, "perform oral on me."

He chuckled, giving me another kiss. "Trust me."

I nodded and he slowly removed my jeans and panties before finding my mouth again. I braced myself on my hands and let my head fall back to my shoulders as he nipped and licked his way down my body, removing my shirt as he went. The cool night air blew across my now naked body, hardening my nipples.

"So beautiful," he crooned as he inched closer to my thighs, and I couldn't stop myself from watching him, mesmerized by the sight of his head, with that gorgeous soft hair, between my legs.

Lucas lifted my right leg, bending it so my foot was flat on the blanket and kissed his way toward the apex of my thighs. He repeated this on my left leg. I had no idea what to expect, but the anticipation was killing me. He put his hand on my stomach and gently guided me back so I was lying flat, keeping his head tucked between my legs.

"Do you have any idea how long I've wanted to do this?" he said, stroking his thumb over my now throbbing lips, holding my butt still so that I couldn't move away from him. Not that I wanted to.

All the air rushed out of my lungs, and I was left gasping at the feel of Lucas's mouth on my swollen, needy nub. He kissed it, sucked it into his mouth, drew it out, released it, and then flicked his tongue over it. I dug my heels into the hay, bracing myself against the rush of sensations that flooded over me. "Oh, God, yes!" I cried as his tongue played with me, dipping inside me, stoking the already raging fire between my legs.

Lucas let go of my butt and ran his hands along the inside of my legs, spreading them open. I hadn't even realized I'd closed them around his head. It was a reflex to the intense sensations coursing through my veins. His fingers parted my folds, and his tongue licked up one side of my lips and down the other. My hips came up off the ground, and my hands bunched in his hair holding him to me.

It was so good I didn't think it could get any better. Or rather, if it did get any better, I knew I would never survive it. Then he slid a finger or two inside of me, his thumb applying just the right amount of pressure to the bundle of nerves he'd so skillfully teased with his tongue moments earlier, his tongue working me into a frenzy of bucks and moans.

"Lucas," I moaned as I came around his fingers. My orgasm was all-consuming, making my face go numb, my eyes burst with vibrant flashes of light, my legs tremble uncontrollably as he eased his fingers out of me, and my entire body quivered. I don't recall a time I've ever came so hard or fast.

He feathered kisses up my body, lingering on the indentation of my waist and hipbone before climbing over me, putting his palms flat on either side of my head. I sat up on my elbows and looked into his eyes. They were darker than I'd ever seen them before. It was a seething look of desire.

Desire for me!

"Make love to me, Lucas," I whispered.

# Chapter Ten

Night Of Ecstasy

"God, I thought you'd never ask." Lucas chuckled as he fumbled in his jeans pocket, retrieving a condom.

I watched as he finished removing his clothing, happy he'd planned for this possibility, but also a little shocked he was so prepared. I bit down on my bottom lip, enjoying the view of his fully naked body, which was absolutely glorious! As soon as he had the condom on, he leaned over me, finding my lips and kissing them softly. My entire body was buzzing and humming and tingling with anticipation. I wanted Lucas so badly while at the same time, I was a little scared.

Lucas spread my legs with his knees and settled between them. Then he captured my lips again and kissed me, nipping at my bottom lip, sucking on it in an erotic way that had me pushing my hips up into him. He put his hand on my waist, holding me still. "Rebecca, honey, I don't want to rush this."

I groaned with frustration. I didn't want to rush, but I didn't want to wait too much longer either. "Fine, but don't tease me too long." I said as I trailed my fingers down his muscular arms and around his back. He shuddered beneath my touch, and I smiled. "Please make love to me, Lucas."

He left my lips and kissed down my neck, causing me to shudder. "Are you rushing this?" He chuckled softly as he continued his descent down my body. I really didn't want to rush him because I wanted this to last as long as possible. However, we'd both waited so long already; I couldn't bear to wait a moment longer. Besides, we were running out of time to be together, and I wanted to be able to spend our last few days together just like this: entwined in each other's arms, exploring one another's bodies, making love.

Lucas found my lips once more, kissing me until my lips went numb. Then he made another slow descent down my body, his lips leaving tiny, searing kisses on my skin. I wanted to shout at him to keep going while at the same time I wanted to demand he take me right now.

I reached down and threaded my hands into his hair, luxuriating in how soft the strands felt between my fingers. Then I felt his mouth close around one of my nipples and it was like an electric shot straight to my core. "Oh, God, Lucas." I said, wiggling beneath him, desperate for the teasing to end and for the real pleasure to begin. I needed him worse than I needed my next breath.

"I want you on top," he whispered as he dragged his mouth back to mine. His erection was prominent as it rested between my legs.

I didn't know why that took me by surprise, but it did. Didn't guys generally like to be on top during sex? But I guess I should've known. Lucas wasn't anything like all the other guys I'd met.

"Okay," I mumbled against his lips. Next thing I knew, Lucas rolled us over so that I was on top. I half yelped half laughed in surprise.

"I don't want to hurt you," he said, kneading my butt in his hands.

"Okay," I said breathlessly. The thought of it hurting had occurred to me the moment I saw the size of him, but I wanted this, him, so much, I knew I wouldn't make him stop no matter what.

He reached down and grabbed his shaft, positioning it into my opening, and then very gently, he eased into me. Then he stopped. "Take as little or as much as you want, Rebecca. Make it feel good for you." He said, rotating his hips ever so slightly, just enough so that I felt the movement.

So that's why he insisted I was on top: to let me lead, let me set the pace to whatever was comfortable and pleasurable for me. It was probably the sweetest, most unselfish thing any man had ever done for me during sex.

"Lucas." I moaned as I put my hands on either side of his head and stared at him. His eyes were hazy and filled with desire. It was that look that was my undoing. A seductive smile pulled at my mouth.

"You're killing me, baby." He groaned. His grip on my waist had tightened, and I knew he was having a hard time not moving.

I smiled as I lowered myself down onto him, wincing slightly as I did. He was definitely bigger than anyone I'd ever been with before, but he also felt a hundred times better. I found his lips and kissed him hard as I rotated my hips on him, driving him deeper into me with each slow downward motion of my body. "God, Lucas," I groaned.

He nipped at my bottom lip. "You feel so good, Rebecca." His hands found my butt again and he squeezed my cheeks, guiding me up and down on him with skilled precision, never allowing me to go too fast or too hard even though that's exactly what I wanted to do.

But our need for each other was too great and from the way he clutched my body and grit his teeth, I guessed he agreed. Digging his heels into the hay, he tightened his grip on me, and thrust into me hard and fast for a few moments, causing me to cry out. The sounds of our moans echoed through the empty barn. Lucas hugged me to him, and then rolled us over, putting him on top of me.

I was so close to coming already, and now having the full weight of his body on top of mine, feeling how he moved in and out of me, the way he held onto me as if he were afraid I would suddenly disappear, the way he kissed me with so much hunger, moaning in between our kisses was incredible.

"Baby, you feel incredible. I've wanted you from the moment I saw you." He said, kissing me, his tongue invading my mouth with a frantic desperation that I matched stroke for stroke.

"Yeah," I moaned. I curled my fingers against his biceps, my nails digging into his skin as he pushed all the way into me. I cried out, his name falling from my lips as if in prayer. The feel of Lucas inside of me, stretching me to a new level of pleasure I never knew existed, driving me to madness was euphoric. This one time wasn't ever going to be enough. Hell no! I wanted to spend the rest of tonight and every night for the rest of my life with him.

"I can't get enough of you." He said, grabbing me, bringing me to a sitting position so that we were chest to chest. I hooked my legs around his back, putting my arms around his neck, and then I rocked on him as our mouths explored each other like it was the first time we'd ever kissed.

His pace was slow, deliberate, and soft. I leaned back and guided Lucas's mouth to my breast. I gasped, ready to explode from the feelings he brought out in me. How could someone I'd never been with before know exactly how to touch me, how to bring me to life in this way? He slid his hands from my lower back up to my shoulder blades, bringing me to an upright position again, and finding my lips. But he didn't kiss me. He teased me – something I was learning he liked to do. Not that I was complaining.

"Kiss me," I demanded. He did, and the world exploded around me. My mind went fuzzy; and the only thing I could focus on was the feel of Lucas inside of me, of my desire to hold him there forever. Our pace increased, my body rocking on his harder and faster as my moans became progressively louder. I could feel him swelling inside of me, and I knew he was on the brink of release with me.

"Yeah," he crooned, "come for me, baby," he whispered, nipping at my ear.

I loved it when he called me baby or sweetheart or any other term of endearment. It made me feel special, like I was the only woman on earth in his eyes.

A moment later, I screamed his name and dropped my forehead to his shoulder, holding him tightly as we reached the crescendo of our climax, climbing the peak together, and then crashing down on the other side, still connected, still holding onto each other. It took several moments for the tremors to ease from my body, leaving me limp and spent. Lucas showered my shoulder and collarbone with kisses while I stroked the nape of his neck, holding on to him for as long as I could.

"That was incredible," he whispered, lowering me back down onto the hay. "You're incredible."

He kissed me and eased out of me, leaving me with an utterly empty feeling. I clung to him, not wanting him to leave me. "So are you," I said, tracing his lips with my tongue before he claimed my mouth as his.

Lucas rolled on to his back, bringing me over with him so that my head was on his chest. I draped my arm across his stomach, and his placed a kiss to the top of my head. They lay silently for several moments, and I couldn't help but wonder what he must be thinking. I dragged my fingers up and down his chest, loving how every so often he'd shudder or his stomach would hollow from the sensation.

His hold on me tightened, and he sighed heavily. "I found out today that the rodeo is moving out in a few days."

My hand froze, and the tips of my ears burned hot. A few days? I thought we'd at least have another week or two together. I wanted to cry. I wanted to beg him not to go. I wanted to scream how unfair this was.

"We're headed to Texas," he said as his hand began to rub my back, but it did nothing to calm the panic rising up in me.

I sighed, forced back the well of emotion that threatened to undo me. Folding my hands on his chest, I rested my chin on them, and looked at him. If he was leaving, I needed to memorize every single detail about him so I could remember him once he was gone.

"Say something, Rebecca."

"I don't want you to go," I blurted out.

A faint smile tugged at his lips. "If I could stay, I would. You know that, right?"

I gave an awkward shrug. No, I didn't really know that, but figured it wouldn't do any good to say that aloud.

"I don't want to be without you." Lucas said as he brought me further up his body so our lips were a breath's width apart. He traced my lips with his thumb. "Go with me, Rebecca."

"What?" I'd been so focused on what he said about not wanting to be without me, I must've missed something important because there was no way he just asked me to go with him.

"I want you to go on the road with me. You've said you always wanted to travel. This is your chance, and we can be together."

My heart raced. This was crazy. Yet, the thought of not being with him was unbearable. "Okay," I said, smiling, "I'll go with you."

### Thank you for reading!

## Please visit your favorite eBook retailer to view the next books in the "Romancing The Bull Rider Series"
Cowboy Come Home

by

Deborah Taylor
Copyright © 2017 by Deborah Taylor

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cowboy Come Home

All rights reserved.

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. No part of this work may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording and faxing, or by any information storage and retrieval system by anyone but the purchaser for their own personal use.

This book may not be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of Deborah Taylor, except in the case of a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages for the sake of a review written for inclusions in a magazine, newspaper, or journal—and these cases require written approval from Deborah Taylor prior to publication. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.

# Chapter One

It was no secret in this little, one-horse town that my family had made their home in that Doug and I were supposed to be married by now. Or at the very least, we were supposed to be well on our way down the altar.

Fortunately for us and to the dismay of everyone around us, that wasn't the case. We were very close growing up; sadly, now we are no more than perfect strangers.

Growing up, Doug and I were inseparable. The two of us were friends before we even understood the concept. Then, when we did begin to understand the meaning of the word, it only made our bond stronger.

With our families' ranches separated by only a few acres of undeveloped land, the two of us didn't have much of a choice, but to become fast friends. Our parents had always been friends, which was convenient when we were younger, but grew to be aggravating as we got older.

A lot of that aggravation stemmed from the lack of choice we were given. It wasn't so much that we didn't like one another, but rather, we didn't like the assumption about our future. In the collective family, they believed that since my parents had a girl and Doug's family had a boy, the two of us were going to end up together.

When the two of us realized this, though, we realized that together, we were headstrong enough to defy what everyone else seemed to believe was a seamless and natural match.

Even still, as we began to drift apart, _mostly to spite our parents and the future that they saw for us;_ our parents never gave up hope that we would eventually wake up and realize that we had eyes only for one another.

Although, as much as they would like for us to believe, their hope wasn't all contained in the neat, humble fact that they truly believed we were a match made in heaven. A large part of the idea had not so much to do with young love, but rather, ever since the two of us were in diapers, the families fantasized about uniting and creating one strong, ranching family.

Being that we grew up in a ranching home, never wavering very far from our roots, which dug into the Texas ground deeper than that old live oak tree that still sat in my momma's backyard. We both understood that at the center of everything a good Texas rancher does, there is a business sense behind it.

No one would ever admit that, of course, but whether they are shaking your hand for the first time on the golf course, or actually squaring away business, a rancher is always tuning their hearing to pick up on a business opportunity.

Marriage, even if it wasn't their own, was no different. Nothing was purely sacred in this God-fearing state, even though folks would like to pretend it was. It was a fact that everybody knew though and since the need for opportunity had only strengthened throughout the history, everyone seemed just as interested to forget it as there were to insert that notion into everything they did.

Since we had been groomed to be married at a very young age, creating the first fusion of blood from the families in the form of grandchildren, at first, I was right on board with the idea.

Through every picture together and almost every event where we would show our friendship, even in the most innocent fashion, it was inevitable that someone would have some comment about how we were going to make a great couple someday.

When we began to think for ourselves a little more, though, it became fairly obvious that the assumed arrangement between our well-meaning parents was something of a bone of contention between us.

Of course we remained friends throughout our teenage years, but, every time either of us would hear our parents mention their plans for us, we would cringe.

I can remember the feeling well. First, hearing the comment, my ears would ache with a slight sense of aggravation as they recoiled at what they heard. Then, as my brain processed the conversation, I would feel the shiver of annoyance run down my spine as my shoulders would scrunch up and my eyes would squint.

As my body flinched, I would notice that my nose wrinkled and my hands would momentarily clench. If I was standing by Doug, we both would shift away from one another, as to not encourage any more comments.

Neither of us was sure whether our families noticed these adverse reactions to their comments, but if they did, they simply ignored them.

It was strange, because when I was going through the transition between acceptance and excitement, planning out our life in far more detail than even my parents could fathom and wanting nothing to do with Doug outside of the bounds of our friendship, I could remember having fantasies about it if it all worked out. The teenage rebel in me was angry for my parents trying to force love on me for their own gain, but the romantic in me still wanted to believe the fairytale that we were meant for one another from the start.

Eventually though, that feeling was forced into the background and we mutually decided that regardless of how we felt about one another, which was one subject neither of us dared to breach, we were going to figure out our own path.

So, by the time we graduated, Doug was heading off to college in the city chasing a career in business, while I stayed behind to take care of my family's ranch. After all, my father was getting up in years and while I still had no interest in being told who I should love, I couldn't neglect my family's ranch.

This, however, was completely my decision. In fact, my father tried to talk me out of it, saying that this would be the perfect time for Doug and I to gain some experience together in the real world. There was a fund set up for me and everything, but like the little rebel that I apparently am, after seriously considering my options, I decided to stay home.

It wasn't even that I refused to go to college in order to stay away from Doug. There was no ultimatum presented. I could have gone anywhere in the country and if I wanted to, I probably could have gone anywhere in the world. My family was fairly well-off and therefore, if it was truly important to me, they would have found a way.

However, the truth was that it really wasn't all that important to me. What was important was the ability to keep up on my family's ranch. I didn't care that would mean I would lack an education. At that point in my life, I figured that for what I intended to do, experience was far more important than an expensive piece of paper. As far as knowledge was concerned, I could continue my family's legacy with what I knew. I didn't need any schooling to tell me that.

So, I fought to stay home and even though my parents still have their own comments about my decision, when my father started realizing that he was slowing down, I believed that secretly he was very thankful for my decision.

With Doug so far away, we did not speak for long periods of time, so we inevitably drifted apart from each other.

I thought about all of this as I tended to my daily duties. The ranch was quiet and peaceful, as my boots crunched down over the hay that was scattered across the horse barn. The old wooden building was soothing to me.

The smell of my childhood clung to the rafters and the sight of millions of memories flooded each and every stall. This had always been my safe haven. Even with all of the different scents and sights that would probably all but assault the senses of anyone new to the ranch. All I saw when I looked around this old building was my life and the life of my family.

When my family first settled here, whenever that was, it was alleged that they built this barn by hand. Each nail was driven into each plank without the use of machinery or even all that much manpower. As the story goes, it was just a few people, who worked day and night until the shelter for their beloved horses was finished. Back then, there was no community; being that the majority of this area was considered uninhabitable.

Before we were ranchers, the story goes, we were explorers and the first settlers that came here did so because they just fell in love with the scenery. Eventually, everything else was built around this barn and even with those buildings coming after its existence, none lasted, except this barn.

Homes were added onto and then completely demolished, while fences, silos and other buildings were put up and torn down over the course of a few years, but the one constant thing that remained was the barn.

It wasn't like I was attached to my ancestry; I had absolutely no idea whether or not the story was even true. Rather, I just liked the fact that instead of this barn being the top of the line and brand new, like other horse barns in the area, it had every indication of being completely original.

A lot of the time, I had work to do on the barn. Yet, even when I didn't need to be there, I found solace in this part of the ranch. Over the years, it had become completely my own.

Growing up, I went there in good times and bad; I even requested to have my birthday party in the barn. Because of the amount of people, versus the skittishness of the horses, I had to settle for a birthday party that surrounded the barn. Even still, it was one of the best birthdays that I had ever had the privilege of experiencing.

Today, though, after I was done with my duties, I sighed and leaned against the post that all but wrapped around my form. Leaning my head back in a familiar fashion, I closed my eyes and breathed in the familiar scent of hay and animals. The smell reminded me that I was home and sometimes, that was all I needed to feel better.

***

While I felt my head lull back and forth against the wood, I sighed. There was no way that I was going to be able to actually go through with this. I growled under my breath as the news began to sink in.

Although I had thought a lot in the past few days, I had yet to actually face the facts of what would happen in the next few days.

I had just gotten word that Doug was supposed to be coming home from college for the summer after graduating. I realized that this shouldn't be such a big deal to me, but already, everyone was starting to gather around with wicks alight, hoping to have the right words that will rekindle the fire.

I knew for a fact that it was going to be a very aggravating summer.

Still, there was a part of me that was happy to see my friend. Despite the sense that I had which told me I needed to leave what semblance of a relationship that we had in the past, lest encourage a whole slew of unwanted attention, I could not help but wonder what he was going to be like.

Four years was a long time, throughout which, Doug hardly ever made his way home. A lot could change in that amount of time.

Even though I hadn't gone anywhere, I knew that I wasn't exactly the girl that Doug left the day he packed up his father's truck and headed towards the city, so I almost didn't want to imagine what four years at school had done to the man that I used to know.

As I sat there, contemplating what it would be like, having him back home for an extended period of time, I was sure that we would probably never be as close as we once were. Therefore, to me, Doug's homecoming was the same as everyone else's in the small town, even though everyone else seemed to think differently.

At least, that is what I was trying to help myself believe.

There was nothing that could change or even would change by Doug coming back, except that he would physically be here for the summer.

_After the summer, he is going to leave the town, get a job in the city and likely never come back._ I thought as I sighed and rolled my eyes behind their closed lids. I crossed my arms and felt the light fabric of my flannel shirt pick at my fingers as they grazed over, before sinking to the side.

I sighed after a moment of failed assurance that this summer was going to be simple and my eyes fluttered opened. I looked around the barn and took in another deep breath, realizing with a sense of disappointment that I was unable to smell the scent of the barn.

Senses are funny that way, I supposed. After a few whiffs, the brain seems to shut out even the most familiar aromas.

Still, the sight of the barn brought back a slew of those memories that were both enjoyable, but slightly painful. When Doug was at the forefront of my mind, which was something I did not allow to happen often, everything I saw in the barn reminded me of him. As children, we would play in the barn.

Surely, we annoyed the horses, but they were always great, when we grew into teenagers, we would come here to ride the horses or just hang out.

Doug knew all too well what this barn meant to me and therefore, it quickly became our go-to spot. Then, when he left, it reverted back to just being the spot that I would go to for shelter.

It was a lot of responsibility to help with the ranch, but being here, took the pressures of it all away. These horses knew every problem I had, all throughout my life and the walls of the barn had absorbed all of my secrets.

I loved this place, but at the center of it all, everywhere my eyes seemed to rest, I saw Doug and I wondered how long it would take him before he came back into this barn to discuss our situation, which I was sure was already brewing.

Further from that, though, I briefly wondered what would be said, because after all this time, I had no idea how either of us would react to such an idea.

I scoffed and laughed, dropping my eyes to the floor, which was riddled with hay. The movement brought back a slight, instantaneous whiff of my childhood.

It was then, that I knew, for a fact that I was lying to myself. I also knew that it was going to be a daunting task, trying to stay away from Doug and maintain our estranged relationship, just so that neither of us would grow uncomfortable with the fact everyone insists on planning our lives for us, with him so close to me.

I groaned and closed my eyes again, cutting off all of the memories like the shutter of a camera. Once my eyes opened again, I would be exposed to the daunting reminisce, but for right now, the safety that I felt, just being in the barn was enough.

The way my life was progressing, I was sure that I was content. I certainly didn't need a man around to prove my worth. Therefore, even with all of the emotions I was feeling coursing through my mind and heart as I thought about what Doug's arrival might mean, I was sure that I was content. I had no doubt in my mind that my decision had not changed. Regardless of what happened when Doug first pressed his heels into this patch of earth. For the first time in a long while, he intended to stay more than a day or so. That was something that I truly wanted. I wasn't going to run and I wasn't going to give in. I was going to ignore the whispers that this summer would be the time where we finally rekindled a romance.

By the time I opened my eyes again and glanced around the barn I knew better than my own bedroom, I had decided that I wasn't sure what was supposed to be, but I was open to anything. Despite my reservations, I wanted to see my friend. I could not help wondering what he would be like.

However, if the parents were going to insist on us spending time together, with the intention that we were going to all of a sudden realize that we were soul mates, then they had another thing coming.

As I walked out of the barn and back towards the house, I was dead set on proving that; no matter what the cost.

# Chapter Two

When I sat down at the kitchen table, upon entering our family home, I knew that I was probably setting myself up for an unpleasant conversation.

However, since I did this out of habit, whenever my mother was cleaning up the kitchen for the night, I thought it would incite more pressure if I had just kept walking.

"Dinner was delicious," I stated as my mother dried the last of the dishes and purposefully set the rag back on the old stove.

The entire kitchen seemed to have remained unchanged throughout my childhood. The dark cabinets ran along the top and bottom portion of the walls while a rustic tile separated the two distinctions, with the only break etched out by a large kitchen sink and a window which adorned the same ruffled, checkered curtains that I remembered from my childhood. Well maintained, the kitchen could have passed for nearly brand new, but I knew better.

My mother smiled at the compliment and wasted no time as she said, "I spoke to Mrs. Peters today."

"Oh yeah?" I answered passively, trying not to let the lowering in my shoulders be too conspicuous. I knew that it was coming, but I didn't expect this conversation to be quite so blatantly in the forefront of my mother's mind.

"Yes, would you believe that Doug just graduated?" Her eyes were hopeful for a moment, as though I was expected to leap for joy at his accomplishment, but when I didn't respond, she added, "He is coming home tomorrow."

I shrugged, as though I was fairly uninterested and just tried to pass the whole thing off, "That's nice. It's been a long time."

I knew that my mother would pick up on what I was doing, but I didn't care. Ever since I had found out that after all this time, Doug was coming back home for an extended stay, my brain didn't quite know how take it. I wasn't sure if I should be happy, even though deep down, I knew that is how I felt, or impassive about the whole situation. I certainly didn't want to send off any kind of warning signs to either of our parents. I didn't even know how I felt, the last thing I needed was for our parents to try and decipher my feelings for me.

In response to the attitude that I was taking on the subject, my mother sighed heavily and heaved her shoulders forward slightly, as though trying to expel her disappointment in my lack of enthusiasm through her posture, "Well, do you two ever talk? I haven't heard you mention a thing about him, even when he was in town..."

At this, I was finally able to reply with the utmost honesty, "We really haven't even seen one another since he left for school..." I shrugged and I knew that I was going to get scolded for this, but could not help myself from saying, "He's the one who left, not me."

"Well, you've seen him at holidays...The boy never missed a family gathering," She argued after expelling another long breath and punching her fists into her sides in a somewhat abrasive gesture. Standing no taller than I was, but sporting a slightly plumper body, it was strange how my mother always knew exactly how to get her point across in a serious manner.

"It's completely different seeing your best friend on holidays and seeing him outside of parental supervision...with all you happy Cupids trying to force us together," I retorted.

Smiling in a wirily fashion, my mother joked in a suggestive tone, "Well, what exactly do you two do when you aren't under parental supervision?"

_You would only be too happy,_ I thought as I stopped to glare at her, before I rolled my eyes and stood up, without breaking the contact of her gaze.

As I did so, my mother's smile simply cheered in an instigating way, which only made me angrier. I turned to leave the room without another word.

When I made it out of the kitchen, I let out a groan and dipped my head back. Even though it was completely expected, I still couldn't bring myself to believe that my mother was already giving me the shifty eyes and the suggestive comments. It seemed like they started the second I turned eighteen and now that I was close to twenty-three, the comments about our relationship have increased significantly.

Fortunately, I suppose, since my mother only wants me to marry one man, the comments only become unbearable when Doug came home.

Still, after years of hearing the same thing over and over again I was sick of it.

As I stood, now in the living room, I could feel my mother's eyes on me. If I had turned around, I knew that I would have seen my mother's face staring at me with a sense of concern. Her face would have likely told me that my storming away from her was completely uncalled for and it would have made me feel guilty. Yet, once again, my mother would not have had to say a word.

However, knowing all of this, I was careful not to look back. Instead, I just yelled over my shoulder, "I hope Doug does get a job in the city. Then he will leave here for good and he will never come back!" I sighed before I grumbled under my breath, "No one wants to end up in this one-horse town anyway."

"You did," My mother answered immediately and her comment stopped me in my tracks, surprised that she had heard me. Usually, I would have received a loud _"What?"_ or _"Why don't you say that so I can hear it?"_ Yet, this time, she just responded and her voice sounded sad, which of course, made me feel terrible.

However, what she went on to say made me feel even worse.

"You even had a choice. Most people in this town don't have that choice, but you did. Paige, you had a way out of this ranch and this town. We went as far as to encourage you to leave and explore the world, but you chose to stay here."

I felt my shoulders lower and my head hang. _Why can't you just keep your comments to yourself?_ I thought, knowing how much of a problem that has always been for me. Ever since I was a little girl, I would run my mouth and then feel badly afterwards. It wasn't even like I was all that upset over getting in trouble. Yet, this time, I wasn't referring to anyone in particular. I was simply stating a fact, but the ease with which my mother turned it around on me, made my stomach sink.

"If at any time you want to leave, that money is still there for you. It's yours, to do with what you want. My hope is still that you will use it for college."

My first thought then, was to just keep walking, because I didn't want to engage in this conversation any longer. However, I knew that I couldn't just stop the conversation. I knew that if I walked away now, I would be making everything far more difficult for me. Even though I didn't want to, I was certain that to avoid further confrontation and confusion, I was going to have to make nice. So, I sighed in a calming fashion and finally turned around.

"I'm sorry," I answered, before I was even able to catch a glimpse of my mother's large, hurt, guilt-inducing eyes.

There was something about the room, as I turned that made the familiarity seem almost daunting. I had a very happy childhood, but whether I was out after curfew or storming up to my room, which technically, I was trying to complete such an action currently, it always seemed to either instigate or finalize here. This room was always where things came to a head.

Today was no different.

"What do you mean, you're sorry? You said it, didn't you?" My mother demanded.

Instead of feeling even guiltier from the comment, it instigated me, "I didn't mean my life, Mom." I spoke with a chilly calmness as my eyes bore into hers. "I meant the rest of this town and you know it. Everyone who comes here, given the choice, would run away and never look back, all with the exception of me." I sighed and moved closer to her, "I want to stay here. I don't mind it here at all. I like where I am right now. There is nothing that is going to pull me away, but I don't like that just because Doug is coming back, everyone expects me to be overjoyed. My life should not be on display for the entirety of this town, regardless of who I end up with. You pressure me so much to be with Doug that I sometimes cannot stand it...it's nauseating.

At this, I stopped short, surprised that I had even made it this far. Even though my voice remained even and careful, I still could hardly believe the words that were flowing from my mouth. I did not believe that I had ever said anything like that before, certainly not to my mother.

My mother also seemed to be taken aback by what she was hearing, so much so that when I stopped speaking, she had nothing to say at first.

When I was a teenager, I would have taken this opportunity to sigh dramatically and turn on my heels, stomping towards my room with a fever that was probably unwarranted. Now, however, my shoulders simply sagged and I huffed out a sigh.

My mother responded in a similar fashion before she added in a nasty tone, "Regardless of how you feel, the only reason I press is because I see the potential happiness that has sprung from the two of you since you were in grade school. Neither of you want to admit it, but you have been in love with one another since the second you were able to feel an emotion." My mother then turned her head and craned her neck towards me before she continued, "Why do you think that neither of you has ever dated anyone?"

I didn't answer her question though. Instead, I told my mother what I had felt for a while now, "I don't know if it's so much that we are in love with one another, or that you and Doug's parents are in love with the idea of us getting together. Love doesn't work that way..."

"No, you're a grown woman now and when he left you both were children. I should hope some petty rebellion...and I know that is all it is, will not keep you from seeing what we see."

At this, I sighed like the teenager that I almost felt like and rolled my eyes again, "Love doesn't work like that, Mom. You of all people should know that while it might make sense, if the feelings aren't there, then there is nothing."

My mother had endured the exact opposite of what I was going through. Her love for my father was something that was never truly accepted by her parents. Right up until the day my grandmother passed away at the age of ninety, she scowled at my father every time she came in the room. She might have had bouts of not knowing her own children, but right up until the end, no matter what my poor father did to get into my grandmother's good graces, she would always recognize the man who she believed stole the happiness from my mother; when in reality, he was the one who had given her everything she had in this life and continued to fill her heart with joy every moment of every day.

My grandmother had wanted my mother to marry a man that was a successful oil tycoon. He was 13 years her senior and according to my mother was a typical womanizer. He only wanted my mother because of her beauty _that I am happy to say I inherited_ , she thought.

Due to her experience, her insistence on helping me along, trying to accept a man that she thought was wonderful for me in every way. Even though I knew that Doug was nothing like the man that my grandmother had chosen, I still didn't like the idea of being shoved into his arms, regardless of the emotion that my mother spoke of.

My mother harrumphed in an aggravated manner before she answered with a finalization that annoyed me just as venomously, "Well, since I am friendly with the family, I am inviting them over for dinner tomorrow night. I know that since you are a grown woman," as she said the words, she eyed me purposefully; "I cannot mandate that you are there, but as a lady, I should hope that you will see fit to grace us with your presence."

I tried my best not to actually roll my eyes at her. I knew she didn't mean to be as blatantly degrading as her words came across, but she still could have asked in a much nicer fashion.

Trying to end the argument without any further irritation, I nodded, despite the reactions that I wanted to portray and answered simply, "Of course I will be there. I always appreciate dinner and I am looking forward to seeing what Doug has become during his time away." I then smiled at my mother in a sly manner. Everything about my face was cheerful, but my eyes told her exactly how I felt.

Unfortunately for me, I knew that my mother meant well, which was why I really couldn't blame her for the way that she was acting, but it still certainly didn't make me feel any better. "Thank you," She answered, eyeing me with the same expression.

With that, I nodded, bid my mother goodnight and retreated into my room.

Once inside, I sighed as I shut the door. I realized, rather quickly that this was not going to be an easy summer out here on the ranch.

# Chapter Three

Sighing loudly and making my way over to my bed, I sat down on it and began to think very seriously about what my mother had said.

Sure, I knew that my adverse reaction to our parents supporting the possibility of a relationship started out as a rebellion, but as the years passed and I remained adamant that this was not the course that I wanted for my life.

It was no longer that mommy and daddy wanted this for me, so I wanted the complete opposite. I thought of it as the ultimate reason that my mother stayed with my father after marrying him instead of the oil guy. To prove that her mother had nothing over her; because she was true to her own needs and wants.

Don't get me wrong, my parents have and always will love one another very much and one day, I know that I could only be so lucky as to experience something similar with a man; but I truly believe that beyond loving my father, she also got what she truly wanted.

When my mother and father got married they had very little. We have a beautiful home but we will never have the influence or cash flow that amounted in the man that my grandmother wanted as a son-in-law; but my mother knew that with all of those opportunities, she still could not bear being with a man that she did not love. She would not be forced into a relationship that she did not want, just because it seemed to be the obvious choice.

So, instead, my mother gave up having a lux lifestyle for the hard work of the ranch, with a man that she loved.

My mother had made a decision that was going to affect the course of her entire life and stuck to it, not caring about the years of adversity she would face from her family because of it. She knew what she wanted, she went for it and I do not think that there was ever a day that she even glanced back.

With me in my situation, I just did not know what I wanted to do. There was so much going on with me, it was difficult to figure out what was really going on and what I truly wanted. Still, I made it clear to myself that before I settled into anything; I was going to make my own decision.

Truth be told, before Doug went off to college and I barely saw him for four years, the idea of us getting together wasn't all that horrendous. The irony of it was, if our parents hadn't forced us together every chance they got, we might have done exactly what they wanted.

Then, at least the two of us would know what it was like to be together, instead of this constant wondering.

Now that he was gone, though, I knew that I had no idea what kind of a man would show up to dinner tomorrow night. I wasn't sure if it would be the kind of man who would welcome me with open arms and act just as we had as kids, or if he would be completely different.

My major concern was experience; which we obviously have had a lot of, but never in the same arena. For the past four years, I had worked on the farm and earned my living literally with my own two hands. It was hard work, but it was what I loved.

Doug had gone to school and learned how to make it in a money-hungry world and even though I knew very little about it, I was educated enough to know that came with its own set of challenges. Like my mother's tycoon, I feared that he would come back hardened by the experience, cunning and disjoined from the simple life that we had grown up with.

If all he was after was a profit, then the only value I added to him was a pretty face and a family ranch, but then that was treading in waters that my mother had warned me against.

By Doug coming back looking for a way to profit, the similarities between my mother's tycoon and the man that she wanted me to give a chance to were growing closer and closer together. The more tethered they became the more I wanted to leave Doug in the dust, without even giving him a chance to hurt me.

I certainly didn't want to have any kind of falling out with Doug, but like my mother, I refused to be loved for the face that I portrayed to the world. I wanted to be loved for what was in my heart and if that didn't happen between me and Doug, then I didn't want him.

As I thought about all of this, I lay back down on my bed and gazed at the room that hadn't changed much since grade school. Perhaps that was a bad thing, but as much as I grew up, I still liked the old trinkets from my past.

To my credit my room didn't look like a typical child's room, but if I had to guess, I would not think that it was a woman who was nearing twenty-three. There were still trophies and memorabilia hanging up around my room from sports teams and horseback riding competitions that had ended years ago; some as far back as a decade. While posters from before I could remember hung from the walls.

I liked my room. It was cozy, but since I knew Doug's parents had made his old room into a spare bed not too long after he went away to college, the two rooms only proved to illustrate the stark dissimilarities that were present and that I anticipated throughout our current lives.

Some would probably say that I had never grown up, but I certainly didn't think that was true. I had developed normally, but I had kept what made me happy from my childhood. There was nothing wrong with that, especially because, after all, this was still my parents' home. If I moved out, I probably would decorate differently and expect to come back to see all of my belongings in a box, while the room was turned completely neutral to accommodate any guests.

Still, the fact that it wasn't that way at the moment bothered me, for the first time.

It wasn't that I wanted to change my room, or really, anything about my life, but for the first time, I thought that perhaps the change was necessary in order for me to on the same level as Doug.

Then, I thought; _if you aren't about to change your life for your parents and do what they wished you would do, then why would you change your life for Doug?_ So, with a grunt of impudence I shrugged and thought; _No. I like my room. I'm keeping it just the way it is!_

With that, the rest of the contemplation process was muted in my mind.

That was one trait that I had always liked about myself. I was never wishy washy, as I had found many women to be. Men around here are usually straightforward, while women tend to change their mind a lot.

Instead of changing my mind though, I was able to obtain from making a decision until I was ready to stick to it. Perhaps that made me seem indecisive in my own way, but I knew the moment that I made a decision, that I was going to be able to keep that decision forever.

The downside of that was that I gave up a lot of opportunities because I didn't decide in time. For instance, at the senior prom I had two possible dates. One was a jock and one was more of a Texas cowboy. They were both equally attractive and I liked them for similar reasons.

I was flattered that the two of them had asked, but since they were categorized as basically the same in my mind, I had a lot of trouble deciding which one I would go with.

In the end, I didn't go at all. I told them both that I wanted to give them enough time to find another date and opted to stay home and go for a horseback ride with Doug.

Proms and basically every school function really wasn't Doug thing. It never was and people accepted him for it, but found it particularly odd that not only was he the one out of the two of us to go to college, but also to opt into a circumstance where he couldn't get away from school because he was living there.

I understood the difference and I knew that he was excited to start a new life, doing what he actually chose to do, instead of what this town expected; but his decision sure caused a ripple of ironic chuckles to cascade through the town.

As always, I was supportive. I wanted him to go and do whatever it was that made him happy, but now; I couldn't help but think that I was the one who got the bad end of the deal. Doug had gone off and lived his life for four years and I remained here. That wasn't his fault and it was completely my decision, but at this time, before Doug left, I would have sworn that we'd at least remain friends.

However, in reality, I realized now that the man who was coming to dinner tomorrow night was nothing more than a stranger.

It is amazing how quickly more than ten years of friendship can be replaced by four years of differing experience. It didn't make any sense to me, but it really did bother me. I knew this was true, despite all of the lies that I had endured from myself from the second that I had found out that Doug was coming home from the city after graduation. I was sure that I would never tell this to anyone, I could not lie to myself about this.

I missed the Doug that I had grown up with and I silently prayed that the man that showed up at my mother's house tomorrow night would be the same teenager who had left.

However, I sincerely doubted that would be the case. Deep down, I knew that having the assurance that he was not the same friend and confidant that I had grown up with my entire life, would it be almost as though someone had died, since I would then be assured that I would never see the smiling, genuine cowboy that I was always around, ever again.

With this thought, I came to understand what I believed no one else would. Even though he would be the same person, with the same memories as me and have knowledge of the same feelings that we once shared, there comes a point where he would change too much. College and other experiences that take a person out of their natural surroundings can change a person indefinitely.

I discerned that and in many ways, I accepted that. Yet, I wasn't sure how I would handle the confirmation that my fears were realized inside of my best friend? What if he came back and thought that he had seen his purpose, which was to be more like my mother's crazy oil tycoon admirer than the prince charming I once fantasized him to be?

Now that love and life have collided into a reality, regardless of what I told myself about wanting to keep my options opened and despite the fight I was putting up against my family in order to keep those options, one of the leading names on the top of my love list was still Doug.

Yet, it would always be the Doug that I grew up with and if I couldn't have him, I was very afraid that would only result in me being completely crushed.

There was one part of the conversation I had with my mother that I absolutely could not deny. To a degree, deep down, in the recesses of my mind, I had waited for Doug.

Once again, that was something that I would never admit and I certainly wasn't beating other men off with a stick, but there were a few options that I had explored over the years, but none of them had ever made me feel like Doug. He had always gone above and beyond, in his own special way, to make sure that I knew the extent to which he cared for me. It was always nice to know that Doug had my back on anything that I tried to do.

At one time, the friendship that I shared with him seemed to have no bounds. I knew now that four years and a college education likely loosen those bounds, but at the time, everything seemed to be just how it was supposed to be.

We had a pact and we had never broken it, since we were sure that it would be what ruined us.

Doug was easy and had a simple sense about him that was magnificent. When I was around him, I never wanted to leave his presence, because he just made me feel so good. I longed to be with him, but never said a word, because we had agreed that the second anyone seriously thought we were dating, they would be hearing wedding bells.

Now, I was worried that with all of the changes that I perceived Doug went through during his time at school, he had washed his hands of the part of him that made me feel that way towards him and if he had, I feared that finding love, like my parents have always had for one another, would no longer be a possibility for me.

In a way, I resented my teenage self for not acting on the impulses that I had. For, maybe if I had, things would have turned out differently and I would not be sitting up here now, on the verge of tears, hoping that I would not have to mourn the qualities that made Doug my Doug, now lost forever to four years of a world that was so far unlike the one where we nurtured our friendship, that it was almost unfathomable to me.

Thus, as I settled in for the night, knowing that I had not only an early, but also an extremely long day ahead of me, I closed my eyes tightly; trying to shut out all of the noise created by my worry and prepared myself for the worst.

# Chapter Four

The next morning brought no relief from my reservations. From the moment I opened my eyes, I was sure that something just didn't feel right.

Almost immediately after, I figured out what that feeling was. I knew somewhere deep down inside of me, that I should be excited for the arrival of my friend, but in actually, I was dreading it.

Still, I woke up to the sound of the rooster that we used to chase around the yard when we were kids, until he got tired of running from us and decided to fight back, before getting to my feet and starting my day.

For the entirety of my adult life, which started the moment after I graduated high school, since my parents believed if I wasn't going to school, I should not have a break in hard work, I had gotten up before the sun most days in order to start my ranching duties.

My parents had made it very clear that they wouldn't have been this strict if I was going to go to school in the fall. If I was in college, while I would have the same chores I had basically all of my life, I would not be expected to contribute any more than what I was already, since I needed a break to rest my mind from the arduous task of keeping up my spectacular grades.

That was another bone of contention with my family, when I decided not to go to school. My grades were stellar. School was almost too easy for me. I never had to worry about anything and all throughout, I never received anything less than a "B"; although, even the amount of times I received that grade could be counted on one hand.

Therefore, my decision baffled them. I had liked school and I had excelled in it. They just couldn't understand why I wouldn't just finish it out. Yet, I had no interest. I was smart enough to know what I wanted. I made my decision and I stuck to it.

By that point, though, my parents didn't put up much of a fight. They knew that it would be fruitless and ultimately, it was my decision. So, they ruefully accepted my decision.

However, since I had opted to join the real world, before my parents thought it was my time, there was going to be no such thing as a summer vacation anymore. I was to get right to work, because I had chosen to be an adult.

Even though it sounds harsh, I didn't mind. I knew that my parents wanted me to reconsider, but truth be told, I was excited to start my new, adult life and in the four years since I had made that decision and kept with it, I had never even thought to reconsider.

I was happy with my life. The ranch provided me with solace when I needed it and excitement when I was feeling mundane. Everything I had ever wanted began and ended with this town, specifically this ranch. I had no desire to go anywhere else. I liked everything about this area. It was nice to know that something was actually getting done and my family's ranch would continue with a new generation.

My parents might not have been thrilled with the idea at first, but over the course of what would have been my very own college career, instead of Doug's, they had come to terms with it and deep down, even though they would probably never admit it, I believed that they were honestly happy that I had stayed home to be with them.

Still, there was one crusade that my parents, as well as Doug's parents had never been able to fully put to rest. The thought of us together was just too much perfection for them to let go of. In their minds, by wanting to keep our options opened, we were not only just prolonging our own inevitable happiness, but we were also wasting our time that could be better spent married with children.

What I found funny was that at one time, about two years ago, my mother had even said that to me. It hadn't come out in so many words, but the insinuation was the same. She took the defense that she and the rest of the parents in this strange agreement were getting on in years and they were growing concerned that they would pass away before we got around to fulfilling what they thought was our destiny.

At the time, I was slightly appalled by this statement and angry at my mother for using the possibility of her own fading mortality in order to persuade me to do something that I was not ready to do; what's more, something that I had told her repeatedly that I did not want to do.

I had rolled my eyes and shook my head, telling her that she was being mean-spirited before leaving the room. It was obvious from the expression that I caught, just before I turned around that she did not feel the same way as I did, but that didn't matter much because regardless of how she truly felt, my mother had never said anything like that to me again. In my mind, I knew that was the closest I was ever going to get to an apology.

That was enough, I supposed. However, I never did forget it. Still to this day, I think about what a terrible defense that was.

Still, that was just the way my mother was sometimes. She meant well, but sometimes in order to get there, or to get her point across, she threw a few dirty punches.

Her latest dirty punch was going through with the dinner with Doug and his family. With his parents and my parents there, it would be four against two; not to mention that my only teammate was a man that had become a stranger to me. If they decided to do anything but allow nature to take its course, which it wouldn't, in that sense anyway, it was sure to shape up to be a very aggravating and arduous evening.

I thought about the dinner all day, which distracted me and made my chores for the day last even longer than they were supposed to.

I didn't want to think that things were going to go badly, but with the odds that I was faced with, along with the oddity and unpredictability of my own emotions, I couldn't help but have bad feeling.

Still, like clockwork, just as I had cleaned up and changed from a hard-day's work, I was greeted by Doug and his family. Already, they were over for dinner.

The families thought nothing of easing me into the situation. I had no idea they were even there yet until I was gazing down the large, country-style table at them, while they all looked up at me with hopeful, sparkling eyes.

Even Doug looked extremely happy to see me and I was immediately suspicious.

However, before I even realized what was going on, Doug was standing up and moving towards me. There was a large smile on his face and his eyes shined, but I wasn't sure exactly how genuine the whole thing was.

As he move closer and I tensed, I thought; _is he doing this for his family's benefit?_ Then, with a sense of horror thrusting towards me, I wondered; _Is tonight supposed to be a five on one attack, concerning the future that now everyone present, but me agrees on?_

"Hi Paige, it is great to see you!" I had prepared for this all day, but as he greeted me with warmth of an old pal, I felt no more in control than a deer in headlights.

This certainly wasn't a good start to the evening.

It took a moment, which I was sure that everyone saw, but after the shock, I was finally able to put my arms around Doug as well and lean in to smell a scent on him that I didn't recognize. He wasn't usually one to wear cologne, at least not when I knew him last, but when I pulled away, now finally able to look at him, I saw that his scent was the only thing that had changed.

Doug was still dressed in his city-casual clothes and while the college graduate before me looked appropriate in this attire, the country Doug she was friends with since they were both in diapers did not.

Everything on him seemed pressed, primed and stuck up. With his black, button down shirt, with the sleeves rolled up, his black belt and black pants, which hung slightly over the front of black loafers made him look all business and boring.

The shirt was so unbecoming on him that it hid the muscles that he had gained over a lifetime of working on the farm; _if they were even still there_ , I thought to myself, while his face was clean shaven and his hair was neat. He looked, almost as though he had just walked out of a magazine.

The man before me certainly wasn't my type and he wasn't the rugged, exciting boy that I had grown up with.

He might have had the same name and his facial features were a match, but I was immediately certain that the man standing before me was not the same Doug that I remembered. Right now, he didn't even look to be a shadow of his former self.

He was, indeed, a stranger to me.

I could not help but feel my heart sink as my fears were realized. If he felt the need to wear such an outfit in the home where he practically grew up, while visiting for dinner, he couldn't possibly be the same Doug.

"It's so great to see you too!" I insisted, squeezing his arms affectionately. Of course, I was lying. It wasn't great to see him...not like this. However, I knew I still had to play nice, since I certainly wasn't going to be the one to bust apart the fragile, glass elephant that was so obnoxiously infesting the room.

So, I sat down at my usual spot, right next to Doug and tried to make small talk, "Congratulations on your graduation," I smiled, but realized I sounded more like a .99 cent card then a genuine friend.

Still, Doug beamed graciously, "Thank you. Yeah, I'm glad that it's behind me. I had a lot of fun, but it's nice to be home."

That was where the conversation stopped and I realized I had nothing to add. So, I just breathed out and tried to not look as defeated as I felt.

Soon enough, my mother chimed in and told Doug that we were all glad that he was home.

However, even with her warm, almost desperate effort, to keep the conversation alive, it fell flat eventually and therefore, the parents started to talk amongst themselves.

Throughout the meal, we both tried to speak to one another and I was still naively holding out hope that a word or look would catapult us back into our friendship, allowing us to pick up where we had left off, but by the time dessert came, it was clear that wasn't going to happen.

I couldn't deny that the two of us made an equal effort towards one another, but it never seemed to pan out. I didn't blame Doug, just as I hoped that he didn't blame me, but by the end of dinner, we both knew that there was no longer any ties between us that would allow for our past to collide.

It was sad, admittedly. However, it seems like the two of us were consumed in completely different worlds. It didn't matter that we were friends a long time ago. We certainly weren't friends now. It hurt, but that was just the way it was.

I had prepared for the blow, but the ultimate shock still left me staggering and breathless.

Dinner took forever and by the end of it, all I wanted to do was go and ride my horse. I had become accustomed to this tradition after dinner every night.

No matter what happened, I still tried my best to make time to go for a ride. It didn't have to be long, or far, but I enjoyed it. The ride was good exercise for me, but it was also relaxing. Feeling the air of the night as it sped past my face, my horse had become my best friend and confidant over the last four years. Above all though, it was the one time of the day that I truly didn't have to do anything. By that point, the horses were already fed and brushed, the only thing that remained before sleep was putting my favorite horse, Star, in for the night when we finished.

Once I realized that this dinner was going to accomplish nothing but to aggravate me, all I wanted to do was sneak away so that I could fulfill my nightly ritual.

During dessert I was hopeful, feeling as though the night would soon be coming to a close, but alas, just as I was beginning to get my hopes up, my mother cleared the table and then settled in to have a conversation with them.

Likewise, Doug's parents did the same.

Watching this, Doug and I exchanged glances. For the first time, it appeared that we agreed on something.

Unfortunately, our middle ground was found on the basis of neither of us having a good time whatsoever. We both wanted to end this long, traitorous night as soon as possible and we both knew that our parent's weren't going to let this dying evening die in peace.

They all had to have felt the strange sense of awkwardness, as Doug and I did, but neither set of parents wanted to admit it. They were still overly interested in being hopeful that the night will turn itself around.

I supposed that the four others sitting around the table with us assumed as I had at the beginning of dinner, that eventually, something would spark and we would suddenly plunge into a meaningful conversation that would ignite a fuse of love inside us both.

Of course, instead of holding out for love, I would have been completely satisfied and in many ways preferred a spark of friendship, but I had given up.

Watching them now, settling in, with no intention to leave. Therefore, Doug and I continued to try to make idle chatter, while eying our parents in a suggestive way; suggesting that the meal be over and this pointless meeting be mercifully drawn to a close.

Still, neither set of parents so much as looked our direction as they chatted lively about their own interests. This went on for another hour and a half.

Therefore, by the time everyone finally left and I was helping my mother clean up, it was almost too late to go out riding.

I knew that, but I needed it and so, I made the effort once the kitchen was cleaned up to go out anyway.

When I announced that was where I would be, my mother gave me a disapproving look. She hadn't been too keen to talk to me throughout the time it took to clean the mess left from our guests, but that was fine. After tonight, I didn't feel like talking too much to her either.

So, in response to the look, I just smiled and assured, "I will be back soon. I am just going to clear my head. No need to wait up. Have a good night, Mom."

"Good night," she conceded when I moved in to give her a kiss before racing out the door, before someone said anything else that would cause me to feel guilty or angry; Both emotions that seemed to be coming at me in heavy doses now a days.

_And just think,_ I told myself as I made my way towards the barn, _the summer has only just started. You still have months of this._

# Chapter Five

The night was quiet and peaceful.

_Finally._ I thought.

All that I could hear was the vast nothingness that encompassed the ranch at this hour and a few cicadas that happened to be wandering around the property.

As much as I enjoyed the ranch in the daytime, I felt that there was a whole new experience enthralling it at night. There was just something about it that was so unique and so different than the normal, sunny counterpart that made the experience completely different.

I liked that about the ranch.

Growing up here, literally since birth, I knew my way around my family's property and a lot of Doug's family's property before I even went to school, but there was something about the ranch in the dark that made it seem new and exciting.

Although I could get to the horse barn, where I spent so much of my time, with my eyes closed, knowing by heart the amount of steps it took from the back of the house to the front of the barn and in what direction, so that I was correct every time, the sight that the large building provided at night was different than I had ever seen before.

The shadows that were cast off of it, onto the grass and the daunting sense of being all alone, even though I knew for sure how close my family truly was, gave me a sense of adventure and intrigue. It was fun, that feeling of not knowing exactly where I was, because of how different everything looked in the dark.

Except on vacation, there was generally nothing to explore. I had explored all that my house, Doug's house and the rest of the small town had to offer years ago. There was no longer any surprises, but being here at night made me second guess, ever so slightly the world that I was sure I knew.

As I walked across the grass, I heard it shift under my feet as I walked. The air was fresh and vibrant, while the sense of familiarity brewed as I neared the barn.

When I moved inside and turned on a light, so that I was not aimlessly searching for what I would need to take my ride. As I did so, I began to feel the presence of someone behind me.

At first, I ignored it, thinking that it was fairly impossible for someone to be here.

My parents were asleep and Doug's family had gone home. However, as I continued to feel a presence, I dared not to turn around, just in case I didn't like what I came face to face with.

Instead, I shook my head, trying to get the feeling out of my system, before I grasped the reigns of my horse and began to lead her out of her stall.

As I did so, I then heard a familiar voice travel through the barn, from the door that I had left opened.

"Are you alright, Paige?" Doug asked with concern before he said, "Is everything okay? You didn't seem much like yourself at dinner," Doug offered, moving towards me. I heard the shift of a familiar sound against the wood of the barn, but the origin of it didn't register with me until a little later.

When I recognized the voice, I narrowed my eyes and lowered my shoulders, trying not to sigh too loudly. Instead, I just rolled my eyes and sighed before I answered, without even bothering to face the shadow of the man I once knew, "The same could be said about you."

I heard Doug laugh in a strange fashion, before he teased, "I'm sorry; was that you trying to be witty?"

Still, I refused to turn around. I made a disgusted sigh and rolled my eyes again, dipping my head back slightly so that he knew from my movement, the audacious sound matched my expression, "I'm fine." I answered in a concluding voice. Then, after a moment, I figured that I should probably say something else, so that he didn't think I had turned into a completely rude, bitter woman, so I remarked, "I have just been under a lot of stress lately..." I couldn't help myself from adding, "And not for nothing, but you coming back into town hasn't exactly helped anything."

Even though I couldn't see his face, I knew that he was smiling in a knowing fashion and chuckled, "I know, the parents can be a little much, huh?"

I laughed curtly, as I crossed my arms in front of my chest. "Do you think that this has to do with them? This has nothing to do with our parents. They have been the same way since the two of us were conceived...They have always wanted us to get together. It's you who has changed."

"Huh?" He breathed and I could tell that he was probably turning his head to the side with question.

So, I added, "Are you even the same boy that I grew up with?" My voice held a sense of accusation burning into the air that separated us. Then, I added, "It doesn't seem like it. It seems like you have changed."

"What?" He asked, honestly seeming to be taken back by the inquiry, "Of course I am the same person...I'm grown up now, I hope that I am a little more mature than when we last really spoke," he paused to shrug and chuckle nervously.

At this, I turned around and was struck by how strangely familiar he looked. I stopped short of my answer to look him up and down.

Doug had traded his ugly city clothes for his old cowboy jeans, slick leather boots and a lazy hat. Plus, the light flannel shirt that he was wearing allowed me to see those muscles that I had gotten used to seeing from him. Even though I had never said it out loud, I had always thought he was very attractive and right now, seeing him like this, he once again looks like the boy I grew up with.

The strange sight of him in the barn, dressed the way he is takes me back to four years ago, almost instantly. It was a strange feeling, seeing him like this now. I wanted so much to forget the awkwardness at dinner and the way that he was acting, aside from his now familiar appearance. However still, even with everything that I was witnessing, I still could not get that awful image of his city-boy attire out of my head. It was ingrained in my mind forever and I wondered if I would ever be able to get it out. He showed me a lot that day and a change of clothes wasn't going to undo that.

Still, as my eyes passed over him, taking in every rippling curve and familiar sight that was before me, I thought that regardless of what I had seen, his change of clothes still suited him well.

_Maybe he will always be a country boy at heart._ I thought encouragingly, even though I now knew better than to get my hopes up.

In my stillness, he must have started to become uncomfortable, as I looked at him in such a way and therefore, he cleared his throat and said, "Yeah, those other clothes are just too stuffy, especially out here."

He smiled at me, but I did not return the gesture. Instead, I poised myself in a slightly awkward position and answered, "You definitely dress down nice."

Even though it sounded mean, he took it as a joke and shrugged, "Well, the whole boots and spurs thing isn't really the most conducive to the city and after four years of that being my primary residence, I had to adapt." Once again, his lips curled into a knowing smile as his eyes shifted down and then back up towards me before he added, "Your mother hasn't changed though. She invited me and my folks over for dinner as soon as we pulled in the driveway. I just about saw the inside of your parent's house before I saw mine. That's why I didn't change; you know how it is..."

At first, I thought that he was going to crack a joke from the countless examples we had growing up, but he didn't say anything, which left the space between us gaping with an awkwardness that made me uncomfortable for more than one reason. Still, I didn't say anything because really, there was nothing for me to say.

Although it had only been a short time, in the relative span of the entire time we had known each other, dinner seemed to have effectively zapped us of all that we could possibly say to one another. I didn't have a word to add in his direction and for a long time, it appeared that he didn't have anything to say to me either.

Still, deep down, there was a part of me that didn't want him to leave, no matter how strained the situation seemed. After all, we were still friends, somewhere down there and on some level; it was nice to see him. He was gone for so long that it was hard to imagine that he was back.

So, even though the intense awkwardness that was surrounding us and my stubborn refusal to find something to say, I found that I was happy to have him in my presence.

Gawky stares and thick, seemingly impenetrable air was alright, so long as at the other end of it, Doug was still standing there.

It was then that I realized having him here was good. I was happy, despite the way that I was acting and I was sure that I would eventually find something to say to him. After all, we were going to be next door neighbors again for quite a while.

I suppose that Doug felt the uneasiness too, for after a long moment of enduring the strange pause, he replied, "Well, I'm back now, after dinner, I figured I would go back to my roots and get into something more comfortable."

"Back to your roots?" I snorted a laugh and jeered, "Are you sure you can even untangle them from all of the new and sophisticated experiences you have had in the city?"

He turned his head, as though he was confused, but he just stared at me, as though unsure of what to say.

So, I continued to jeer, "So, how long are you back for? Just long enough so that everyone will miss you when you leave again?"

At this, he shot me a cold look as he answered, "Don't worry about that right now. I don't have any idea how long it will be. I'm looking into different jobs right now, but for the moment, I am just content to have a good time and enjoy being home."

"Is that really how you feel about this town? Like it is still your home?" I knew that I was grilling him, probably unfairly, but I just couldn't help it. I was hurt by his absence and even though I would have never admitted it, now that he was back I was finally able to be alone with him. I knew that if I let him into my heart, even a little, I would be even more devastated when he had to leave again.

He would get a fancy job in the city and then, he would be gone. That was just the way that I knew he was going to work. There was no alternative. He graduated high school and was gone for the city just as quick as he could.

Now that he was back, just biding his time until he was offered a position, probably back in the city, he would likely do the same thing again, just when everyone was starting to get used to having him around...just when I would start to get used to having him around and I wasn't sure that I could take his leaving a second time.

_Maybe he was more like the old Doug then I had originally thought._ I wondered.

Doug was slightly taken aback by this and he answered, "What do you mean? Of course this is my home. My family is here, you are here..."

It was now that I was taken back by what he said. For as much as I wanted to push him away, I had certainly not expected him to say anything about me. From the look on his face and the way that he was answering my rebukes, I thought he was growing angry with me, but obviously he saw things a little bit differently.

I huffed a sigh, "Do you really mean that?"

At this, he looked confused. Doug took a step towards me as he asked, "Do I mean what? That I missed you? That this is my home? Or that I missed my family?"

"All of it," I answered solidly, as I started to back up. I didn't want to believe him, but the second he included me, in spite of the night that we had shared thus far, in the reasons why he was happy to be home, my heart of ice began to melt a little. I just couldn't help it.

He smiled at me in a goofy way and laughed with a slow drawl, like when we were teenagers. His eyes sparkled as he answered, "Of course I mean it. I never was the kind to lie..." he sighed then and crossed the now short distance between us. When he reached me, he placed his hands on either of my arms and sighed. He then answered, "Listen, I get the feeling that you think that everything has changed between us and I want to let you know that it hasn't. Sure, I've had a lot happen to me in the past four years, but it's all been good and I couldn't be happier to be home."

When he said the word home, I could not help but smile back at him as I gazed up, into his eyes. I was happy to be able to have this moment with him, but automatically, I felt slightly guilty. I hadn't meant to be so hard on him and I knew without a doubt that it wasn't the least bit fair. So, I sighed placed my hands on his forearm, close to his elbow as I answered carefully, "I'm sorry. Truth be told, it is really, really difficult trying to make everything go well these past few years." I shrugged, "With taking over the farm and the fact that you were gone...life hasn't changed very much here while you were gone, but the second you left, my life changed and it has never been the same." I sighed, trying and failing at making myself sound less pathetic. Finally, I grasped enough strength to add, "It's no fun, trying to do the impossible around here with you gone. Even when you aren't here, people are still whispering about us because we were best friends, people assume I know all about you, but I don't anymore and that bothers me."

At that, my eyes traced away from his, now feeling too sad to make anything matter. I was unsure of what I should say or do next; staring into his eyes was just making me feel worse. I hadn't wanted to unload like that and in a lot of ways, I didn't even know that I was feeling that way. ..everything just poured out of me.

Now, I was just trying not to be too emotional and depending on what he said next, would decipher how I was going to react. I wasn't sure if I was mad, hurt or happy to see him now. However, after saying everything that I had bottled up inside, all I could do now was wait for him to answer me.

"I'm sorry that I made you feel that way," he said finally, once again, dipping his head, but this time it was to catch my gaze. At the sound of his voice, my eyes instinctively lifted and I was able to gaze into his face once again without fearing that I would break down. However, when he added, "Even though I didn't talk to you and I seemed preoccupied when I was there, that didn't mean that I didn't think about you...or that I wasn't happy to see you". He then beamed with a sense of joyous recollection as he added, "Do you know how many times I just wanted to call you up and talk to you about what was going on in my life?"

"Then why didn't you?" I asked, sharper than I intended.

"Because..." He started to answer quickly, but then his breath gave way before he answered, "I don't know, Paige. I just thought that trying to stay in touch, just whenever I had time was unfair and sense you didn't try to contact me, I figured it was better that way."

I smiled sadly at him and shrugged. He was right. I hadn't tried to contact him either, but I also wasn't the one whose life had changed dramatically. I was just the same old ranch girl that he had left so long ago. At first, I didn't want to bother him as he got settled and when I became busy with the ranch, time just got away from both of us. "I'm sorry..." I said again and then asked, "But I do really want to know...How long are you planning on being here for?"

Looking deeply into my eyes, he asked me, "Why do you want to know that so badly? This is like the second or third time you've asked me and I haven't even been here for twelve hours." He chuckled and asked, "Are you trying to get rid of me or something?"

I shook my head, probably more seriously than I should have for the conversation as I explained, "No. that's not it. I just want to know, so that I have a timeline. I don't want to get too attached, because I know you are going to leave again and I don't want to be caught off guard." At that, I put my head down slightly. Telling him the truth in such a simplistic way was difficult for me and I almost felt childish, hearing the way it came out, but once I said it, I was glad that I had been honest and unbridled in my delivery.

"I understand," Doug answered seriously, but he still made no effort to actually answer my question. Instead he added, "I have no idea how long I will be here, but right now, I could really use a friend."

At this, I looked up at him with wide eyes, not sure how to take what he was saying.

Then, once my eyes rested on his, he motioned back towards Star, who was still patiently waiting to begin our ride, "Is it okay if I go riding with you?"

I thought about this for a long moment, but I couldn't help but smile. It really had been such a long time since the two of us did anything like this together and I could not help but be excited. Before I could overthink the situation though, I answered him, "Absolutely!"

# Chapter Six

Taking the horses out that night together was absolutely beautiful. The stars were glimmering and the night was still, but Doug was just as good a horseback rider as I remembered.

We rode together through the fields as well as all throughout both of our parent's ranches and for a moment, it seemed like we were back to the way it used to be.

It was almost as though we had transported back in time, to four years ago when we were still in high school. We felt as though we were sneaking around and staying up too late. It was a great feeling and we enjoyed it.

We ignored the fact that, now more than ever, our parents basically wanted us to do something like this together anyway.

It was also great to have someone to go riding with again. Due to my particular after-dinner habits, it was hard to find someone who was willing to give my hobby the same kind of time and attention. However, with Doug back, I felt as though I finally had a riding partner... at least for a little while.

The sense of adventure that we felt did not cease when we stopped back at the barn. As we led the horses back into their stalls, not only were we laughing and joking like we had so many years ago, but the sexual tension that once was apparent, but unspoken between them had also returned with a daunting, yet alluring vengeance.

Although, we managed to suppress the urge until after we turned the horses in for the night.

The moment that we did, Doug looked at me with a serious, scandalous look in his eyes. The thoughts that instantly clouded my mind about what I wanted to do to him right that second was very apparent.

His hazel eyes were just as I remembered. Right now, they were serious and held a seductive nature to them, but still had the twinge of lightheartedness.

We were quiet for a long moment, as I turned to look at him, unable to look away and curious as to where this would lead.

Standoffs like these were common in our youth. Sometimes, the mood would catch us and we would physically have to remove ourselves from one another's company in order to keep from making good on the desire we saw inside each other.

However, right now, neither one of us wanted to stop the sensations. The attraction that lay between us was so heavy, that we were both sure something had just changed between us.

Doug's eyes bore down on me then and I felt a connection to him that was drawing me in. It was almost like the sensation I felt for him and the feelings that I had for him over the course of our time together were all coming together at this moment, rising up inside of me with a fervor that made it impossible for me to turn away.

_Could this be the moment?_ I thought. _The moment that would truly make all of my fantasies about Doug come true?_ We had never dared to cross this line as children, but as I heard Doug's boots scuffle towards me, as though taking care that he was reading the situation correctly, I smiled at him with intrigue, as if to tell him that it was okay.

Doug received the message loud and clear and before I realized what was going on, I felt his hands grasping for my face and his lips searching for my own. As our mouths connected and he took me unto himself, he let out a groan, as though he too suddenly felt as though this connection was long overdue.

Without even thinking, I felt my arms slink up, on either side of his head, while my hands grasped his face and I moved up onto my tiptoes, in order to deepen the kiss. Doug had his own, unique taste that seemed somewhat familiar to me.

While Doug pulled me closer to him, so that his tongue could probe my mouth after seductively sliding in through my teeth, I groaned and felt my hands clench with excitement.

Doug then backed me up against the support beam that I had leaned against the night before. While anticipating his arrival, I felt the pressure of his excitement as he bore down upon me; deepening the kiss and sliding his one hand up to grasp the back of my head. Both to meld my position to fit his will and also so that I would not hit the wood that was directly behind me.

While our curious lips and excited tongues explored one another for the very first time, our hands slid up and down our bodies, over our clothes, but with just enough pressure to feel the heat and excitement coursing through us both at the promising touch. Before long, I felt a tingling sensation coursing throughout my entire body, my voice was moaning his name behind his kisses, and all I knew now was that I wanted more!

I pulled my hand away from his glorious, stone body and grasped his rough, warm hand in mine. I giggled as he pulled away with a sense of wonder marking his features and I slipped out from between him and the support beam, willing him to follow me, by pulling his hand along. He turned and looked at me, so my eyes motioned up, with a sly smile towards the hayloft, which caused Doug to smile and quicken his step.

I went up the ladder first, with Doug behind me. While I moved up the steps, he playfully grasped at my behind and my ankles, causing me to jump and squeal excitedly. When we made it up to the hayloft, I was barely on the platform before I felt Doug, hungrily behind me. He wrapped me in his arms and pulled me back, and gingerly kissed my lips.

I carefully pressed the palm of my hand against the back of his head, which was a light, wordless request not to pull back. We kept our lips on one another for a long while more and I closed my eyes to get the full effect of what I was feeling for him.

Eventually though, my body was overcome with a shudder of excitement, which caused me to pull away and take a quick, curt breath. Feeling my body quake under his grasp, Doug snickered and pulled me closer to him.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" He asked me with concern.

It was only now that my eyes slowly flickered opened and I broke away from him. Turning towards him, I shot him a sly smile, before I pulled my shirt slowly over my head. He moved towards me, but I put my hand to his chest, before giving him a coy laugh and cautious look. When he settled back and simply watched, I moved my attention back to my bra. I smiled as I unclasped it in a scantily fashion, before removing it and tossing it at his eyes. He laughed and caught the bra, before putting it aside, barely taking his eyes off my now half-naked form.

I then moved close to him and as I pressed my bare bosom against him, his rough, manly hands clasped onto the tender skin and I groaned as a sense of excitement flooded through me. Between the kissing and the building tension, when he finally did touch me, I felt my body explode and start to become wet immediately.

However, after I recovered from the tremor of ecstasy, I roughly began to unbutton his shirt, before flinging it off his shoulders, to finally unwrap those muscles that I had longed to touch for so long. I smiled, feeling the stimulation in my breasts, as his fingers moved towards pleasing my nipples.

I enthusiastically began to run my own hands down his perfect chest. There was just the right amount of hair sprinkled across his broad chest, but not too much, as to hide the prize that was underneath. While his hands moved across my breasts, I observed his rippling muscles moving constantly, like waves coursing under his skin. The sight of him, now officially all grown up was even better than I remembered.

Once his shirt was removed, he put it behind me considerately, before easing me back, onto the flannel-covered portion of the hayloft. While his lips moved over mine, I arched my back and said his name seductively, as I tried to rub my now erect nipples ever so softly across his chest while we moved. Every time my radiating bosom touched his fiery skin, I felt a shrill sensation of excitement coil through me, making my legs intertwine with his own, as though they were begging to be set free of my jeans.

I giggled as his lips moved off my own and began to toy with the rest of my now heated skin. As he made his way down, he nibbled at me with tantalizing pleasure, before carefully planting kisses over where he had just placed his teeth. I writhed under him as we continued our foreplay, stopping at my breasts to give them a little taste of what his talented tongue could do, before traveling down my stomach. When he reached my waistline, he carefully unbuttoned my jeans and slowly began to draw them off my legs. This caused my sense of excitement to skyrocket as I felt my womanliness grow wetter, while my pelvis clenched with anticipation.

In a matter of moments, I was completely naked. I felt so free, as though this was the way it was supposed to be all along. I didn't have too much time to think about what was and was not right, before Doug had also gotten his pants off and was coming back on top of me.

When he bent over, I could feel his enormous manhood carefully massaging against my downy nest of curls and I moaned with need. Once again, I felt my back arch, while I wrapped my legs around his body and tried my best to pull him closer to me. He laughed in an excited way, before dipping down, so that I could feel the extent to which his aching bulge wanted to be inside of me.

Instead of just thrusting in, he made a motion with his shaft as it slid easily up and down the entrance to my pulsating core. I moaned and begged him to go further, while my body pushed towards him with vigor and my hands grasped his shoulders with unmerciful force. After teasing me for quite a long time, he finally breached my satin flesh, just enough to make me scream and want him even further.

The feelings that were welling up inside of me were so glorious that they were almost painful. After having him so close after wanting him for so long, I could barely stand the need I felt for him. As I was nearly brought to tears, quaking with ecstasy and short of breath, I begged him to enter me.

He chuckled at first, but then reared back and after a moment of pointed sliding, finally eased himself into me, and I could not help but scream out and gasp for much needed breath. I breathed his name as he embedded himself deeper into me and I felt my grip clench as he brought himself back down so that I could hold onto his shoulders.

With my legs wrapped around him tightly, I now could feel every sliver of motion he made, not only against me, but inside of me and it felt magnificent. Once we were in position, he slowly began to ease himself back and forth. It didn't take either of us long to be able to find a rhythm that was enjoyable for us both and when we did, we began to quicken the course of our thrusts, which made it all the more exciting. Eventually, we were both breathless as we moved as one.

My heart was beating so fast that I could almost see it throbbing out of my chest, while I could also feel Doug's pulse as he moved against me. With each and every movement, the two of us catapulted closer and closer to the ultimate sexual bliss.

We moved conjointly, faster and faster, until my breaths turned into moans and I felt the climax coming upon me. At the same time, I heard Doug also begin to groan as his thrusts into me became more purposeful until finally, I felt his erotic release flow into me in pulsating waves of pleasure. The lubrication of his love only caused my body to want to reach the glorious peak as well and after a few more fixated pulses from Doug, I took it upon myself to work my way through a sense of excitement, the extent of which I had never felt before.

When it finally graced me with its presence, the intolerable pleasure made my ears ring and nearly blinded me. After yelling out, I paused, feeling a sense of excitement and vigor course throughout my entire body, before beginning tiny tremors as my womanliness throbbed around him.

As the moment of bliss began to subside and I was left with an exuberant amount of ecstasy, I looked up at Doug and laughed in a playful manner. He returned the laugh and breathed a loud breath.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you too..." I answered, not really sure if I believed it or not, but it just sounded like the right thing to say and at the moment, I was sure it couldn't hurt.

After our bodies had stopped pulsing, but neither of us had stopped quivering completely, Doug eased out of me and collapsed beside me, before taking me into his arms. While I lay there then, I realized with pleasure that the scene had played out just like I had fantasied so many times before, once upon a time. Yet, I was even happier to conclude that in reality, it was even more exciting!

# Chapter Seven

Laying there on top of the wood and entwined in the hay, we were both enthralled with one another.

At the moment, life didn't even seem real. Rather, it seemed just like a dream sequence that was kind enough to give a series of truthful, exotic feelings that were better than anything that I had ever felt while awake.

For the first time in a really long time, I felt absolutely wonderful. It was late at night, but I felt energized and excited.

The two of us laid there, thinking about what had just happened and giggling as though we were children. This feeling lasted for a long time and it was absolutely magical. In fact, for a long time after our first time, I could not wait to do it again.

I could not believe that I had played out the fantasy that I had almost obsessed over as a teenager and the best part was, that in the reality that I believed at this moment, it was even better than I had ever imagined it.

Of course, I wasn't a virgin by this point; After all, four years is quite a long time. Yet, it was definitely the best that I had ever experienced.

Doug's body was like a Greek god. Every curve and tone was perfect, while every feature was pristine. Even with his clean-shaven look, which I hoped he would ditch now that he was back home, looked magnificent.

As we laid there, Doug held me in his strong, muscular arms and I felt a sense of contentment flow through me like I had never felt before. In addition to being calming, it was also exhilarating and I certainly was not going to let it pour out of me easily. I liked the way this strange emotion made me feel and I wondered how to make it last.

Alas, just like the tides of the ocean, which I had seen only once, the feeling did not last. Eventually, it began to retreat backwards, out of me and into the atmosphere.

In a way, it was nice because I knew instantly that I would now have a far better chance of sleeping, but on the other hand, I was a little bit disappointed that I had not been able to make the feeling stay any longer.

Then, unfortunately, as the feeling subsided, the glorious moment of bliss also shattered.

It was now, with horror, that I realized the true gravity of what we had done.

My eyes grew wide as I gaped at him. Vaguely, I heard him ask me what was wrong as my thoughts seemed to cloud my brain with a terrible sense of guilt.

_God...We weren't this stupid when we were kids!_ I thought to myself as I realized that now, we were two grown adults and there were real consequences that accompanied our actions.

When we were kids, the worst thing in the world was that I got pregnant and was forced into a shotgun wedding; ironically enough, both families would have probably been happy on some level, but now, there was far more to consider.

If we had made love when we were teenagers, it would be accompanied by the illusion that we were going to be together forever; or at least it would have been for me, but now that we were adults and knew that the fairytale ending was rarely what actually played out, I thought about the repercussions of having what was probably a one-night stand or at the most a summer fling with the man that used to be my best friend. None of those thoughts were good ones and I was absolutely terrified to see where it was going to go from here.

However, Doug was persistent as he stared at my panicked expression and eventually, his words pierced through my mind, "Are you okay?" He asked, before giving me a little bit of a shake.

Finally, my eyes were able to focus on him securely while I was able to lessen the idea that I was about to be sick. Still, I had to breathe deeply at first, sucking in air and then letting it out as I forced myself to come back to his handsome eyes, which still sparkled in an illuminous way, even as worry shown through them.

"Yes..." I managed to pant suddenly, almost scaring myself when I spoke. Then, I added with a sense of finalization, "I have to go."

Doug narrowed his eyes and asked in a sympathetic tone, "Why? What's wrong?"

"Nothing..." I replied, even though I felt like the barn itself was crumbling down around me.

There was nowhere in the fantasy that I had experienced, over and over growing up, that I had a panic attack afterwards, but this, more so than anything else that I felt while I was enjoying the real-life desire was extremely real. _Funny how life and adulthood work out, isn't it?_ I thought to myself coldly.

"Then, why don't you stay?" He asked me earnestly, "Just a few more minutes? I was really enjoying this." He smiled at me as I appeared to look into his eyes.

Yet, instead of actually looking at him, I was looking through his head. I didn't really see him at all anymore. My anxiety had gotten the best of me and all that I could respond at that moment, as I broke free of his grasp and began to make my way down the stairs to the hay-loft was a quick, curt and hurried, "No. I'm sorry. I can't..."

Then, without even a good night, I ran off, back through the darkness that no longer seemed so peaceful and into the house that was closed up for the night a long time before.

I knew that I had just left Doug extremely confused and I was vaguely aware that he had tried his best to go after me, but I reached the house before he could catch up with me. As the door closed quickly, I heard him pant a sigh, but I didn't dare turn around.

After everything that had just transpired, I was sure that I couldn't turn around and face him. I wasn't sure what would have happened if I did, but I really didn't want to find out.

As I made my way into the house, I stopped short as I moved to quietly close the door. This wasn't the first time that I had snuck into the house, but it was the first time that I had felt the need to in a while. I might not be a child anymore, but I sure felt like one; sneaking into my parents' house in the wee hours of the morning after having sex with a boy in the hayloft.

I had to admit that if I wasn't so crazy at the moment, startled by fear of what tomorrow would bring and the slew of potential repercussions I had just unleashed upon myself, this might have been kind of fun. I hadn't acted like such a child in years; then again, Doug always had known exactly how to dig the adventurous spirit out of me.

Even though we had never done anything sexual with one another, fearing that even the slightest touch could spiral us into a place that neither one of us wanted to be, we had stayed out late plenty of times before.

As I walked through the empty, dark kitchen, into the living room, I remembered the times that I would try to sneak in and my eyes automatically slid over to my father's armchair.

Back when I was little, I had always known that it would be pointless to try to sneak anywhere, because my parents would never go to bed without seeing to it that I was home and safe. Therefore, every time I would slip into the back door, which my parents never locked, I would soon be faced with the quick flicker of light from the lamp that was still housed next to the chair and when my eyes adjusted, I would be staring clear into the face of my father; angry that I had tried to get away with staying out far too late.

I stopped as I reached the spot where the light would always come on, mostly out of habit, since my father had gone to sleep with my mother, hours ago.

Since I was an adult, even though I lived on their ranch, in their house, as long as I didn't, wake them up with my racket, as my mother would say, I was allowed to come and go as I pleased.

Still, when I stopped, I stared at the chair, as if I still expected that light to flicker on, I smiled. When I got older, I tried to sneak out of the house after my parents had gone to bed a few times. I really wasn't doing anything wrong. In fact, most of the time, I was hanging out with Doug, but it never seemed to matter. No matter when I got home, whether I was late for a curfew or just sneaking inside, I was always caught.

My mother had always insisted it was her intuition that would wake her up and tell her to check my room, but even though I could never quite prove whatever it was, I still believed that they had another trick that they had yet to share with me.

Either way, the memories made me feel even more like a child as I remembered the days before responsibilities and complication, which all seemed so foreign to me now. Those days, where my daddy would wait up for me, usually after my mother's investigation, led by her instinct, or so I was told, seemed like a lifetime ago.

Once I was finished with my thoughts of the past, I snuck myself the rest of the way upstairs and moved into my bed.

When I was under my own covers, wondering exactly what had happened I sighed.

There was a large part of me that wanted to be happy about what had happened tonight, but there was also a part of me that didn't know what I was doing and felt as though I was making a huge mistake.

As much as I knew that this shouldn't turn into anything more than a one-night stand, I also was beginning to be convinced that it might turn into something more. After all, we had a wonderful time together and he was able to please me like no other man ever could.

Doug always did know just what to do with me, either to make me feel better, or just to brighten any day that I was having and now I knew that knowledge extended into the bedroom, or in our case, hayloft activities and I liked that a lot.

However, I also had not forgotten how hurt I was when he left for college and I wasn't sure that I could do that again. After all, I was worried about how it would feel if he left me again after building a friendship. I couldn't imagine the devastation of losing him after a romance.

Then, I had a wonderful, almost childish thought. _Maybe he will stay. If we fall in love, perhaps he will look for a job in town and we could be together!_

However, my commitment to our old pact was also alive and well, even though my actions hadn't proven that and thus, my mind did not allow me to dream for very much longer.

_Don't be silly,_ I told myself bitterly, _Doug is going to leave at the end of the summer, in hopes of finding a new career and a new life and that is all there is too it._

Now thinking far more realistically, I figured that I had two choices at the moment. The first was that I could cut all ties with him now and try to salvage the depth of the heartbreak, or secondly, was to just have fun. If he wanted this to be a fling, then there was no reason that I shouldn't let him. After all, once he leaves, he could meet someone and that would be the end of that, so this could be the only chance I had to be with him, no matter what the arrangements were.

I wasn't exactly sure what to do. I certainly didn't want to have any ties to him that I would have trouble letting go of at the end of the summer, or whenever it was that he left and I knew that the longer this went on, the harder it would be to let him go again. However, I also had the feeling that even now, I could not bear to let him go, especially if I had a chance to be with him, even for just a little while longer.

Doug's love and affection was like a drug to me. Even though I hadn't realized it at the time, I knew now, as I was falling deeply under his spell, that it had always been that way between us. I might not have done anything sexual with him, but I had the kind of faith in him that I knew he could lead me to the ends of the earth and I would follow him without question. Perhaps it wasn't a great way to be and maybe it was even worse to feel that now and do nothing to stop it, but the part of me that missed him with such fervor that it was almost physically painful, encouraged me.

Although, I knew that I couldn't just lay here and mope forever. So, I shut my eyes tightly and scrunched myself down, into my blankets. As I did so, the familiar scent of my childhood rose up into my nose.

For once in my entire life, I wondered if I had made a mistake by staying at the ranch instead of going to college. Of course, I loved it here. I was always busy and I never felt as though I was unfulfilled, until this very moment; ironically, when I had felt more fulfilled than ever before just an hour earlier.

Still, now that I thought about the whole situation, I wondered if it would have been better for me to just strike out on my own and figure it out. _Would Doug and I be closer?_ I wondered.

I had never let a man dictate my feelings like this, but then again, Doug wasn't just any man. He was the one person that deep down, I had always regretted not furthering my relationship with. However, now that we had, at the very least crossed a line, if not done something all the more permanent, I wasn't sure now that I was happy I did it.

I usually was a woman of my own opinions and they rarely changed. However now, I was second-guessing almost the entirety of my life.

_Maybe I'm being silly_ , I thought. After all, there was a good chance that things would have never worked out as everyone said they should have, even if I had gone away to college. I even ventured further as to think that things likely wouldn't have even worked out better if I had gone to the same college as Doug.

Who knows, if I had, maybe our relationship, as well as our friendship would already have been over by tonight, since we were both realistically adamant at one time that we would never work out. Then, we would have never had such a great experience tonight.

I sighed as my eyes grazed over the clock on my nightstand, which had the time glaring in my face. It was almost four in the morning and I was expected to be up in only a few short hours.

Therefore, I made the solid decision that I needed to relax and focus on sleeping instead of obsessing over what might have been.

_I made my decision and tonight happened. It is too late to change any of that now, so you just need to deal with whatever happens next._ I thought to myself, shutting my eyes tightly again.

After that, I refused to open them; no matter what thought ran through my brain, until I was finally able to fall asleep.

# Chapter Eight

When my eyes popped opened the next day, the first thought that entered my mind was last night's event.

At first, I was excited. After all, nothing like that ever happens to me. But no matter what I was thinking now, I was still graced with the knowledge that what I had experienced the night before was the best sexual experience I had ever had.

However, after I thought and smiled at the memory, my heart sank as reality began to creep in once again. I had no idea what that would mean for me, or for us as friends and at this moment, I wasn't sure that I even wanted to know.

So, not wanting to dread the whole experience any more than I had to, I got up and decided to start my day.

When I went downstairs, my mother was cleaning up from breakfast.

"You're up late," My mother commented in a teasing manner. When I looked at her, she smiled, "What time did you get in last night?"

"Good morning," I smiled, hoping that I looked normal; neither glowing nor sleep-deprived, although I felt an odd mixture of both, "It was pretty late. I didn't wake you, did I?"

My mother shook her head, "No, not at all. I actually slept pretty well last night, which is why I ask. I'm surprised I didn't hear you come in." When I didn't answer her question further, she asked, "Well, did you have a nice ride?"

"Yes," I answered, trying not to giggle giddily as I thought about the entirety of last night, "It's peaceful out there at night, you know momma?"

She nodded, "All too well. When your father and I were courting, I would sneak over here and we would go back to the meadows to..." she stopped right there as I watched her cheeks turn slightly red, before she quickly responded, "Well, that was our spot. We liked it because we could be alone."

"Momma!" I teased, "I didn't think you and daddy had it in you."

At this, my mother laughed out loud in a slightly embarrassed, but otherwise jovial way as she answered, "Well, how do you think you got here? The stork?"

I knew that I had asked for it, but when she said it, knowing how many times I had played, weeded, cared for and rolled around in those meadows made me stop short. I shot my mother a disgusted face which prompted her to laugh.

"I never told you that?"

"No..." I commiserated my own sense of shock and the mental picture I now had burned into my brain, "And to be honest, I wish you would have never, ever let me know that."

My mother giggled then and answered, "Oh, child...If you only knew."

I made a face, but didn't get a chance to comment, before there was a knock at the kitchen door. I looked through the glass, as was habit and my stomach just about launched into my throat.

Doug was standing outside, trying to look anywhere but in the window, as to not disturb us until we let him inside.

He was always so courteous.

I made no motion at first, struck by his presence in the daylight and becoming slightly overcome with all of the memories that I had of him, washed over me. Even as a kid, he stood at that door in the same awkward way.

While the rest of our friends would smoosh their faces up against the window, to see if someone was coming to open it, I could always picture Doug taking the same stance as he was now; hands in his pockets and his eyes facing away from the door. If it took a moment for someone to come to the door, his eyes would dart around, from the ground, to either side of him and sometimes even up towards the sky, but he always gave everyone the privacy that they deserved.

After a moment, I heard my mother say in a loud voice, as to get my attention, "Well, aren't you going to let that poor boy in?"

My eyes then focused on her and I noticed that her short stature looked adamant, with her fists punched into her sides and her eyes bearing down on me, most likely wondering why I was letting him stand outside

I smiled, trying to smooth over the thoughts that I had as I easily stood up and walked the few steps towards the door. As I did so, the only sound that I registered in my mind was the click of my boots against the tile floor.

Before I opened the door, I took a deep breath, hoping that my mother would not notice my nervousness. When I let it out, I grasped the handle, turned it and pulled opened the door, forcing a smile, although my heart was racing uncontrollably and my nerves were jittering unmercifully.

"Hello!" I exclaimed, trying to sound cheery, even though I currently felt as though I was going to throw up. I could actually feel my mother's eyes on the back of my head, watching me. She seemed as though she was just being friendly and it wasn't out of the ordinary for her to not care what time I got in, so long as I did what I needed to do to keep the ranch running smoothly, but right now, I felt as though she had some other, ulterior motive. I wasn't sure what that motive was, but I was fairly certain that I wouldn't like it, if in fact I wasn't just being paranoid.

The fact was, if she knew that we had slept together last night, she probably would have been thrilled, although she would also be planning a wedding, probably for August; sooner if she was able.

"Good morning!" Doug answered cheerfully. I wasn't exactly sure what he was getting at, but I went along with him, because I kind of had to.

"Good morning, Doug. You're here early..." I answered, giving him wide eyes, warning him not to mention last night.

"Your fine!" My mother chimed in from the background, before Doug could respond, "We've already eaten and started this beautiful day. The only person this is early for is lazy bones over here. I don't know what has gotten into her."

I could tell that she was smiling, but I wasn't quite sure what was so entertaining about what she had said, unless she knew all along what we were really up to last night and I was making an effort to conceal our actions.

Doug then looked past me, completely natural and answered, "Thank you, Mrs. Loughery. I just finished breakfast myself and I wanted to come by and say hi..." Then, he added, "Thank you again for dinner; It was delicious."

"Any time," my mother answered, pleased. Then, she answered, "Alright, well, I'll leave you two. I'm sure you have a lot to catch up on, seeing how you hardly said a word to one another last night."

I turned around to show her that she was embarrassing me, but by that point, she already had her back turned to me. I rolled my eyes as I turned back around and Doug gave out a laugh when he looked at my face.

I groaned under my breath. I thought of asking him what he wanted, just like that, but refrained. Instead, I asked him, "How are you?"

"I'm great!" He answered simply, before he added, "Would you like to come for a walk with me?"

I briefly thought about what my mother said about the meadows, but physically shook the thought from my mind before I answered quickly, "Sure. That sounds like it would be nice."

He beamed brightly as I walked out into the beautiful summer morning. The heat had yet to reach its pique and there was actually a slight breeze flowing through the otherwise dry air. The sun was shining, illuminating everything in our path and it looked abundantly pleasant.

I breathed in deeply as I followed him briefly, before positioning myself next to him. The air was clean and fresh.

"How are you?" He asked me as I smiled at him, "You look tired."

"Wonder why?" I droned with sarcasm as we instinctively made our way towards the old barn. I wasn't sure how I would react to being in there now, after last night, but I wanted to have the reaction, if there was going to be one, as soon as possible anyway, so that we had the chance to move on.

Doug chuckled at this and answered, "Seriously, are you okay? What happened?"

"I'm fine," I answered, surprising myself with my own sense of honesty, "I just got a little freaked out. It was all so sudden and so wonderful, that I felt like we hadn't even thought it through."

"Well, that's a lie," he answered bluntly and I stared at him with misunderstanding, "Oh, come on. You and I both know that we have been thinking about this since we were teenagers. Just because we never really talked about it and wouldn't dare act on it back then doesn't mean this comes as a surprise."

I shrugged, knowing that he was right and feeling just as attracted to him as I was the night before, "But we're adults now. We aren't children..."

He squinted his eyes at me with a sense of confusion as he answered, "You say that like it's a bad thing. Now, we know what we are doing..."

"And I don't think we should have done it!" I answered testily, glaring at him with an earnest sense of concern.

Doug stopped short and stared at me for a drawn out moment before he answered, "Oh...Okay." He shrugged and leaned against the door to the old barn.

Now feeling guilty, I felt my breath stop halfway through my throat as I answered, "Well...what did you expect to come out of it? It isn't like we were going to date. We want to keep our options opened, right?"

Slightly angry now, Doug narrowed his eyes at me and defended both of our decision by answering, "That was a long time ago, Paige. You're right, we were kids then and that was a good decision for us. If we had dated, I probably wouldn't have gone to college and I wouldn't have had the experiences that I had or the opportunities that I have. Now, I'm not asking you to marry me, but I am thinking that maybe we should give this a try..."

I now felt absolutely awful, not only for what I thought he wanted, but also what I still thought. I wanted desperately to be able to have something real between Doug and me, but for my own good, I didn't want to believe it for a second.

I was terrified that he was going to leave and I was going to be stuck, once again, without him, while he went off and forgot about me the second his new, wealthy, big, important life consumed him.

"Why would you do that when you know that you are going to be leaving?" I demanded.

At this, he sighed and the anger that seemed to be bubbling up inside of him dissipated before he said, "I told you last night, Paige. I don't know what I want to do yet."

"Yes, but I do," I answered truthfully, "I want to stay here. This is my home and this is what I chose for my life. I am happy here, but I will not sit back and allow you to give up what you want, just to have the same life as me. I would hope you wouldn't do that to me either...and so if you do leave, I don't want to be left with the broken heart, when I could have avoided it all together."

He shrugged, "I still would like to see what happens."

I considered this for a moment, feeling torn through one way and the other. I didn't want to feel so strange towards him, but I also didn't want to fall in love with him, knowing that it might not work out. I knew that I could easily fall in love with him. In fact, I wasn't completely sure that I had ever fallen out of love with him. Last night had really made me wonder.

I sighed carefully and answered, "I'm sorry...I need to think about this, okay?"

At first, he looked taken back a little bit, but then after a moment, he agreed, "Sure. That's fine."

Then, we stood there awkwardly for a second, until he asked, "Well, do you want to go into town with me? I hear they have a couple new shops and I am looking to get some new hunting and fishing gear for this summer. I can't find a lot of the old stuff."

I considered this for a moment and knew that my parents would be overjoyed that I was going out with him, so that wouldn't be a problem. I really did want to go out with him too. It wasn't like I would be doing anything out of the ordinary for me. I thought it would be fun, in fact. This was more like I had hoped he would come home and we would go out; alone, instead of being bombarded and forced together by the family. So, I finally smiled and answered, "Sure. That sounds like fun."

"It's a beautiful day, after all..." He added and before we even went back into the barn, we made our way back through the filed, into the house to tell my mother where we were going.

Of course, she was delighted.

# Chapter Nine

That night, I was tired, but had a lot of fun. It was almost like the old times, except now, I knew that I had a decision to make.

We hadn't spoken again about it all day, but I was sure that Doug wouldn't let the situation go. Therefore, I knew that I had to act fast. I needed to figure out what I wanted and what I was willing to possibly lose, or have to go through if things didn't work out.

Alas, I wasn't sure what it would mean for things to work out between us. As I had told Doug, I wasn't going to ask him to give anything that he wanted up for me and I expected that he held the same respect for me.

Hence, I didn't see much of a life together. Even if we fell madly in love, I wouldn't want to live separated from him for long stretches at a time, if he was to go work in the city.

A friendship might work like that; but being in love, was not conducive to that environment. I was never a fan of long-term relationships.

I wanted a relationship like my mother and father. Even though they had their days where they did things by themselves and even had their own friends in the little community, they were never away from one another. My father came home to my mother every night and that was the way I preferred it too. With marriage, I wanted a family and I didn't want the responsibility of raising children alone.

I knew now that I could probably work with that for a friendship, but I certainly could not continue that idea with a marriage.

I wanted a romance that exceeded all bounds, not a ring, a certificate, the occasional fling when he came home on the weekends and a paycheck. That wasn't a life for me, just as much as I didn't want to move to a city, even if it meant being with him.

So, I finally decided that instead of trying to figure out how to make it work forever, I had to weigh the option of whether a summer fling was worth the heartbreak or if having a relationship with this now urbanized cowboy would be just a little bit too much for me to handle?

However, the more I thought about it, the more confused and angry I became. I was mad at myself for giving in so easily and I was mad at Doug for pushing me to make a choice. Therefore, eventually, overwhelmed and vexed, I just started to cry into my pillow until I was finally graced with sleep.

When I woke up the next morning, I wasn't sure how I felt. I still hadn't come to any kind of a decision and that was aggravating me immensely.

Yet, I had gotten up with the rooster and I thought that since I had taken a break yesterday, I should get up now and try to fulfill my duties. Therefore, I got dressed and went downstairs to milk the cow, all the while, trying to forget about what happened the day before.

Once again, it was a beautiful morning and I was calmed by the tranquility of it.

I grabbed the bucket and the stool that was used for milking and brought it over to Spots, the cow that I had named when I was still a little girl. The name stuck. I had insisted upon it.

When I settled down, ready to start the milking process, I heard the familiar animal noises filling the ranch, but that was all that I heard, except for my own breathing.

It was nice and comforting. I liked not being able to hear other people, especially this early in the morning.

While I was milking Spots, though, within a few minutes, the peacefulness of being the only person around was ruined.

I felt Doug's presence behind me almost instantly and I sighed. I had yet to make a decision and I was just getting to a point where I was not consistently thinking about it.

Still, I turned around and smiled at him, "Good morning. How are you?"

"I'm good," he answered and shifted uncomfortably, digging the heel of his boot into the dirt, as though he had expected something more than what I was providing for him.

I wasn't sure what he expected me to do. It wasn't like I was going to run up and tackle him, telling him that he is the only man for me and I was a fool not to have said all this years ago, before kissing him so passionately that it made his head spin.

As much as I wanted to, I knew that it was very premature, since I hadn't even made a decision on whether I wanted to be with him.

"Can we talk?" he asked in a noncommittal way.

I shrugged, "Sure. Go ahead." I tried to keep the conversation light, but he was making this very difficult.

"Well," he said, before he shifted around on his feet once again, making the sound reverberate throughout the barn. I waited for him to say something. He was the one who wanted to talk, after all and I wanted to prolong my answer to the inevitable question as much as I possibly could. "I don't know how to say this, Paige..."

"What?" I asked, not wanting to change the tone until I knew for certain what he was going to say.

He sucked in a deep breath, which made his abs more pronounced, before he let it out and asked cautiously, "I was wondering if...uh, have you given any thought to what we talked about yesterday?"

"You mean us?" I responded and he nodded, before I turned all the way around on the stool and sighed. I let my shoulders hang next to me and I shrugged for a moment, before I answered, after a large sigh, "Honestly, Doug?"

"Honesty is the best policy..." He answered with a beam that told me he was trying to be funny.

I continued, blurting out hastily, "I don't know if I can do this."

Immediately, he looked crushed, but his eyes longed for an explanation. Realizing this, I shrugged, not sure what else to say.

"I'm sorry; it has been a long time since we've been together."

Doug considered what I had said for a moment, before he did something unexpected. He moved towards me, only stopping to knell down. Out of curiosity I didn't pull away from him; not moving either towards or away from him, he grasped my arm lightly. He tugged it towards him with care; I looked at him, intrigued.

He sighed and told me, "Listen, like I told you before, I have no idea what is going to happen. But I would love it if you would just give me a chance. You have always been irreplaceable to me. You are so special to me and I hope that no matter what happens you know how I feel."

"You're special to me too, Doug," I conceded.

He continued, before I had a chance to make the point that he obviously already saw coming, "I am okay with taking it slow, but I don't want "our night" to go away." His handsome eyes widened and I saw the extent of seriousness that they held.

Looking at him now, I could not help but admit....to myself of course, that I also wanted to try "us" out. It pained me to think that we would finalize the bounds of our relationship to exclude ever having a night like that, but there was also a part of me that feared it would do more harm than good, having the possibility of such wonderment being available to us.

Still, I considered what he was saying, trying not to get lost in his pleading eyes. Finally, I decided, "Okay. I'll give you a chance."

He beamed with excitement, but before he could say anything else, I added, "But it might not be right away..."

He laughed as he answered immediately, "That's alright. You have always been worth the wait." With that, he squeezed my arm affectionately.

At first, my heart began to melt, but a thought caused me to stop swooning over him and declare, "Oh and if this does work between us, you are not allowed to tell anyone about it."

Smiling knowingly, "The parents would be intolerable if they found out. We can't tell them until..." then he quickly amended, "if and when, we ever get engaged."

I laughed, "Maybe we should wait until the wedding day."

He chucked before he promised, "I will not say a word."

_He is so cute!_ I thought and with that, I placed my free hand on his face to kiss him.

When he realized what I was doing, he craned his neck and repositioned himself for the kiss. As our lips met, I felt a tickle of attraction buzzing around inside my body. Our tongues intertwined for a moment.

However, eventually, the two of us broke free, I stared into his face.

Without taking his eyes off of me, "We will have a relationship and I promise, I will not divulge our secret." His eyebrows raised then as he answered, "Let's just see how this goes. There's no sense for either of us to get too excited." He smiled and I giggled, far more content than I had felt in a long time.

Finally, we were not only agreeing to be together, but it felt as though we were being adults about it, which made me all the happier.

# Chapter Ten

Doug left, as to not arouse suspicions about are relationship.

He promised to come back to visit, after we were both finished with our tasks for the day. While I still had a ranch to maintain, he had to send out a few more applications and answer some emails.

When he told me that, it didn't bother me like I thought it would. With the arrangement that we had made, it was simple enough to encourage him. After all, we weren't promising one another we would be together forever... or were we?

Unlike my mother and father, who wouldn't be truly satisfied until I had a ring on my finger and date picked out. For the time being I was pleased with this arrangement; it allowed us both the freedom to pursue are dreams, while being comfortable and completely honest with one another.

***

I walked into the house; where my mother was cooking breakfast in the kitchen.

"You're up early," she mentioned with a smile.

"Don't you ever just say good morning anymore?" I teased as I sat down at the table with a large glass of water.

I had already had a cup of coffee before going out to milk Spots, but when I was finished hydrating myself, I was going to be taking advantage of that full pot.

From the smell I could tell that my mother made the coffee; which was good, because my father creates pure mud, and claims it's delicious.

My mother laughed and answered, "Sorry. I was only stating the obvious, I guess. I'm proud of you though. How much did you get done?"

"Everything for this morning," I answered and my mother seemed pleased.

Then, she looked at me with a keen eye as she replied, "So...How did it go with Doug yesterday?" There was a heavy connotation in her voice, but I was content to ignore it.

"It was fun," I answered genuinely, "He said that he had lost a lot of his outdoorsy stuff over the last few years, so he wanted to gear up for the summer."

She nodded, "So, it sounds like he is sticking around for a little while, then?"

I shrugged; much like Doug had when I asked him the same thing and answered accordingly, "He doesn't really know. He is just taking everything one step at a time."

"Does he have any job offers? He said he was in the market."

"I don't think so. He was going to apply to jobs today..." then, getting paranoid I added, "I mean that's what he said yesterday. I have no idea where he has been all day today."

The words burst out of me before I could think. I was never good at keeping secrets, which was probably part of the reason it was just easier to stay away from Doug romantically while we were growing up.

My mother looked over at me, trying to figure out my strange behavior, but didn't comment on it. Instead, she asked, "Well, from what you were talking about yesterday, does it seem like you are going to be seeing each other today?"

I shrugged in a noncommittal way and tried to graze over my slip with a casual, "He said he might stop by later."

That was true, he had said that, but it wasn't yesterday. Still, it was for my parents' own good that we were keeping our relationship to ourselves...for now anyways. It wasn't because we felt like we needed to hide anything from them. We weren't children anymore, after all.

"I'm glad he's home," she commented, just as casually as the tone I had taken with her, "I think it's good for you to see one another...even if nothing does come from it. I hope you two will always at least remain friends."

_Um...okay, so what is your angle, Mom?_ Is what I felt like saying, but I refrained, knowing that would only catapult me closer to the truth then I wanted to go, especially if she wondered why I was being so defensive.

Therefore, I let the comment go and we had breakfast as soon as my father came inside. For thirty years, she had made sure that every meal was waiting for my father, piping hot and fresh as soon as he walked in the door.

I was never sure that I could reach such a level of perfection, but if and when I ever found Mr. Right, it would definitely be something that I would strive for; especially if my husband was as gracious about it as my father always was.

As we ate a thought ran through my head, perhaps one day Doug and I would act like my mother and father.

Even though it was a nice thought, I had the feeling that we were still a very long way from ever seriously considering our marriage roles.

After breakfast, I went right back out to finish the chores.

***

Around four o'clock that afternoon, Doug stayed true to his word and met up with me just as I was finishing my chores.

He ran up behind me and gave me a bear hug, pulling me into him for a kiss.

At first, instinctually, I nuzzled my neck into his mouth, enjoying the feeling of his lips caressing my tender skin, but after a second, I leapt back and broke free of his grasp.

He looked stunned and immediately replied, "I'm sorry..." just as I calmed down.

Looking at him then, I felt guilty. I laughed, still emphatically aroused by his advances, but told him in a low voice, "We can't do that...remember?" I eyed him with a large, gaping gaze, as though trying to emphasize my point.

He laughed too then and answered, "Sorry...I'm just happy."

I then returned a tender smile as I replied, "I am too. So, what's up?"

"I was just seeing if you wanted to go fishing with me. I'm eager to try out this new reel," as he spoke, his eyes shone brightly. He was always great at what he did, whether it was hunting, fishing, or backyard sports, but he was always partial to fishing.

I didn't care for fishing. I could take it or leave it, but since it was a chance to be alone with Doug, I was going to take it! "Sure," I smiled.

"Cool! Come with me. I have to get my reel," with that, he took off, while I attempted to fall into step behind him.

Eventually, I caught up with him as we were nearing his family's ranch.

By the time I was actually next to him though, he had decelerated to a complete stop as he watched a car pull up Doug's long, dirt driveway.

"What's wrong?" I asked him, but before he answered, he ran towards the car with haste. Worrying that something was wrong, I called his name as I moved towards them, but was too far behind to catch up.

When Doug reached the car, it stopped immediately and a woman got out.

I was close enough to see her. She looked to be about our age, but I didn't recognize her at all.

However, with a wide grin, I soon discovered that she recognized Doug.

Immediately, she slammed the car door and ran the short distance to Doug.

The woman ignored me completely, at first; I figured she might not have seen me, since I had stopped a few paces behind Doug.

When she reached him though, the woman enveloped Doug into her arms and engaged him in a passionate, meaningful and almost desperate kiss.

I felt my heart sink; I thought it couldn't get any worse, watching him kiss a gorgeous blond. To my absolute horror, instead of pushing her away, I could have sworn that I saw Doug reciprocate the kiss and pull his arms around her as well.

Watching the scene play out before me, I was certain at that moment that my heart was shattering into a million pieces as tears of betrayal shot into the corners of my eyes.

### Thank you for reading!

## Please visit your favorite eBook retailer to view the next books in the "Cowboy Come Home Series"
Taken By The Rancher

by

Lacy Hyde
Copyright © 2017 by Lacy Hyde

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Taken By The Rancher

All rights reserved.

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. No part of this work may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording and faxing, or by any information storage and retrieval system by anyone but the purchaser for their own personal use.

This book may not be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of Lacy Hyde, except in the case of a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages for the sake of a review written for inclusions in a magazine, newspaper, or journal—and these cases require written approval from Lacy Hyde prior to publication. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.

# Chapter One

Longing

Kristin sighed as she considered the brochure LeAnn placed in front of her. The vacation would be a great deal of fun, but with everything on her plate right now, there was no way she could take the time off. Regrettably, she looked up at her best friend. "You know I miss the country, LeAnn, but I just got the new campaign build for Roger-Smith on my desk Friday. That's going to eat up all my time for weeks. I'll be working overtime, and there's no way I can take a vacation in the middle of a project like that with a promotion on the line."

LeAnn leaned over the table, pushing the coffee cups to the side and pointing at the picture of the ranch house on the cover. "Come on, Kristin, this looks so much like that childhood home of yours you talk about. And it's only a week. I mean, we could stay longer, but give it a week. You have far too much stress on your shoulders, and I think it would really help you get it together for this big project."

But LeAnn didn't understand. As an image consultant, LeAnn assumed they were both in the business of PR and marketing, which was true. But LeAnn didn't have the negative image of women in the industry to overcome that Kristin did in a big marketing firm. At Morrow-Waves Marketing, one of the largest firms in New York, it was cutthroat, and because so many men were so much more aggressive and ruthless about getting the job, women tended to suffer. She was one of the three women outside the secretarial pool, in a company of nearly two hundred executives. The odds weren't in her favor.

If she took vacation in the middle of a deal that would be one of the biggest accounts their firm landed, she would be a joke. Besides, she prided herself in her work, and she didn't have much else to bank on in life. "I just can't, LeAnn. It wouldn't feel right." She stared longingly at the brochure. A week at a real working ranch, with a chance to do 'dude ranch' work really tore at her heart. If LeAnn were trying to send her on a guilt trip, she'd succeeded.

With a sigh of resignation, LeAnn threw her hands up. "I give up. You're doomed to collapse under the weight of stress, but I can't make you do anything you don't want to do." She stabbed at the last of her pancakes; her perfectly manicured nails are bright orange today and her sunny blond hair in a perfect coif at the nape of her neck. Her no-nonsense suit was black with white pinstripes, and the flash of orange blouse beneath was a perfect match to her nails, as were the pumps on her feet.

Kristin Jenkins envied her best friend. Because of her chosen career path, LeAnn Hardwick met knew people everywhere she went. She rubbed elbows with models, actors, singers, CEOs, and other pretty, rich people that she only made prettier. But then, LeAnn had grown up in the outskirts of LA, near Hollywood. The environment had given her a down-to-earth perspective on life but put her head in the clouds as she watched the Hollywood starlings from a distance.

Kristin, on the other hand, had been raised on a small ranch outside Dallas, and she had lived a very humble life. She'd never worried about her looks or her mannerisms until she'd met LeAnn in college. Four years at Berkley with LeAnn had changed her entire perspective, and she'd started dressing to look the part of the marketing director she wanted to be – and had become over the last ten years. But being so far behind the scenes of corporations didn't allow her the contacts and prestige LeAnn built, and she was often in the shadows of rich, old men who weren't so easy on the eyes and didn't much care about how Kristin looked, as long as she made them money. She hadn't made a lot of friends over the years, but she'd built a career that was going strong.

"I'm not going to give in," she assured LeAnn, though she'd already spent most of the weekend fretting over the new account, which was the entire reason she'd called up her best friend for lunch today. LeAnn was her rock, the only person in her life who kept her sane. "I'm going to work my ass off and land it, and then I'll be promoted to VP instead of director."

"I truly hope you're right. But remember, the offer is on the table, if you change your mind." LeAnn winked, sliding a piece of paper that read 'The Offer' onto the table. Kristin had to laugh; her friend's humor was quirky, dry, and ridiculous sometimes, but it got her through life, and she was sitting on top of the world.

Folding the piece of paper into the brochure, Kristin left the money for the bill and the tip on the table, and the two of them left to shop. It was a routine. They didn't get together for a meal or coffee unless they went on some extravagant run through town to buy a pair of Gucci glasses or a Michael Kors purse or some other such nonsense. And Kristin loved every minute of it, despite the fact that her bank account was half the size of LeAnn's. She'd still done well for herself so far, and because she was frugal most of the time, she had the cash to blow on these rare occasions.

This time, as they parted ways – LeAnn returning to her swanky apartment in Soho and Kristin heading to the edges of Manhattan and her tiny loft apartment that cost a fortune, but was right around the corner from her job, Kristin had a hard time returning home alone. Something was weighing on her, tearing at her in a way she didn't understand, and being with LeAnn provided comfort for her. As she looked around her apartment, she wasn't unhappy. She'd decorated, made it home, and she loved the neo-kitschy look of her place. But what it had in luster didn't make up for what it lacked in livelihood. Kristin hated admitting she was lonely, and she kept telling herself that, one day, after she made it big in her professional life, all the personal life details would fall in line.

She simply hadn't seen the fruits of her labor yet. It was only a matter of time, and she had plenty of that. She was only 31, after all, and look how far she'd come already! Women were getting married and having families later and later, and Kristin was in excellent health. She had a whole lifetime ahead of her still.

Deciding to enjoy what would likely be her last full day off for a while, Kristin quickly picked her outfit for tomorrow morning, made her Monday morning smoothie and put it in the fridge, and then took a relaxing bath before donning her favorite silk pajamas and lounging on the couch with some snacks while she watched reruns and reality TV for the rest of the day.

***

Kristin tried to remain focused as people passed her small office, carrying boxes with their personal items and wearing stoic or despondent expressions. She kept her head down, glancing only out of the corner of her eye as she counted. This time, the layoff hit six people in her department. Last week, there had been seven.

Kristin was glad to have the Roger-Smith account because she felt it offered her job security. This was her project, and the last three weeks of putting in sixty-plus hours a week was going to pay off when she landed the account. But her drive stemmed from more than her own job and promotion now. The firm had lost two significant accounts in the last month, leading to these layoffs, and the entire firm needed this new contract to survive.

One thing was for sure – the pressure was immense, and though she'd told LeAnn and everyone else time and again that she could handle it, Kristin was not in a good place. The stress caused her to barely sleep and lose weight.

Taking a deep breath and drinking from the cup of coffee that was now cold, she plowed ahead, determined to walk into the huge conference room this afternoon and wow the partners at the firm with her creativity. From there, she'd get the approval to put the final tweaks in place so they could present it to the client on Monday.

She took her lunch break to run home and change, wanting to look thoroughly professional in front of the rest of the board. Kristin wanted that 'VP' title in front of her name, and she wanted the company to get out of the red before they lost any more people. In a navy skirt suit with white pinstripes and a white collar, topped off with a pair of sensible white flats, a silver necklace with a white opal pendant and matching earrings, and her mass of black curls piled on her head in a neat but loose bun. Kristin liked the image in the mirror and added just a touch of bronzer and a hint of coral lipstick.

Glasses in place and briefcase in hand, she entered the room with confidence amidst corporate moguls who were not going to be easy to convince that she was the 'man' for the job. But with a fool-proof agenda that touted an in-depth look at the market, as well as a complete creative redesign of a failing ad campaign and projected gains for the client, Kristin felt prepared for anything.

As she set up her presentation, the men around her settled into the chairs around a long conference table and watched her work, coffee mugs in hand. Kristin knew that the quiet muttering among them was likely snide remarks about her potential and what kind of drivel she was going to give them. That was fine; it would make her feel all the more superior when she awed them.

For the next 45 minutes, Kristin commanded the room, all eyes on her, and several heads nodding agreement with her strategy. She knew she had them as she turned off the projector and flipped the switch to restore the overhead lighting. They muttered amongst themselves, and she thanked them and exited the room with her materials, heading to her office to await word on their decision. This was the worst part, and she truly just wanted to hear the resounding approval and polish off the presentation for the client.

Feeling giddy, Kristin texted LeAnn, telling her how well it had gone and that this was in the bag. LeAnn's vote of confidence of _I knew you would!_ as a response made Kristin stifle a giggle. She was so enthused and anxious she couldn't sit still, and when her phone beeped, she practically vibrated with joy. "Kristin, can I see you in my office please?" came the voice of Jordan Meeks, the VP who had assigned her the task of putting together the proposal.

"Yes, sir, I'll be right in." She tried not to sound overly bright or confident, but there was a definite spring in her step as she hurried toward Mr. Meeks' office. This was her opportunity, and she felt like she was walking the red carpet now, ready to accept her reward.

The door was cracked, but she knocked anyway before entering, her manners demanding attention to protocol. "Have a seat," Mr. Meeks told her, gesturing to the chair facing him from the opposite side of his desk. The office was huge, with lots of leather and old wood, and Kristin found herself thinking about how she'd decorate an office this size. With the bonus and raise she'd get with a promotion, she could certainly afford to be a little extravagant in her décor choices, but she didn't much care for the stuffy feeling this sort of theme presented.

"Thank you for your presentation today, Kristin. It was professional, and I could tell you put a lot of work into it," he began, pulling at the sleeves of his Armani suit with a stoic expression.

A red flag went up in Kristin's mind. She'd seen him fidget with his suit before, and nine times out of ten, it was when he delivered bad news. "Thank you, Mr. Meeks. I've spent hundreds of hours on it, and I truly believe it's the right strategy for this particular client. As I said in the meeting, I project at least a fifteen percent increase in profits over the next year based on the campaigns."

"So I heard," he told her with a smile that didn't reach his eyes as they finally fell on her. "Your input is very much appreciated, Kristin, and the firm has chosen to put your proposal in front of the client next week. It should help significantly in the recovery of our profit margins, should the client accept."

A wave of relief washed through Kristin, and she bit her bottom lip to keep from squealing in triumph. _Be professional._ "That's wonderful, sir. I'll put the finishing touches on it, and I promise I won't let you down."

But his eyes were hard now, and Kristin gulped. "Kristin, we're unfortunately unable to have you present this. I hate my job at times like this because you have been such an incredible asset to this company. The work you produce is phenomenal, and were it my decision, I would have you up there with confidence and poise, selling us to these guys. However, based on the numbers we've run and the position this company is in, we're still under the gun to cut costs. I'm afraid the board has decided to let you go."

_Go where?_ Kristin couldn't process the meaning behind his words immediately, and she had to wonder where exactly she was going. "I'm not following, sir," she said, her heart fluttering with panic.

His scowl did nothing to reassure her. "I'm sorry, Kristin, I fought to keep you on. Your salary is one of the highest for any of our directors, and while I feel you are worth every penny and more, I couldn't save you from this round of layoffs. It was decided this morning, before the presentation, and I wanted to tell you then, but my associates wanted to wait."

Kristin would have fumed that they'd used her to get the advertising strategy for such a big account, but she was too focused on the personal crisis this created. She didn't just work to live; she lived to work. She _was_ this job. There was nothing else in her life, and without it, she couldn't afford to add something else.

"Mr. Meeks, I can take a pay cut. I really need this job, and you know I'm willing to work harder than anyone else in this company." She hated the plea in her voice.

"I know that, Kristin. But a pay cut isn't enough, and I can't stop what's already been put in action. I have your dismissal paperwork here." He reached for a manila folder on the corner of his desk, glanced at what was inside, and passed it across to her. "You'll find a somewhat generous allowance, with your health insurance remaining intact for the next three months at no cost, as well as a month's compensation in the severance package, plus the payout of accrued vacation time and the value of your stock options as of today. You also have access to either take out or roll over your retirement fund."

Kristin's hand shook as she grabbed the folder, opening it to peruse the information inside. "I assume it's time for me to clean out my office and walk down the hall of shame like everyone else, with nothing but a box in my arms to show for the years I spent here." She didn't even try to hide the sarcasm in her voice.

"I'm very sorry, Kristin. I've got you at the top of the list, should we be able to reinstate some of the people we've let go. I think the company is doing itself a disservice by letting you go, but it's out of my hands." His eyes were sincere as he told her, "If you need anything, call me. I'll write letters of recommendation or help in any other way I can." He passed her a business card with his personal cell number on it, and Kristin assumed that was her dismissal.

Like a zombie, she grabbed an empty paper box from the mailroom, carried it to her office, and dumped all her personal belongings in it. She gazed around the empty closet-sized room one last time, logged out of her computer, and sighed. Refusing to show any emotion, she didn't speak to anyone on the way out, and she held her head high as she stepped onto the elevator and headed out to her car.

Shoving the box in the trunk, she drove on autopilot, making a stop for coffee, and went home. She didn't unload the items from the trunk, simply going in and running a hot bath. She couldn't remember the last time she wasn't facing a deadline, the last time she got the opportunity to just relax without obligation. Kristin wasn't one to relax or let go, and she'd have to find a goal to focus on if she was going to stay sane. But for now, she knew she was in shock, and she couldn't focus at all. The best thing to do was to act like a normal person. Other people would wallow in self-pity and pamper themselves until they felt better. So, that would be her goal, at least for today.

# Chapter Two

In Boredom We Trust

The shock wore off quickly, and boredom set in. Kristin couldn't force herself to continue down a path filled with manicures, facials, and bubble baths. The euphoria most people felt in those treatments only reminded Kristin that she was jobless, hopeless, and had been used. With the boredom came the anger. Rather than getting her just desserts for all the diligent work she'd put in, all the creativity she'd shared, Kristin had been jilted out of her promotion, as well as the prestige of sharing the products of her mind.

And it hadn't stopped there. She'd been shunted, her entire livelihood stolen, and she had no prospects for the future. Well, that wasn't exactly true. Morrow-Waves was a big company, and their only true rival was Everett Sales & Advertising. Everett had approached her at least five times over the past three years with a proposal of their own, but in her stupid morals, Kristin had clung to her loyalty with Morrow-Waves. They'd given her a start, and she'd advanced quickly there, breaking records for women in the company. She'd thought it would be a lifelong career, that she'd retire from the company.

_Dream on._ There was no such thing as loyalty and job security in the workplace anymore. It was cutthroat, dog-eat-dog, and 'fair' didn't even make it into the Dictionary of Business Practices these days. It actually felt good to turn on her personal laptop and find the last recruiting email she'd received from Everett S&A and forward her resume back with an inquiry as to whether or not there was still an open position with their company. If she was lucky, she could recover most of her salary and a bit of her pride by getting a position that would eventually lead her back to the role of director.

But what was she going to do in the meantime? Kristin couldn't sit here and twiddle her thumbs, couldn't just read or watch television. It wasn't her style. And she wasn't ready to dive in and search for a new career right now. She'd start making inquiries with other firms when she was done fuming about her current position.

She slammed the laptop closed and folded her arms in frustration. The movement scattered papers on the desk, and something heavy floated to the floor. Scowling down at it, she saw the brochure LeAnn had given her. Prescott's 'Slanted' _P_ Ranch. Kristin snorted. She hadn't even visited her parents' land in nearly three years, preferring to work with her family for a neutral meeting ground halfway between for holidays. Last year, she'd booked them rooms at a resort in Nashville, and they'd had a 'Grand Ole Opry Christmas'. She'd been thinking about Boulder this year; she hadn't been skiing for nearly a decade.

She reached down and picked up the brochure, flipping the pages and frowning. It looked pretty legit, which meant she'd actually be on horseback again, mucking out stalls, and other nonsense. It might be refreshing, and it wasn't like she had anything else to fill her time. Of course, with the layoff, she couldn't guarantee she could afford to spend money on a vacation. Certainly, she'd land another job easily, between credentials, experience, and reputation.

Still, she couldn't stand the idea of being in her apartment, no matter how swanky, for the next several weeks. She needed a break. At this point, her lack of work was causing as much stress as her penchant for being a workaholic, and she remembered LeAnn's admonishment about taking time to live her life. It irked Kristin that she was buying into that, considering her complete focus should be on maintaining her career before she lost her edge.

At the same time, if she took this trip, she'd likely be so glad to come back and get her hands dirty that she'd dive into the application and interview process. She carried the brochure to the kitchen, phone in her other hand, as she searched the packages and prices. Everything seemed reasonable; the cost wasn't extravagant, and the accommodations weren't stalls in the stables or anything.

She put everything on the counter, poured herself a cup of coffee, and bit her lip. Maybe some manual labor would give her enough focus to clear her mind, sort of like meditation, and she could start fresh when she came back. Before she could change her mind, she speed-dialed LeAnn, who answered on the first ring. "Hey, you, how are you? I was worried when you didn't call, and I was about to come by and see if you were still alive or if you'd given yourself a heart attack."

Feeling the familiar rise of her anger, Kristin took several deep breaths as she prepared to hit her best friend with the news. "I got laid off. Oh, they kept my proposal and I hear they landed the account, but I'm toast."

"No way! What bullshit!" LeAnn was truly offended for her, and that was one of the things Kristin truly appreciated about her friend. They felt each other's pain, and they had each other's backs. "Are you applying elsewhere?"

"I have a couple of prospects," she said vaguely. "Listen, LeAnn, I was calling because...is it too late to take you up on that ranch vacation? I think I need a change of scenery for a few days."

"Seriously? You're coming?" LeAnn sounded like a tea kettle simmering and ready to let out the ear-piercing sound as it boiled. "Oh, please tell me you're not joking!"

Blowing out a breath aimed at removing a strand of hair from her eyes, Kristin told her, "I don't want to spend forever there. I have a limit, especially since I have to get back on top of finding a job and a way to afford to have a life. But I think a week on a ranch might clear my head in this early-life crisis I've hit." That's really how it felt. She was being forced into completely reconfiguring her life with this whole job change. She just hoped a vacation would make the transition a little easier.

"Give me ten days. That's really a week, with an extra weekend. The ten-day package is only a hundred more than the week package, and the flights are actually cheaper because of the days we'd fly, so it offsets the difference. Plus, we don't get to do the river rafting if we only go for a week." LeAnn was talking a mile a minute, and it made Kristin's head spin. "I promise you won't regret it, and we'll have a blast. Come on, we haven't done anything like this before, and even if you grew up on a ranch, I bet this will be a completely different experience."

_Doubtful._ "Fine. But I better not get a wakeup call at four in the morning to milk the damn cows. That was the one chore I hated because it was far too early, and I never managed to go back to sleep afterward."

"Oh my god! Okay, I'm going to schedule your flight and book your stay. Just write me a check or something, and you can give it to me when we get to the airport." LeAnn went silent, which usually signaled a question. Kristin could almost hear the rusted wheels turning in LeAnn's head. "Wait, what's the weather going to be like in San Antonio in two weeks? I want to pack accordingly."

Kristin smirked. "Hot. And hotter. But you don't want shorts for horseback riding and ranch activities, so jeans, and not the designer kind. Short sleeves are best, and no sandals or heels, LeAnn," she added with a warning tone. She knew LeAnn far too well and would have been mortified to show up with someone in flip-flops and cut-offs to a working ranch.

"You got it! I'm going shopping. I'll text you all the details." LeAnn hung up, and Kristin was left standing in the kitchen, shaking her head. Taking a deep breath, Kristin realized she'd probably need to buy a couple of things for the trip as well.

# Chapter Three

Traveling Band

Kristin sometimes forgot how personable her best friend was, but as they stood in line to board the plane, she listened to LeAnn banter and laugh with other passengers, networking and exchanging business cards. _Not a bad idea, considering the current employment situation._ But Kristin couldn't bring herself to get that deep into conversation with anyone.

She didn't know why her nerves were so on edge. This was going to be an easy time for her. She'd been a natural growing up, and working on a ranch was like riding a bike, something you never forgot how to do. And she'd flown plenty of times in her life; it wasn't the air travel that bothered her. So why couldn't Kristin just relax and enjoy being on vacation?

"Excuse me, I'm sorry." Kristin winced as the man in line in front of her hit her knee with a hard case he carried. She looked up into his youthful, blushing face. "I didn't mean to hit you, miss. I'm just nervous, and that makes it nearly impossible for me not to twitch."

She gave him a cordial smile. "It's alright, I'm not made of glass. What's in that thing, anyway? Bricks?" She pointed to the hard case with a frown.

"No, it's my drum kit. Well, it's the brushes and sticks and everything. I checked the actual drum set, which only makes me even more nervous about all of this." He held out a hand in greeting, and Kristin shook it, finding his palm sweaty. "I'm Nate."

"I'm Kristin. I take it you're in a band."

He nodded vigorously. "The rest of the band rented a van, but I had a final to take before I left, so I decided to fly. I should have sent the drums with them, but we're playing our first big show, and I'm a bit of a perfectionist. I wanted to mess around a little more with a couple of drum solos." His smile quirked crooked and boyish, revealing deep dimples in his cheeks.

If Kristin had been seventeen, she would have been in love. He was an adorable kid, and she found herself regretting not taking advantage of her youth for something less structured, like playing in a band or taking acting or dance lessons. Hell, she could have spent more time crushing on kids like him, with silky brown hair falling over his forehead, reminiscent of the Beatles in the early days. If interest in the band was based on looks, and the rest of the members looked anything like him, they'd hit the Billboard Charts in no time.

"I'm sure you'll be amazing, Nate." She rolled her eyes internally, realizing that being in marketing had created habits she would never break. _Repeat names whenever possible; it makes the conversation more personal and shows interest, which creates a better environment for a sell._ Kristin wasn't trying to sell anything, but she couldn't help her customary acknowledgements.

They eventually moved forward, whatever blockade had obstructed the way removed, and she drew her small rolling carry-on behind her, while Nate lifted his case over his head. Kristin turned to see LeAnn flirting with the guy behind her, a man with broad shoulders and salt-and-pepper hair above light green eyes and a smile that was all about getting into LeAnn's pants. Of course, he had on an expensive suit, the cut of which Kristin recognized as Perry Ellis, and LeAnn had a weakness for money, especially when it came to businessmen.

"We're moving," she called to her friend, and this time, Kristin's eye roll was external as the man carried LeAnn's tiny bag for her. LeAnn batted her eyelashes and gazed up at him seductively without shame. Kristin didn't understand, though there were times she'd been that obvious in her intentions. She hadn't been interested in many men, but the two or three times she'd wanted action or at least attention, she'd clammed up irreversibly and been a prisoner of shyness. She couldn't equate that to the woman who could give presentations to some of the most ruthless men in business, but nonetheless, it was true.

Finally stepping onto the plane, Kristin filed slowly down the center aisle, watching the row numbers and stopping at fourteen to take her seat. She shoved her rolling bag in the overhead compartment and tucked her small 'personal item' at her feet, clicking the seatbelt around her waist. She was in the window seat, which meant no one needed to slide by her, so she could settle in quickly.

It was better this way, she thought, as LeAnn took the aisle seat. Her best friend would be actively engaging with other passengers, while Kristin simply wanted to close her eyes and listen to music. She watched LeAnn giggle and tease people, thinking how miserable it would have been if she'd been in the center aisle, with LeAnn leaning over her and around her constantly. Relieved to be out of the line of fire, Kristin took her phone and her ear buds out of her bag, turned it on, and leaned back with her eyes closed as the music filled her ears.

She laughed, the first song all too close to home. She loved classic rock, and Creedence Clearwater Revival was one of her favorites, but after meeting Nate, it was quite a coincidence that her randomizer chose 'Traveling Band' right away.

With a smile still on her face, Kristin wasn't pleased to feel someone nudge her elbow. She opened one eye and peered at LeAnn. "Can I help you?" She paused the song so she could hear the response.

"Are you going to sleep already?" LeAnn pouted.

"I'm not sleeping, I'm relaxing. I believe you were the one who suggested it would be a good practice for me."

LeAnn's shoulders fell. "Well, here." She passed over a business card, which Kristin considered with a deep scowl. "That guy's looking for a marketing manager for his firm. I told him I had a perfect candidate and told him a little about you, so he wants your resume as soon as you have a chance to send it."

Feeling terrible for being so snippy when LeAnn was only trying to help, Kristin tried to let her gratitude show with a pleasant smile. "Thank you, LeAnn. I'll email it over as soon as we land."

Satisfied, LeAnn turned away, and Kristin was left to her preferred solitude. She kept her eyes closed, concentrating on the music, as they ascended to cruising altitude.

Kristin was awakened to the jerk and force of the landing. She gulped, realizing she was back in Texas, a place she'd avoided for the better part of five years. It wasn't because she didn't love home; actually, her love of the state was the reason she'd kept away. After college, she hadn't gone back, with big dreams of success in New York. She'd followed that dream wholeheartedly, and she knew that, if she went home, she'd be torn. The heat in the air and the stretching plains with sharp winds and incredibly beautiful spring thunderstorms would have called her home and made it nearly impossible to leave a second time.

The good news was, San Antonio was far enough removed from Dallas-Fort Worth to assure she wasn't likely to run into anyone or anything that would be too much of a temptation.

In Kristin's opinion, the only part of flying worse than boarding a plane was waiting to exit. There was always some jerk in the back hollering for everyone to hurry up and some drunk guy in first class taking his dear, sweet time falling all over himself as he tried to collect his things and go. Stuck in the middle, Kristin sometimes just wanted to send out an electrical wave that would mute everyone's thoughts and tongues, turning them into zombies who just followed instruction to file out so that it was organized and quiet. It wouldn't cause permanent damage, only keep them in line until they got into the airport. Then, they could bellyache all they wanted while Kristin made her way in peace to baggage claim.

LeAnn finally ended a conversation that sounded as if it had been going on the entire three-and-a-half hour flight and led them out of the row, down the aisle, through the jetway, and into fresh air that filled Kristin's lungs as she breathed deeply of it. Now, though, LeAnn was in a hurry. "You're crawling, Krissy! Let's get our bags and get on our way!"

With a patient grin, Kristin shook her head. "There's no point. Our luggage won't appear on the little conveyer belt for at least another fifteen minutes. At my pace, it'll take about ten to get there. We'll still have to wait. If I 'hurry' with you, I'll be listening to you complain about waiting the entire time."

LeAnn huffed but slowed down, her motions jerky as she fought to hold back. It made Kristin smile, and when they reached the conveyer belt, which wasn't yet moving, she had to hold back a chuckle as LeAnn scowled, crossing her arms and tapping her foot. The impatience was adorable in some ways, annoying in others, and today, Kristin wasn't going to let anything more bother her. She could almost feel the heat seeping into her bones already, the hot Texas sun beating on the roof of the airport. It was invigorating, and it incensed her own impatient reaction, making her want to get out of the air conditioned building and smell the air.

The belt began to turn minutes later, and within half an hour, Kristin and LeAnn had their bags loaded on a luggage cart, headed to the curb to catch a cab to the ranch. A hint of a smile curved Kristin's lips as they left San Antonio International Airport, took the 1604 loop west, and exited to leave town behind for the gently rolling hills of Central Texas.

# Chapter Four

What a Surprise

LeAnn gasped as she stared out at the brilliant green under the light blue cloudless sky. "I don't think I've ever seen anything this pure and untouched," she whispered in awe. "I thought you told me everything got fried in the Texas sun, all brown and withered."

"It does. They've had some rain lately, and it's helped stave off some of the worst effects of the sun, but in a few weeks, all of this will be yellow and dry. Trust me, I've seen it year after year." She was glad, though, that everything was blooming for once. It made for a lovely drive and a much happier prospect in terms of weather in the days ahead.

The cab turned off the road onto a dirt path, under a sign that stretched above, declaring the name of the ranch and attached to the fence that cordoned off the property. The vast, open space was flanked by a line of trees at the edges on all three sides, the dark green of which was a perfect backdrop to set off the huge white house that sprawled amidst several outbuildings, many of which were nearly as large.

The car stopped in front of the house, where there were several people milling around, most with luggage much like Kristin's. As she opened the door and stepped out, the sounds of the country comforted her above the muttering of the gathered guests. The horse paddock was somewhere nearby, snuffles and whinnies the loudest noises, with pigs, sheep, and cows more distant. Kristin ached to go exploring, all alone, but she had a feeling that wasn't allowed, and she would have to wait for the grand group tour.

"I'm glad you told me what to wear," LeAnn muttered in her ear. "Some of these girls look like they're going to be in trouble pretty quick." She gestured toward a young woman, maybe five years their junior, wearing shorts that barely covered the essentials with a tank top and flip-flops, exactly what Kristin had told LeAnn to avoid.

Kristin sighed. Some people just didn't get it. The woman was probably from Florida and thought this was going to be a lot of posing and taking pictures, like going to the Caribbean and having a picture taken with a monkey or a Macaw. She was going to be sorely mistaken, literally.

The group's attention shifted, everyone turning as the door to the house opened and a man with a cowboy hat and red plaid shirt and jeans stepped out. His back was to them, and Kristin waited to see their host, Mr. Prescott, presumably. As he turned to face the small crowd, Kristin felt the blood drain from her face, and she quickly ducked behind LeAnn, trying to hide and still keep the man in view. This wasn't possible!

"What are you doing?" LeAnn moved and turned toward her, but Kristin grabbed a handful of the back of her friend's shirt, forcing LeAnn to stay in front of her. "Kristin, what kind of game is this?" She slapped at Kristin, annoyed, but Kristin just took it, her eyes wide as she stared at the owner of the Slanted P Ranch.

Dale Prescott.

"Just stay here," Kristin hissed through her teeth. "I can't believe this."

"Can't believe what? What the hell is wrong with you?" LeAnn's voice grew louder, despite Kristin's attempt to shush her, and she knew it was pointless to try and hide, since several faces were already turning their direction in curiosity at the commotion. Now, Kristin's cheeks were hot with her humiliation, and she turned away before their host could get a good, solid look at her. All she could hope was that, when he did finally see her, she'd be just another face in the crowd to him.

"Okay, ladies and gentlemen, listen up!" Kristin flinched at the familiar voice, and LeAnn tried to get her to turn around, but she adamantly refused. "Welcome to the Slanted P Ranch. I'm Dale Prescott, and I'll be your host for the next ten days, or as long as you decide to extend your stay. I'm not gonna brag, but we tend to have a lot of people book a few extra days, not quite ready to exchange the dirt under their nails for the grit up their asses in the city."

Several people laughed, including LeAnn, who leaned over and whispered, "You've got to see this guy, Krissy. He's drop-dead gorgeous."

"I'll look later," she hissed irritably. She was well aware of both Dale's charm and his looks. She doubted he'd changed much over the years, considering how easily she'd recognized him, which meant he had broad shoulders, a strong body, and angular face, and eyes the green of early spring moss.

"Over the next few days," he continued, his voice like chocolate silk and booming, "you'll learn how a ranch works. It's a vacation, but not like any vacation you've taken before. I'll teach you to enjoy the labor, love the animals, and feel the countryside in your bones. Not everything will be a task. We've got the lazy river, horseback riding, and social events, but you'll also be milking cows, sheering sheep, and learning how to break a stallion."

It sounded amazing, but Kristin couldn't wrap her head around the fact she'd be with Dale Prescott the whole time. She listened as he finished. "I've got about ten ranch hands that'll handle a lot of the training with me, including my cousin, Rob, and his wife, Shelly. Right now, we're going to hike over to the public accommodations so we can check you in and get you to your rooms. Once you're settled, meet up in the lobby. You'll be taken to the mess hall for a big dinner and introductions."

As the group began to shift and walk toward what appeared to be a rustic bed-and-breakfast style facility, Kristin caught sight of Dale, making his way to the head of the group, guiding them down the trail. With him facing forward, away from her, she felt more comfortable following along, and she hung back toward the edges of the group, keeping a distance in case he looked back.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?" LeAnn demanded, her frustration crackling in the air. "You're acting like a damn fool."

Kristin sighed. "I don't want to talk about it right now. Let's just get to our rooms, and I'll be better later." She doubted she would, but she had to say something to get her friend off her case. To her great relief, it was a woman checking them in and passing out keys.

Kristin stepped up to the counter, and woman gave her a sincere welcoming grin. "Hi, I'm Shelly. Welcome to the Slanted P. Your name?"

"Kristin Jenkins." She spoke quietly, looking over her shoulder and feeling paranoid as she checked to make sure Dale didn't hear her.

"Excellent. It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Jenkins. You'll be staying in room 112, adjacent to your traveling companion, Ms. Hardwick. The two of you will share the restroom directly across the hall with Anna Shillings and Trish Markham. Towels and washrags are stored in the closet adjacent to the bathroom, and if you need anything else, feel free to ask. You'll find coffee and snacks stored in a pantry in your room, as well as additional blankets and pillows. Do you have any questions for me?"

Kristin shook her head. "It sounds like everything is covered. Thank you so much." She took the key to the room and stepped back, finding a corner to wait in while LeAnn went through the process, and she couldn't help but cast stealthy glances at Dale. She'd been right; he looked very much the same, though his face had filled out with maturity, and he was all the more handsome for his manner of dress. The ranch life suited him, a bronze tan accenting the angles and planes of his face, which was shadowed with a day's growth of dark hair.

He looked up, and their eyes locked. Kristin's breath caught in her throat, and her heart skipped a beat, but Dale merely gave her a courteous nod with a genial smile before looking away and starting a conversation with an employee. He hadn't recognized her, and that made Kristin infinitely more comfortable. Perhaps this was going to be a relaxing vacation after all. With keys in hand, she and LeAnn shuffled down the hall toward their rooms, bags in tow.

# Chapter Five

On the Hook

The 'mess hall' was a big country-style dining area that reminded Kristin of the restaurant Nelly ran in Little House on the Prairie. The food was amazing – homemade biscuits and gravy, tender chicken fried steak, and buttery potatoes and green beans. She elbowed LeAnn, who picked at her food and avoided the meat. "Get off the California kick. If you're going to survive the week, you can't be a vegan. You'll need the protein."

"Why didn't you tell me we'd be living off grease and cow?" LeAnn grumbled, finally forcing herself to cut into the steak. She popped the bite in her mouth, and her expression changed completely, suddenly a mask of pure ecstasy. Her eyes closed, and she chewed slowly.

Kristin giggled at her. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you missed red meat."

"This is better than sex," LeAnn breathed after swallowing. She dug in now, giving Kristin a warning glance. "Don't you dare repeat that, and don't tell anyone I climbed off the wagon for a few days."

"It's not like you kicked a drug habit and had a relapse, LeAnn. Relax," Kristin told her. "What's the big deal?"

"Cholesterol, salt, the inhumane way cows are murdered." LeAnn ticked the reasons off on her fingers.

Kristin snorted. "It's funny, you didn't seem to care about any of that in college."

She grunted. "My industry cares, so I care." She popped another bite. "But not this week."

The staff lined up against the wall for introductions, and the room grew quiet. When they finished, Dale stepped forward. "As you finish your grub, take a right around the corner, and go into the banquet hall. There's dessert and drinks waiting so y'all can get acquainted with one another."

Instinctively, Kristin kept her head down until he and his crew filed in the direction he'd given, and she faced LeAnn's determined stare as she glanced back up. "Okay, give it up. You have some sort of issue with Mr. Prescott. Spill the beans, sister, or I'll ask him what the story is."

"Don't you dare!" LeAnn's eyes sparked, and Kristin sighed. She hated when her friend goaded her into giving up information. "I knew him in school. He doesn't seem to recognize me, but it's just weird running into someone from the past like that, especially since he's here, with a ranch, and I'm jobless." It was a good enough explanation. She didn't care to share the minute details.

"He doesn't have to know that," LeAnn told her. "If he does remember you, just talk about your career like you're still with the firm. No one's going to know the difference. Besides, it was a layoff. It's not like you were fired."

It was true, to a point, but it still left Kristin feeling like a failure. And because that wasn't her only embarrassing fact when it came to Dale Prescott, it offered little comfort. Finishing her food, she wiped her hands and face and waited the few minutes it took LeAnn to finally devour every bite on her plate. Together, they got up and headed toward the banquet hall, where a few other guests were already streaming in.

"Let's get some punch," LeAnn suggested, nodding toward the table across the room. Kristin was searching to find Dale, but he was nowhere to be seen, so she followed her friend. She dipped out a cup and drank, the mixture coating her throat and cooling her from the inside out. She turned to gaze around the room, taking in the other guests as they entered, and she felt LeAnn move up behind her. Turning to talk to her friend, Kristin gasped, meeting a solid wall of man and locking eyes again with Dale Prescott.

His smile was devastating as it crept across his lips, crinkling the corners of his intoxicating eyes with humor. "Hello, Krissy."

Her throat closed, and she couldn't speak for a moment. He was literally two inches from her, and she stared up at him in fear and a sudden twist of interest. Neither one suited her purpose, and she tried to swallow them both as she found her voice. "Hello, Dale. I guess you recognized me after all."

His eyes twinkled, an unsettling effect that made it hard to breathe. "How could I not? You've hardly changed, though you're even more beautiful than I remembered." He shrugged. "I didn't want to make a big deal in front of all the other guests, but I didn't want you to think I'd forgotten you, either."

_That was too bad._ Forcing a timid smile, Kristin told him, "I had no idea this place belonged to you when I signed up. You've done well for yourself." She gestured around at his place. "This ranch is beautiful, and I can't wait to see more of it."

"Thank you." He cleared his throat and gave her a searching look. "Where did you disappear after graduation? There were a few graduation parties, but you never showed, and I guess you left in a hurry."

"I started college during summer semester, with accelerated courses." Kristin's blood pumped loudly in her ears, and she felt awkward, despite the ease with which Dale engaged her.

"You always were an overachiever," he commented with a boyish grin. "Listen, we'll have to do some catching up while you're here. There aren't a lot of people I care to recall from high school, but we had some good times. I had hoped to see you at the reunion."

Now, Kristin blushed. "Like you, there weren't many people I missed, so I certainly didn't feel the need to traipse all the way back to Dallas from New York and use up my vacation time to paste on a fake smile and pretend they were old friends."

He chuckled. "Damn straight on that one." He touched her arm, and Kristin's skin tingled beneath his hand. "It's really good to see you, Krissy. I missed you."

The words crept up her spine and sent a shiver coursing through her body. She took a step back, putting more space between them and sipping her punch before responding. "I'd love to catch up with you."

He seemed satisfied. "I'm going to greet the other guests, but I'll get back around to you in a bit, okay?" Kristin nodded as he walked away, and she let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.

LeAnn reappeared suddenly, and Kristin seared her with a hot stare and asked, "Where did you go?"

LeAnn raised an accusing eyebrow. "I thought the two of you needed a little space. There were rays of chemistry shooting in all directions around you." She shook her head. "When we go back to the rooms, you're going to dish out all the details of what that was all about. I knew you were holding back earlier! I want the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth," LeAnn said jokingly.

_So help me, God._ And she'd need the assistance from upstairs, if anyone was listening, when she recounted those gritty details to her best friend.

# Chapter Six

Digging Up Bones

"I met Dale just before Christmas break my senior year in high school," Kristin told LeAnn as they sat cross-legged on the bed in her room. She felt like a kid again, powwowing and divulging secrets. It was refreshing, despite how mortified she was at the entire situation.

"Was he that attractive in high school?" LeAnn asked, obviously a little taken with Dale.

Thinking back, Kristin had to smile. "He definitely was. I mean, to a teenage girl, he was. Now, I'd much rather have the more mature package." She sighed. "Anyway, it was a bit of a whirlwind. We dated for about a month, spent New Year's together, and had one amazing night of sex. But that was all. By Valentine's Day, we'd just...stopped talking. We'd say hi in the hallways and at parties. But when we graduated, he was dating Emily Goodall, and I left for NYU two days later."

LeAnn gawked at her. "So, what, you just sort of drifted apart? There was no break up or reason why it didn't work out?"

Kristin had never really thought about it, but now that she looked back, she, too, wondered why they hadn't worked out. Those few weeks had been short and spun her head, but she remembered being incredibly happy. It wasn't love; she'd been too young for that. But it had been absolute bliss, and had her path in life been different, it might have become love. But that seemed like light-years ago.

"I don't remember what happened, really. I know that, when we went back to school, we went out a couple more times, and he walked me to classes for a while. But he had track, and I was working on the yearbook committee. We didn't have any classes together, and I guess 'drifted apart' is the right way to put it."

LeAnn threw her hands up in exasperation. "That's ridiculous! You know, he's not married. You should remind him that, technically, you're still together and take advantage of that heat in his eyes when he looks at you."

"Oh, please, you're so dramatic." The fact was, Kristin had no intention of reminding Dale of any of the details of their fling. There were several of those details she would rather forget. "It's been more than twelve years, LeAnn. And I'm sure, with all the people that come through this place on an annual basis, he can pick one out of every crowd to eyeball. And at least one out of every three of those is going to fall victim to his charm." But even saying it felt wrong and made Kristin's chest hurt. High school flings were better left in the past, but it didn't seem possible to bury her past deep enough to keep the more determined dogs from digging up the bones.

She shooed LeAnn out of her room at long last and crawled under the covers, tossing bags and wrappers to the floor and vowing she'd clean them up tomorrow. She was much more a morning person, which meant she'd be better off getting to sleep now and actually functioning properly tomorrow.

***

Fitful sleep and nonsensical dreams made Kristin feel like she was in Wonderland the next day. Everything seemed surreal as she stepped out in the bright early morning sun, dressed in sturdy jeans, a rugged T-shirt, and her faithful old snakeskin boots. She'd had them for more than five years, had them resoled once, and they were in excellent condition. It was already hot, promising a scorcher, and she tucked her mass of hair into a ponytail and then clipped it atop her head to leave her neck bare. She squinted, reminding herself to dig out her sunglasses later today, as well as her sunblock. She now followed a very zombie-like LeAnn back to the mess hall.

If dinner had been delicious, breakfast was divine, with bacon Kristin knew had been cured right here on the farm, eggs fresh from the chicken coops, and raw cream for the coffee. She refrained from giving the details of freshness to LeAnn, who perked up as she shoved the 'fat pig and cow' into her mouth, knowing she'd likely freak out that none of it was processed, labeled, and purchased from a supermarket.

As the group finished up, Dale appeared from what she assumed was the kitchen, wearing a dark green T-shirt that made his eyes look supernatural. Kristin's breath caught in her throat, and she heard LeAnn's low whistle of approval just before he clapped his hands to get everyone's attention. Kristin forced herself not to look away as his eyes landed on her. Dale turned away, ready to address the group, but she had the sensation he was still looking at her from the corner of his eye.

"Okay, folks, today's adventure begins with a little education. We're going to head to the stables in a few minutes. You're going to learn how to properly saddle and bridle a horse, and then we're gonna get you all on a horse. Can I get a show of hands for anyone who's never been on horseback?" Kristin looked around the room and groaned inwardly as several hands shot up and several more came up slowly, as if the admission embarrassed them. LeAnn was one of those.

Kristin blinked at her and leaned over to whisper, "You've never been on a horse?"

LeAnn's eyes glittered with excitement. "No, and I can't wait!"

"Excellent," Dale continued, stifling the quiet muttering. "Half and half is perfect. We'll split into two groups after we saddle up. One group will go with Bobby and learn the basics of riding a horse, using the reins, and sitting comfortably before you head down the trail. The other half will come with me, and we'll take the experienced trail." Was it Kristin's imagination, or did he look straight at her as he said that?

It brought back an unbidden memory of being with him on her parents' ranch, taking Maximus and Primus, two of her Appaloosas, for a ride out into the woods. While there, they'd stopped and had what had perhaps been the most epic make out session of her life. Something low in her belly heated, and she had to swallow a sudden twinge of longing. She hadn't felt that kind of desire in so long it was foreign, and it frightened her.

"When we get back from our rides," Dale continued, cutting into her thoughts, "we'll go through how to clean and brush a horse, how to clean the tack, and how it's stored. By that time, you're all going to be pretty hungry. With the horses in their stalls, Wesley will have the barbecue ready to go in the large corral, and we'll get our grub on and talk about the evening."

Kristin could almost feel the protest that went around the room. While she didn't necessarily think the majority of the guests were lazy, she knew for a fact they didn't understand just how much work went into running a ranch. They were ready to complain about a couple of lessons in caring for a single horse, when in actuality, there were usually no more than two trainers and anywhere from five to twenty horses in their charge. Personally, this assignment was a blessing, and Kristin welcomed the task. Horses had been her passion and her main charge on her parents' ranch, and it was the one thing she missed in New York. She would never complain about working with horses and only hoped Dale kept an Appaloosa or two in his stables, those being her biggest weakness.

***

Kristin mostly tuned out the lesson on saddling and bridling a horse. It was old hat for her, and instead, she studied the group surrounding her, looking confused as they studied what Bobby and Dale were doing. A few nodded, getting the picture, while some were bound to fall, not quite understanding the way a horse would push out its belly to keep the saddle from being properly tightened.

As each person was directed to a stall – Kristin counted somewhere around twenty-five stalls in just this stable and knew there was another one behind this – she stepped in front of a gorgeous white and gray Appaloosa named Rocky and fell instantly in love. She offered her hand so he would get used to her scent, and he nuzzled it instantly, snorting and snuffling in greeting as he nodded his big head. She smoothed her fingers over his long face, and her soul settled, as if Rocky ate her stress for breakfast. "Hey, there, Rocky," she cooed softly, turning him side to side to inspect him more closely. He had to be eighteen hands, at least. "We're going to be best friends, right?"

LeAnn leaned over from the next stall, curious. "Mine won't come to the front of the stall. She's got her ass shoved into the back corner."

"I'll be right back, boy," Kristin told Rocky, patting his muzzle, and she scooted over next to LeAnn. Sure enough, the dappled chocolate Hungarian Warmblood twisted its lips nervously and backed against the stall. She glanced at the name on the stall – Bessie – and held out her hand, palm up. "Hey, girl," she spoke softly. "Come on, Bessie, come say hello." To LeAnn, she muttered, "You can't be intimidated, or intimidating. You have to be gentle, open, and firm, or one of two things will happen. They'll fear you, or they'll think you're afraid and bully you."

She turned back to Bessie, who'd taken two hesitant steps forward. "Come on, girl." She motioned for LeAnn to hold out her palm in the same nonthreatening way, and slowly, Bessie made her way up to the front of the stall, sniffing them both and finally holding her head down for them to pet her. "Now, remember, firm but gentle," Kristin said as she moved back to Rocky, who was watching her around the corner with giddy eyes.

"You're a damn horse whisperer, aren't you?" LeAnn chuckled.

Kristin wouldn't claim that, but she'd always had a good handle with horses, felt naturally drawn to them. She opened the door and led Rocky forward, taking the saddle Bobby had placed behind her on the saddle horse and making fast work of readying Rocky. He behaved well, and she only had to wait a few seconds for him to breathe out so she could pull the belly strap tightly enough. She heard LeAnn grunting and moved around Rocky to see what was wrong. Putting her hand to her mouth to cover her laughter, she watched as LeAnn worked to tighten the strap, only to have it slide back and forth as she tugged.

"Wait for me, Rocky," she instructed, slapping his side hard and getting a quiet whinny in return. She moved over and helped LeAnn, showing her how to hold the saddle and pull the belt strap at the same time. When it was tight, LeAnn pulled away, and Kristin told her, "You're not done." At her confused look, she grabbed LeAnn's hand, placed two of her fingers between the strap and Bessie's belly, and waited.

"It's perfect," LeAnn said, just before Bessie snorted and huffed. Her belly shrank, and the strap loosened. Kristin smiled and pulled the last few inches tight, leaving only room for LeAnn's two fingers. "Oh."

"They do it every time." Kristin reached for the bridle and coaxed Rocky's head down, getting it over his head and into his mouth with just a little extra force. She led Rocky out of the stable, ready to go, and found herself tying him to the fence so she could help several other clueless guests with their saddles. There simply weren't enough hands to go around, and she desperately wanted to get on the trail. As the last few people struggled with the task, she was too irritated to continue and stepped out into the grass. She put her foot in the stirrup and swung up on Rocky's back, the scent of him filling her nostrils and her body instantly becoming one with the horse's.

She didn't even mind as Dale rode up right next to her and stopped. "What do you think of Rocky?" he asked, reaching over to run a hand along the horse's mane.

"He's beautiful and well trained. He didn't give me any grief. It's unusual for his breed." This was her comfort zone, and Kristin could ignore everything else that rested in the past between her and Dale, as long as they kept the conversation here.

"You know you're the one who gave me this idea, right?" She stared at him in amazement, and that charming smile crept slowly over his face, making Kristin's heart stop again. "I fell in love with your parents' ranch, and your horses changed my life. Rocky's my fourth Appaloosa, and he's the first one that hasn't been a complete nightmare to train."

Kristin laughed. "They're too smart. That's the problem. And they're arrogant and stubborn. With most horses, it's a dominance thing. With these babies, it's about love and respect," she said, running her hand down Rocky's neck. She motioned to his shiny black Mustang. "You like to live dangerously, I guess."

As if he knew what she'd said, the horse shook his head and snorted, pawing the ground defiantly with one hoof. "Blaze is a good boy, really. He just likes to surprise me every once in a while by breaking into a full gallop without me asking first."

Remembering that ride they'd taken, Kristin was shocked at his comfort level with the horses. Of course, ranching had become his business, his livelihood, but she would never have expected Dale Prescott to become such a rugged cowboy...and to look so incredible in that position. She closed her gaping mouth before she embarrassed herself by drooling. She'd been honest with LeAnn; in high school, she'd found Dale insanely attractive, just as she did now. But as an adult, and with a memory that brought everything back like it was yesterday, Kristin's urges were stronger. She could guess at the body beneath the clothes, having seen the perfection of it once before and knowing that the years of hard work in the sun had likely only improved the tone and build of his muscles.

"Hey, Krissy, did you find what you were looking for in New York?" The question was wistful, and it threw Kristin off balance, Rocky skittering slightly until she reined him back in and soothed him.

Trying to figure out how to answer, Kristin blinked at him several times. "Well, I didn't really know what I wanted, other than to go to college. I did that, and I landed a solid career that I adore, so I guess I did eventually find what I was looking for." She hesitated. "Are you finding what you want in life?"

He shrugged. "I have the ranch, and that's fulfilling. I've got friends and built-in family here." His eyes clouded, and she was reminded of how the sky turned green before a tornado struck. "I think I'm still searching for something, though." He didn't say what, and the group of experienced riders had gathered around them, so she didn't ask. Instead, she followed him out, with the rest of the group trailing behind as he took them into the woods behind the main house.

# Chapter Seven

Just Like Old Times

It felt strange being separated from LeAnn, considering Kristin's best friend was the entire reason she was on this journey in the first place. Being without her reminded Kristin too much of being on sabbatical, a quest for self-approval. But she found she only had a few minutes to rest in her angst, Dale kicking up the conversation again about ten minutes into the trail.

"It looks like everyone in this group knows what they're doing," he mused, and Kristin glanced behind her, nodding in agreement. While some of the riders were less comfortable in a saddle than others, everyone had obviously been on a horse before. As she faced forward, Dale asked, "What is it you do in the Big Apple?"

Gritting her teeth against the urge to spew at the mouth about her disgruntling job loss, she thought back to LeAnn's word. He'd never know the difference if she referenced the job as if she was returning to it in nine days. "I work at a large marketing firm, with our clients ranging from shoe manufacturers to law firms. In fact, I just finished a proposal for a huge account with a high-end retail clothing manufacturer that owns several brands."

"That's impressive," he responded sincerely. "Was your intent to get into marketing?"

"I started out with journalism, but it wasn't creative enough for my taste. So, I made that my minor and majored in marketing. I discovered I had a knack for it, and I interned at my firm. They hired me as soon as I had my degree." Sadness swept through her as she realized she'd made herself at that company and was still being forced to start again.

"You grew up on a ranch, Krissy. Don't you miss grass and trees and clean air?"

She laughed, the question relieving her inner pain. "Spoken like a die-hard Texan. And yes, sometimes the concrete jungle isn't enough. But I'm happy. If I'm craving greenery, there are parks. I live blocks from Central Park, you know." Teasingly, she asked, "Don't you miss the convenience of the corner store and the hustle and bustle of Dallas?"

He made a face. "Hell, no! If I think for a second I want to drive into the city, I head up the road to San Antonio, and I ultimately get reminded of how much I hate the city as I get stuck in a traffic jam. I prefer the company of horses and people who aren't in such a damn hurry." He shook his head, slowing down as some of the others passed them, following Shelly and Rob toward a brook Kristin could hear bubbling close by. "I like nature. I always did. I just didn't realize how much until the day we took your horses out for a spin. I decided then what I was gonna do and never looked back."

"Never?" Kristin had waffled about her career choice all through college and had only settled with it halfway through her junior year, when it didn't make sense to start over with a new major. Of course, it had been prosperous for her, and she loved it, but she had questioned it more than a few times.

He stared into the distance, his eyes focused on some distant memory. "I only questioned it once, and it was only a little hiccup. Once that was gone, I was bound and determined to succeed, and I've worked my ass off to get here." He sat taller in his saddle now, a sign of pride, and Kristin smiled. "My parents had saved for my college fund, and the day we graduated, they gave me a check for $40,000. I got scholarships and loans, and I worked through college to pay the rest. I invested that money and doubled it in five years. Of course, eighty grand doesn't buy anything like this." He gestured around him.

"How much land do you own?" Kristin asked before she could stop herself.

"One-thousand acres, give or take a few." She stared at him, awestruck, and he smiled. "But I started with ten. I bought the land the house and the stables are on for practically nothing. Out here, everyone wants to build theme parks or grow crops, and the soil isn't any good for that. We had enough amusement parks nearby. So, the land was dirt cheap. I took a deferment on the student loans and used the rest of the cash to collect materials to build while I kept working another year. Two years after college, with my brother's help, I'd built the house and a small stable, and we rescued a couple horses. We worked with them and trained them and started with nothing more than a place people could bring their kids for a quick ride down a trail or to take a lesson or two."

Kristin noticed that they were far behind the group now, and she grew a little anxious. She wanted to catch up, but then, it wasn't like Dale didn't know his own land, especially since he did this every day. Telling herself to relax, she took several deep breaths and asked, "How long have you had this whole gig up and running?"

He made a face, obviously doing the math. "It's been about four years since the last time I bought land and blasted a trail. We got the pigs right after that. I was turning a good profit as I built the place up, but the real investment came from a risky little venture in the stock market. I bought some volatile stocks, and in a few months, the value tripled. I was lucky. I could have lost my ass in that. That money went a long way in shoring up this place. At that point, the bank loaned me the rest."

Kristin had never even considered taking that kind of risk. At the same time, she'd never thought about holding that kind of money in the palm of her hand, either. Intrigued, she ventured, "I guess you have to make a killing to pay on the school loans and the bank loan."

He chuckled. "Well, I wouldn't call it a killing exactly. I mean, I managed to pay the bank back within two years. And my school loans finally stopped hanging over my head two years ago. I own the land, the house, and everything else I built outright, so aside from the cost of living and running a full, working ranch, everything is profit. And since we use our own chicken, swine and dairy products, sell what we can at market, and have a deal with the slaughterhouse so we keep our own meat, even that cost is minimal."

It was the American dream, Kristin realized. This entire place was self-sufficient, and Dale simply chose to buy and sell a lot of things. It was what her parents had wanted and never quite achieved. She joked, "I guess in the Zombie Apocalypse, I know where to come. You've got everything you need right here."

He nodded. "Mostly. I'm trying to figure a way to get some of this damn red clay to grow corn, wheat, and cotton. If I can, and I buy up the rest of the land to the west, we'll truly be a fully functional ranch with no outside needs. Then I can bring in some vigilantes in case of the apocalypse to man the fences." He laughed, but as he turned to face her, pulling his horse to a stop, his eyes were serious. "You'd be more than welcome here, Krissy."

She swallowed hard at the expression on his face, wondering why it was so intense. Kristin wanted to crawl in a hole and hide from that look, but she kept her shoulders squared, despite the anxiety building in her chest and the wild, rapid heartbeat that threatened to split her ribcage in two, so the pump that fueled her body could burst forth.

Meeting his gaze fully, she told him, "I'd never make it here. The zombie virus would spread through New York like rabies from sewer rats, and I wouldn't get out of Manhattan before I was sucking brains." She meant it as a joke, but it was probably true. The conversation was ridiculous, but she'd grown up around people who really believed in the possibility, and there were more than enough Hollywood action movies that presented realistic scenarios. Hell, she was a Walking Dead fan herself. And without Rick or Glen to bust her out of the city, she didn't stand a chance.

Maybe if she had Dale with her...

That random thought was irrelevant, and she pushed it aside as he chuckled and told her, "I'm sure you could get behind some big tough guy with a machine gun and good aim." He leaned forward, resting his elbow on his horse's neck. "I can't imagine any guy refusing to help someone with a face as beautiful as yours."

The blood rushed into Kristin's neck and face so quickly she felt lightheaded and inhaled sharply. Dale's mossy eyes beat into her, assessing her with interest and something she couldn't quite place. "Dale, I—"

"What happened, Krissy?" he cut her off, urging his horse closer to hers. She stared at him, knowing what he meant but not wanting to acknowledge it. She pressed her lips together in determined silence, but he pushed. "We were good together, happy. We had fun. What happened?"

Kristin still didn't have an answer and used the same cop-out she'd given LeAnn. "We drifted apart, I guess. You were part of one crowd, I was part of another, and we got busy with senior stuff. We were both looking forward to bright futures, but we were looking in different directions. We lost track of each other."

He shook his head. "No, Krissy, I never lost track of you until you disappeared right after graduation."

The intensity in his voice turned it into a low growl, filled with emotions Kristin didn't want to analyze. Blowing it off, she scoffed, "Come on, Dale. You started dating Emily, and you were the star of the track team. You set records for the school. You didn't keep up with what I was doing."

He raised an eyebrow with a smirk. "And I'm guessing you know all that because you weren't keeping track of me, either?"

Kristin scowled. "I worked on the yearbook committee. It was my job to know those things so you'd be properly recognized for your accomplishment."

He made a clicking sound with his teeth and tongue, looking more and more like the rustic cowboy from a Louie L'Amour novel, and it took every bit of Kristin's strength not to swoon at the sheer masculinity he exuded. "That's funny because I don't remember any pictures of me with Emily, or any mention of the two months we hung out."

Anger rose in Kristin's chest. She couldn't see the group ahead anymore, and she didn't want to be here alone with Dale anymore, especially if he was going to taunt her this way. This was her vacation, and she hadn't signed on for a trip to Memory Lane. She nudged Rocky with her heels and clicked her tongue at him, and he started off at a fast walk. Unfortunately, Dale was right beside her. "Talk to me, Krissy. Tell me what really happened. I know it wasn't drifting. That would have been a date here and there, a call once a week, then once every two weeks. This was pretty abrupt, and I've been curious about it ever since."

She didn't look at him, focusing on the trail as she urged Rocky to go a little faster. "If I remember correctly, I wasn't the only one who backed off. I didn't hear my phone ring and see your number on the caller ID, either. Answer your own question." Dale kept pace with her, even as she had Rocky break into a trot.

"I was responding to the cold shoulder you gave me. I came to talk to you between classes one day, and you just smiled and said 'see you later'. You walked away, and I was blindsided. But I figured I'd respect whatever you wanted and leave you alone. I kept waiting for you to tell me what was wrong, but you avoided me."

"I didn't make any special efforts to do so," she protested. The trot became a canter, and Dale pulled his horse in front of Rocky, causing her to jerk the reins and come to a sudden stop. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Confronting you, Krissy." His words were clipped, but his face showed hurt rather than anger. For so many years, Kristin hadn't thought about Dale, and maybe there had been good reason to put it aside. He told her, "I never held it against you, and I never would have hunted you down to ask questions, but here you are, on my land, and I want you to enjoy yourself like any other guest. But I'd really like to know why you ran."

Kristin deflated. She hated cowards, but in some ways, she was the worst of them. She could face issues in the office all day long, manage confrontation with the competition like a pro. But when it came to her personal life, she couldn't face the facts, and that was a long-running problem. She didn't meet his eyes as she said, "I was scared, I guess. Does that satisfy your need for closure?" she asked in a weak, petulant tone that made her cringe internally.

"For now."

She turned angry eyes on him. "Well, that's all you're getting. I'm going back to the room, packing my bag, and calling a cab to take me to the airport. I came here to get away from pressure and anxiety, not to be berated by someone I haven't seen since high school. I'm sorry if I hurt you, Dale, but as far as I can tell, you turned out just fine. In fact, if I'd clung to you, I bet we'd have either had a huge falling out and regretted it, or you would have come to New York with me and missed out on this grand opportunity."

Dale flinched, and Kristin wanted to cry. She hadn't meant to throw painful words at him like daggers. Closing her eyes and hanging her head, she whispered, "Dammit, I'm sorry, Dale. I don't handle confrontation well."

His soft, sad laugh made her chest ache. "I'm not so sure about that. You seem pretty good with the low blows. I guess I deserved it, though, for being a prick of a host." He sighed. "Look at me, Krissy."

She chanced a quick glance through her lashes and saw his eyes soften toward her. Lifting her head, she waited for him to say whatever was on his mind. "Don't leave." There was a plea in his voice, and it pulled at Kristin's heartstrings. "Please, stay. I've been an ass for the last few minutes, but I'm really not a bad guy, and I know how much you love the ranch life. Just stay and enjoy yourself, and I won't pressure you anymore." He looked away, and she saw his throat move as he swallowed. "I've just spent more than a few minutes over the years thinking about you."

Kristin's eyes stung, and she wasn't pleased with that reaction. "I chose not to think about you, Dale," she admitted, feeling vulnerable and exposed. "I chose to put everything I left behind in Texas away in a box in my mind long ago. I didn't want anything to tempt me, to lure me back. Do you know I don't even come home for Christmas? I drag my family to a destination Christmas every year, and I've done it for years. This place is like a whirlpool, and I felt like, if I stuck one toe in to test the water, I'd be sucked in until I drowned."

"Is that such a bad thing?" he asked softly.

"It is when you're determined to make it to the top at your firm, to live in Manhattan and be successful in the marketing business, which is so male-dominated a woman can barely even get her foot in the door." She forced herself to stop the rant. "I'm not a feminist, really. I'm just passionate about my work."

"I can see that." He rode closer to her, coming up alongside her so her leg brushed the side of his horse. "Can we start over? I would have liked to end things as friends in the past, and I feel like I've missed out on knowing a wonderful woman. Can I get a do-over?"

Kristin smiled. It was nice to think about the kind of connection he offered. Aside from LeAnn, she didn't have any friends. That wasn't an exaggeration; it was the situation she'd created. Friends were a distraction, and if they didn't pull you away from the important things in life, they got jealous and competitive. Then, they sabotaged other relationships, success, and anything else they couldn't match in their own lives. With LeAnn, things were different. And considering that Dale had his own great success and lived two thousand miles away, she didn't foresee having those issues.

"I think I can handle that," she agreed. She held out her hand in a mock greeting. "Hi, I'm Kristin Jenkins. It's nice to meet you."

He took her hand and, like a southern gentleman, lifted it to his lips in greeting. She ignored the heat that seared her skin where his breath touched, the electricity that crawled up her arm and gave her heart a jump-start. "I'm Dale Prescott. Welcome to my ranch, where there's no pressure and tons of excitement." They laughed, and Kristin felt every bit of tension she'd had from the moment she'd first seen his face.

# Chapter Eight

Two of a Kind

LeAnn groaned, walking with her legs bowed and her back arched. She looked like she'd failed at a contortion attempt and needed to be put in traction. "Are you going to walk like that all the way to the mess hall?" Kristin asked as she checked her makeup in the mirror above the dresser in LeAnn's room. "Because I'd like a warning so I can prepare in advance to pretend I have no idea who you are."

"Shut up," LeAnn growled. "I took a muscle relaxer. I'll be fine in fifteen minutes."

Kristin snorted. "Well, I guess you won't be getting laid tonight. There will be no pleasing any man with loose...muscles."

LeAnn glared at her through the mirror as she carefully lowered herself to the edge of the bed. "You're a bitch sometimes, you know that? Three days on a horse, and I can barely move. How do you spend that much time on a horse and not end up walking like your twenty months pregnant?"

"I have good posture on a horse." She turned toward LeAnn with a sympathetic look. "It'll get easier, I promise. But you might want to see if they have any Icy Hot here, or you won't be able to get out of bed in the morning." She sat next to LeAnn, who winced as the bed bounced. "What does it mean if someone you dated briefly more than a decade ago starts asking probing questions about the past?"

LeAnn was at full attention now, despite her pain. "I take it you found some alone time to catch up with Mr. High School Fling. Spill it, woman. What did he say?"

Kristin shook her head. She didn't want to recount every last word that was said, even though it kept playing over and over in her mind like a movie reel set on repeat. "He brought up our...relationship, if you could even call it that, and the circumstances under which it ended."

"And did you remember to tell him it never ended?"

"No, LeAnn, and I'm not going to." Kristin knew she was whining, but her irritation was reaching the boiling point. "Listen, we sort of argued and then agreed to start over as friends. But he still asked a lot of questions, and I've been thinking about them ever since." She glanced up at LeAnn's eager face, then stared back down at her nails, picking at them. "All this time, I thought I had the answers. Actually, I didn't think much about it at all. But it seemed cut and dry. But the more I think about it, the more I wonder if I've deluded myself into an alternate version of reality. I think maybe I'm in denial about a lot of things, and that means I don't really have the answers I thought I did."

"Either that was incredibly hard to follow, or my meds just hit me." LeAnn shook her head as if to clear it. "Wait, I think I got it. You have a guilt complex because you think that, maybe, you're the one at fault for whatever came between the two of you. And somewhere in the back of your brain, you're curious what would have happened if you hadn't sabotaged that relationship and run away screaming like a coward."

Kristin frowned. She didn't like the assessment. "Not exactly." LeAnn raised an eyebrow in argument, and Kristin caved. "Sort of. I mean, Dale was an incredible guy. And I swear he just sort of walked away. But he says he came to walk me to class, and I basically blew him off and never called him again. LeAnn, I don't remember it that way. How do I know whether I've convinced myself it was mutual or if he's delusional?"

"Did he give you the 'sad panda' look?"

Kristin didn't meet her friend's eyes. "I knew it!" LeAnn shouted. She moved quickly, and Kristin noted that LeAnn was about to get very talkative, the muscle relaxers having had their positive influence and getting ready to add the inevitable chatterbox side effect. She sat up and crossed her legs in front of her. "You know what I think? I think you should try again. Now that you're both adults who've succeeded at life..." she rolled her eyes as Kristin gave her a withering look. "Yes, Krissy, you've been successful. This is just a bump in the road to the ultimate success. Anyway, as adults, you've learned a lot more about yourselves, and you're both mature enough to understand your feelings. I see the way you look at him and the longing glances he passes your way. There's chemistry and desire and comfort, and that's a perfect platform to stand on to make a second go at it."

Kristin shook her head. "We were kids, LeAnn. I don't think we have anything in common anymore, other than our love for horses and ranch life. And that's not where I am anymore. I'm an executive, in New York. So it would never work. Besides, if I'm going to start fresh in my career, I don't have time to dabble in a new relationship and ask questions about where it might or might not go."

LeAnn stood suddenly. "I'm starving. Let's get to dinner." As they walked, she said, "The two don't have to be mutually exclusive. You're both young. You have plenty of time to explore and take things slowly, even in a long distance relationship, if that's what you prefer."

Kristin's mind whirled with possibilities she couldn't really fathom. It made her dizzy, and she instantly shut it down. "No, LeAnn. I'm here to relax, and the thought of getting close to someone stresses me out. And you don't even know that he'd want any kind of relationship with me. Just let it go, okay? I shouldn't have asked the question in the first place."

LeAnn frowned. "What was the question?" Kristin shook her head. "No, really. I want to answer the actual question. Remind me what it was."

With a sigh, Kristin said, "I asked why he would start dredging up the past all of a sudden."

LeAnn nodded. "Isn't it obvious? He was in love with you, Krissy. And he's hung onto it for a long time, which means he is very much into you, if you ever decide I'm right and you're wrong. You're two of a kind, and the chemistry I see between you is real."

Kristin didn't respond, brooding in her silence. She realized she was clueless, about relationships and, honestly, about her choices in life. It was all very confusing, and a dark cloud settled over her, dampening her mood as she entered the dining area to the cacophony of guests milling around and sitting down to wait for dinner. She wished for a huge glass of very stout wine, but so far, there had been no alcoholic beverages offered. She understood; people unaccustomed to being around animals could very easily spook them if they imbibed too much.

She noticed instantly as Dale came in the room and tried not to stare, but she couldn't help herself. He was dressed down, in a pair of jogging pants and a tank top, and it was an incredible transformation. It also showed just how muscled his chest and stomach were through the tightly stretched shirt, and the waistband of his pants made clear his narrow waist and hips. Without his cowboy hat and his dark hair spiking in all directions, he looked like a combination of a model, rock star, and athlete. His eyes fell on her instantly, and he approached the table where she and LeAnn sat alone; LeAnn busy texting some of her clients or publishing a blog or some such on her phone.

"Is it okay if I sit with you tonight?" he asked, those mystical eyes filled with mischief.

"Help yourself," Kristin said, trying to sound bright rather than anxious. He pulled up the chair next to her, across from LeAnn, who came out from under her rock long enough to offer a smile and a wave, before burying herself again. Kristin leaned into Dale with a conspiratorial whisper. "She took a muscle relaxer. It's like meth or crack for her. She just dives into something with complete focus."

Dale nodded understanding. "That's ass-backwards, but whatever works for her." He spoke under his breath as he added, "I hear she couldn't seem to find her balance on Bessie today, and the only reason she didn't slide off was that the saddle was, and I quote, professionally tightened."

"That would be my work," Kristin announced proudly. They chatted over dinner, a huge helping of chicken and dumplings Kristin couldn't finish and actually shared with Dale after he finished his.

She was suddenly frightened that he would get up and walk away with the plates empty, and she asked quickly, "Why are you out here tonight? You don't usually eat with the guests."

"I do. Or at least, after the first couple of meals, I like to. I just want everyone to settle in first. I can't enjoy my food if I'm being assaulted with questions from every direction." He smiled. "I typically end up at everyone's table once or twice during their stay."

For some reason, that little bit of information disappointed Kristin. She'd somehow started to assume Dale would give her preferential treatment, since they were old friends, and she'd looked forward to his company. "That's a good business tactic. You should think about marketing your ranch like that. 'Personal attention for each and every guest'. It would be a hugely successful venture."

"Be careful, Krissy. I might just have to hire you myself," he teased.

She scoffed. "You'd have to offer a pretty little package to get me out of New York and away from my life there." She ignored the voice in her head reminding her she didn't really have a life there, and at this point, not even a job.

Playfully, Dale scratched his chin and said, "I guess I'll just have to make you an offer you can't refuse."

Laughing, Kristin shook her head. "Funny."

He shrugged and smiled boyishly. "I made you laugh, didn't I?" He sobered and said, "In all seriousness, I think you might get bored tomorrow. We're feeding pigs and milking cows."

Kristin tried to sound nonchalant. "That's alright, it's part of running a ranch."

"True, but you're on vacation, and running a ranch was a lifestyle for you, not a vacation. I thought maybe I'd take the day off, and we can go for a ride, take Rocky and Blaze and disappear for the day. We could leave after breakfast, be back by dinner. No one would even notice we were gone." He winked at her.

Kristin hesitated. She didn't want to say no. She liked the idea of skipping out on the parts of the experience that weren't her cup of tea, and she was kind of excited at the prospect of spending some time alone with Dale, now that they'd worked out their differences and had been getting along. But she also felt guilty; she hadn't spent much time with LeAnn, who had convinced her to come. And even if it meant taking the grin-and-bear-it attitude about the mundane labor, tomorrow would be a chance to simply hang out with her best friend.

She started to respond and turn him down, but LeAnn suddenly shouted, "Son of a bitch!"

Both Kristin and Dale turned to her in surprise, and she was on her feet, typing furiously on her phone. "Of all the times for one of my clients to pull a stunt like this!" She looked despondently at Kristin. "It's an emergency. There's going to be a whole lot of damage control on this one, and I can't do anything from here. I'm sorry, but I have to head home early. I can't ignore this one."

Devastated, Kristin asked, "Isn't there someone else who can handle it? We're on vacation."

"No, there's not. That's the biggest problem with my job. There's no one I can trust to handle this kind of fiasco when I'm not there." She turned apologetic eyes toward Dale. "You've been wonderful, and I'm going to have to come back and finish the experience. And next time, I'll make sure I'm in better shape."

"I'll make sure you get a credit on it, so you can come for free on your next stay," he promised, standing to shake her hand.

Kristin rose, as well, hating the situation. She hated that LeAnn had to leave, especially for work reasons, but more selfishly, she really didn't want to go herself. With a sigh, she said, "I'll call a cab as soon as we get back to the room, and we'll pack up and head out." She didn't even know how to say goodbye to Dale at this point and thought about avoiding it altogether.

But LeAnn stared at Kristin like she had three heads with twelve eyes springing out of her neck. "I don't think so! Krissy, stay. You need the vacation. I can get away any time for a few days. It takes an act of God to drag you away from work. Now that you're here, relax and finish the trip. It'll do you a world of good. Your reset button will be freshly smashed when you get home." She offered a reassuring smile and a secretive wink.

Waffling, Kristin felt obligated to go with LeAnn. At the same time, it wasn't like Kristin had anything to go back to right now. What was she going to do, follow LeAnn around like a lost puppy and act like a cheering squad while she did her job? She was torn and didn't know what to do.

LeAnn didn't give her a choice. Leaning in to hug Kristin, she whispered, "Go for it, Krissy. I'll be fine, and I'll call you in a couple of days to see how it's going." Holding her shoulders at arm's length, LeAnn said in a normal voice, "Take a bubble bath. Shovel some hay. Do something to set your mind at ease while I go wring my client's neck for being amazingly stupid." She smiled at Dale. "Thanks again, and I'll see you soon."

Kristin saw Dale give a little salute and thought if he'd had his hat, he would have tipped it. The cowboy in him sometimes made her melt.

"I'm sorry LeAnn had to go," he said as Kristin stared after her. "But she's right. You're here, and you should enjoy the break from the big city life." She felt his hand on her back, a soothing gesture, and it made her body flood with heat. She was so unaccustomed to the way she reacted to him! And the worst part was, it wasn't like she could do anything about it. "So, since you're staying, what do you think about my plan for tomorrow?"

Kristin had almost forgotten about it in the brief commotion. She may have mourned LeAnn's early departure, but now, she had no excuse for saying no and no reason to subject herself to the menial, grueling tasks the rest of the group faced tomorrow. Suddenly feeling invigorated, Kristin turned to face Dale, her heart thumping as she met those magical eyes. "I think it sounds like a fabulous idea."

# Chapter Nine

Murphy's Law

"Are you getting hungry?" Dale asked as he led Kristin around a corner, into a clearing. They'd been riding for around three hours already, and aside from the fact that her stomach was growling, Kristin also knew the horses needed to rest for a bit.

"I could eat something," she told him. They pulled to a stop in the clearing, close to the tree line where there was some shade, and Dale dismounted, starting to unload his saddlebags, which he'd apparently filled with picnic materials. Kristin was only mildly surprised; it was the sort of thing Dale would do, and he'd quite obviously planned ahead. She took the blanket from him and spread it on the ground while he pulled out food and drink and made sure the horses were tied up.

The meal was pleasant. Roast beef sandwiches, homemade potato salad, and brownies certainly hit the spot. And the conversation was even better, discussing some of the scarier moments Dale had in putting together the ranch and a few times Kristin had thought her career would fail. She still didn't mention the layoff; she didn't want pity.

They grew silent as their bellies filled, and Kristin was lost in the moment, surrounded by the incredible beauty of nature and a reminder of what life was like before she'd complicated it with business. She ate her brownie slowly, chewing thoughtfully as she imagined how it would feel to go back to the concrete jungle when this vacation was over.

"You told me you loved me once." Kristin whipped her head around, staring at Dale, who was lounging back, leaning on his elbows with his long legs stretched out in front of him. His face was serene, and he stared at her without accusation or pain. "You told me you loved me, and then you ran away. I figure one of two things happened. Either you realized it was a dumb thing to say because it wasn't true, and you couldn't tell me that, or you were afraid of it because it was true, so you ran from it."

Images rolled through Kristin's mind at light speed. She flashed through the time she'd spent with Dale all those years ago, and she couldn't remember ever telling him she loved him. Had he imagined it, or had she blocked it from her memory? He waited patiently, not interrupting her search through the files in her brain, and as the slide show slowed to a crawl, she found the one she was looking for, her eyes widening at the memory.

It was the day they'd gone riding, and Kristin had packed a picnic similar to this one. They'd stopped by a creek and shared the food, and then they'd lain back on the blanket, Dale cradling her in the crook of his shoulder. She'd traced her fingers up and down his chest over and over, and at one point, she'd simply breathed, "I love you, Dale."

Now, she nearly choked on the tears she refused to shed, realizing how badly she must have hurt him. As she met his mossy gaze, she shook her head. "I was eighteen, Dale. I didn't know what love really meant." But that wasn't an excuse, and she swallowed hard against the lump in her throat as she remembered what had really made her turn away. "And Dale...you never said it back."

He sat up and hit her with an intense stare. "I was so overwhelmed to hear you say it that day I didn't trust my voice. And you never gave me another chance. But I'll tell you now I was crazy in love with you, and I've never felt that way about anyone since."

It was like he hit Kristin in the chest with a sledgehammer, and she couldn't breathe. She sat there, trying to gulp air and failing, the information registering and weighing her down. Her defense mechanisms kicked in and she shook her head. "We were so young, Dale. If what we had was love, it was puppy love. We're adults now. Maturity changes everything."

His eyes sparked with sadness. "It doesn't change everything, Krissy. It changes a lot, and it pulls people apart, but sometimes, it brings people back together, too." He stood abruptly and started collecting the trash, stowing it in the saddlebag, and Kristin folded the blanket. She handed it to him, and her fingers brushed against his, making her whole body jump. How could she possibly feel so close to someone she barely knew? With a sigh, she untied Rocky, rubbed his nose, and mounted him.

He whinnied wildly and bucked, nearly throwing Kristin, and she scowled, bringing him under control. Still, he skittered, favoring his front right hoof. She climbed off immediately and joined Dale as he bent to carefully inspect the leg and hoof. She didn't see anything wrong with his leg, but Dale let out a fierce curse and pointed to the horseshoe on his hoof. Kristin saw the issue immediately. Somehow, a large, sharp pebble had lodged between the shoe and the hoof.

"I can't ride him like this," she said, shaking her head. "That much weight and pressure, especially as far as we have to go back, will split his hoof."

Dale nodded grimly. "Blaze can't carry us both, either." Straightening, he looked around, squinting, as if searching for something. Finally, he smiled and pointed. "There's an old barn about half a mile down that trail. It's a little overgrown, but it's a short distance. We'll take the horses over there, get them some water, and get out of the sun. I'll call for a trailer to come pick us all up. We'll get Rocky right as rain as soon as we get home."

The barn emerged on the horizon through the trees, and Kristin could tell it hadn't been in use for years. Rotted pieces of wood littered the ground around the building, and several other beams were in disrepair. But as they drew nearer, the roof seemed solid, and there were a couple of clean buckets. Leaving Kristin with the horses, Dale took the buckets to the creek, filled them, and rigged them up for the horses to drink.

He pulled out his cell and stepped out of the building to make a call as Kristin searched the old trunk in the corner for a brush. She wanted to tend the horses while they waited, and though the brush she found wasn't ideal, it would do the job for now. She could hear Dale, shouting into the phone, obviously having a bad connection. "No, the old barn to the south...south, Ricky...Right. It's about 20 miles down the road...no, it's closer over the trails but...listen, Ricky. You have to take the road out to the west and turn right by the airmail box...yes. Go another five miles that way and stop...no five. Stop by the drum circle...yes, with the stumps. We'll meet you there."

Kristin was relieved, until she heard the next statement. "No, I know. But the farrier won't take all night. I just need one trailer...no, one trailer for both horses...dammit, Ricky, just do what you can. We'll wait in the old barn for you. Just call me when you turn by the box so we can head over to the road...right. Thanks, Ricky...no, we ate, we'll be fine till later. Just try not to take till midnight tonight."

Dale reappeared through the open doors, tension clear on his face. "We've got twelve trailers, and they're all on the road, taking everyone to the farrier. Rocky was supposed to go get shoed, and I forgot about that. Anyway, there should be a couple of them headed back before dinner. We'll just have to hold down the camp till Ricky can get one over here."

Kristin didn't mind and reached into the saddlebag Blaze carried, pulling out the blanket. She fluffed up some of the very old hay to pad it and spread it on the ground. Yawning, she said, "I could use the rest anyway." She lay down and tried not to tense as Dale lay beside her. The horses slurped at their water, and Dale chuckled. "Murphy's Law prevails."

"It's not that bad," Kristin told him, though she wished they hadn't fought before all this. It would have been much more comfortable. Then again, it was hard to consider their discussion a fight. Trying to ease the tension, she told Dale, "At least we've got shelter."

That turned out to be a good thing. As they chatted about high school and Dale caught her up on some of the things he'd learned at the class reunion, the sky darkened, and before long, a thunderstorm raged overhead. "That was unexpected," Kristin remarked as the smell of the rain wafted into the barn and a bit of spray blew in on the wind.

"You're a Texan. Nothing about the weather should ever surprise you." Dale rose up on an elbow and gazed down at her, a twinkle in his eyes. "You're not really shocked, are you?"

Kristin shifted under his gaze. "Not really. It takes a lot to throw me off these days."

She saw the mischief in his expression as a smile crept over his lips. "I bet I could throw you off balance." Before she could rise to the challenge, Dale leaned in, his lips blazing hot on hers, and Kristin instinctively opened to him. Feeling the cracks of lightning overhead course through her system as their tongues tangled and danced. His arm snaked under her, and Kristin rolled to her side, thrusting her fingers into his thick hair. She pulled him closer, pressing her body against his wantonly. She should be ashamed of herself, but she was caught up in the moment, in the feel of his hard chest against hers.

His fingers crept lower, cupping one cheek and then closing around the back of her thigh and drawing her leg over his hip. She gasped as she felt the evidence of his arousal against her stomach, pressing and throbbing, and it made the warmth and moisture gather between her thighs. She didn't hesitate as she reached for the snaps on his shirt and tore them open, wanting to feel his skin beneath her fingers and palms. Memories raced back into her head, and he'd changed so little that it was as if they were back in her stables, in the loft above the horses, where they'd first been intimate.

Dale lifted her shirt and pulled it over her head, his fingers trailing down between her breasts and tickling along the waistline of her jeans. She panted, every little brush of skin against skin igniting a new set of flames. "I almost forgot how beautiful you were," he whispered as his lips trailed over her throat and down her shoulder, finding their way to one taut nipple. She cried out and arched her back as he took it in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it.

In a moment of clarity and unabashed honesty, she told him, "I never forgot how good your mouth was."

He chuckled, the sound vibrating against her skin as he reached for the fly of her jeans and quickly opened it, pushing the denim and her panties down just before he thrust his hand between her thighs. His hand was cool against the gathering heat, and as he stroked her, Kristin's body convulsed with the first orgasm she'd had in a very long time. It blurred her vision, and she bucked against his fingers as they toyed with her folds and teased at her core. He pinched and rolled her swollen cleft, and the wave of pleasure grew until it consumed her.

Wanting more and feeling impatient as the storm outside brewed heavier with the coming storm inside her, Kristin shoved Dale's jeans down his legs, catching his shaft in her hand as she released it from its prison. He was long and thick, just as she remembered, and maybe her memory had dimmed because he was smoother and harder than she remembered. He shuddered as she ran her fingers from base to head reverently.

"That feels so good," he groaned as he dove in for another kiss. Kristin welcomed him, using her free hand to wrap around his back and pull him to her, delighting in their bodies pressed together with nothing in between. She rolled to her back, wrapping her legs around his waist in clear invitation, forcing him to settle his weight deliciously atop her as he shifted between her thighs. "I missed you, Krissy. Are you sure you want this?"

Kristin didn't really want to answer that question honestly. She wasn't sure of anything at this point. Her future was a giant question mark, and analyzing if this was a good idea would just throw a wrench into things, and her body begged her mind to give over control. With the wind blowing, the sky cracking, the air was filled with magic, and it infused her with courage she wouldn't normally have. She stroked his shaft again, firmly and with a determination she usually applied to her career. "I want you, Dale. The hell with tonight or tomorrow or next week. Right now, I want you."

His kiss made her body erupt with a sense of being alive greater than anything she'd experienced in a very long time. As he made love to her mouth, he slid into her, slowly, easily, and she trembled as a slow thread of pleasure flowed through her at the coupling. He drew out and thrust again, with more pressure, and Kristin tightened her legs around him, drawing him deeper. She raised her hips to meet his thrusts as he found a rhythm that heated them both to the boiling point, their sweat mingling and blending with the smell of rain and sex in the air.

Kristin cried out as his mouth tormented her shoulders and breasts while he plowed into her. Each drive harder and more insistent than the last, her orgasms flowing one on top of the other relentlessly, and still it wasn't enough. She wanted all of him.

As if he could hear her thoughts, Dale rose up, bracing his hands on either side of her, and drove himself to the hilt, his head thrown back and his body quivering as he found his release. Just watching him brought Kristin to another heavy orgasm. He started to shift off her, but Kristin caught him and drew his full body weight to her, wanting the pressure of it, the warmth of it, the intimacy of skin to skin contact.

Eventually, Dale rose and looked down, searching her face. "Are you okay?" he asked, brushing tender fingertips along the line of her jaw.

She smiled contentedly. "Better than okay." She stroked a hand through his hair, and he rubbed his head against her palm, making her laugh. "I take it you're pretty good, too."

"Oh, yes," he growled and planted a firm kiss on her lips. Moving off her, he scowled out at the storm. "It's going to take them a little longer to come rescue us. Are you prepared to stay the night with me if we have to?"

Kristin was in no hurry to go anywhere. She'd found a comfort zone, and even if it wasn't the height of reality, she wanted to rest here for a while, like a stop along the highway on a long road trip. "I think I can handle it."

Dale sat up and, still nude, pulled one knee to his chest and draped an arm over it. "So, what now, Krissy? Where do we go from here?"

"Does it matter?" Kristin didn't know what the future held, and for the first time since high school, she didn't think it was vital to plan ahead. "We're here now, and we're happy. Let's make that the priority."

Dale didn't seem satisfied with the answer, but he covered it well as he smiled and affectionately grabbed her, making her giggle with pure delight.

### Thank you for reading!

## Please visit your favorite eBook retailer to view the next books in the "Taken By The Rancher Series"
Cowgirl Desires

by

Celina Whitley
Copyright © 2017 by Celina Whitley

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cowgirl Desires

All rights reserved.

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. No part of this work may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording and faxing, or by any information storage and retrieval system by anyone but the purchaser for their own personal use.

This book may not be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of Celina Whitley, except in the case of a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages for the sake of a review written for inclusions in a magazine, newspaper, or journal—and these cases require written approval from Celina Whitley prior to publication. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.

# Chapter One

I locked up the barn and made it into my truck just as the sky opened up and gave the thirsty ground what it had been yearning for. Before I was even able to turn my key, blinding white lightning and thunder rolled over the Dixon Ranch illuminating the cab of my truck. Ever since I was a child my soul had always been in tune with the lightning storms of Eastern Oregon. They were always there when I was stuck in a rut and needed a jumpstart or to serve as a reminder that sometimes the plan of the universe will always find a way.

Mother Nature has always held her finger on my pulse, sensing when my low-battery sign was flashing or when I was stuck in neutral. She would send me a lightning storm to remind me where I came from and what should be most important in my world. In my foolish youth, I had turned a blind eye to these storms, which often led to learning the hard way. As I matured and became a mother, I had learned to listen to these storms, heed their warnings and take in all the knowledge they could provide me before the sun came out.

Tonight was no exception. I sat in the cab of my truck and felt the nostalgia enter my bones. I let my heart and mind wander through the highs, lows and the twisted maze of emotions this ranch had taken me through over the years. I knew that my thoughts would go directly to the painful emotions caused after Tanner Dixon left this ranch and my life. As much as I wanted to argue with the storm I knew there had to be a reason I was being asked to remember that pain. Actions and reactions from well over a decade ago still resonated in the hollow portion of my heart as I remembered Tanner. _You better have a good reason for this Mother Nature!_

The sky cracked with a bolt of lightning and I heard the sounds of protest from the horses in the barn. Those horses were my livelihood and this ranch that I ran every day with care and dedication should by all rights be Tanner's. His parents, also hurt and scorned by Tanner's abandonment, had hired me to run the ranch so they could prepare for their retirement. They had long since given on up on their prodigal son's return home.

The Dixon's had served and continued to serve as my second family. As children, Tanner and I were inseparable. I was an only child and so was Tanner, which made us fast friends. It did not hurt that I had been the girl holding the frog and beating the boys in all matter of dirt warfare. This, and the fact that I refused to play with dolls, allowed me the all access pass to the boy's fort. For years, I was on top of the world and the envy of all the girls in town.

Then everything changed. The boys started noticing girls and the girls were less likely to think the boys had cooties. No matter how I wished my body to stop blossoming, I was at the mercy of my DNA. I became a young woman and I quickly found out that even if they wanted to pretend I was still one of them, they started to notice that my tops were filling out and I took my cue to exit the boy's club. The boys went on to chase girls and transform into awkward teenage boys, but they always had my back and there was never a time where I felt unprotected.

Then there was Tanner. As soon as my hormones started to flare up I began to notice that he was gorgeous, smart and kind. My brotherly love for him began changing and I was in full crush mode by high school. Tanner however was slow to come around to the idea of me as anything but his best friend. One day while at the river swimming I saw the change in his eyes. Tanner had finally realized that I was not just a tomboy, but also a girl and a girl he wanted as his own. We became the high school sweethearts you love to hate. There was never any doubt that we would be together.

It was a natural progression of our relationship, like an extension of our arms. Not one guy or girl attempted to break us apart and everyone thought we would be together forever; as was mentioned throughout our yearbooks at the end of each school year. We were prom king and queen and even our teachers mentioned how wonderful it was to see such an intense young love.

I believed that Tanner was my happy ending and there had never been a question in my mind that he was to be my future. We had been together as far back as I remembered and any dreams I had always had Tanner as a star. Tanner would graduate from college, come home and run his parent's horse ranch; we would be married and begin a family of our own. I was naïve and young love while pure and wonderful, is also the cause of complete blindness when it comes to seeing the actual direction of your life.

Unfortunately for me I was the blind one in the relationship and Tanner had not bought into my version of our fantasy future. Even though we never actually had a specific conversation about what our future would look like, we both spoke as if there was no expiration date on our relationship. Looking back, I realized that I was the only one in that state of mind. Tanner however had left his mind open to other experiences.

I logically knew that Tanner had to go away to college to learn how to run the ranch as a viable business; but my heart strained watching him enter a foreign world and leave me holding on to the future I was so invested in. The day he left we had sat on his porch swing trying to find the right words to say goodbye. There had been a wicked thunderstorm the previous night and there were tree branches down throughout the ranch. I should have known that something big was about to happen in my life. At eighteen, you only see that the love of your life is leaving to start a life in a world you will never be a part of.

Finally, his mom came out and said that it was time to leave for Portland. Tanner stood and held me in his arms, my tears staining the front of his shirt. His eyes filled with tears as he held my face and kissed me goodbye. I stood on his porch, unable to move. I cried until there were no more tears to help me grieve. Today I know I was grieving because the moment Tanner drove away was the moment my life changed forever.

At first we both did everything we could to keep our relationship strong and the lines of communication open. His voice began taking on a new level of excitement when he described what he was learning in his business classes. I was thrilled he was finding his place at college and jealous that I was not a part of his new life. College was supposed to be a time to find yourself and try new things I read in books and magazines. Well Tanner had accepted these challenges with open arms.

Our contact began to wither as he took to returning my calls several days after I had left messages. When we did finally talk, the conversations were superficial and more polite than loving. It was a regression back to a friendship I believed had blossomed into true love. Tanner was starting his process of letting me go.

The more Tanner became ingrained in this other reality, the more he pulled away from me. It felt like I was a reminder of what he wanted so desperately to distance himself from. He had never told me he was unhappy at home or that he wanted to move and try new experiences. Today I often wonder whether he even knew before leaving home and tasting what another place could give him.

Our conversations continued to become indifferent, talking less about what we were doing or feeling to how the ranch was and what classes were like. While we never had the 'we should see other people' talk, we ceased to talk about 'us'. Every time Tanner called or more likely returned my call, I felt the hammer above my heart waiting to shatter it into a million pieces. During that time I wished I were one of those ditzy girls that lives in the clouds and dreams of being a Disney princess. Unfortunately, I lived on the more realistic side of life and had watched our relationship dwindle after Tanner left for college.

It certainly did nothing to help that we only physically saw each other a few times during the entire four years. It was not that Tanner's college was so far away; it was that I was working to help support my family and weekends or even holidays were few and far between. For his part, Tanner made excuses for not coming home, such as studying or an important on campus event. When I tried to visit, he was suddenly too busy and could not spare the time to keep our relationship whole.

We struggled in this shell of a relationship through his college years. I did not ask if he was with other girls and frankly I did not want to know. I was faithful to him and never strayed even when weeks would pass between our conversations. I held on tight to any sliver of hope that we would make it through this trial.

When his college graduation arrived, it was understood that I would travel with his parents to celebrate this important achievement in his life. In fact, his mom and I had been planning the trip for months. Both of his parents were hoping graduation would bring Tanner home where we all felt he belonged.

I had saved for weeks to buy a sexy but tasteful dress for the ceremony. I suppose it was part of my last ditch effort to woo Tanner back into my arms. I can still feel the butterflies in my stomach on the ride to Eugene wondering how Tanner and I would re-connect, if we could still connect at all. It became almost a blind date since Tanner had obviously changed since he had been away.

At graduation, Tanner was polite but removed both physically and emotionally. His eyes were distant and his mannerisms were robotic and I felt like a complete outsider. Tanner never had a problem with public displays of affection and he used to be the initiator most of the time. A brief peck on the cheek was the only physical contact Tanner gave me and I felt so awkward I did not dare to touch him.

There was no tour of his apartment or the neighborhood he had spent the last four years. When we walked across campus Tanner kept his head down and only pointed out buildings when his mom asked. It was like dealing with a skeleton version of the Tanner I knew and loved. After the fact, I wondered if he just forgot how to be the Tanner we expected and was stuck in limbo between the old Tanner and the new Tanner.

The ceremony was long and I could see Tanner nervously looking back at us throughout the diploma presentation. Even though our relationship was strained, I was so proud of him as he accepted his diploma. He had accepted and completed this challenge and no one could take that away from him. For an instant, as he walked across the stage I caught his eyes and my heart hitched like it used to when we would catch each other peeking. The moment was fleeting and his facial expression quickly turned back into stone.

Following the ceremony we posed for what could only be described as awkward family photos. It was obvious his parents sensed a change in their son's behavior and from the look on his dad's face, he was not happy about it. I stood off to the side wondering where to go from here. After the hoopla, the Dixons took Tanner and I out for lunch at a horrible chain restaurant. It would surprise me if they noticed how bad it was, but they were probably just ready to get the day over with.

We were seated in a booth so Tanner was close enough that I could smell the man I fell in love with and his knee was forced to touch mine. Just this brief touch was enough to drive me insane. I had not been in Tanner's arms for a long time and I craved the attention only he could give me. Trying hard to concentrate on the menu I realized that actually he did not smell the same at all. Something had shifted and that is when my world finally took its tumble.

It was as if Tanner held the last Jenga piece and he pulled it without a care in the world. We had all been making small talk about the ranch and the food had just been delivered. Tanner casually announced between bites of a greasy hamburger that he was not coming home but moving to Portland to take a job in the financial industry. I stopped breathing and there was silence around the table. I can still hear the crash of the future I had painstakingly put together for us collapse.

To say I was stunned and hurt would be an understatement. Tanner knew he held the key to my heart and yet he had just thrown it off the bridge. I tried to catch Tanner's gaze, but he successfully avoided looking at me for the rest of the meal. It was almost as if he was ashamed of his decision but would not or could not explain his reasoning.

His parents looked hurt and frustrated and my heart, what was left of it, went out to them. They had been counting on Tanner taking over the ranch and he had disappointed them. I had to give them credit though, because they both tried to keep the conversation going for the rest of our time in Eugene. They were strong folks and Tanner had taken them for granted. I would not have been so forgiving in their position.

After lunch, we silently drove back to Tanner's apartment. He did not invite us in and his mom took that as a sign we should be heading back. I felt numb and my brain could not even fathom this scenario. Each of his parents hugged him and wished him good luck in Portland. They did not speak of the future or the pain he had brought them. He seemed to hug them back, but he never met their eyes. He did manage to say a thank you for coming as they turned to walk away.

His parents climbed back in the truck to give us a minute alone. My heart was beating so loud I was sure Tanner could hear it and my stomach was tied up in knots. I had no idea what to do. Tanner was IT for me. _What do you do when your one and only slips away? Worse yet, what do you do when they choose to go away?_ I had never felt so much fear of the unknown as I did at that moment. Tanner stood in front of me avoiding my eyes and shuffling his feet.

I put my hand up to Tanner's face and forced him to look at me. While he only held my gaze for a second, it was long enough to see that he had made his decision and no amount of pleading or crying was going to change his mind. I kissed him lightly on the cheek, whispered, "I love you" and walked away. Tanner had made his choice and I loved him enough to respect it.

The drive home was heart-wrenching as his mom tried to hide her tears and his dad's face maintained a cold and detached look. I had not shed a tear since we left Tanner staring after us, but my heart had been shattered and I could not begin to figure out how to glue it back together. I felt an eerie calm descend upon the truck cab and embrace each of us as we began accepting that the Tanner, we knew and loved, was gone.

Tanner kept his word and moved to Portland two weeks after graduation. He forwarded his address to his mom and dad who passed it along to me. It sat on my refrigerator for years staring at me as I grabbed for the ice cream. Even though I was often tempted, I never used it. No postcards, no letters and no phone calls. Tanner had not reached out once since moving to Portland and I chose to save myself the sorrow of finding him happy in his new life. Finally, one Valentine's Day, I ripped it to shreds and threw it in the fireplace.

Out of pity or kindness the Dixons allowed me to continue working at their ranch. I had maintained the job while Tanner was away to stay close to him but also because I felt strongly that the ranch was where I belonged. I was meant to live in the country and wake up every morning to hard work. This was where I needed to be and where I was happy. I was a hard worker and it never went unnoticed by Mr. Dixon. They continued to be my family even without Tanner to bind us.

Tanner did not come home. At holidays, he sometimes invited his parents to travel to Portland; but even that had stopped happening in recent years. Tanner had always been such a family-oriented guy and his complete disregard for his aging parents was a diversion from anything I thought Tanner was capable of doing. Tanner Dixon had become a ghost and after a while, he faded from my everyday life. I shook my soul alive and moved on.

Now as I drove home and the lightning illuminated the land surrounding me I remembered when my heart had finally accepted that Tanner was not coming home. I knew that I would always love Tanner, but I also knew that I could not count on him to give me the future and the family I so desperately wanted. Oddly enough I had been standing below the ladder of the mare loft. I was kicking snow off my boots and a piece of wood fell from the loft and cracked me in the head. When I picked the piece up, I saw that it was one of the slats that Tanner had etched our initials on one night when we were cuddling up in the loft.

Then it hit me that it was over and this piece of wood finally broke off to give me a sign that our time was up and there was no more TD & LB 4 EVER. Time had changed us and the foundation of our relationship had become nothing more than a faded memory etched in my mind. My spirit and heart had been broken, but I was determined to live the life I was given. So I moved on.

A year after Tanner's move to Portland I met Christopher Adams. He was handsome, hard working and I convinced myself that he was perfect husband material. He made me feel loved, wanted and desired and told me that he wanted to make me happy and have tons of kids that would remind him of me. Sure he was wrapped up in his work and constantly argued with his family, but he was financially secure. Perhaps he sometimes criticized the way I dressed or belittled the work I did out on the ranch but he was only trying to inspire me to be a better person. Our courtship took the fast track and we were married and I was pregnant with our first child in just a year's time. To be fair, some folks tried to warn me to pay attention to the warning signs and red flags. However, all I really knew was Tanner was gone and I was being a given a shot at a family and I was taking it.

In hindsight, I should have spent a bit more time exploring the marriage material portion of his personality since he apparently felt differently about the vows we exchanged. I heard forever and he heard for right this second. I immediately began planning for the baby and making our house, a cabin his parents let us live in, a home. Christopher worked late nights and came home drunk more often than not. He was never physically abusive, but it became apparent early on that the man, I thought I married, was not the man I was sharing a bed with.

There was a lightning storm the night our son was born and when I stared into Gage's blue eyes, I knew that this was why I had met Christopher and nothing else from our ill-fitted relationship mattered. I had concentrated on the storm during delivery and at the moment of his birth, I saw that Gage was my future. Gage was my angel and he filled my heart with more love than I ever thought possible.

This thought alone helped me through the tough times ahead as a single mother when Christopher left three months after Gage was born. I wanted to act surprised that he left but in reality, I had seen it coming from the moment I told Christopher I was pregnant. He had been looking for a way to convince his parents he was mature enough to inherit their money and I had been the perfect alibi. However, when I informed him he was going to be a father his face had turned an unnatural shade of green and he had run from the house not to be seen for two days. So when he decided to finally disappear on us I was less than shocked.

I embraced motherhood and Gage became my world. I learned how to juggle, sleep with my eyes open and take a shower in two minutes. I continued to work part-time at the ranch, bringing Gage to work when the weather was pleasant enough and using my parents as day care providers when I had to leave him at home. I wanted Gage to grow up knowing the land and understanding that hard work was the only way to make your dreams come true. He did have half of his father's genes and I wanted to be he got my work ethic.

Once Gage was old enough to go to Pre-School full-time I took over running the Dixon's ranch. Tanner's parents were eager to retire in Florida and I made every possible effort to show them I was capable and ready to take over for them, since it was painfully obvious that Tanner was not coming home. Gage started elementary school and the Dixons were very flexible with my hours when Gage required more hands on parenting. It was an exhausting few years but worth every second.

Even today as I pulled up our driveway I remembered the days I played mom and dad in Gage's life. From coaching baseball to healing the scrapped knees, I did it all. At the same time, I was getting deeper and deeper into running the ranch, which required all my remaining energy. It probably goes without saying, but my love life had not been a priority for a long time.

My time was spent being the best mother (and father when necessary) to Gage and preparing myself to take over the Dixon Ranch. My own family had moved away right after Gage turned school age. I am pretty sure my mom only stuck around that long because she did not want to see me in the poor house trying to pay for day care. I appreciated all they had done for me and I tried to stay in contact as much as possible, sending pictures of Gage every school year.

That left Gage and I to fend for ourselves and we happened to like it that way. We had each other and that was enough for me. Introducing someone else into the picture at this stage would be an endeavor and my dream of romantic love had faded long ago. Gage had always been open with me and while we were not attached at the hip, I felt that our relationship was on solid ground and that he was happy with just a mom. I certainly was not looking forward to the teenage years.

As I parked the truck, there was a final flash of lightning cutting the sky in half. I felt the bolt straight down my spine. I never ignored the lightning. It was like Mother Nature's version of sending an omen. When the storm physically affected me like this one had, I paid attention. There was never an omen spelled out in the lightning strikes or dark clouds in the shape of animals. It was a feeling, an instinct that I always carried with me to be prepared for what fate had in store for me next. Tonight I had an overwhelming feeling that whatever was on the horizon was going to change my path forever. _Bring it on Mother Nature. Bring it on._

I felt a heaviness fill my bones, but I shook it off filing my perceptions into the back of my mind for further thought at a later time. As of right now, I was just a mom who was in terrible need of a shower, a hearty dinner and a hug from her son.

# Chapter Two

Since Gage had been strong enough to hold a small pail I would wake him every morning before the sun came up to go and help me feed the horses. When he was younger this used to be the highlight of his day. He even made a point to talk to anyone who would listen about how awesome his chores were. Then he turned twelve and everything I thought I knew about him and parenting was flipped on its head.

It instantly became not cool to hang out with your mom, even if the only eyes that saw you had four legs and a mane. Sleep became second in his life only after eating everything in reach. He was growing up and all I could do was watch and hope that he took my guidance and discipline for what it was, unconditional love. A father figure would no doubt be a benefit during this time but for now I would have to be happy he was still talking to me.

This morning was proving to be one of those days when Gage chose to struggle with me about getting up and it was all I could do not to bop him over the head with my boot. After threatening to cut his video game time, I finally got him up and dressed. We loaded into the truck and headed over to feed the Dixon's horses.

Feeding the horses was one of the most important jobs on the ranch and one of my personal favorites. Their food was the main way I had to influence how healthy the horses would be and how attractive they would be for breeding. I had been trying out different combinations of food to find the perfect mix that would help strengthen the horse's joints and also provide conditioning for their coats.

A few months ago I stumbled rather by accident onto what I hope was the best formula. So far it was working exactly as I had hoped. The horses were not having joint issues and their coats were shiny and gorgeous. If all went well I had dreams of selling the new feed to neighboring horse ranchers. It would be a great additional source of income for the ranch, although Mr. Dixon had already warned me that he would not take any of the profits. He treated Gage like a grandson and he hoped I would use the money for a college fund.

Once we reached the barns and Gage saw all of his favorite horses, his attitude changed completely and he became a kid again. The horses learned to anticipate Gage and secretly I think they waited for him and the sugar cubes he carried in his pockets. As he had grown in size feeding time had become more efficient and we were able to complete the task in half the time. I loved watching Gage work with the horses. Mr. Dixon had always said I had a way about me with the horses. They reacted to me in a way that signaled their respect and understanding. Tanner used to tease me about being a horse whisperer, but watching Gage I was happy to see he inherited this talent. I knew he could not stay a child forever, but in the meantime, I was going to enjoy every second.

When the last horse had been fed, we heard the barn begin bustling with the ranch hands starting their day by mucking the stalls. As the sun poked through the horizon I took Gage home to hop in the shower and get on the school bus. The shower used to be a fight, but I am pretty sure he started noticing girls last summer and his outlook on hygiene changed completely. As much as I was not looking forward to "the talk" I was at least happy he washed some of that dirt down the drain rather than deposit it on my couch.

The storm last night was nowhere to be found in the blue sky this morning. Even though I still had the nagging concern about last night's storm, I could find nothing wrong with how I was feeling this morning. Rather it was one of the first times in a long time I felt light and free. _Today could be a good day!_ With a smile and the sun beginning to warm my face, I drove back to the ranch to hand out the day's work orders.

Mr. Dixon had been the head of the ranch since his father retired and left it to him. When he decided to start seriously grooming me to take over for him, we both decided it would be best if I took over piece by piece. This would give the men some time to get used to the idea and hopefully by the time I was in charge they would not even notice the difference.

***

It had certainly taken some time for the ranch hands to get used to a woman running things. I started out doing each part of Mr. Dixon's job behind the scenes so when I finally got in front of the men all they saw was pure confidence. As they got to know me, they began to understand that I lived to get my hands dirty and princess was not an adjective used to describe me. I always heard them out when they had problems with the way I was running things, but they quickly got on board or I tossed them. It was a tough crowd, but the guys that were on my staff were like family and I played both mother and boss most days. I would trust each of them with my life but most days I just trusted them to get the job done.

After handing out the duties of the day, I began my day's work repairing the fencing on one of the three outdoor arenas we used to exercise the horses. I was deep in concentration when I heard the crunch of gravel indicating there was a car coming up the drive. The wind switched directions and a cool breeze made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I knew I was not expecting anyone today so I stopped hammering and looked up just in time to see a black pickup truck come to a stop near the ranch house. I squinted but could only make out that the figure was tall and male. Another cool breeze hit me and I shivered. _What in the world is going on_ weather _?_ I did not connect the breeze with the storm last night and I figured the Dixons just had a guest and I continued to finish the fence.

Group lunchtime was one of the things Mrs. Dixon had refused to give up as they had slowly given the reins of the ranch over to me. She still cooked and fed every single ranch worker a hearty and delicious meal each afternoon. I was always shocked to see the boys file in with clean hands on otherwise filthy bodies, remove their hats and wait for her blessing to eat. I knew that when she left for Florida there would be a huge hole in the guy's hearts. I had already been talking to her about a replacement so the transition would not seem so stark.

# Chapter Three

By lunchtime, I was usually ravenous and today I quickly took my seat and waited for what smelled like Mrs. Dixon's famous chicken and dumplings. I was already starting to drool just from the aroma. _Thank_ you _Mrs. Dixon!_ The men were filing in and I turned to talk to an older ranch hand about the new mare. Before I uttered a full sentence I heard a commotion coming from the direction of the kitchen. _What in God's name is going on?_ It would seem that Mrs. Dixon had indeed made chicken and dumplings, but it was who was serving those dumplings that had everyone at the table going crazy.

I had a strange feeling and my heart quickly leaped to my throat as I turned around and met the eyes of my first, and to be completely honest only, true love. Tanner Dixon stood in front of the table in the flesh and blood. _Is this a nightmare? Please tell me this is just a dream?_ This was not the Tanner Dixon I knew years ago. That had been a boy and the Tanner that was standing in front of me was all man. _Where was he keeping those muscles?_ He had always been painfully handsome. Pretty guys wanted to rough him up and girls wanted to...well you know. I had been lucky enough to be that girl for a time.

He was greeting the few workers he knew and introducing himself to those that had come on since he had left. He seemed to be smiling but although his lips were moving it never reached his eyes. Tanner and I always could feel each other with one glance. We knew each other so well that we were able to understand the feelings through the color of our eyes. What I saw before me was a beautiful man with a fake smile and shallow eyes. _What happened? Who hurt my Tanner? My Tanner! I really needed to get a grip._

I began to feel lightheaded, confused and claustrophobic. The dining room was closing in as more of the ranch hands got up to shake Tanner's hand. _This is_ really _happening. I need_ air _._ Before I even knew what I was doing I was up and headed out the door. I vaguely heard someone calling for me, but I did not look back. I needed fresh air and to absorb what I had just witnessed. I went straight to the only place that had ever given me complete comfort, the loft in the mare barn.

I made it to the barn and quickly scaled up the ladder. My breath was ragged from running and I collapsed to my knees on the floor. The loft was very simple wood and hay with a few battery operated lanterns for nighttime needs. Needs that previously been met with the man who just happened to pop back into my life. _Why is this happening to me? I am over him...right?_

As I lay back on the makeshift hay bed I tried to regulate my breathing hoping my heartbeat would soon follow suit. I closed my eyes and saw the lightning from the evening before cross the back of my eyelids. _How could this be? Why was Tanner here? Was he just visiting or did he plan on moving back? Does he want the ranch? Does he still love me like I loved him?_ Whoa _wait why am I thinking this way? I am a grown woman and I have earned my place running this ranch. And love? Gage was all the love I needed._ The thoughts ran through my brain at warp speed no time for an answer before the next one came. Once again the storm had been right.

"I had a feeling I'd find you up here," Tanner said in a cautious tone. I slowly opened my eyes and saw a grown-up version of the Tanner I had loved in this very loft standing above me.

"Mind if I sit down?" he asked as he took a place next to me on the hay.

"I'm glad you still come here," Tanner said quietly, "it is a special place for both of us."

I could not avoid his eyes much longer, but I knew once I held his gaze I would be a goner. I never was able to resist Tanner's eyes. They were the window to his soul and his best tool for getting what he wanted. I was afraid of what that would mean for me at this time in my life.

"Yes this loft held a lot of firsts for us," I replied. Why did I bring that up? I hope he does not think I am trying to flirt with him.

We sat in silence for a minute as we each remembered the times we had spent in this loft. We were fourteen when we shared our first kiss in this loft, stolen minutes between our chores. When our lips had met we both jumped back from the electric jolt we felt. That jolt never left our kisses which had made giving them up so hard.

We also had our first fight up here over something so trivial I could never remember what it was. I did however remember the passion of our make-up make-out session following that fight. _Damn he was a good kisser._ Last, but certainly not least, we had made love for the first (and only) time here in this loft.

I can close my eyes and still see the night so clearly. It was a harvest moon and the barn was lit with its strange orange glow. That afternoon there had been a massive lightning storm. Unfortunately, I was not yet in tune with Mother Nature but I should have known that something big was coming. The sky cleared at evening time and the moon rose amongst the stars.

We had been dancing around the idea of making love to one another for months now. Neither of us wanted to be the initiator in case the other one really did not want to and was only doing it to please the other. I honestly did not know if I was ready. I loved Tanner and my body showed all the signs it was ready. However, if Tanner had not been leaving for college, it might not have even happened.

Tanner was leaving for college and all we knew was that we wanted our first time to be with each other. Whenever we had talked about it there was never a doubt that we would be each other's firsts. Neither of us was willing to allow someone else that privilege.

It was awkward and embarrassing, as those things usually are, but it was also magical and special. We were cautious and curious but most importantly we both were respectful of the other's needs. I never once regretted that night. It bound us to one another forever. You can only have your first time once. No matter what had happened between now and then we always would have that connection.

"Libby?" Tanner's voice jarred me from my trip down memory lane.

I forced my head and my eyes to look directly at his face. The face that had haunted my dreams for years both nightmares and what few fantasies I had these days. Time had been kind to him and his beautiful features were more pronounced. The only signs that fourteen years had passed were a few fine lines and some dark circles under his eyes. These eyes that had once held the spark of excitement and a little danger but now only looked tired and lost. _Where did you go Tanner?_

I reached out to touch his face, cradling his cheek in my hand. When I touched his skin I felt my world settle, which unnerved me even more. _I am happy. Why does he still bring me peace? I didn't even know I needed peace!_

Tanner leaned into my hand and closed his eyes. _I have missed this man so much! But something just does not seem right._ I could not shake the feeling that Tanner being here was not an accident, but was also not planned.

"Why Tanner?" I pleaded. "Why are you here?"

Tanner's eyes opened and for a second I thought I saw them fill with tears. _Oh_ no _please don't cry. I will not be able to handle you crying._

He pulled away from me and quickly said, "Things did not work out in Portland and I need to start over." He continued, "And the only place I know to start over is here, at home."

My mind started running in a multitude of directions trying to come up with reasons why things would have not worked out. So much could have caused him to come home and I was not even sure I wanted the whole story right now. I do not think I could handle hearing about a marriage that did not work out or a relationship he had that had gone south. _Focus on what you know not what you are creating out of nothing._

Tanner waited for my response. I knew him and I knew that making the decision and then actually coming back home was difficult. This was not because his family would not welcome him back, but because he would feel like a failure. He was a proud man and to him returning would feel like a retreat with his tail between his legs. I was not going to make him feel worse by pressuring him to tell me what had went wrong. He seemed to be beating himself up enough and he did not need my help. _Time will tell Libby, time will tell._

"Ok," I responded.

I wanted to kiss and punch him at the same time. I felt happy he was back and angry with him for leaving in the first place. My head was swimming trying to catch ahold of anything that made any sense, but I kept coming up empty handed. It was almost as if I had slipped on the edge of a cliff and fell knowing there were going to be soft and hard places to land. My decisions about Tanner could decide which of these I was going to land on. _Argggg what is happening to me? What decisions?_

"I have no idea what to think and feel right now Tanner," I said, standing up. All I know right now _is that I have to get away from you as soon as I can._

"I assume your parents are pretty excited to have you back," I commented as I moved toward the ladder.

"Yes they are," Tanner answered, then asked, "are you?"

I met his gaze straight on trying to pin down the feelings fighting within my heart. _Am I? Am I glad Tanner is here in front of me now?_

Finally, I replied, "I honestly don't know Tanner."

His eyes held what looked to be pain and guilt from what I do not know. Part of me knew that I should want him to feel those horrible feelings, but another part of me wanted to be in his arms and forget the past completely. I had a strong inclination that this tug-of-war was not even close to being over.

My mind was going wild and I was barely remembering to breathe. _Did I really want Tanner back in my life?_ For so long I had wished and hoped to be in this exact position. Now that Tanner was here before me I did not know whether I actually wanted him back. After seeing him, there was no doubt I still loved him. The question I had to answer, was whether I was still 'in love' with him.

"I can understand that," Tanner replied watching as I started down the ladder.

"Libby?" Tanner called. "Mom and Dad asked me to tell you they would like to meet with you tomorrow morning after you give the work orders for the day."

My feet reached the solid ground of the barn floor and I called up, "Tell them I'll be there."

I turned and headed for the stalls. Without a second thought, I saddled up my horse and took off to ride the fences. Normally this is something I would give to one of the newer hands, but today I felt the need for some fresh air and to be as far away from Tanner Dixon as possible. My mind and body had grown numb and I needed to feel the wind in my hair in order to shake my thoughts loose.

After a few miles my temper began to flare thinking of his audacity just showing up after all this time. What right did he have to arrive home looking tall, dark and ridiculously handsome? If he wants to take over the ranch where does that leave me? I could either work for him or be out of a job. And what would I do with Gage? Tanner's arrival had completely upset my calm and orderly way of life. He seemed to have a knack for completely disintegrating all of my plans for the future

The further I rode the clearer my head got, which only lead me to finally look at the real problem at hand. I was still hopelessly in love with Tanner Dixon. I am not even sure I ever stopped loving him. I had convinced myself I loved Christopher and in some ways, I had loved him enough to make a child with him. But Tanner always has had my heart with him no matter where he had laid his head. I was hoping that I came to another conclusion but knew my fate was sealed. I have to get over Tanner Dixon because he had gotten over me years ago.

I have no idea what Tanner is thinking and whether he even had more than a passing thought of me while he was in Portland. Who knows what kind of life he has been living and who has chosen to live it with? As far as I am aware he never married and had no children that the Dixons was aware of. I did know he was aware that I had been married and had Gage.

Mrs. Dixon has probably already told half the town that Tanner is home. Gage is a smart boy and he will put two and two together when the gossip starts. Folks in town did not speak about Tanner much anymore, but Gage was aware of him because Mr. Dixon would sometimes tell Gage stories starring Tanner.

I already avoided bringing Gage to the ranch when the hands were there. I wanted him to learn the job, but their language and behavior was not something I wanted him exposed to just yet.

This was a mess of epic proportions and I was at a complete loss for where to go next with my feelings. Gage knew me and would have no problem seeing the unresolved issues between me and Tanner. He was a curious kid and since he started noticing girls last summer he had even asked if I ever thought about dating again. I had told him he was all the man I needed in my life and he seemed to be ok with that.

My phone alarm went off reminding me of the hour. I headed back to the barn to return my horse and avoided any and all signs of human life. I left for home where hopefully I would be met with a son who had avoided the town gossip tree that day. I would know more after my meeting with the Dixons tomorrow morning. Until then it would just have to be business as usual. I would not complicate either of our lives by jumping to conclusions. Maybe Tanner was just here for a visit to let the dust settle from Portland so he could go somewhere new.

As I crawled into bed and closed my eyes, I was met once again by the vision of lightning. It was a telling sign that whatever fate had in store for me it was only just beginning. With a sigh I rolled over and spent the remainder of the night in and out of sleep. Most could be blamed on nerves but when my body did give in to sleep my dreams were delightful and full of the grown-up version of Tanner Dixon.

# Chapter Four

The next morning I gently nudged Gage and told him he could sleep in. He smiled sleepily and rolled over snuggling under his pillow. I was not ready to introduce him to Tanner until I knew more about the entire situation. Somehow I had a feeling that taking him to the barn this morning I would have no choice but to introduce them. I would hate for Gage to get attached and then Tanner to go away again. Gage has had enough loss in his life and I refused to set him up for what could be heartbreak.

I would do anything for Gage and protect him from any harm. Once upon a time I loved Tanner with all my heart but now a large piece of that heart was filled with love for Gage. Tanner being back at the ranch did not change that simple fact.

I found myself spending way too much time in front of the closet choosing what to wear for the day. I ended up with a nicely worn pair of jeans and a tank top underneath my favorite flannel. I tried to shake off the look he gave me in the loft last night, but my dreams were still haunted by the memories of his lips and his arms wrapped around me. I was in a heap of trouble.

I kissed Gage goodbye and headed over to the ranch to feed the horses and get the works orders ready for the day. With any luck, I would be completely busy and distracted from thoughts of Tanner and his presence here at the ranch. I even set my phone alarm to remind me of my meeting with the Dixons. My heart pounded at the thought of having to leave the ranch. I was trying not to worry, but I was brilliantly losing that battle. I pulled up to the barn, took a deep breath and began my day.

I got into a steady rhythm with the feed and the only sounds were the soft neighing of the horses. I had to work double time without Gage here to help, but the extra stress on my body was keeping my mind focused on the task at hand. It was like the eye of a storm and I could feel it growing as time ticked on. I finished the feeding and headed into my office to make sure I had all of the day's work lined up. There was a mountain of work to be done and I was in the process of streamlining the system. Time crept by as I kept my head down and tried to work through my growing nerves.

My phone alarm reminded me that it was time to hand out the daily work. An important part of running the ranch was organizing who does what. It seems like a simple task but after you have factored in the skill level of each ranch hand and the sensitivity to detail that a job required, the process became complicated and murky at best.

As they gathered around many of the ranch hands had their heads down and were looking rather uncomfortable. I sighed because even though I knew the answer without asking, I had to assert my authority. I called out one of the young ones, "Billy what's up?" Billy shuffled his feet and kept his head down. He own lifted his eyes to mine when I stalked over and stood directly in front of him.

"Ummm some of the guys and I," Billy stuttered, "we were just wondering what it meant for us now that Tanner is home?"

I stepped back and looked at the guys who had been with me through thick and thin during my transition to running the ranch. They were a rough bunch of fellas, but they all had hearts of gold. I could not see Tanner being vindictive enough to fire all the guys if he took over the ranch but what did I really know about the man he had become? I had to admit that I did not know much of anything about grown-up Tanner or his current sense of right and wrong.

"It doesn't mean anything," I answered hoping I was telling them the truth.

"I am meeting with the Dixons this morning to sort everything out and confirm where we go from here." I continued, "Until you hear otherwise keep your head down and do good work and there will not be any problems."

The men grabbed their gear and headed out to begin the day's work. Billy nodded and then went on his way. I was too worried about the tornado of emotions wrecking havoc on my own body. It was my responsibility to watch out and protect these guys and their jobs. I reminded myself that I was not operating in a vacuum and I could not be selfish in this situation.

I made a few phone calls and put in some supply orders anything to avoid checking the clock every two minutes. I procrastinated as long as I could before I had to face the music. I tidied up my office, hoping it was not my last day to use it, and headed over to the ranch house for my meeting with Dixons.

I went to the side of the house and used the wash station to clean my hands and face. My hair was pulled back so it had survived the morning so far. There was no mirror at the wash station, why would the guys ever need one, so I did my best to make sure I was clean and presentable. _Who am I trying to impress The Dixons or Tanner?_ I took a deep breath and walked toward my fate.

I had been coming to the Dixon house since I was a child and knocking had never been a requirement for entering. Where we came from locking your door was considered an insult and I spent more of my life in this house than my own. I pushed off my boots in the mudroom and made my way into the beautiful farmhouse kitchen.

This kitchen had given me comfort when I needed it most. This is not to say that my family was horrible, but I was an only child and my parents both worked very hard supplying the surrounding horse farms with feed. This required almost all of their energy and I grew up taking care of myself. When I started hanging around the Dixon Ranch Mrs. Dixon sensed I was missing some motherly love. Through the dirt and grime, she helped me remember that I had a feminine side too. I learned to bake pies, make pot roasts and of course brew a strong cup of coffee in this very kitchen.

The aroma of that strong coffee is what greeted me now, as I saw Mrs. Dixon at the counter arranging the thermos and cups. She heard the door shut and knew it must be me.

"How are you holding up Libby?" Mrs. Dixon asked in her non-invasive way, that before today had me always opening up to her. How does she think I'm holding up? Her son has just breezed back in town after a decade of leaving my heart to break into a thousand pieces!

Of course Mr. & Mrs. Dixon would know that Tanner's return would cause me to feel things I put on the back shelf a long time ago. They had witnessed my breakdown after Tanner decided he was not coming back and watched me pretended to move on with my marriage to Christopher. They still would joke that I was the best thing to happen to Tanner and not coming back home was his biggest mistake.

I placed a kiss on her cheek and responded, "As well as can be expected."

She chuckled and we made our way into the living room where it would seem they would be meeting. Mr. Dixon rose from the sofa giving me a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"Libby thank you for coming this morning," Mr. Dixon began. Mrs. Dixon took her place next to her husband on the sofa and stared adoringly at her son sitting across from her.

I took a seat in one of the worn armchairs but not before catching Tanner's gaze and his small and insecure smile. "No problem Mr. Dixon whatever we need to do," I responded.

"I am so happy to hear you say that," Mr. Dixon began, "because we do think things need a little re-working now that Tanner has come home and wants to help with the ranch."

This was it. Tanner was going to take over the ranch and Gage and I will have to move in with my parents. My heart was stuck in my throat and I was having trouble breathing when Tanner spoke.

"Libby I did not come back here to take the ranch from you. I just need a fresh start and I have let down my parents, and you, long enough," Tanner ended with what seemed to be a genuine sigh of exhaustion.

I'm not sure how, but I felt for Tanner. In his youth, he had made a bad choice, as we all have done before. However, this particular bad choice happened to rip out my heart and leave me broken for many years. I sat quietly waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Betsy and I are ready to retire," Mr. Dixon began, "We have found the perfect retirement house near the beach and we already have one foot in the ocean." Mr. Dixon hugged his wife who nodded her head in apparent agreement. "The last thing we have to do before hitting the road is set up how the ranch will be run in our absence."

Mr. Dixon went on to explain that prior to Tanner's homecoming I was being groomed to take over the ranch. Without knowing that Tanner still wanted to have a part in the ranch, the Dixons had whole-heartedly agreed that I was the best and only choice to run the ranch. He explained that a lot of time and energy on both parts had gone into that training.

I started to feel better about the situation until he began talking about how they had always wanted Tanner to continue the Dixon legacy. It was a family ranch so it always went without saying that Tanner was next in line. When he left, it was incredibly difficult for the Dixons as they tried to determine how a future might look for the ranch without family to inherit it. Now that Tanner was back they were struggling with how to handle the situation.

"Last night I walked out to the outdoor arena to check out the new fencing you put up Libby," Mr. Dixon began. "Just as I was admiring your handiwork my phone beeped with an email alert from the bank about some paperwork you were overdue on," Mr. Dixon continued.

"Shoot," I cried, "I completely got sidetracked and forget."

"No problem it was actually extremely helpful," Mr. Dixon quickly responded.

By this time I was on the edge of my seat and wiping my damp palms on my jeans. Tanner was chewing his bottom lip and bouncing his left knee and if I could still read Tanner correctly then he was equally as nervous. He caught me peeking at him and I quickly turned towards the Dixons.

It seems that this burst of wisdom had prompted a late night discussion with Mrs. Dixon. After ironing out some details, they both agreed on this new approach to the ranch.

"We would like you to share responsibilities and run the ranch together," Mr. Dixon stated as a fact not a question.

My head flew up and I stuttered, "Together?"

"Yes dear together," Mrs. Dixon added her first words to this distressing and already lengthy meeting.

Tanner was sat up straighter biting his lower lip, showing he was anxious, although it could be a good or bad anxious. After he spoke there was no doubt it was bad anxious.

"You want us to share the ranch?" Tanner asked with doubt lacing his every word.

Mr. Dixon must have anticipated this reaction from both of us because when he continued his voice was fatherly and kind. He went on to explain that I had a vast knowledge of the hands on things at the ranch. He continued to see that since I had come on board the ranch has never looked better. It felt great listening to him honestly praise my work. It reminded me of the passion I have for running this ranch and how much losing it would mean.

After squeezing my knee he turned to Tanner and explained his hope for the business and financial side of Dixon ranch. There were several additional business opportunities that had been put on the back burner with the Dixon's retirement and the ranch running at full capacity. One of these opportunities being the new feed blend I had created. Mr. Dixon had hopes that with Tanner's background he could not just maintain the business of the ranch, but help it to grow.

The Dixon's new vision had me running the day-to-day operations of the ranch and Tanner running behind the scenes. Literally they were proposing that we run the ranch "together." _Is this even possible? How do they expect me to work with him when they know how much he hurt me?_ Neither Tanner nor I said anything and for the first time, the Dixons looked uneasy.

I loved the Dixon family and they deserved a happy and stress-free retirement. Could I share the ranch with Tanner? Working side-by-side? I honestly did not know. I felt unsure of my residual feelings for him and the anger and hurt I still carried with me was clouding my vision. I was also dealing with this magnetic pull I felt every time our eyes met and my desperate desire to make his sparkle once again. _That is not your job!_

I struggled through the fog and remembered the most important thing. No matter how I felt this was not about Tanner, or me this was about the Dixon Ranch and continuing its proud legacy. I was not a Dixon by blood, but in my heart and mind I was a member of this family and keeping it whole was just as important to me.

I finally raised my head to meet the Dixon's eyes, "If this is truly what you want then I will work with Tanner."

Mr. Dixon began to smile as he turned to Tanner, who had his eyes trained on me. "Libby and I will figure out a way to run the ranch dad," Tanner managed to get out.

Mrs. Dixon clapped her hands together and said with a motherly touch, "I just know this is the best thing for all of us."

A red flag flew up in my head at her comment, but I could not see it through the intense feeling I was getting from Tanner and his laser gaze. His eyes had not looked away from me and I was starting to feel uncomfortable.

"Well, if that is it I have a lot of work to do," I stated as I stood up to put some distance between the Dixons and me. I knew I was running away, but after a decision like that, no one could blame me. Since there was no way to add Tanner to the work cycle today I added, "and Tanner make sure you are on time tomorrow for work orders."

With that and a smiling snicker from Mr. Dixon, I slid my boots back on and headed out to do some hard labor and pound Tanner Dixon out of my mind.

Tanner did not interfere with the ranch for the rest of the day and I only caught him watching me a few times from the back porch of the house. I could not avoid the group lunchtime but noticed that Tanner sat on the opposite end of the table and did not try to make things uncomfortable by addressing me. Of course he looked perfect in his worn jeans and boots, clean because he had not put in any hours on the ranch yet.

It was unnerving having him so close. I could feel the electricity we always had buzzing around us. I only hoped that we were the only ones able to recognize it. I was a different person when he left, and he obviously had changed while he was away. It was going to take time to get to know the grown-up versions of Libby and Tanner. I just hoped our grown-up versions could put the past aside and move towards a future that suited all of us.

# Chapter Five

The next morning followed another sleepless night. I realized half way through the night that I could not keep bringing Gage to feed the horses in the morning. The chance that he might run into Tanner was too great and I was not ready for that meeting yet, not until I got to know grown-up Tanner a little better. Maybe I did not want Tanner to ever meet Gage. Perhaps Portland had changed Tanner in ways I did not want Gage to experience.

I expected Gage to be angry or hurt when I told him he was free from early morning feeding for the time being. Gage however had other plans as he crawled back into bed and set his alarm for later. By the time I was leaving the house he was snoring again.

It was hard to remember when bringing up a tween that just because they do not outwardly express their feelings it does not necessarily mean they are not feeling them inside. I made a mental note to have a one-on-one conversation with him that night to be sure he was getting the attention he needed from me. The early morning feeding had been our special alone time and I knew I would miss it and I hoped Gage would feel some of the absence as well.

When I got to the barn I saw the lights already on and Tanner's truck parked outside. My temper ignited immediately wondering how he thought he could just come into her barn and walk around like his owned the place. I took a deep breath and remembered my vow to Mr. Dixon to make it work. The only way I was going to be able to work with Tanner is if I made sure he was doing everything the correct way, my way.

Right off the bat I noticed he was using the wrong feed for the wrong horses. Back when Tanner was in high school he helped his parents on the ranch and it would seem that he was picking up right where he had left off. Unfortunately, for him what had worked back then is not what works best now. My head began to ache thinking of how difficult it was going to be to train him on the new and improved ways of ranching. Obviously whatever ranch classes he took had been quickly replaced with finance knowledge. I prepped myself for a long day.

"Good morning Tanner," I shouted as I entered the feeding area.

Tanner threw a bag of the wrong food into a trough and I wanted to scream at him, but my mouth did not seem to work as I watched his arms flex and the muscles of his back stretch. When Tanner had left he had really been just a boy, now however, he was very much a man. My body reacted to the sight of his well-worn jeans and tight t-shirt. It had been a long time since I had given myself the opportunity to appreciate a man's body.

Yes, a delicious specimen of a man, but a man using the wrong feed. So snap out of it!

"Hey Libby," Tanner said as he wiped his forehead with a rag. "I thought I would get an early start and help with the feeding," he added with a smugness that I was about to smack right off of his face.

"I see that Tanner," I began, "and while I appreciate your pro-activeness I have to tell you that you are using the wrong feed."

Tanner's head shook as he said, "No I'm not. It is winter and I am using the winter feed." He pointed to the marking on the bag indicating it was winter-feed.

"You are correct that is winter feed," I explained, "but we have begun rotating the regular winter feed with a new blend created to help the horses with their joints."

I saw his back go up and witnessed an internal struggle behind his eyes. This was new for him too and I tried to be patient and helpful rather than condescending. I explained that I had noticed a trend of joint issues with the horses during the winter so I worked with the vet to make a blend of feed that would help. Tanner was looking at me like I was an alien and not the Libby he has known all his life. It was almost as if I had to undergo a transformation inside his mind. It was his turn to realize that grown-up Libby is not the same as the Libby he left.

I sighed accepting that this was the first of many things that Tanner and I were going to go toe-to-toe on. We had always had a tendency to take opposite sides on an issue just so we had an excuse to argue, and make-up.

I showed him where the correct feed was and the schedule he could check if he was ever unsure about what cycle they were on. He reluctantly took in the information and nodded his understanding. The next couple of weeks were a battle as young Tanner tried to prove me wrong on each and every task that had evolved or changed since he had been gone.

It seemed that everything had changed in the last decade and Tanner had a lot of catching up to do. From feeding to breeding, the world of ranching had been modernized. Even though most changes made our work easier, Tanner still thought the old way was a better way.

The pout he had used to get his way when we were in high school did not work on me anymore. However, the grown-up wiping his hand over his face and batting those extra long eyelashes was breaking me down piece by piece.

Most of the time I was able to keep my anger at bay, allowing my training as a mother to kick in and provide me with the patience I needed to avoid strangling Tanner. But there were times when all I could see was Tanner walking away from me after breaking the news he was leaving for Portland. He had left me without a reason for the hole he had ripped in my heart. These emotions made my fuse with Tanner short and I did a lot of deep breathing exercises.

During the same time, I could see Tanner struggling with his own internal demons. I could not pinpoint Tanner's emotions and for right now our interaction consisted of ranch business only. It seemed that he was not ready to introduce me to all of grown-up Tanner just yet. Frankly that was just fine because I never quite knew which grown-up Libby you were going to get when I opened my mouth these days. Angry Libby, hurt Libby, overly peppy Libby, etc.

After the third week of my internal battle, I began to notice that Tanner was a quick study. The things I had taught him during the first week were clicking and I was able to confidently leave him alone to accomplish those tasks. I had to give him credit for finally accepting my authority on ranch matters and getting on board with the changes I had made.

We fell into a steady rhythm of teaching, learning and doing. I could feel the walls between us come down brick by brick. Our conversations remained at a professional level and neither one of us was brave enough to venture into the past; but there were times when we would both remember something and our eyes would meet before continuing on with the task at hand. That brief moment always caught us off guard and left me confused about where to go next.

For as strong as I was at work, I was equally an emotional mess at home. Gage was busy with friends and school, which left me with more time to daydream about Tanner and the man he had become. Tanner had not shared details of his life in Portland and I did not ask or prod him to reveal his reasons for coming home. More I was just in awe of the changes that had taken place over time. I had expected the intellectual growth after his time in college and the city, but I had forgotten to add in the fact that physically he would grow to be a powerful and sinful looking man.

I tried to deny my attraction, but it was no use so I continued to watch Tanner work with fascination and desire. If I was not mistaken, Tanner was having the same sort of thoughts. There were several times I felt someone watching me and looked up to find Tanner's hungry gaze on me as I worked. Part of me would immediately think he had lost all of his rights to think of me that way when he chose to go to Portland. The other and louder part of me was excited that he was feeling the same way and hoping he was man enough to do something about it.

I wanted to believe that I wore tight tank tops and fitted jeans because they were comfortable, but who was I kidding. I was wearing those outfits for Tanner and that look that kept me warm long after his eyes left mine.

# Chapter Six

One of the tasks I had been avoiding going over with Tanner was riding the fence line. It would require us to be alone for the entire day and sometimes it might even warrant an overnight trip if there were extensive damages that need to be repaired. Storm season was on its way though so I could not procrastinate on the task any longer. I just hoped that we could have a quick ride and be back before dark.

The thought of spending the night in the wilderness alone with Tanner was just too much to bear. I had acted nonchalant when reminding Tanner to pack an overnight bag but inside I was a ball of nerves. I had not been alone with any man in such a long time let alone a man who I was deeply attracted to but should not be. To my surprise as we were saddling up the horses he fumbled a bit when I mentioned the possibility of a camp out.

As we double-checked the gear I noticed for the first time how interested the other guys were when Tanner and I were together. They had obviously heard through the grapevine about our history and were watching and waiting to see how we would continue to react to each other.

The ride started out crisp and clear with only a few fences that needed mending. We stopped for lunch along the stream we used to play in as kids back when we did not have a care in the world. I had brought Gage out here a few times but he was quick to remind me that the experience was not the same when you were with your mom.

The times Tanner and I had spent at the stream were filled with fishing, swimming and as we got older kissing. I caught him more than once staring at the outcropping of rock that we used to hang out on. We would ride to the stream, strip down to our bathing suits (or underwear when necessary), dive in and bake in the sun for hours. It was also the perfect place to make-out with no chance of interruption. We were so young and so eager to learn about each other and the reactions our bodies were having.

I slipped further into the memory remembering how Tanner and I had taught each other to kiss. We had been sitting on the rock after a quick swim and the heat was unbearable. Tanner began kissing me gently at first but soon we were showing the hunger we had for each other. It had been the summer following our freshman year so we were still in the newlywed phase of our romantic involvement. Everything was trial and error for us and kissing was no different.

Tanner had pulled back, looked me straight in the eye and asked me what I needed him to do. Without the filters of adulthood I told him how I wanted to be kissed and he did the same for me. After that afternoon we never kissed the same again. What had once been a spark was now a raging inferno. It was one of the happiest memories I had of us. Both of us choosing the pleasure of the other over our own.

Now looking out at the stream I sighed and filed the memories away again. Neither of us brought it up but it was obvious that both of us were reliving those same moments.

As the afternoon wore on the wind changed and the temperature began to drop significantly. I shrugged on my sweater and saw Tanner add a flannel over his t-shirt. I could smell the impending rain as it prepared to come over the hills and head straight for us. The smell was sweet but there was an edge to it that alerted me to the danger it could bring. Rain was no problem because we could easily continue our work.

Unfortunately, you could already see in the distance that lightning was splitting through the clouds. What I did know is that we could not continue along the fences because the metal mesh would be a prime target for a lightning strike. I made the decision to stop at one of the old barns where hopefully we could ride out the storm and still have enough daylight to make it home.

Just as we found some lanterns to give the barn a candlelit glow, the sky opened up and sheets of rain began pounding the ground surrounding us. The thunder shook the barn and the lightning illuminated even the far corners of the barn. I still smelled the sweetness of the rain but also felt the dangerous undercurrent in my body. It was not lost on me that I was here during a lightning storm with Tanner who looked just as nervous as I felt. I finally just accepted that we were here for a reason and whatever was going to happen was necessary for our future whatever that may end up looking like.

We made sure the horses were secured in a few of the still functioning stalls and huddled together with the blankets we had brought in case of a camp out. With nothing left to do but wait out the storm we began to talk. At first it was just general chitchat about the ranch and his parent's impending retirement, but it was not long before we both start tiptoeing into the past.

Mostly we talked about the good times we had as kids growing up on the ranch and all the crazy things we used to do that got us in trouble. We talked about the time our buddy Rusty tried to kiss me at the stream and I broke his nose. This led to us talking about our first kiss and how nervous we were up in the loft. It was a sweet and non-suggestive conversation.

Then it dawned on me that there might never be another time when I would have Tanner as a captive audience to explain the hurt and pain he caused me when he left my life so many years ago. I took a deep breath and decided to open up wounds I had thought were long scarred over. I avoided talking about my marriage to Christopher and did not bring Gage into the conversation except to acknowledge his existence. I was holding Gage close until I could see what Tanner's true intentions were.

I was hell bent on making sure that Tanner knew exactly what his decision to move to the city did to me and more specifically to my heart. I felt I was at a point in my life that I was no longer angry that he actually moved to the city, because without him leaving I would not have had Gage. However, I was still angry about how he had made that decision and his complete disregard for my feelings at the time. As I was describing my decision to move on after countless attempts to re-connect with him, I saw the pain clearly in his eyes and he started to softly cry. _No_ crying _please._

Tanner quickly wiped his eyes and with a struggle lifted his gaze to mine. _Kill me now with those eyes!_

"Libby," he began, "there are no words that can fully describe just how sorry I am that you ever had to feel that way."

He went on to tell me that his choice to leave had nothing to do with me but rather his need to experience different parts of what life had to offer. Unfortunately his youth had blinded him from seeing what he was leaving behind. He loved the city and although he never forgot me, after a time he convinced himself that I was better off without him. He thought that he would just be dragging me down by being miserable at the ranch while wishing he was out experiencing life. Or he thought it would be cruel to drag me away to the city just to satisfy his curiosity.

His apology seemed heartfelt and I found it harder and harder to stay angry with him for leaving. I was beginning to feel confused, appreciating his confession while at the same time still feeling abandoned. It still remained that he had chosen to explore his desires rather than hold on to our relationship. I honestly did not know where our love fit into this picture or whether it ever even had a chance once Tanner left for college. At least it was now all out in the open where we could choose to deal with it if we wanted.

One night alone in a barn was not going to make or break how we felt about each other but it was hopefully the start we needed to get back on track towards some sort of relationship. I tried to concentrate on the fact that we had been young and we just had different ideas of what the other needed. Unfortunately that was making me feel that I was a fool for how much I loved him and continued to love him when he had already chosen another path.

Unwilling to make an emotionally filled declaration with both my head and my heart still spinning, I quickly noticed that the rain was now a slight drizzle and the thunder and lightning had moved on. Breaking the seriousness of the conversation I suggested we head back before we lost daylight. I knew I was leaving things on a complicated note, but there was no way I could go through that roller coaster of emotions right now. I was going to need some time to process everything Tanner had shared with me. He seemed reluctant to leave but Tanner began prepping the horses for the ride back while I made sure the rest of the barn was secure.

Just as I was locking the supply room I heard Tanner approach and felt his hand on my shoulder. He turned me gently and took my face into his hands. My body instantly remembered his touch and he began to stroke my face with his fingers. _Oh my... it has been so long._ Without a word his lips met mine in a kiss so gentle it felt like tickle yet it was also full of promise and dare I say love?

Tanner pulled his head back and whispered, "You have never left my heart Libby."

All of my words stuck in my throat and I just stared into his eyes unable to formulate an intelligible response when my body had just been reminded why Tanner Dixon was the love of my life. It was fruitless to deny that I was born to be in his arms. The question was whether he was meant to be in mine.

Tanner held out the reins of my horse and that is the last memory I have of that ride because my mind replayed our conversation and of course that kiss over and over again trying out all the different ways that this scenario could end. Selfishly I chose to keep all of those scenarios positive and with Tanner and I riding off into the sunset. However, I was a realist and as soon as we parted for the night I filed the kiss away for what it was, a pleasant experience. I needed to protect my heart and this was the only way I knew how.

No matter how hard I try to understand and control the fate life has laid out for me, I always learn that I have no say in the matter. After the storm confession, apology and kiss, I felt the largest wall between us break down. We were working together much more smoothly and our conversations were not laced with an undercurrent of unresolved business. We were not speaking of an "us", but we were not avoiding each other around every turn either. _Progress?_

# Chapter Seven

I had even begun to feel comfortable enough with Tanner's knowledge of how the ranch worked to suggest he switch his focus to the financial side of things. You would have thought that I found a solution to world peace the way his face lit up and the extra pep he began having in his step. It was obvious that although Tanner loved working the ranch, he loved crunching numbers even more.

Of course he had been a student of the ranch and now I was to be a student of the finances. He was a patient teacher but it was obvious he had a wealth of knowledge that not only would I never learn, I never wanted to learn. He taught me the balance sheet, invoicing and budget projection. All of the more complicated procedures he thought would be better in written form for use in an emergency. I could not have agreed more.

Watching him work on spreadsheets and invoices it started to connect in my brain that this was what he had been learning in college that had got him so excited and pulled him away from the ranch, and from me. Seeing his eyes light up and sparkle I began to realize that whatever happened with Tanner while he was gone was what was making him the man he was today. And that man was one that I could easily find myself staying with forever.

One Saturday morning during January I heard a knock on my front door. Still dressed in my flannel pajamas I made my way to the door. To my surprise Tanner was on my doorstep holding two cups of steaming hot coffee. _I do not know what I deserved to get this breakfast treat but thank you heavens above._

Tanner smiled, melting some of the icicles around my doorframe, "Libby I am here to kidnap you for the day so as attractive as those pajamas are I think you better get dressed."

I knew that look of determination and decided it would be a useless battle to say no. Gage was with friends that weekend and the ranch was under control with the weekend hands so I did not have any responsibilities. I left Tanner in the living room and quickly showered. I decided after my shower that I deserved a little pampering and there was not a single thing wrong with wanting to feel like a desired woman. So I dressed in a long skirt, tall boots, fitted sweater, scarf and jacket.

When I walked out of the bedroom Tanner's expression was one of unfettered male satisfaction.

"You look absolutely stunning," Tanner said.

I felt myself blushing but I did not look away as I walked toward him saying, "I'm all yours Mr. Dixon."

Even though they were simple words they held years of unrequited love. Tanner took a ragged breath showing he was as affected as I was by the possibilities that lie ahead. It took everything in my power but I put a head to his chest as I walked out the door. The electricity was amazing and I had not felt that sort of incredible tension since I had been with Tanner sixteen years ago. _Looks like you still got it girl!_

Tanner held his truck door open for me and helped me climb in, his hands around my waist. I closed my eyes at the warm sensation they left as he closed the door and crossed around the front of the truck and climbed in. My nerves were scrambled and I fumbled a bit with my seatbelt. After securing myself I risked a look at Tanner.

"Am I going to enjoy this kidnapping?" I asked when Tanner had begun to back out of the driveway.

In lieu of an answer Tanner just smirked and turned up the radio. _He obviously remembers that I like surprises._ I took that as my cue to enjoy the scenery and occasionally catch glimpses of his profile as we cruised along the highway. I held my hope of a romantic surprise silently because I did not want to do anything that might jinx the date. _Err I mean kidnapping._

It became clear in a few hours that we were headed into the city. I had been to the city several times before but I just preferred the country. Something about the sheer size of it caused me anxiety. I craved the open air of the country to the crowded streets of the city.

Tanner must have noticed the change in my posture because he grabbed my hand pulling my fingers to his lips for a slight kiss.

"I want to show you where I have been Libby," Tanner started, "to show you some of the reasons I loved being in the city."

I caught his gaze and you could see he was visibly nervous about what my reaction would be. I squeezed his hand and said, "Ok Tanner show me what you've got."

The relief rolled off him in waves and I made the decision right then and there to give him the day to let me into that part of his life. It was important enough for him to bring me here so the least I could do was give him a chance to prove me wrong about the city.

After searching for a parking space, one of the reasons I preferred the country, we went to an art museum with an entire wing dedicated to landscape photography. We had taken a few school trips to museums but I had not been in one as an adult. The difference was phenomenal and I quickly understood why Tanner had chosen this place.

I had not realized that Tanner loved photography and he had even taken a few courses during college to help him hone his hobby. He confessed that during some of the most stressful times at work he would take his camera for a few hours and just walk around the city snapping hundreds of shots as things presented themselves. I made him promise to show me some of his favorites when we got back to the ranch.

It was amazing to see Tanner with such passion for something, but his description of the stress at work also raised a red flag. He still had not disclosed his exact reason for leaving the city and every time I brought up work he was swift to change the subject. I pushed the questions down as we moved on to the next surprise visit, a theatre production of Wicked.

As children we had a slumber party every year when The Wizard of Oz played on TV. We ate popcorn and s'mores and tried to scare each other when the flying monkeys came on. I realized as I thought back that we actually continued that tradition up through high school. We just did more kissing during those years than watching of the movie.

It was incredibly sweet that he chose this particular show. There were a lot of plays in the city but he had made sure the one we saw was meaningful. It was just another thing Tanner did to remind me of the reasons I had fallen in love with him to begin with. Tanner had always been good at remembering the small stuff most people take for granted. It was a wonderful trait and I was glad he had not lost it.

It was a late afternoon showing but it was still a sold out show and the people watching was excellent. There was so much excitement in the air it would have been hard not to get caught up in it. I squeezed his hand as the music started and I do not think my smile could have grown any bigger. The musical was fantastic and the joy on Tanner's face when I gushed over the performance was enough to make me want to buy tickets for the next show. He was trying to please me and so far it was definitely working.

Bit by bit I was beginning to allow myself to see how Tanner could love the city. There was so much to do here and just as many different kinds of people to interact with. It was like another world and if you belonged in this world then the ranch world would never be enough for you. Pieces of the puzzle that was Tanner were falling into place. _He really did not want to be at home did he?_

We walked through parks and stopped at a farmer's market in the middle of all the corporate buildings for a piece of fruit to snack on. Then he took me to a bookstore that seemed to go on for miles. He even confided in me that he come here on Sundays after breakfast and read for hours about anything that did not have to do with finance. I wanted to ask why but something in the way his eyes clouded over told me to wait him out. Tanner would tell his tale when they time was right for him.

Even though we seemed to walk for hours and Tanner was a knowledgeable tour guide, we seem to sidestep any actual buildings Tanner had lived or worked in. He was showing me his social life and the reasons he had fallen in love with the city. Maybe those other things are why he had needed to start over. I tried to shake negativity from my thoughts and just enjoy that he was choosing to share anything with me.

Our final destination of the day was a cozy and quaint restaurant inside a refurbished house on the east side of the river. There were white tablecloths, candles and tuxedoed waiters. I was feeling intimidated until I felt Tanner's hand close over mine as the host led us to our corner table. _Why does his touch still have that calming and soothing_ affect _on me?_

The menu was mouthwatering with fresh seafood and pasta. There were soups, salads, fish I had never even heard of and vegetables prepared in every way imaginable. It was an overwhelming amount of choices and there were no prices listed. _I don't want Tanner to think I am getting the most expensive thing on the menu to spite him. I don't even know what his financial situation is since he moved back._

I was struggling to decide what might be cheapest on the menu when Tanner, who must have seen my resistance, said, "Would you mind if I ordered for both of us?"

I am sure my exclamation of relief could be heard across the room but as long as I did not have to decide it was worth it. Tanner smiled and ordered what seemed like a ridiculous amount of food for two people but I trusted him and knew it would be delicious. He also ordered us each a glass of wine. I made a toast to kidnapping and we talked about everything we had done that day until our meals came. I made sure that Tanner knew how much I appreciated his thoughtfulness throughout the day without sounding mushy or overly sentimental. I was using a mom trait to keep things light but still important.

Then our food was delivered and I was like a fish out of water. I do not know where Tanner learned to eat like this but I could see why he had become so spoiled. We had a creamy potato and leek soup, a winter root vegetable salad, glazed salmon and a chocolate soufflé from heaven covered in angel dust (or powdered sugar). I loved good food but had only been exposed to home-style food that was good for a family and a bunch of ranch hands. As I licked my spoon of chocolate soufflé I decided I could definitely get used to eating like this.

The conversation flowed easily throughout dinner with Tanner explaining how he had learned about different types of food by entertaining clients and trying as many restaurants as he could. I shared the cooking wisdom I had picked up over the years by watching The Food Network, learning from his mom and trying to get a picky kid to eat healthy. _A feat that is so much harder than anyone tells you._ Tanner had relaxed since we had arrived in the city, almost as if he had left his skin here and was returning his body to its rightful place.

Tanner mentioned that he brought me to the city to show me his past life putting the stress on the past part. He was now ready to be part of the ranch, as long as he could visit the city once a year. I laughed at his deadpan face and took another bite of dessert. I continued to watch Tanner as I cleaned my spoon. His eyes had gone from playful to heated in seconds. I realized that I had been sighing while licking the spoon and I am sure I had a look of pure joy on my face. I was touched by his gaze in places long since dormant and I felt the blush creep up my face. While this should have embarrassed me, it actually made me feel powerful and sexy.

Tanner took my hand for the rest of the dessert and coffee and never took his eyes off my lips. You could measure the heat of our connection and anyone around us could almost certainly feel the charged atmosphere. Tanner had not kissed me since the day in the barn and I had been wondering if he regretted it. However the look in his eyes tonight said he was leaning towards the side of doing it again and soon. _Cannot be soon enough._

We walked hand in hand back to the truck and he reached around me for the car door. _Now or never Libby._ I turned in his arms and raised my chin while moistening my bottom lip with my tongue. I heard his breath catch and watched his eyes spark with want. I rose up on my toes meeting him halfway before his mouth claimed mine. The kiss was sweet then needy as his arms pulled me close enough to feel his heartbeat. Our tongues met in hesitation but quickly remembered each other and we both fell deeper into the kiss. _Home sweet home._

When we finally pulled apart both of us were short of breath and Tanner's eyes were wild with the desire I remember him having for me long ago. He leaned forward and kissed me gently without a word and helped me into the truck. My legs were shaking and my lips felt swollen and unbelievable. _This was what a kiss should do to you._

A kiss should turn your world upside down and leave you always wanting more. Tanner Dixon knew how to kiss me and he obviously remembered our kissing lessons at the stream because he never missed a beat. Giving and taking when necessary, allowing me to follow his kiss with contentment I had not felt in years. As he got into his side I was struggling to keep myself from crawling onto his lap and begging to be kissed again. I knew that we both needed time and as awesome as the day was, we still had a lot to learn about each other. The difficulty was convincing my body of this fact.

By the time we were in the car heading back to the ranch I was exhausted from the non-stop agenda of the day. The truth is I would always be a country girl at heart, but the fact that Tanner wanted to let me into his world was a big leap forward in repairing our broken relationship.

He had thought of everything on our kidnapping date today and I could not shake the feeling that we had crossed over the final barrier in our healing process. He obviously wanted to be more than friends, but I was still not one hundred percent sure he wanted to work towards a romantic relationship.

His city life sounded fast paced and hectic but full of interesting people and places. I could see some of the places he had pointed out to me held more meaning than others, but the pieces of his time away were slowly falling into place. My body had made up its mind about the grown-up Tanner, but my mind was still filling in the blanks. There was still so much missing from the picture, but I had to be honest with myself and recognize that my heart did not care. I had Tanner Dixon in my life again and I felt like the luckiest girl on the planet.

The city lights showed up in the rearview mirror and I happily tucked away the memories from today. I knew I was taking a risk allowing myself to dream of a future with Tanner but I wanted him and I would be doing myself a disservice to not at least try. The only thing left for me to do was be prepared to accept what he was going to give me. That and how I might have to decide if it was going to be enough.

I started to nod off and cuddled closer to Tanner for warmth and stability. Tanner had always been my rock throughout my younger years and leaning on him came as naturally as breathing. His arm came around my shoulders and pulled me to him. His chest was warm and I could feel his heart beating. I was tempted to slide my hand through the buttons of his shirt and touch his skin, but I thought better of it. Best to wait until the time was right, if there was even going to be a time.

I barely remember smiling up at Tanner with heavy eyelids thinking about how full my heart felt at that moment. It was as if the lightning had opened up a portion of my heart that had been shielded from the world since Tanner left and right now that hole was filled with love and contentment.

With the last of my consciousness I whispered, "I love you Tanner," then slipped off to sleep before he even had a chance to reply.

### Thank you for reading!

## Please visit your favorite eBook retailer to view the next books in the "Cowgirl Desires Series"
Romancing His Cowgirl

by

Jean Brooks
Copyright © 2017 by Jean Brooks

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Romancing His Cowgirl

All rights reserved.

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. No part of this work may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording and faxing, or by any information storage and retrieval system by anyone but the purchaser for their own personal use.

This book may not be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of Jean Brooks, except in the case of a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages for the sake of a review written for inclusions in a magazine, newspaper, or journal—and these cases require written approval from Jean Brooks prior to publication. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.

# Chapter One

Stretching on to my tiptoes, I stuff my bag into the overhead compartment before slumping listlessly into the claustrophobic seat. I'm only five-feet-six and some change, and my legs are around average at 30 inches, but the space allocated for them is ridiculously small. Exhaling a long, slow and irritated sigh, I try to remind myself that four hours is not an eternity. Although, I'm fairly certain it's about to feel like one. Buckling the seatbelt across my lap, I yank indignantly on the loose strap before tossing my head back against the hard seat. Closing my eyes, I hope that, despite the discomfort I'm forced to endure, exhaustion will tug me into some much-needed unconsciousness.

But fate, who seems to have her heart set on torturing me, will not give me a moment's peace. "Hi," a slick, male voice to my right says.

Reluctantly peeling my eyelids open, I twist my face in that direction. "Err...Hi," I mumble, less than enthusiastically.

Wearing a well-tailored pinstripe suit, which doesn't seem like the most comfortable option for plane travel, he reaches without a stretch to the closet above me. "Is this yours?" he asks. "Do you mind if I scoot it over a little?"

"Sure," I reply, with an apathetic shrug.

"Thanks," he smiles, his blue eyes glinting almost as brightly as his dazzling set of teeth. Carefully, he stows his brown leather messenger bag before lowering into the seat beside me. "Oh, man," he grumbles lightly, the long limbs of his well over six-feet frame squashed by the row in front. "They've gotta be kidding," he adds with a shake of his blonde head. I guess it's a naturally sandy, but it's been lightened with some highlights and styled in short, fashionably messy spikes. He's meticulously clean-shaven face displays the kind of smooth, milky skin most women would kill for. "I'm Jacob," he says, turning his face toward me as he lifts his right hand.

"Amy," I offer in return, taking his hand in mine. His palm is silky and warm, his handshake is effortless and well-practiced; firm but not overly so. I am aware, on some level, that I'm attracted to him. He's exactly my type: sophisticated, intelligent and suave. If I'd happened upon him at any other time in my life, I would be extremely interested in getting to know him better. Now, however, romance is the last thing on my mind.

"So, you heading to Denver for business or pleasure?" he asks, releasing my fingers and brushing at some barely visible lint on the thigh of his pants.

'Neither' is the blunt answer that reverberates in my head. "Err..." I mutter. I really do not want to talk about this. I don't really want to talk about anything to anyone. I just want to be left alone. However, I can't find it in me to be rude enough to announce that fact. "I'm...Well, I'm not actually going to Denver," I slowly explain. "I'm going to Kansas."

"Ah," he nods, "for a visit?"

I wish. "Sort of...I guess," I hesitantly reply, my eyes drifting to my lap. "That's where I was raised, I'm heading home for a while." A while is, of course, very unspecific. The truth is I don't know how long I'll be there. If I have anything to do with it, it'll be as short a period as possible. It's not that I don't like my hometown. It's not that I don't like my family. But I grew out of that small town life a long, long time ago. I've become used to the big city; I like the excitement and the vibrancy. I love living in New York. And going back to sleepy old Quinter is like admitting I failed in the big, wide world.

"Oh, well, that sounds nice," he responds, genially.

"How about you?" I quickly ask, hoping to shift the subject away from myself. "You've got a business thing in Denver?" I wonder, assuming from his clothes that he isn't going skiing.

"A conference," he nods. "Just a long weekend thing," he adds with a shrug. "So, you work in the city?"

Wondering why he can't be one of the many people I've known who relishes the opportunity to talk about themselves, I glance out of the window and realize we're taxiing down the runway. "Yeah," I quietly confirm. "Or I did, anyway. I got laid off three months ago."

"Sorry to hear that," he responds, seeming as genuine as he can be considering he's known me less than five minutes. "What line of work were you in?"

"Marketing," I breathe, twisting my face back to him. "You?"

Leaning his head back, he seems to get somewhat comfortable. "Corporate accountant," he supplies smoothly. "It's not the most thrilling work in the world, so I won't bore you with the details."

"No, please, go ahead," I urge. "I don't mind." At any other moment, I would be praying that he does not start yakking on about some tedious facet of his job, but, right now, it's preferable to the alternative.

"Nah," he chuckles, with a shake of his head. "It'll put you to sleep." That sounds fine to me, too. But I don't get a chance to tell him that. "Let's talk about something else. Whereabouts in New York do you live?"

Yep, this is exactly the kind of conversation I was trying to avoid. "Uhh, I had a place in Brooklyn," I say, my tone leaving no doubt, to my ears anyway, that I'm not entirely happy talking about this.

"Had?" he responds, either unable to pick up on my not so subtle signs or unperturbed by my reluctance.

"After I lost my job, and wasn't able to find another one, I couldn't keep up the rent," I admit, not knowing quite why I felt so ashamed at the prospect of speaking about it. After all, none of what's happened is my fault. The company tanked due to dire management. Mid-November was not the ideal time to be looking for a new position. No one's been hiring over the holiday period. At almost four and a half grand a month, the apartment in Sterling Place quickly drained my savings. Several of my colleagues are in a similar situation; searching for jobs that just aren't to be found. The difference for many of them is they have wives, husbands, boyfriends or girlfriends, who are able to take some of the financial slack. If this had all happened six months earlier, I would have had the luxury of a partner to fall back on, too. But, having been spectacularly dumped back in June, I am facing this alone. Not that being alone bothers me – I'd much rather that than being in an unhealthy relationship, which mine with Steve unquestionably was. Anyway, here I am, late January, doing the only thing I can: going home to my mom and dad. And all of those silent, depressing thoughts I keep to myself.

"I see," he mumbles, seeming embarrassed. Perhaps it was that he couldn't see my discomfort after all. "Sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"It's OK," I reply calmly. "It happens, right?" I add, trying to force some bright cheer into my tone. I have a hunch it falls flat, but at least I tried.

"Yeah," he agrees somberly. "Yeah, it does." For a moment, he's contemplatively quiet. His smooth right hand slides over his sleek jaw. "You know, I'm sure things will turn around."

"Hmm," I concur, trying to sound more convinced than I actually feel. "I hope so," I announce self-pityingly. I quite realize the maudlin mood I've been in over the last ten weeks is unattractive. Part of me can see myself from the outside, and is insistent that I snap out of it. Easier said than done.

I turn my attention back to the window, as the plane launches into the gray, winter sky. It is the very first time, since I came to New York, that I'm leaving without a definite date of return. That scares me. Everything in my life is suddenly very uncertain, and I'm not the kind of person that copes coolly with the unknown.

"I'll keep my ear to the ground," my talkative companion continues. "You never know," he adds, chirpily.

"That's kind, of you," I respond politely, not expecting it to come to anything. Lifting one denim-covered leg to cross it over the other, I quickly realize there is no space to complete the action. "I appreciate it," I continue, sighing as I place my right foot back to the stained carpeted floor.

"No problem," he says, a dry smile raising his lips as he watches my attempt to move. "I've got a couple of friends I can speak to," he explains. "They're not in marketing themselves, but they know people who know people." Making a rolling gesture with his hand, he grins. "Would it be OK to take your number?" Before I have time to reply, he's already reaching into the inside pocket of his suit. Clutching his phone, he slides his thumb over the screen before offering it to me.

Figuring I have nothing to lose, and I can always block his calls if he turns out to be a weirdo, I take the phone from him and tap in my cell number. "Thanks," I smile as I hand it back to him. I watch as he slides it easily from my fingers and types, 'Amy from the plane', before saving it to his contacts. It crosses my mind to tell him my last name, but I'm not offended by 'from the plane', so remain quiet.

"Maybe we could get together sometime," he muses as he places the phone back in his pocket. "I could come down to see you before I head back, or we could meet up when you're next in the city."

Internally rolling my eyes, I realize his offer of help is not without an ulterior motive. However, I'm not quite as irritated as I might otherwise be, because he isn't sleazy and neither was the way he asked me out. In fact, he seems like a nice guy. But I can't even contemplate trying to forge a romance at the moment; I'm in too much of a mess. "I'm sorry," I tell him quietly. "I just got out of a relationship, and I'm trying to get over that. I'm not in a good place to meet someone new." The 'just' is a distortion of the truth, as is the insinuation that I'm heartbroken – I wasn't even heartbroken in June, I'm certainly not crying myself to sleep nearly seven months on. Nevertheless, it is true that I'm not in the market for finding someone new.

"Oh," he nods with a soft, lopsided smile. "Well, I know what that's like. I split with my girlfriend a couple of months back. Gets easier, I promise."

If I still had my job, and my apartment, and I'd met this guy on the subway, I would be very tempted to accept his request of a date. But I don't have my job. I don't have my apartment. My life is in tatters, and it would be foolish to try to patch it with some hasty stab at love that could end disastrously. Flashing a small smile, I meet his blue gaze. "Sorry about your girlfriend," I murmur.

"Ah, it's OK," he dismisses, or at least tries to. There's a sadness in his eyes that suggest he hasn't entirely shaken it off. Perhaps he was hoping I would be a good rebound fling. All the more reason to stick to my guns, because the last thing I need is to be someone's sexual sorbet. "I'm sorry about your....boyfriend, husband?" he counters, questioningly.

"Boyfriend," I respond. "And...err....I think it was probably for the best that things didn't work out." I don't actually think that. I _know_ it. Steve and I never would have made it long term, the fact that we'd been talking about the possibility of marriage seems insane to me now. "Ah, let's talk about something else," I suggest, trying to dispel the very heavy atmosphere that encapsulates us.

"Sounds like a good idea to me," he chuckles.

"So, you always lived in New York?" I ask, my eyes shifting to the left and the city that is several thousand feet beneath us now. A blanket of melancholy swaddling me, I can't help wondering how long it'll be until I see it again.

"Ugh, well, I was born here," he begins, "but my family moved to California when I was in junior high." Once he's found his rhythm, he slips comfortably into talking about his childhood. I listen, or at least I pay some attention to him. I can't quite silence the thoughts that plague me. A part of my life is over...possibly forever. And I'm grieving for it just as I would for the loss of a loved one.

# Chapter Two

A little less than four hours later, I say goodbye to Jacob at Denver International Airport. He promises to call me as he leans down and kisses me amiably on the cheek. "I hope we'll be able to see each other again," he gently utters, before gifting me a beatific smile.

I make no assurances about that, but I do thank him once more for offering to help in my search for employment. And then, he ruins the gentlemanly image that seemed so unaffected and effortless. "Of course, you know, if you're not in a rush, you could always come to my hotel," he says, his face still close to mine, and his silky breath whispering across my cheek.

Almost certain I must have misheard, I tilt my head back. "Excuse me?"

"You could spend the night with me," he casually suggests, slipping his hands into his pockets.

"Uh," I mumble. His brazen advance seems so out of character that I still wonder if I'm getting the wrong end of the stick. "I..."

"I know you said you didn't want to get into anything," he interjects, still wearing his relaxed smile. "But we can keep things simple."

No, I haven't got the wrong end of the stick. I have, however, got him wrong. Boy, have I got him wrong! Clarity giving me much more confidence in my reply, I shake my head. "I don't sleep with men I've just met."

Peering at me with no small amount of skepticism, his smile turns crooked. "You sure about that?"

"Positive," I assure him.

"Not even a man who might be able to get you a job?"

This time the roll of my eyes is very much external. Jesus, I know how to pick 'em – to think, I'd actually been attracted to this guy. Exhaling slowly, I reach for the telescopic handle of my suitcase and pull it up. "If I wanted to enter the world of prostitution, I would have done it back in New York," I say tartly. "I don't need a job that badly." Casting my eyes to the floor, I take a determined step, dragging my case behind me.

"Amy, wait," he insists, snaking his long fingers around my upper arm. "I'm only fooling around. I'm still happy to help you. I just thought that...Well, I'm attracted to you, and I think we've got great chemistry. We're both single. So, what's the harm?"

Lifting my eyes to his face, I no longer know whether to believe what seems like sincerity. Not that it matters anyway. "No harm," I admit quietly. "It's just not something I do."

"All right," he concedes, releasing his hold of my arm. "I can accept 'no' for an answer. I think you're making a mistake, but I can accept 'no' for an answer."

Not bothering to make a quip about his arrogance, I walk away from him and don't look back. I make my way through the airport, to the Jeppesen Terminal and the rental car station. There, I pick up the keys to the car I booked a couple of days ago. The journey to Quinter from here is going to be close to another four hours, but it's a trip I'd much rather drive.

After tossing my suitcase and bag on the backseat, I move to the driver's door, trudging through sludgy snow that's making an unsuccessful bid to settle on salted asphalt. Shivering, I slip into the car and quickly start the engine. Twisting the heating up high, I wait a few seconds until the breath in front of me is no longer visible.

The traffic leaving the airport is a little clogged, but I soon find myself on the roomy I-70. From there, the route is tediously direct – and three and a half hours long, during which time I found myself thinking about Jacob. At first, I'm annoyed by my own misjudgment. But that gradually gives way to a sense of an opportunity not taken. I mean, he's not the only one in need of a sexual sorbet. There's been no one since Steve. Seven months is a long time to go without sex, not the longest I've ever been, but a long time nonetheless. And although I have never been interested in casual sex, I'm forced to ask whether that isn't exactly what I needed: one night to forget all my worries; to do something reckless, to live for the moment and to feel alive.

Those thoughts swirl disquietingly for the better part of an hour, until I push them aside decisively. I did the right thing. I may be in a rotten place right now, but sex with a stranger is not the answer I'm searching for. I still have my dignity, and that's got to count for something.

Keen to shake all further thoughts of Jacob from my head, I reach forward and turn on the radio. It blasts out some contemporary country music station. I don't bother to turn it over. Although I've always claimed to hate country music, the truth is it's something of a guilty pleasure. It helps the next hour and a half pass, until I reach the Colorado/Kansas state line. I have mixed feelings as I pass the blue 'Welcome to Kansas' sign, with its gold, long-tailed star. It's a homecoming, but the bleak, flat, snow-dusted landscape on either side of me seems prophetic somehow. Everything is deserted and silent. During the spring, summer and even fall, the vast sprawling land seems vibrant and promising. In the midst of winter, however, it is horribly desolate.

I'm not used to so much open space, I'm also not used to driving miles and not seeing a single soul. Even though this is where I spent the first eighteen years of my life, it's easy to forget just how quiet it is here.

The last leg of the journey seems the longest, and I can't prevent the quiet tears that creep over my cheeks. Honestly, I don't know why I'm crying. Depression and fear, I suppose. Fear that the grand plan I had for my life has slipped away. And what's left for me now?

It's almost seven in the evening, and completely dark, as I pull into the driveway of my parents' modest home with its white wood siding. As I come to a stop in front of the garage and turn the engine off, I take a deep breath. Before I get a chance to open the driver's door, I realize Mom and Dad are already trotting down the broad porch steps to welcome me. Lifting my hand in greeting, I give them both a feeble smile before getting out of the car.

My mom is approaching fifty-five but looks remarkably good for her age. Her skin is almost flawlessly smooth, with only a smidgen of make-up. Slim and fit, she has pale blue eyes that radiate compassion and a zeal for life. Her strawberry blonde hair is starting to gray a touch, but she could still pass for at least ten years younger than her age. It's easy to see why my dad is still so obviously crazy about her. When I was growing up, he often told me that she was his favorite person in the whole world. I believe that's just as true today as it was when they got married.

"Hi, Honey," she gushes, wrapping her arms around me before I've even had a chance to completely remove myself from the car.

"Hi, Mom," I reply, chuckling as I try to return her eager embrace. She's a few inches shorter than me. Not that there's anything wrong with her diminutive frame, but I'm grateful that I inherited a bit of Dad's height.

My father is your typical country guy; permanently in a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt. I only remember him wearing a suit once, and that was at my grandpa's funeral. He's a hardy kind of guy; one who believes in men being _men_. This evening, for example, despite the distinct chill in the air, his shirt sleeves are rolled up and he refuses to wear anything more substantial. I notice he's put on a little weight around the middle, but he's still looking pretty sturdy for a man in his late fifties. He also still has a full and healthy head of hair, even if it is more salt than pepper since the last time I saw him. "Hey, baby," he smiles, snaking an arm around my back and pressing a kiss to my forehead.

"Hi, Daddy," I reply, noting that I am much more moved by this reunion that I thought I'd be. After the rotten few months I've had, it's feels so incredibly good to be with people who love me.

"I'll grab your bag," he offers, already reaching for the car's rear door.

"It's all right, Dad," I try to stall him, but he is having none of it.

Clicking open the door, he bends and tugs my case with one hand, and my carry-on with the other. Full of capable ease, he shuts the door with his elbow and proceeds to carry my belongings into the house. "Come on in," he calls over his shoulder. "Dinner's waitin'."

Amazed at how quickly they're re-incorporating me into their routine, I lock the car as Mom keeps one arm looped around my waist and leads me to the front door. "You didn't have to wait for me, Mom," I tell her.

"Oh, don't be silly," she dismisses with a flick of her free right hand. "So, how was the trip?" she asks politely.

"Fine," I respond, happy to leave out the story of my meeting Jacob. We walk up the stoop in sync, our hips brushing. "Long, but fine," I add, as we enter the house. It is only then that she releases her hold of me to shut the door.

"Ah, well it's so good to have you here," she beams. It is the first time in a very long time someone has been so genuinely and thoroughly pleased to see me. I'm not sure why, but that makes my heart ache a little. "And, like I told you last week, you can stay as long as you like."

"Thanks, Mom," I reply, the words quivering as I fight back a fresh surge of tears. "I really do appreciate it."

"Oh, heck, honey, that's what we're here for," she chuckles, wrapping her warm, slender fingers around my wrist and tugging me toward the dining room.

Dad's already seated at the table. Chomping at the bit, he holds his knife in one hand and fork in the other while practically drooling onto the empty plate in front of him. My Pa has never been one to show much emotion. I guess it's all part of his notion of what makes a man. But he's not unfeeling. And, as he lifts his deep brown eyes, which are a mirror of my own, I can tell that he's just as pleased to see me as Mom is. He gifts me a quick wink before gesturing to an empty chair with his fork. "Come on, ladies," he urges with mock impatience. "If I don't eat soon, I'll be too weak to get the food in my mouth."

Mom and I obediently sit and allow him to dig into the pork ribs, creamed corn and mashed potatoes that grace the center of the table. Once he's gratefully feasting, I begin to dish up a small serving of the dinner onto my own plate. I can feel Mom watching me studiously out of the corner of my eye, so it comes as no surprise to hear her ask, "Is that all your having?"

"Well, I don't really eat big meals like this anymore, Mom," I explain.

"That's why you've gotten so skinny," my dad pipes up, as he abandons his silverware and goes at his ribs with his fingers.

"Michael," Mom chides gently.

"What?" he responds, defensively. "She _is_ skinny."

He's right, I suppose. My physique is a little more boyish than the last time I sat at this table. The weight loss wasn't through design, though. And I have a feeling most of it has come in the last few months, because, up 'til then, my clothes weren't as loose as they are now.

"You don't say that sort of thing," Mom continues to reprimand my father.

"I don't see why not," he grumbles before filling his mouth with a hearty bite of pork. "Once she starts gettin' your cooking inside her, she'll start lookin' more healthy anyway," he announces around appreciative chews.

I make no comment as I offer a forkful of potato to my mouth. It is, without question, one of the most delicious things I've eaten in a very, very long time. And an unbidden hum of approval does not escape Dad's notice.

"See!" he joyously declares. "I'm telling you, Han," he murmurs, "few weeks of home cooking, the girl will have some color in those cheeks and some weight on those hips."

Wondering if I really look as unhealthy as he claims, or if he's just determined to believe that New York is bad for me, I remain silent. One of my dad's philosophies on life, and he has several of them, is that human beings are not designed for city-living. I tend to agree with him, but I think it's _because_ we're not designed for it, that it's so exciting.

"Oh, Amy," Mom says, changing the subject. "I was talking to Dr. Roberts a couple of days ago, and he says he could do with an extra pair of hands at the vet clinic. I told him you might be interested in a job."

"Ah, I don't know," I reluctantly breathe.

"Why?" she asks simply, no trace of accusation in the question. "You like animals." It's true, I do like animals. But I haven't been around anything other than pigeons for years now, so I'm not entirely sure I'm cut out for work in a veterinarian's office. "And you need the work," Mom points out.

That is also true. But how can I explain to her that this is just a pit stop. I have no desire to get a job here, because the plan is to head back to New York as quickly as possible. "The thing is Mom-"

"You don't think you're too good for it do you, Amy?" Dad queries with a disapproving arch of his eyebrow. Another of Pa's oft-spoken convictions is that no honest day's work, no matter how menial, should be beneath anyone. "I know you're a big shot marketer, but-"

"No, no," I insist, although I have to silently admit part of me does feel that I'm better than any dead-end job I could get here in Quinter. "Of course, not. I was just hoping to spend my time searching for leads on jobs back in New York."

"You can do both, honey," Mom suggests evenly.

Dad is still peering at me with a question glance that tells me he can see something he doesn't entirely like in me. I have to admit, I don't blame him. I'm not proud of the way I feel. "Well, I'll give it some thought," I say quietly. It is only when Pa's lips drift into a small smile and his focus shifts back to his dinner that I feel like I can breathe again.

Silly really. I'm an adult, and I'm still concerned about earning my dad's displeasure. I suppose there are some things no amount of growing can rid us of.

# Chapter Three

Lying in bed, in the room that's mine, yet not mine, I stare at the familiar ceiling. I'd forgotten that it gets pitch black here at night. My apartment was never truly dark; lights from the street, and a constant roll of traffic infiltrated even the thickest drapes. Tonight, with no moon in the sky, everything in soporific Kansas is inky blackness. It feels a little like being buried alive, and I wonder how I ever managed to sleep like this. It is now that I realize, pulling the bedclothes right up to my chin, that it's been ridiculously long since I actually spent any real time here. Quick weekend visits is all I've granted my parents since setting up permanent residence in New York seven years ago. Always claiming to be too busy for a stay of any substantial length, I avoided Quinter like the plague.

Why is that? Well, it's true I have been busy. I used to regularly put in thirteen or fourteen-hour days, so keen was I to prove myself capable. I'd been so desperate to be seen as worthy of promotion based on my efforts rather than my femininity, work had become an all-consuming feature of my existence. I believe Steve worded it rather differently, "There's no room in your life for anyone else, Amy, because you're married to your damn job." I brushed it off at the time, putting it down to his ego being bruised over a missed dinner or something – I can't even remember what started the fight now. However, in a silence so deep I could be the only person on Earth, I am almost forced unwillingly to introspection.

And the fact is, I think, work became my be-all and end-all, because I was running from this black, silence; the country life I was terrified would be my lot. Funny how things workout. Of course, in the process of that running, I had all but cut off my folks. That bit of selfishness seems so stark in this stillness that I am amazed I didn't see it before. They must have noticed long ago. They must have realized, as I was making excuses not to come home for numerous Thanksgivings and Christmases, that I had 'better' things to do in the big, vibrant city.

Turning dejectedly onto my side, I pull my knees up toward my chest. I've been unpleasantly self-absorbed. Let's be honest, I've been an ass. But neither my mom or dad called me out on it, and now, when I need them, they're welcoming me back with open arms. I'm not sure I'd be quite so gracious in their position.

Inhaling deeply, I note my mom is still using the same washing powder. The scent combined with the familiarity of my room takes me right back to my junior high years; listening to Brittney Spears and 98 degrees, while griping to my best friend Laura Brady about the fact my parents still wouldn't let me get a cell phone. Her folks had just got her one for her thirteenth birthday, it was so unfair. "My loneliness is killing me," I murmur tunelessly, "And I, I must confess, I still believe." I haven't heard the song for at least a decade, but the lyrics are, apparently, lodged firmly in my brain. "When I'm not with you, I lose my mind. Give me a sign; hit me baby one more time."

Gradually, exhaustion from more than eight hour's traveling, and with Brittany gracing me with a bizarre, but soothing lullaby, I start to slip into a heavy sleep. Before I close my eyes, however, I promise silently that I'll make up for my superior, snobbish attitude. My parents deserve to know that I love them, and they are owed my gratitude for everything they're doing. I will also make my Pa proud of me come hell or high water. Oh, and they're also overdue an apology for the adolescent tantrum I threw over that cell phone. God, how did they put up with me? How _do_ they put up with me?

***

I'm yanked very unwillingly from my weighty sleep by the cheerful whistle of someone walking past my bedroom door. Why is it people say you can never go home? My home is exactly as I remember it. My dad, happier than anyone has a right to be at half-past five in the morning, has never been one to keep his chipper greeting of the new day quiet. It was always his dubious singing or loud whistling that would wake me every morning. So, while part of me would have liked to stay grumpy about the ungodly hour, I found myself smiling as I toss back the bed clothes and roll my sluggish limbs from the mattress.

Putting on a terry robe over my plaid pajamas, I run my fingers through my long, honey brown hair to iron out the worst of the mess before trotting downstairs. Following the sound of Dad's rendition of Bring Me Sunshine, I wander into the kitchen, where he's removing a bowl from a cupboard. "Morning, sweetheart," he says, with wide eyes and a bright smile.

Not quite as sprightly, I murmur a, "Morning," in reply. Shuffling my bare feet over the cold kitchen tiles, I set myself in a stool by the counter. "Dad, can I ask you somethin'?" I begin, realizing as the words slip from my mouth that I'm drifting back into my Kansas accent – something I worked hard to shed in my freshman year of college.

"Of course you can," he responds, as he diligently moved around the room, picking up flour, eggs and milk. "You want pancakes?" he asks, returning to the bowl with his armful of ingredients.

"No, thanks," I return, shaking my head. "Well..I..." I hesitantly stumble before deciding to take a different route. "First, I wanted to apologize," I say much more confidently. "I know that I haven't kept in touch as much as I should, and I haven't made nearly enough effort to visit."

He impassively cracks the eggs and pours the milk into the bowl as I speak. If he has any visceral response to my little speech he masks it with consummate ease. "You've been busy," he offhandedly shrugs.

"I still should have made time to see you and Mom," I argue.

"Listen, Amy, I know how ambitious you are," he sighs. Not bothering to measure the flour, he shakes a quantity of his own discerning into the mix. "I know you want to do big things, and you want to feel like you're part of something exciting. It's very different from the way your Mom and I see the world, but I support you, because you're chasing your dreams."

"Really?" I wonder, propping my elbow on the counter and resting my chin on the heel of my palm.

"Yeah," he replies, picking up a wooden spoon. "But I think you should be aware that, sometimes, the things you think you want aren't actually the things you want."

Far too early for the cryptic fortune cookie stuff, I shake my head in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Refusing to explain with a shake of his head, he begins to mix his pancake batter. "You'll figure it out," he gently tells me. "So, what was it you wanted to ask me?"

"Nothin'," I respond quietly. "Nothin' that matters anyway." For a moment, I simply watch him, knowing that if I were to say the words, 'Dad are you proud of me?', his response will be an unequivocal, 'Yes'. But I have no doubt that the reasons for that would have absolutely nothing to do with my degree, or my career, or where I had chosen to live. He places no real value in those things. I, on the other hand, place a great deal of value in them. He knows that, and it is certainly something he is less than proud of. "Dad," I mumble, "you know, I was thinking about what you and Mom said last night."

"Hmm," he hums, placing a skillet on the stove and turning up the heat.

"Well, you're right, I should do something while I'm here. So, I'll go and speak to Dr. Roberts later." I say, still having to consciously keep my sluggish eyelids open.

"OK," he responds, the implication being that he has no reaction one way or the other. Yet, I know he was disgruntled by my reticence last night. "I think it'll do you good," he conversationally adds while pouring a portion of batter into the hot pan. Smiling, deep wrinkles crease the corners of his dark eyes. "You go a few months out of work, it can really knock your self-worth," he says sagely. "And, you know, a job is a job, Amy."

"Yeah," I agree softly. "Yeah, I know. You're right." He often is. In fact, I struggle to recall a time when my dad has given me a bad piece of advice. He only has a high school diploma, but he is one of the smartest people I know. And that alone should be enough to make me question my prejudice about Quinter and small towns in general. The problem is I've been so wrapped up in myself that there hasn't been room to question anything.

"Things will work out, Amy," he urges gently.

Lifting my face to his, I give him a grateful smile. "There is one other thing I wanted to say, Pa," I utter, feeling slightly less heavy than when I woke. "I'm sorry about the cell phone."

"What cell phone?" he responds, his brow furrowing in bemusement.

"The one I wanted when I was younger," I explain, with a sheepish grin.

With a low, rumbling chuckle, he shakes his head. "I'd forgotten all about that," he murmurs between laughter. "I'll let you into a secret, there were a few years there, when I didn't pay much mind to anything that came out of your mouth." Unsure quite how to take that, I peer at him quizzically. "If you ever have kids of your own, you'll understand," he assures me sincerely. "Teenage years, it's like someone took your sweet kid and replace 'em with a monster."

"Was I really that bad?" I murmur contritely.

"Nah," he shrugs, smiling. "It's just a phase every parent's gotta ride out." Momentarily leaving his breakfast, he moves around the counter and drapes an arm around my shoulder. "But you were always a good kid, Amy. You're still a good kid."

"Thanks, Dad," I whisper.

With his words ringing in my ears, I give him a quick peck on the cheek before heading back upstairs and getting ready to face the day. The first order of business is to drop in on Dr. Roberts. And I promise myself I will approach the potential job with humility.

# Chapter Four

I was surprised to discover Dr. Roberts remembered me well. I was even more surprised that he hired me after no more than two minutes' of conversation. He was so eager to have an extra set of hands, that he asked me to start the very next day.

So, here I am, working as the office receptionist and general errand girl. One of my first tasks, for example, is to take down the Christmas lights that I'm told have been adorning the office since early December. I'm grateful to be employed. It's nice to feel a sense of purpose. However, in all honesty, it's difficult to throw myself into the job with glee. Despite reminding myself continually of my dad's unarguably accurate assessment, I cannot entirely shake the sense that I'm better than this. I would never say that aloud – part of me recognizes how unattractively egotistical it is. I'm not proud of the way I feel. But I feel it nonetheless.

Dr. Roberts, though, is a friendly employer and a pleasant guy to be around. He is some fifteen years older than me; I remember, when I was eleven or twelve, him first arriving in town. Back then, he worked with the aging Dr. Schultz, who had been Quinter's veterinarian for over half a century. With Dr. Schultz long since retired, Dr. Roberts runs the clinic alone. He's one of those people who always wears a smile. Somewhat older than the last time I saw him, his mousey brown hair is receding slightly. He needs reading glasses, and carries a few extra pounds. He quickly insists that I call him Felix, claiming that 'Dr. Roberts' sounds far too stuffy, and we fall into an informal and friendly working relationship. On the surface, things are good. They could certainly be a lot worse.

Yet, each night, I go home and begin the depressing scour of the internet for jobs back in New York. I email old colleagues, and I send inquiries to every firm I can think of – even though I've done it all before. I get very few responses, and the ones I do receive are brief 'thanks, but no thanks'.

Mom and Dad are both glad I have a job. And I suspect, Pa in particular, is secretly hoping that I may stay in Quinter. It's lovely that he wants to keep me close, but as the days turn to a week, and the reality of my new routine starts to dawn on me, all I can think of is getting the hell out of Dodge.

During that first week, news of my presence in town soon gets around, and I can't help but notice several folks dropping by the vet's office just to say 'Hi'. I think their neighborliness is really just masking curiosity. Faces I haven't seen in many years pop through the door to ask whether the rumors of my return are true, and to pry into the reason. Answering the same questions relentlessly becomes incredibly tiring.

"The job market is tough in New York right now. No, I'm not back to stay. Yes, it is good to spend time with my folks."

Seeing Mrs. Carlson, my elementary school teacher; Mr. Manning, the elderly gentleman who runs the hardware store; and a dozen other people that seem permanent fixtures of Quinter, I'm reminded just how set in its ways this old place is. I can see how some people would find the lack of change comforting, but, for me, it's anything but comforting. To me, it's like walking into the twilight zone: a world where no matter how much time passes, the scenery, the buildings and the people stay the same. It's silly, of course, because they haven't stayed exactly the same – they've all aged, which has made me feel old, too. And maybe that's adding to my distaste of these blasts from the past.

Just as I'm beginning to be drawn to the conviction that Quinter has been mothballed while I've been away, someone walks into the vet's office who proves me wrong.

I'm filing a patient's notes in the cabinet in the corner of the room when I hear the soft, polite clearing of a throat. "Just a sec," I call, sliding the document into its proper place and gently pushing the drawer closed. Fixing my bright, 'isn't it a wonderful day' smile in place, I turn. "Hi there, how can I help you?" I ask automatically.

The man, whose elbow is gently resting on the curved corner desk, has dew drops from erstwhile snowflakes clinging to his slightly-too-long, rich mahogany hair. He wears a faded denim jacket with sheepskin lining, and beneath that is a red and black flannel shirt. His cheeks a tinged pink from the sharp wind outside, and perhaps the shift of temperature as he wandered into the warm office. "Hi," he greets, his chestnut eyes settling easily on my face as he wields a dangerously charming, and adorable lopsided smile.

Unlike every other face I have seen since I arrived back in town, this one is new to me. And, there's no doubt about it, it's a handsome one. Don't get me wrong, he's not the kind of guy I would date, but there are some things you have to be blind not to see – and his appeal is one of those things. Even in his slouched pose, I can tell he's tall; maybe six feet two or three. It's also evident, winter layers notwithstanding, that he has broad shoulders. A few strands of his windswept hair are flopping over his smooth brow. He has a narrow, perfectly straight nose. And then there are those cheerful lips, which are soft and pink. Alone, they might be considered feminine, and yet, blended with the rest of his features, they're intensely masculine. Dark, arched eyebrows frame his faintly hooded eyes, and small wrinkles crease their corners.

"Hi," I say once again, realizing that it's been several seconds since I said anything and that I am staring.

"Hi," he echoes, his grin broadening. "You must be Amy," he adds, his Midwestern lilt infusing his deep voice with warmth.

Squinting a little, I cock my head to one side. "How do you know that?"

"Word travels fast in Quinter," he chuckles. "So, you're the Stanfords' daughter?" Although he frames it as a question, it seems clear that he already knows.

I can't help feeling a little rattled by the fact perfect strangers know me, or at least think they do, but knowing I cannot blame him for the town grapevine, I swallow the desire to tell him that my business is my own. 'Cause, of course, the truth is it's not. When you live in a place like this, no aspect of your life is entirely private. "Yeah," I mumble, "that's me."

"Your folks are nice people," he asserts politely, his dark tones seeming to permeate the space between us like thick caramel.

"I've always thought so," I agree, smiling.

"I'm sorry," he utters suddenly, pushing himself up from the desk. "You must think I'm terrible rude. I'm Christopher Hynes; everybody just calls me Chris." Introducing himself, he brushes his palm absentmindedly down the side of his jacket before offering his large, weather-chafed hand to me.

Stretching out my own arm to meet his, I wrap my fingers soundly around his hand. "Pleased to meet you," I say, finding that, through habit, the words emerge rather formally.

"That's a firm shake you got," he responds, his gaze moving with amusement to our clasped hands.

Not apologizing, I smile as I slowly draw my fingers from his calloused palm. "I'm used to doing business in New York, you give 'em a limp handshake there, and you're finished." It's only half said in jest.

"Ah," he replies, nodding solidly. "Well, I'm sure that's true Ms. Stanford."

"Amy's fine," I assure him, with a half shrug. The truth is, being called Ms. Stanford here feels very wrong. In New York, I'm Ms. Stanford; a woman who wears suits and has business lunches. Here, I'm simply local girl, Amy; a woman who wears jeans and buys a sandwich from the diner at the corner. I suppose it's like having an alter ego. The me that lived and worked in New York was a very different me to the one who grew up here. I don't suppose that's weird, or even unusual – we all wear lots of hats. The professional you is very different from the playful you. We compartmentalize our lives, even if it's on a subconscious level. It's only when two seemingly incongruous parts of ourselves are brought together that we realize it. It's jarring. Much better to keep those worlds separate. "So, what can I do for you, Mr. Hynes?"

"Hey, listen," he chuckles, "if you're asking me to call you Amy, then it has to be Chris," he insists quickly. "Uh, I just wondered if Dr. Roberts had a free moment. I need to ask him a question about one of my horses."

"OK," I respond professionally. "Well, he's in a consult at the minute, but, if you can wait, you're more than welcome to."

"Sure," he nods, smiling gratefully. "That'd be great." Stepping back from the reception desk, he slips his thumbs into the belt loops of his black jeans. "Please, don't let me keep you from your work," he cordially offers.

The fact is, there's not much work to do. But, even if there were, I wouldn't be in any rush to end the conversation. I tell myself the fascination with him is founded in him being a stranger to me. In a wasteland of stale familiarity, he is the only fresh face. "Oh, that's all right," I assure him. "I'm not too busy." He nods in reply, but doesn't grasp the unspoken offer my words extend. "So, you own horses?" I add, determined to draw him back toward me.

"Yeah," he replies, lifting a hand to the side of his head and dragging his fingers through the thick, dark strands of hair. "Yeah, I own the ranch on the northeast corner of town."

"The McGuire place?" I ask, leaning forward and folding my arms across the desk. I remember the McGuires well. Every Halloween, they set up a maze on their property and filled it with skeletons, jack o' lanterns and all kinds of scary decorations. Well, it was scary to a seven-year-old, anyway.

"That's right," he says, his fingers running around to the back of his head. "I bought it from them..." he pauses and his eyes drift to the ceiling. "Oh, maybe six years back now."

"Lot a land," I point out conversationally.

Meeting my eyes again, he smiles gently. "Thirty acres," he tells me.

"You raise horses for auction?" I wonder.

"Some," he nods. "I have a handful of good stallions that I stud. I give riding lessons, and we have some beautiful trails out there in the summer that attract vacationers. Hard to make ends meet, though," he admits. "And things are always tough this time of year."

"I can imagine," I murmur. I want to ask him why he doesn't do something else, but it seems rude. And there is a spark in his eyes as he talks about his ranch that tells me it's something his heart is committed to. Riches may not await many a horse farmer, but it's clear he's not in it for the money.

Blinking, his focus shifts away from me. I hear the door open and turn to find Dr. Roberts striding out with his usual exuberant gait. "Twice a day, and that should be cleared up within a couple of weeks, Mrs. Delgado," he says.

The middle-aged woman follows him, cradling a fluffy Bichon Frise dog. "Thank you, Doctor," she gushes before kissing her dog on the nose. "I don't know what I'd do without Dinky."

My eyes move fleetingly toward Chris, and I watch him suppress a smile. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Delgado," he greets, with a gentlemanly tip of his head.

"Hello, Christopher," she replies, grinning broadly at him. She doesn't stall her pace, though. Following the vet closely, she offers him a polite, "Thank you," as she steps through the door he's opened for her.

It is only once she is gone and the door is closed quietly behind her that I murmur, "Dinky?"

"Chris," Felix declares, warmly extending his hand to the tall ranch owner. "How's it going?"

"Not bad," the man replies. "I just got a little trouble with one of my mares. Wondered if I could run it by you."

"Sure, sure," my employer energetically nods. "Come on through." With a jerk of his head, he leads the way back to his consultation room. Chris Hynes takes long, smooth strides behind him, but his eyes remain on my face for longer than would seem necessary.

Once the two of them are gone, I sit in my chair and yank the computer keyboard in front of me. However, setting up Mrs. Delgado's bill doesn't take long, and once that task is complete, my thoughts drift back to the handsome man I've just met. I think what I find most unnerving about him is that he is so unlike every other man I've been interested in. And I do mean _every_ man. Even when I was in high school, I would pick out the guys who bucked the Midwest trend. In my sophomore year, I dated Logan, a rebel without a cause, who was heavily tattooed and pierced, and had dyed his hair jet black. By the time I reached my senior year, I'd moved on to Trent, who, like me, had ambitions of moving out of small town USA. However, while I was dreaming of New York, he wanted to travel the world. And he did, or a lot of it anyway. Last I heard, he had set up home in the wilds of Darwin, Australia.

So, to find myself attracted to a very typical 'country boy' is unsettling as it is unprecedented. Silently reminding that mesmerized part of me that a pretty face is not something to get carried away about, I hear the scratch of denim on denim. Twisting my head over my shoulder, I find Chris Hynes walking back toward my desk.

"Hope everything's going to be all right with your horse," I say, getting to my feet, so he doesn't tower over me.

"Dr. Roberts thinks she should be okay," he responds, slipping his hand into his jacket pocket. "Given me some meds for her," he adds, glancing down at the small jar of medication.

"Good," I smile.

"Hey, uh," he mumbles. Seeming ill at ease, he puts the drugs back into his pocket before meeting my eyes. "I don't know if this is too forward," he begins warily, "but I was wondering if you'd like to have dinner with me sometime."

"Oh..." For a moment, that's all I can muster. The question has caught me entirely off guard. And while my attraction to him is demanding I embrace the opportunity to get to know him beyond his pretty face, I am aware that it's foolish to get involved with anyone when the plan is to be out of here ASAP. "Well, that's very kind of you," I say quickly, realizing my protracted silence must seem rude. "But I don't think it would be a good idea."

"Oh, well, that's OK," he shrugs, his smile faltering only briefly.

"It's nothing personal," I hurriedly add, inexplicably desperate not to offend him. "You seem like a very nice man. I just don't want to get into a relationship right now."

He inhales, his broad chest becoming broader as he lets my explanation sink in. "OK," he breathes, sounding rather more accepting this time. "Well, I'll probably see you around." Tipping his dark head as respectfully to me as he had to Mrs. Delgado, he steps away from the desk and heads to the door. "Afternoon, Amy," he calls as he quietly pulls on the knob. "Was nice meetin' you."

"You too," I reply, stunned by the incredibly magnanimous way he handled what is, no matter how you dress it up, a rejection. I have never known anyone deal with a knock back so gracefully; not only had he simply accepted my answer without trying to coerce a different one from me, but he also maintained his polite and warm manner. No ego-bruised sulking, no petty attempt to bruise my ego in return.

And, I'm left wondering, why did I say, 'no'.

# Chapter Five

Of course, it doesn't take long to recall exactly why I said 'no'. And the reason is still perfectly sound. I have no intention of remaining in Quinter any longer than is absolutely necessary. If I get involved in a romance, even if it's only the very early stages of one, it will complicate the hell out of things. No, it's much better to stay footloose. Besides, Chris Hynes cannot possibly be perfect in every way. So, why ruin the flawless image I have of him by getting to know his faults? As things stand, he's a wonderful fantasy. He's filled a dream or two since that afternoon, and will undoubtedly feature in a few more.

What I don't bank on is how I will feel when I see him in the realms of reality. Four days after our first meeting, he placidly walks back into the office. This time, however, he's not alone. Sticking rigidly to his heel, and peering up at him with complete, unaffected adoration, is a chocolate Lab pup. I guess she's ten or twelve weeks old.

"Hi again," he says, almost blinding me with his bright, relaxed smile.

"Hi," I return, lifting myself out of my chair and glancing down at the cute puppy. "Who's this?"

"Uh, she hasn't got a name yet," he confesses. "I've only just adopted her."

"Only just?" I repeat, marveling at the way she stares transfixed at him – not that I can blame her.

"Yesterday," he supplies easily. "She was living with a friend of mine over in WaKeeney, but their other dog didn't take to her." Bending at the waist, he places his large hand around her belly and scoops her off the floor. "So, I said I'd take her in."

"That's kind of you," I comment, unable to resist the urge to reach out and run my fingers over the pup's soft head.

"Well, my old dog, Barney, died last year. I figured it was about time I let a new best friend into my life."

"I think she's going to be that all right," I agree, watching the way her big, brown eyes move over his face.

"Anyway, Dr. Roberts said, if I brought her by this morning, he could fit in her vaccinations." As he lifts his own free hand to stroke the dog, our fingers touch.

In a ridiculously adolescent fashion, I snatch my hand back and apologize. Then gauchely, I attempt to retract the apology, and end up looking and feeling like a fool on every possible level. "I'll just..." I mumble, desperate for the ground to swallow me up. "I'll just see if he's free." Moving swiftly away from the desk, I realize my cheeks are burning with embarrassment. I could just use the intercom, of course, but that would mean staying only a few feet from Chris, and that is something I'd really rather not do right now. Passing the consultation room, I move further down the hall to Felix's study. Softly, I knock on the door.

It only takes a few moments for him to energetically emerge with a smile that speaks of premature joys synonymous with spring. "Chris Hynes?" he asks expectantly.

"Yes," I confirm.

"Great, show him through. I'll just go and get ready." As he speaks, he moves briskly along the hall and slips into the consulting room. If he notices my reddened cheeks, he doesn't mention them. I tend to think it's that he didn't look at me long enough to take them in.

Taking a deep breath, I stroll back along the corridor. "You can head on in," I say, sticking a thumb over my shoulder to direct the way.

"Thanks," he grins, still clutching his nameless puppy to his broad chest. He takes a confident step, but something enters his mind and prevents him from taking another. "Actually, while I've got you alone for a moment," he quietly utters. "I was thinking about what you said last time we saw each other, and I wanted to let you know that, uh...Well, if a relationship is not somethin' you want right now, that's fine, of course. See, when I asked you out to dinner, I wasn't suggesting that we jump into a romance. I just thought it'd be nice to get to know you better."

"I know," I respond, my eyes darting to the floor. "Um..." I nervously mutter, forcing my focus back to his face. "I know that not all dinners lead to romance, but all romance starts with a date. And I just..."

"It's OK," he asserts, filling the artlessness of my silence. "I'm not trying to pressure you or anything," he adds smoothly. "All I really wanted to say was, we can keep things kinda friendly. If you don't want to have dinner, maybe we could have a casual lunch or somethin'."

"I appreciate that," I say genuinely. "But I think it would best if we didn't."

"All right," he responds, still wearing that generous, temperate smile. "Well, the last thing I wanna do is make you feel awkward, so I promise I won't mention it again, OK?"

"OK," I echo. I'm sure I should hear relief in my voice, but it's not quite as potent as it should be.

"Well, I better go and..." he offers, pausing before using one hand to cover both of his puppy's floppy ears. "Get her prodded with the needle." In his unassuming way, he wanders down the hall and walks through the open doorway. His deep voice reverberates back to me as he says, 'hello', to Felix and the two of them start fussing over the pup like old women over a newborn baby.

Amused by how such a big, strong, outdoorsy man's man can be so unashamed of a softer side that some of the metrosexuals I know back in New York would shy away from, I shuffle back to my seat. _'He isn't like any other man you've ever known, Amy,'_ I mutely tell myself. _'So, why not get to know him better?'_ This holding onto the perfect fantasy idea is starting to seem ridiculous. I mean, when I'm eighty, am I really going to be thanking my younger self for preserving some illusion...or will I be kicking myself for a chance not taken?

"But, what about New York?" I whisper aloud. _'What about it?'_ I'm forced to silently reply. I have no way of knowing how long it'll be before I get back, so the question is, why not enjoy myself while I'm here? It's stupid to follow the philosophy of not getting involved with anyone or anything in Quinter, because that will get me back quicker. Things don't work that way. And if Chris is content to keep things platonic, what the hell am I doing going home every evening to trawl through employment listings, and then fall into bed? Yes, getting another job in marketing is going to require some hard work, but I don't have something resembling even a semblance of a life right now.

So, what am I thinking turning down the opportunity to have one?

He strides back past me, still cradling his Labrador in his arms. He runs his fingers soothingly over her neck and she tips her head to lick his stubble covered chin. "See, now that wasn't so bad, was it?" he chuckles, speaking to the dog.

"Um, Chris," I blurt, shooting to my feet as he heads toward the door.

"Yeah?" he replies, swiveling on one foot, and turning to face me.

"I was..." I begin, hesitantly. Telling myself to grow up, I move around the desk toward him. "I was just thinking about what you said, and...Well, if the offer still stands, I'd love to have lunch with you."

Gradually, his always cheerful face breaks into a hearty beam. "Of course the offer stands," he chuckles. "That's great. So, what day is good for you?" As he speaks, his hand doesn't stop tickling the nape of the puppy's neck.

"Uh, well, tomorrow's Saturday; I have the day off. If you're free, that is."

"Yeah, I'm sure I can find the time to break for lunch," he asserts jovially. "Could I pick you up or would you rather meet someplace?"

"You can pick me up, as long as you don't mind," I reply brightly, noting that I'm actually looking forward to the prospect of spending time with him. "I'm staying with my parents, so-"

"That's no trouble," he quickly interjects. "I can come around for you 'bout noon."

"Sounds great," I reply, moving swiftly forward and opening the door for him, so he doesn't have to stop stroking the dog.

"Thank you," he nods. Taking a step across the threshold, he calls over his shoulder, "Well, I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Yep," I confirm keenly – a little too keenly perhaps. Ah, what the hell, I'm a grown woman; far too old to be playing these hard-to-get games. "See you tomorrow." I linger at the doorway, unperturbed by the frigid wind. Smiling, I watch as he walks across the street to his red truck.

He gently places his precious cargo in the passenger seat before rounding the hood to get to the driver's door. As he opens it, he lifts his head and gives me a quick wave 'goodbye'. I return the gesture, then decide to remove myself from the door before I start looking just like his lovesick Lab.

It's not until I turn back to the room that I realize Felix is standing by the desk. He's looking at me with a knowing smile. Feeling defensive, I toss my hands up, "What?"

"Nothin'," he returns, his grin not fading.

"It's just a friendly lunch," I point out, knowing even as the words spill forth that there is no reason on Earth for me to justify my date with Chris. In fact, come to think of it, I don't even know how much of the conversation Felix overheard.

Leafing through a sheaf of papers that he's swept up from the desk, he shrugs. "I never said a word," he insists calmly. Appearing to read, he scans the document, but it's only momentarily. "He's a nice guy, y'know," he says, casually.

"Certainly seems to be," I agree, unsure what inflection if any to place on the sentence.

"You could do a lot worse," he adds, lifting his gaze pointedly at me.

"It's a laid back, platonic lunch," I reiterate, unsure exactly who it is I'm trying to convince of that fact. Truthfully, I've never had the kind of butterflies in my stomach that I'm feeling now over a 'friendly' lunch. Oh, crap. Maybe I've made a mistake. Perhaps I'm setting myself up for a fall with this whole thing.

"So you said," he says with a sarcastic lilt as he nods with faux gravitas.

"Felix," I grumble, walking toward him and perching my elbow on the desk. "I've only met the guy twice, and I've only been back in town less than two weeks. I'm not trying to kindle this year's great romance."

"Sensible," he concurs, still grinning. "But just remember," he adds, his amusement seeming to abandon him very suddenly. "Life doesn't quite work that way. You can't apply 'sensible' to the ways of the heart."

"Oh, yes, you can," I insist, chuckling. "I've done it before, Felix. I'll do it again if I have to."

"Ah, well, then it wasn't really love," he counters.

And over that, I cannot argue. If real love (the intense, passionate kind I've read about) is always the kind that tosses common sense out of the window, then I'm not sure if I've ever really known it. Maybe I'm not capable of it – well, that wouldn't be such a bad thing. Saves on heartache, that's for sure!

"When real love gets you, Amy," he states, sounding a little like my father as he drops the papers back on the desk, "You'll see how futile all this 'laid back', 'platonic' stuff is. You can't control it, you can't rationalize it."

"Didn't have you pegged as romantic, Felix," I tease gently.

"I didn't have you pegged as one either, Amy," he tosses good-naturedly back. "But life is full of surprises."

# Chapter Six

The next morning, I wake at seven and have breakfast with Mom – Dad has already left to go fishing in Hoxie, with his lifelong buddy, Bill. I try to nonchalantly tell my mom that I'm heading out later, and it's exactly like being a teenager again.

Leaning back in her chair, she folds her left arm across her abdomen and nibbles on the piece of toast in her right hand. With the kind of scrutiny only a mother can give, she studies my face with a mixture of amusement and query. "You mean, like a date?" she asks, struggling it seems to keep a straight face.

"No, not a date," I return quickly, aware of the slight edge in my voice.

"Oh," she slowly replies. "And who is this not-a-date with?"

"Just a guy," I mumble. "A guy I met at work." It's ridiculous to think that answer will satisfy her. This is not a big city, where 'just a guy' is someone she's highly unlikely to know. Here, there is no guy in town she doesn't know. It's also obvious that she'll find out sooner or later – this place should be in the Guinness Book of Records for the speed that gossip can get around. "His name's Chris," I eventually announce.

"Chris Hynes?" she asks rhetorically. "He's not really your type, is he, honey?"

Rankled, my brow furrows as I push the scrambled egg around my plate. "What do you mean?" I'm defensive, and I know there's no real reason to be. Mom didn't place any trace of accusation into her observation, it was just that: an observation. The suggestion that I'm too much of a snob to be interested in someone like Chris is entirely in my head. "You think, I think I'm too good for him?" I demand softly, sure that it comes across as a case of protesting too much. On some level, I do think I'm too good for him. At least, I did. I know without question, if I had bumped into him in New York, I wouldn't have given him the time of day, much less a second glance. I feel horribly guilty about that, and have a great deal of contempt for myself.

Refusing to answer the question, perhaps because she knows I'm reading far more into her comment than she intended, she smiles. "You know, there's a theory that women are attracted to men who are either exactly like their fathers, or nothing like their fathers," she mentions casually, taking another bite of her toast. "You've always been the former."

"That's-" I begin to say, before halting myself. Actually, as I flash through every relationship I've ever had, it's true.

"It's an unconscious thing," Mom says calmly. "But I was starting to worry," she admits. "I didn't want you to end up marrying some shallow, selfish guy, who'd ultimately make you miserable."

"You think all of my boyfriends have been shallow and selfish?" I retort.

"You don't?" she counters, grinning.

Some of them, Steve for example, she never even met. But, I suppose, what I said about him – even though I never intentionally talked bad about him to my folks – was enough for her to form a judgment. And, when I consciously compared him (and the three other short-lived relationships I've had as an adult) to my dad, I realize she's right. They were all selfish, materialistic, driven by money and power, obsessed with work. They were nothing like Pa. They were, however, a lot like me.

"It's nice to see you showing interest in a different kind of man," she adds, popping the last of her toast into her mouth before getting to her feet.

"It's not a date," I repeat, watching her back as she walks to the sink. She doesn't reply. But, even though I can't see her face, I know she's smiling.

***

Noon comes quickly. I'm dressed for the cold in khaki chinos; a chunky knit, navy blue, roll neck sweater; and a pair of fleece lined ankle boots. As I come down the stairs, wondering whether or not I'm too casually decked out, the doorbell rings. "I'll get it," I call to Mom, who's busy preparing lunch for my dad's return. Pausing to give my lightly made-up face a quick check in the mirror in the hall, I flick a strand of loose hair off my shoulder. "OK," I breathe, "it's just a lunch. Just lunch with a friend." Braced, I turn away from the mirror and swiftly open the front door.

The crisp midday air strikes me and steals my breath. At least, I choose to believe it's the cold air that's making it difficult to breathe.

As it happens, I'm not under dressed, but Chris has obviously made an effort to look his best. His face is clean-shaven, and he wears dark blue jeans, with a thick leather belt. His pale blue and white gingham shirt is tucked neatly into his pants. Over that, he wears a black, wool Harrington jacket. The zip open and his hands leisurely resting in the pockets.

"Hey," he greets, smiling. "You ready to go?"

"Yep," I reply, reflecting his grin. "Let me just grab my coat," I add, dashing back toward the stairs, where my jacket is tossed over the banister. I realize, as I sweep up the lightweight, waterproof red garment, that Mom is standing at the threshold of the kitchen. From there, she sees down the hall and directly to the front door.

"Afternoon, Chris," she calls, lifting her flour coated hand.

"Hi there, Mrs. Stanford, ma'am," he replies, equally cheerfully.

"Oh, how many times?" she lightly complains. "It's Hannah."

"Nice to see you again," he returns. "You be sure and tell your husband, I said 'hello'."

"I will," she assures him smoothly. "You kids have a good time."

"Thank you, ma'am," he replies, refusing it seems to call her by her first name.

Having a flashback to when I was a fifteen-year-old, and going out for my first date (which wasn't really a date by adult standards, it was an afternoon at the movies with a boy), I loop the jacket over my arm and holler, "Bye, Mom," before heading to the door.

"Bye," I hear her call, as I step out onto the porch and shut the door softly behind me.

Having wandered back to clear the path for me, Chris lingers a pace to my right. "So?" he sighs quietly. "You in the mood for anything in particular?"

"Sorry?" I respond, twisting my head toward him.

"You got a hankering for anything special?" he says. "We can head into town, or go further out of town?"

The penny dropping, I smile. "I don't mind where we go," I tell him, as I tread carefully down steps that are covered in a couple of inches of snow. "What are you in the mood for?" I return, glancing over my shoulder.

Following me, he takes his hands from his pockets and allows his arms to swing loosely by his sides. "Well, as we're just having a friendly lunch," he smiles, "I was thinking maybe the steakhouse."

"Sounds fine," I nod as his long strides easily bring him to my side. Soon, however, they're taking him ahead of me. Reaching for the passenger door of his truck, he opens it wide and gestures chivalrously with his free hand. Unable to recall the last time a date opened a door for me, I thank him and climb up.

The interior of his truck is much cleaner than I would have expected for a rancher. And again, I'm reminded of my propensity to prejudge a person or situation. As he gets into the driver's seat beside me, I notice for the first time that there's a clean, earthy smell about him. It's like a summer meadow after a heavy shower. It's intoxicating.

Unaware that I'm subtly breathing in more of his heady scent, he starts the engine and puts the truck into drive. We chat about inconsequential things throughout the twenty minute journey, and when we reach the restaurant, he once again moves around the hood to open my door. Unaccustomed to the chivalry, I've already opened it by the time he gets there, but that doesn't stop him holding it for me and offering me his free hand to help me as I step down.

The steakhouse hasn't changed in a...long time – probably a decade or more before my life began. It's still owned and run by the same people: Murray and Millicent Hoffman. However, they have help in the guise of Alice Monroe. She's a beautiful, lithe, blonde of twenty, who was still just a girl when I left for college. I doubt if she'll remember me. As we stroll through the doors, I wonder if she'll see me at all. Her aqua blue eyes are focused exclusively on Chris.

If he notices the young woman's admiration, he neither encourages it or reacts in any way. Politely, he asks for a table for two, and when Alice encourages us to follow her, he insists that I precede him.

Once we're settled in a corner booth next to the window, he tosses his coat on the vacant seat beside him and focuses only half his attention on the menu. "So, you were born and raised in Quinter?" he asks.

"Yeah," I reply.

It is only then that Alice, with her pad and pencil poised to take our drinks order, tosses a glance my way. "Oh, my God," she breathes. "Amy Stanford. Wow, it's been a long time! I heard you were some big shot up in New York."

"Uh...well, not a big shot," I murmur, nervously pushing some hair behind my ear. "But anyway, how are you doing Alice. Last time I saw you, you were still a little girl."

"Yeah, yeah," she chuckles. "I'm good. I'm working to save up for college. Hoping to go to Kansas State next semester."

"Good for you," I return with a smile.

"Anyway," she announces with a bubbly laugh. "What can I get you folks to drink?"

Chris and I both order a soda, and Alice briskly skips away. "So, it really is true what they say, everybody knows everybody here." he points out softly.

"You hadn't figured that out already?" I counter sardonically.

"Yeah," he admits, nodding. "It's a surprise that once you've been here everyone remembers you, though. Not that I'm surprised that people remember you," he adds. "I certainly will."

Feeling the compliment more profoundly than is perhaps his intention, I change the subject. "So, what about you? Where were you born and raised?"

He rests his forearms on the edge of the table and flicks his menu aside before telling me about his childhood in Salina, as the son of a wheat farmer. Coincidentally, I have cousins there, and spent several summers with them. When he asks me who my relatives are, it turns out he was good friends with my older cousin, Kevin, whom he went to elementary school with, and he even attended a high school dance with my other cousin, Helena.

"You two were an item?" I ask, trying to picture my very short, redheaded cousin with the reasonably tall ranch owner.

"No," he smiles. "It was one of those girl's choice things, and I didn't like to say 'no'. I don't think, after spending an evening with me, she was quite so keen anyway." With a bashful shake of his head, he sweeps a hand through his hair. "You know, what is funny, though," he adds quietly. "I must have come so close to meeting you."

Realizing he's right, I wonder how things would have turned out. Would I have shunned my 'no country boys' policy if I'd met him? "Yeah," I murmur. "I guess we just missed each other."

"I can't help thinkin' that's a shame."

I can't help thinking the same thing, but it surely wouldn't have changed anything. I would still have wanted to move away for college, and I can't for one second imagine him thriving in a big city. He may not mind a visit now and then, but, he's like my dad, living in a concrete jungle isn't his style.

We continue to swap childhood tales over our meal; I discover that he frequently visited the Kenwood Cover Water Park, a place my cousins would always drag me to on the scorching hot days of July. It seems incredulous that I didn't bump into him at some point in the five years I spent summering in Salina. Yet, I'm certain I would have remembered him.

When we finish lunch, he insists on paying, despite my best efforts to persuade him to go halves. "If I ask a lady to lunch, I don't expect her to pay," he contends, but it is only when I begin to sense I'm offending him that I finally relent.

Walking unhurriedly from the restaurant, and aware that Alice's envious eyes are on my back, we wander toward his parked truck. "If you're not in a hurry to get back home," he says, pulling his keys from his pocket and using the remote to unlock the car, "do you want to go for a walk or somethin'?"

In no mood to call the afternoon finished, I agree without any significant pause.

"Good," he beams, opening the door for me again. "I know a beautiful spot."

# Chapter Seven

Chris drives us out of town and all the way back to his ranch, completely relaxed in his company it doesn't even occur to me to ask why we seem to be going back to his place or where this stunning walk is. The trail up to the large house is covered with a fresh layer of snow, but it's shallow enough that I can see the tracks of his, and probably other, tires.

The ranch house itself has barely changed since the last time I saw it. A strikingly large construction in timber, the only difference that leaps out at me is that most of the front of the house is now plate glass. Huge windows offer panoramic views of the land's sloping hills. "Wow," I can't help but breathe. "That must be quite a view."

"Ah, it is," he agrees, obviously still as taken by it now as he was when he took over the place. "Some of the neighbors," he adds, using the term loosely, as there are no other houses for a couple of miles in either direction, "weren't so crazy about it, they thought all that glass looks too modern. But I say, if that's what you've got to look at," he urges, tipping his head to the fields on my right, "then you wanna see as much of it as possible."

I can't disagree. "For what's it worth, I think the house looks great. The windows really compliment the style."

"Thanks," he says, pulling the truck to a gentle halt, and shutting off the engine. "Looks better from the inside," he adds, enthusiastically. And I can't help but wonder, just for a moment, whether he's going to invite me in. Of course, if he does, that doesn't mean anything. It doesn't make this more of a date. Friends go into friends' houses.

However, no request comes. He slips down from the truck, walks around and opens my door in silence. Grinning, he says, "Wait there a sec," while he jogs two porch steps at a time and opens his unlocked front door. I'm slightly bemused until I see the chocolate Lab dash through the open door and circle his ankles. Without stepping inside, Chris reaches for something, then shuts the door once more. It's not until he turns and begins trotting gracefully down the steps again that I see he has a leash in his right hand.

Coming within a pace of me, he bends and hooks the leash onto the pup's collar. "Didn't like to leave her alone any longer," he explains, straightening to his full height once more. "Hope you don't mind."

"Of course not," I reply, sinking to my haunches and stroking the dog from her silky head all the way down her back.

"Oh, and you two haven't been formally introduced yet, have you?"

Lifting my face to him, I cock my head curiously. "Huh?"

"Amy, this is Freya," he announces.

"Freya?" I echo.

"She was the Nordic goddess of, among other things, love," he explains. "Seemed about right for her," he adds, with a subtle shrug.

Pushing myself back up, I nod. "Yeah, I think so too." It surprises me that he would pick a name like that. It shouldn't. Just as it shouldn't surprise me that he knows something about mythology – although, if I'm honest, I'm taken aback by that, too. If I have learned anything over the last few days, it's that assuming I can predict the way Chris will behave, based on stereotypes and preconceived notions, makes a fool of no one but me. But I had thought he'd pick a more gender neutral name: Hunter, Barley, Storm or Fudge; something simple and more befitting the companion of a rugged farmer's boy. I don't say any of this to him, though. Instead, as I quietly, muse over my thoughts, I let him lead me down a narrow trail that takes us around the back of his house.

Freya stays close to him, lingering between the two of us as we stroll down a slight slope and then back up. Over on the left, he points out the horse trails he uses in the summer; they're completely covered in snow, but I can envisage the path they must take. "Do you ride?" he wonders casually.

"Oh, I haven't for a long time," I reply, trying to recall. I think I might have been about fourteen the last time.

"Didn't like it?" he asks, quietly curious.

"No," I sigh, stuffing my chilly hands into my jacket pockets. "I don't really know why I stopped, just had better things to do, I suppose."

"Maybe you should give it another go," he suggests, softly. "Cold?"

"Little bit," I admit with a nod, as I lift my shoulders and bury my chin into the thick neck of my sweater.

Without hesitation, he wraps his left arm around my shoulders and draws me closer to him. "Any better?"

It is much better, but I don't think it's just the presence of his warmth that's helping. My body heat has skyrocketed far too quickly for it to be the result of sharing his. My heart thumping more fervently than the last time I ran to catch the subway, I turn my face to him and find myself temptingly close to his neck. Inexplicably staring, I find the pulse point on his throat and am transfixed by its even cadence.

"Amy?" he nudges, twisting his own face to mine and reminding me that a question had been asked. What was it again?

"Oh, yes," I murmur. "Thank you."

"You wanna go back?" he quires.

"No," I quickly reply. "No, it's nice out here."

"Well," he smiles, "take a look at this."

I knew we were still moving, but didn't realize we'd reached the top of the hill until he begins to gently turn me around. Inhaling slowly, I see the house below us and completely unspoiled, snow-dusted landscape as far as the eye can see. It is around three o'clock and the sun is already beginning her descent, although she'll be around for another hour at least. The uninhibited amber glow of her waves is glinting across the snow, giving everything a sort of chimeric feel. To me, it still seems horribly desolate compared with the skyline of New York, but even I have to admit, it's beautifully desolate.

"I love it up here," he whispers. "Everything seems like it'll be all right from up here, you know what I mean? What you can see of the world seems so perfect, you have no other choice but to think everything's gonna be OK."

"It is wonderful," I agree softly.

"Not like New York though, huh?" he says perceptively. Unlike my dad, Chris manages not to sound affronted by the possibility. But I guess he must, deep down, think of me as a snob.

"Honestly?" I sigh. "I do miss it."

His fingers moving in nonchalant circles over the curve of my shoulder, he shrugs. "It's understandable. I mean, the place has been your home for the last ten years. Any luck so far on the job hunt?"

I can't be sure whether he is asking simply to be polite or whether he's genuinely interested. I determine not to attempt a judgment either way – inevitably, I'll be wrong. "Not so far," I admit a little dejectedly.

Subtly easing his side from mine, his arm slips from around me and he turns his body fully toward mine. "I know I haven't known you very long," he begins, "but I like to think I know you some." He smiles hesitatingly, waiting for me to correct him. When I don't, he seems to think it's safe to continue. "You're a hardworking, dedicated woman, Amy. You're the kind of person who gets what she wants. This time is no different, you've just gotta be patient, and keep being tenacious."

Peering up into his kind face, I blink. "You learned all of that in one lunch?" I ask.

Chris tips his head back as he laughs deeply. "No," he confesses, with a shake of his head. "I guess, some of it I picked up from the gossip goin' round town."

"Gossip?"

"Oh, nothing bad," he quickly interjects. "People just talking about how you always seemed too larger than life for a place like this; you needed something more."

"You mean, they think I look down on everyone here?"

"Nobody's said that," he insists calmly, as sparse and damp flakes of snow begin to drift from a small gray cloud directly overhead. "And I don't think it for a second," he adds, holding my gaze fervidly.

I feel like I'm being pulled into the depths of those dark eyes. Unable to take my focus from them, and unable to move, I stay completely still, as he lifts his fingers to my face.

Chuckling, he grazes my cheekbone with the calloused pad of his thumb, wiping away a melting snowflake. "There's a big difference between being arrogant, and being ambitious. Wanting something more than a life in Quinter doesn't make you a snob, Amy."

"I have been one, though," I insist, barely able to find my voice. It seems my throat is as paralyzed as the rest of me. I don't know why it's important that he sees the real me, rather than the idealized version he's painting. Maybe it's because I'm worried that he's half as attracted to me as I am to him. If he is, we've got a problem. A big one. Is that what I'm doing? Am I really trying to put him off? Or is there something about him that provokes truthfulness? I'm inclined to think it's a mixture of the two. What I'm sure of is that I have very little control over myself. "I haven't been back home for years," I admit. "It wasn't just 'cause I was busy, it's because I didn't want to."

"But you're here now," he points out, his warm fingers lingering on my skin.

"Yeah, because I was screwed and had nowhere else to go," I retort. "I've acted like a spoiled, selfish-"

"Amy," he interrupts quietly. "We've all made mistakes. Nobody's perfect. We're all capable of being selfish sometimes. But I don't believe that's who you are, you wouldn't feel bad about it if it were."

Tugging my bottom lip into my mouth, a run my tongue across it. "The thing is," I murmur, "I'm not really sure who I am anymore. I thought I knew, but it turns out, without my job, I'm actually....nothing."

"You are not nothin'," he contends firmly. "You've been thrown a curve ball, and you're having to reassess things, that's all. I know what that's like," he softly adds. His hands gradually gliding from my cheek, his face begins to draw closer.

No longer even breathing, I remain motionless. Fractions of a second seem to last a lifetime, as I watch his handsome features dip down toward my face. With the weight of anticipation, my eyelids slip closed. And then, lighter than the brush of a butterfly's wing, his lips caress mine. Warm and sweet, our mouths smoothly meet. He asserts just a hint of pressure. It is so incredibly brief, barely a kiss at all, but it is indescribably intense.

"Sorry," he mutters, causing my eyes to flutter open.

"What for?" I whisper, searching his face for the reason he suddenly ended what was set to be the best kiss of my life. Who am I kidding? It _was_ the best kiss of my life. It may have lasted no more than a couple of seconds, but it stirred things in me that a full-on French kiss has never achieved.

"I promised that this afternoon would be on a friendly basis," he explains, shuffling slightly, but deliberately, back a pace.

Unable to help myself, I grin. "Felt pretty friendly to me," I mischievously reply.

"You know what I mean," he returns, smiling shyly. "I promised you a platonic lunch."

"Well, lunch was," I shrug.

"Amy," he chuckles, shaking his head. "You don't want any kind of romance. It was wrong of me not to respect that."

It's on the tip of my tongue to tell him that I was wrong, but good sense appears to stop me. After all, right at this moment, I'm not thinking all that clearly. The kiss, the closeness of him, and that natural, sexy smell are all joining forces to make me lose my head. But, if I were able to think, I'd know that this is a bad idea.

"C'mon," he urges, with a subtle jerk of his dark head. "I'll drive you back home."

"Chris," I mumble, reaching for the sleeve of his jacket as he makes a move to retrace our steps. "I've had a great time this afternoon; best I've had in a long time actually. And I...Well, I just want to thank you."

Black lashes moving gracefully, he blinks. "You're welcome," he says, with a half-smile. "I had a good time, too."

"I was sorta hopin', maybe we could do it again sometime," I suggest, warily. I hope he's not going to distance himself, because he feels as though he's taken advantage of the situation.

It seems like a long time until he replies, yet the warmth of his mouth and his eyes never fades. "I'd like that," he asserts softly. "And I promise, next time, I will keep my lips to myself."

Breaking into a smooth laughter, I wonder what he'd think if he knew just how much I did not want him to keep that wonderful mouth of his to himself. However, I realize it's probably wise that he does. "OK," I whisper, nodding.

# Chapter Eight

When I get home that night, both of my parents gently tease me about my non-date. Dad makes a couple of cracks about being pleased that Chris got me home at a decent time, while Mom offers none too subtle (and not entirely jesting) suggestions that I should consider going on a _date_ date with Mr. Hynes. I don't bother to tell her that our non-date had actually strayed into gray territory.

I let them good-naturedly rib me without complaint. I do however remind them that I'm a grown woman rather than a teenager. They both chuckle, and I come to the realization that they are still both very young at heart. It was something I hadn't really appreciated when I was a kid. There is a child-like side to both of them, which makes laughter easy and joy abundant. I envy them that.

Later, lying in bed, I find myself unable to sleep again. But it's not the darkness, I think I've become used to that again. No, the reason my eyes remain fixedly wide is that I can't get Christopher Hynes out of my head. I can't get that kiss out of my head, either. Having told my parents that I'm an adult, I'm staring at the ceiling reliving an innocent brush of lips as if I were an adolescent, and that had been my very first kiss. It's all ridiculous, I know that. Problem is, it's all so unfamiliar to me. Even when I was in my teens, I didn't have these romantic ideals. I didn't daydream about my first kiss – it was actually a sloppy few seconds best forgotten, and I realized that at the time. From then on, I dismissed all notions of love being some breathtaking, soul-shaking experience. Love was, as far as I was concerned, always going to prove disappointing if I believed the garbage on TV shows, in movies, and in books.

Subsequently, Chris was the kind of man I'd ceased to believe existed. I certainly never expected to find him. Of course, I could just be letting my imagination getaway with me. Perhaps it's being back in my childhood home and town that is giving rise to the naive in me. Maybe Chris isn't the man I have in my head at all.

Turning my thoughts consciously from that path, I tug them back to the kiss again. Closing my eyes, I picture his face before mine. I feel the slight, sweet warmth of his mouth, and I find myself craving it again. And, in fact, craving more. Much more. But that would be foolish. I am not interested in a meaningless roll in the hay (and, if he is the man I think he is, neither is he). And I could not possibly consider staying here indefinitely. Could we have some kind of long distance relationship? Even that seems impracticable. Given his work on the ranch, long weekends away would be impossible for him. Besides, although our backgrounds may be similar, we are just too different to make it work....aren't we?

Eventually tiring of my internal whining, I turn on my side and pull the bedclothes up over my head. I'm not sure how long it takes, but soon I find sleep.

***

It's another two days until I see Chris again, which feels like a lot longer to me. In the interim, I try to shoo the thoughts of him that seem to assault me whenever I am not concentrating on something else, which is always. Even when I'm at work, my tasks are no more than a trained monkey could comfortably manage.

And then, my withdrawal (because that's exactly what it feels like) is stemmed when, on a bright Tuesday afternoon, Chris and Freya walk unassumingly into the office. My head darting up as soon as I hear the door, my face breaks into an unbidden and completely untamed smile. "Hi," I say, feeling the fluttering of silly nervousness in the pit of my stomach.

"Hey," he replies, grinning with his characteristic composure and charm.

"I didn't know you had an appointment," I point out, trying to grope for some topic of conversation, so I am not merely staring at him like a dazzled fool.

"Oh, we don't," he admits softly. "I'm actually here to see you."

That makes me feel simultaneously great and wary. After all, it's one thing to harbor fantasies and constantly daydream about him, the reality of him being interested in me is something significantly more scary – not least because my track record with relationships has been disastrous. I know from experience that I make a lousy girlfriend. And, if for no other reason than the fact he deserves far better, I have to avoid anything deeper than friendship. If I were to think selfishly, on the other hand, there are dozens of other reasons. "Well, that's very sweet of you," I reply, my smile softening.

"Y'know we spoke about spending some more time together?" he asks, sticking his thumb in the belt loop of his jeans. "Well, I was thinking we could go horseback riding this afternoon."

Startled, my mouth drops open. "Oh, well, that sounds like a lovely idea," I babble. "But I've gotta work, so..."

"No, you haven't," he replies, a crafty spark lighting his eyes. "I spoke to Dr. Roberts this mornin', he said it'd be fine for you to take the afternoon off."

My focus moving from his face to the dog that brushes her head against his calf, I don't know what to say. I still have just enough of my wits to know that spending more time with him, although incredibly appealing, is going to exacerbate my propensity to be distracted by the thought of him. However, the craving to be in his company – that addiction that seems already to have me in its grip – is a powerful pull to resist. "Um..." I hesitatingly mumble. "Well, I don't want to leave Dr. Roberts in the lurch. He has patients and-"

As if in cue, the effervescent Felix bounds down the hallway and announces himself with an elaborately theatrical cough. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything," he says, peering at me covertly. "Hi, Chris. How's Freya, doin'?"

"Good," the handsome man responds amiably. "Yeah, she's doing just fine."

"So, are you here to borrow my employee?" Felix chuckles, rocking on his heels as he glances gleefully from Chris to me.

"If it's still OK," Chris replies, seeming to direct the query to me rather than my boss.

Felix, however, assumes the question is being asked of him and is swift to respond. "Of course it's OK," he nods, folding his arms across his abdomen as he continues to gently sway. "I have a quiet afternoon ahead. Pretty sure I can manage on my own."

"Amy?" Chris hopefully asks.

With no other excuse, except the truth, which I am loathed to say aloud, I seem to have little option, but to say 'yes'. It would be a big fat lie to suggest that I feel like a victim in all this, though. It's not exactly unwillingly that I nod, grab the coat from the back of my chair and walk around my desk to meet him. I need no persuasion to walk out the door with him. He doesn't have to drug me to get me into his truck. And he doesn't need to hogtie me to get me back to his ranch. Of course, that thought takes my imagination in a slightly different direction, and makes for a very uncomfortable drive.

As soon as we get to his property, he jumps out of the truck and excitedly leads me to one of the large barns that contain his stables. Freya and I both follow dutifully behind, struggling to keep up with his long, purposeful strides. He introduces me to two young mares, who are among the most easygoing of his herd. I do try to focus as he tells me a little about them: their ages, their history, their characters. However, I am captivated by him. My gaze remains fixed on the deft movements of his large, capable hands as he saddles and bridles them. Throughout the process, he pauses frequently to stroke their noses or pat their necks. Those small gestures of affection are more telling of his true personality than anything I could try to guess from his eyes or the way he talks.

Tacked, the horses whiny in impatience at the thought of freedom. Chuckling, Chris steps out of the box, handing one set of reins to me. "You ready to go?" he asks, "Because these girls are!"

It's been a long time since I've been around horses, but as I look up into the beautifully rich, dark eyes of the bay colored Morab, I don't feel at all nervous. "Sure," I say, unthinkingly nestling my head against the gorgeous creature's neck.

Taking the lead, Chris guides us out of the stable. Then with nimble ease, he slips a foot into the stirrup and lifts himself smoothly into the saddle. Peering over his shoulder, he looks back at me with a grin. I wonder how he's interpreting my mute fascination with him, and then he answers that question. "You OK, or do you need a hand getting up?"

For reasons I cannot account for, I'm suddenly offended by the suggestion that I'm a city-dweller who could not possibly mount a horse without making an ass of herself. "I can manage," I assure him tartly, smiling. "This is one of those things you never quite forget." Grasping the saddle firmly with both hands, I lift my foot into the stirrup, realizing it's more of a stretch on my groin than it used to be. Unfazed though, I heave myself upward and swing my other foot neatly over the horse's back.

Once I'm restfully seated, my horse flicks her mane, reveling it seems in the crisp breeze that moves through it. "Not bad for a city slicker," Chris jokes, the beaming grin letting me know that it's a benign dig.

"C'mon," I urge, nudging my ride along with the light bump of my heels.

He compels his own horse with the click of his tongue, something she responds to immediately. Unhurriedly, the girls kick their way through the blanket of snow, not seeming to mind the cold. Freya scampers between the larger animal's feet with no sense of the danger she's in. Of course, she's not really in any danger, because the mares seem to be keeping a careful watch on the puppy even if the puppy is careless of all hazards.

Chris leads me up the trial and as I glance about me, I can well imagine how glorious the surroundings must seem in the spring, summer and fall. I have to admit, even in the winter, there is a sort of majestic beauty about it. The bare branches coated in ethereal frost, tiny icicles weighing down flimsy boughs. The ground all coated in virgin snow; the horses hooves, and Freya's paws, leaving the only marks open the quilt of soft white. No people as far as the eye can see. No buildings, except the ranch several feet below us. And no man-made scars on the land. Almost everything is nature; it is simple, it is peaceful and I cannot find anything derisive to say about it.

We carry on our ride for about an hour in almost complete silence. Occasionally, Chris will point out a bird singing high in a tree's branches, or tell me again just how much he loves this spot. But, predominantly, we don't talk. We don't really need to. We're sharing an experience so much greater than words can convey. It seems a great shame to me when he suggests we head back down.

It's even more of a shame as we draw up to the stables and climb off the dutiful girls, who seemed to enjoy the journey as much as we did. I'm just as enthralled by the steady smooth work of Chris' hands as he untacks the young mares. And I'm thrilled when he quietly offers me a brush. "Do you want to?" he asks.

"Of course," I reply, happily taking the dandy brush and grooming one horse while he cleans the snow from her hooves. Steam rising from the animal's back, I breathe that unique equine scent and it brings back a flood of memories. Most prominent is my dad teaching me to ride at about four years' old.

Once the horses are both groomed, fed and watered, we bid them 'goodnight' and leave the barn. The sun is setting as we walk languidly from the stable, but I'm in no hurry to end the day, and I get the sense that he isn't, either. However, he hasn't yet asked me if I want to come into the house. Then again, he hasn't suggested driving me home. Keen to draw these moments out as long as I possibly can, I still my feet and turn in a small circle while imbibing the clean air.

I don't realize he's drawn closer until I feel the brush of his upper arm against my shoulder. "Y'know," he says softly, "I think there's more of the country in you than you realize."

Grinning, I give an indefinite shrug. "Maybe," I concede, inhaling again and realizing the fresh breeze is now mingled with a powerful scent of leather that clings to him. Turning I look at him in profile, my eyes moving over the rich dark hair that brushes his collar and partially covers his ears. I have never wanted to run my hands through something so much.

Feeling my eyes on him, he twists his face and smiles. "What you thinkin'?" he wonders calmly.

' _If only you knew!'_ I silently reply. "Thank you for today," I say instead. "I've loved it."

"Was a pleasure," he responds quickly.

He is so very close. His presence so very potent. I cannot help myself. Pushing onto tiptoes, I hold my breath before carefully pressing my lips to his. He does not pull away, and, emboldened by that fact, I increase the pressure of my mouth over his. However, I'm jolted abruptly back to my sense by a yappy bark near my feet. Startled, I pull back from him and peer down to find Freya adamantly demanding attention. It is as if she feels I'm horning in on her territory. And I can't say I blame her.

Chuckling, Chris shakes his head. "I guess she's keepin' me to my word," he cheerfully suggests. "I did promise I'd keep my lips to myself."

"You did keep them to yourself," I point out, with a wry smile. "It was me who was makin' moves on you this time." When he gives me a low, warm laugh in reply, making me feel like my stomach is doing somersaults, I realize things are getting worryingly out of my control. "I suppose I'd better head back," I announce, a little reluctantly.

"You can stay for dinner if you like," he replies.

Tempting. It's so very tempting. "Thank you," I breathe. "But I'll pass this time."

"All right," he nods simply. "I'll drive you home then," he offers smoothly. Sweetly, he walks me to the truck. Then, with a great deal more disinclination than I had when I climbed in his vehicle to come here, I slowly step up into the passenger seat.

# Chapter Nine

Over the next few days, Chris calls a couple of times and asks when we can meet again. I make feeble excuses about doing longer hours at work, which is true, but it's only because I'm volunteering to take up more of the little errands that Felix needs running – ferrying medication to clients that can't get out so easily, or assisting in surgery. I also tell him that when I'm not at work, I'm busy on the New York job hunt, which is equally true. However, I know these are not the real reasons. I am reticent about seeing him again, because I'm scared of the way I feel when I'm around him.

It's silly really. It's not as though I feel terrible when I'm with him. On the contrary, I feel good. Really good. Probably better than I've ever felt in my life. So, why is that both thrilling and terrifying in equal measure? At the heart of it, I suppose, is good old-fashioned loss of control, which I certainly experienced the last time I kissed him. But I'm also frightened of getting attached – not just because he lives in Quinter and I want to be in New York, but also because, if I let myself fall for him (which is a redundant 'if'), I could get my heart broken. Chris is a wonderful man, who deserves a wonderful woman. What happens when she comes along? A quick bark may have worked for Freya, but I don't think it would work for me.

So, I've been trying to distance myself. And I am miserable in the process. 'Cause what I really want is to see him. I want to be in his generous aura; I want to see him smile; hear him laugh; and get lost in those warm, chocolatey eyes. These are the thoughts that plague me on a horribly cold, dark gray Monday afternoon. My cell phone in my right hand, I twist it around in graceless circles as I try to decide whether to succumb to the yearning to call him, or stay strong and hope that I'm beginning to place distance between us. "Urgh," I grumble, tossing the phone down onto the table.

"Amy?" Felix calls from behind me.

"Yeah?" I reply. Twisting my face over my shoulder, I watch him as he trots along the hall carrying three stacked medication boxes in his hands.

His usual grin notable by its absence, he wears a somber frown. "I need you to do something for me," he says succinctly. "I've got some antibiotics that I need you to take to Chris' ranch." As he finishes his direction, he pops the drugs on the desk.

"Somethin' wrong?" I ask.

"Yeah, he's got a sick yearling," he responds calmly. "I was gonna take this stuff to him, but Mr. Lawrence's German Shepherd has swallowed something that's causing an obstruction, and I'm gonna have to prep him for surgery right away."

"Umm," I murmur, usually only too eager to jump to any request, I'm not quite so enthusiastic over this one. "Won't you need my help?" I ask, hoping against hope that isn't something he's already considered.

"No, I'll be fine," he replies. "Besides, we're expecting some heavy snow, I don't want you getting stranded on the way."

Nothing to counter his point with, I can do nothing but accept his instructions. "OK," I say, getting to my feet and scooping up the antibiotics. Holding the boxes close to the chest of my maroon sweater, I don't bother picking up my coat or my bag. Only pausing to sweep up my phone, I stuff that into my jeans pocket and head out the door.

There's a biting north wind as I walk the few steps to my car, unlock it and slip inside, dropping the medication onto the passenger seat. Ensuring the heat is turned up, I switch on the engine, and immediately pull out of my parking spot. Along the way to the ranch, there are a few flecks of snow, but nothing concerning; they don't even seem to be settling.

All that worries me is how uncomfortable seeing Chris is going to be. I can only hope that, given his sickly young horse, we'll both be more focused on that than anything else. It doesn't stop me rehearsing a few conversations in my head, though. One in case he's realized I'm avoiding him, and he's annoyed. One in case he's realized I'm avoiding him, and he's hurt. And one in case he's oblivious to my efforts to pull away, and is just as eager to ask me out again.

Pulling up to the house, I find Chris on the porch with a middle-aged woman. The two of them are talking, she animatedly so. He on the other hand, is nodding calmly and smiling. Opening the car door, I continue to watch them.

"You sure, Mr. Hynes?" she asks, with a very strong Mexican accent.

"Yes, Maria," he insists. Noticing me out of the corner of his eyes, he turns his face. Lifting his palm in polite greeting, he turns his focus back to the woman before him. "You head home before this storm hits," he tells her calmly. "I'll be fine here."

"OK," she shrugs. "You call if you need," she adds, beginning to walk down the steps. She smiles when she sees me, and I offer her one in return.

"Amy," Chris sighs, jogging down the stoop. "What are you doin' here?" Not giving even a moment's pause he adds, "Not that I'm not glad to see ya."

"Bye, Mr. Chris," the lady hollers as she reaches her car.

"Take care, Maria," he calls back. "She helps me out in the house," he says to me.

"Seems very nice," I reply, trying to make polite conversation. "I...I've brought the antibiotics for your yearling. Felix is bogged down with an emergency surgery."

"Oh," he nods. "Well, thanks. I really appreciate that."

"No trouble," I say, moving around to the passenger side and opening the door. "Here we go," I add, sweeping the medication off the seat and handing the small armful to him.

He receives them gratefully, while Maria's car whirrs to life and begins to move cautiously down the freshly covered ground. Out here, the snow is still coming down in infrequent specks. But, unlike the middle of town, it is managing to lay a little.

"Is your horse OK?" I ask, shutting my own car door before wiping at some of the thicker flakes that are clinging to my hair.

"I hope he will be after this," he responds. "He's in pretty bad shape at the moment." As he turns toward one of the outbuildings, it doesn't even occur to me to get back in my car. Instead, I follow Chris, concerned for his animal...and for him.

Entering the smaller barn, he strides quickly along a handful of empty stalls until he reaches the one with his sick youngster. Aware that I'm behind him, he opens the door and leaves it open as he steps inside. The palomino American Quarter is lying in the corner of his box, obviously weak and finding it hard to breathe.

"Pneumonia?" I ask, making the assumption on very limited knowledge.

"It's what Dr. Roberts thinks," Chris replies, sitting down on the hay and lifting the horses heavy head into his lap. "I hope he's right, because if he's not this stuff won't do a damn bit of good." Even if I didn't already know him, it's clear to me that he's primary worry is the horse itself, not the money he stands to lose. Tenderly, he strokes the horse's limp head, brushing the forelock away from its eyes.

Feeling useless where I stand, I step into the box and crouch by the horse's other side. "Can I help?" I ask, not knowing exactly what assistance I can be of, but wanting desperately to be of some use.

"Sure, try to keep him calm," he asks, as he begins to open the boxes I've given him. In each are a bottle of medication and a syringe. His gaze quickly scans the information on the packaging; two lots of erythromycin and one rifampin. Either Felix told him the correct dose or he's familiar with the routine, because he quickly and confidently prepares the syringe and delivers the medication.

All the while, I quietly stroke the yearling, but he makes no fuss. Still weary, he seems impassive to what's happening to him. For a time, Chris and I remain with the youngster, until, eventually, the horse falls asleep. Softly removing himself from beneath the heavy head, Chris stands before unbuttoning his pale blue denim shirt.

Not meaning to, I must have given him a strange look, because he smiles. "He misses his mom and the rest of the herd," he whispers, stripping the shirt from his body and leaving only a white T-shirt beneath. Folding the denim into a neat bundle, he places it near the horse's head. "Familiar smell," he explains. "Works with dogs."

His theory making perfect sense to me, I nod as I get to my feet.

"Come on," he quietly urges, placing an arm around me and guiding me out of the stall. Knowing full well that this is not the path my thoughts should be taking, I can't help but notice the way the soft cotton of his shirt is stretched around his upper arms. I already knew he was a strong man, but seeing the evidence of those toned muscles is quite something else entirely.

Trying to school my wayward mind, I walk out of the barn with him and come to an abrupt halt as we reach the open doors. The snow is coming down so thick and fast that I cannot see my car. I can barely even see the house. Wind wiping up, it causes the flakes to drive at a ninety-degree angle. Blinking, I try to get a glimpse of the sky, but it's so dark I can't tell whether the clouds currently above are simply passing through.

"Come in the house," Chris says, with a jerk of his head.

"I...I..." I garble, hesitating.

"You can't drive in this, Amy," he states calmly, taking a cautious step out into the wild weather. "It's too dangerous," he adds, lifting his voice above the wind. Saying nothing more, he simply lifts his palm and offers it to me.

Aware I can do nothing else, even if I'd wanted to (and, incidentally, I don't), I slip my freezing fingers around his hand and let him guide me half-blind to the house. We clamber up the stoop and hurriedly enter the house that seems so warm in comparison that my face stings.

Shaking the snow from his head, he points to a door a few paces forward and to my left. "Go on through to the living room," he suggests. "There's a fire burning in there."

I tentatively stroll along the hardwood floor, and reach the room he's referring to; it's a beautiful, large, airy space, with exposed beams and a large open fire at one end. Through those wonderful, expansive windows, I can see nothing more than a thick sheet of white – individual flakes no longer even distinguishable.

A brown leather couch sits several feet back from the fire, facing a large TV on the chimney breast. In the corner of the room is a small dog bed, and Freya is sound asleep within it.

"Hey," he says, making me jump when I realize he's standing right behind me. "You should probably call your folks, let them know where y'are."

"Right," I agree, having completely forgotten that my parents might be worried.

"Make yourself comfortable," he says, "I'll just get us something to eat and drink."

"Thank you," I reply, but he's already striding down the hall. Meanwhile, I pull my phone from my pocket as I step across the threshold. Making a quick call to my Mom, I explain where I am and that I'll hole up here until the storm's passed. To my surprise, she makes no suggestive comment about who I'm staying with – in fact, she's simply glad to know I'm all right.

Breathing deeply, I peer around the room, noting the landscape photographs that adorn one wall. Walking a little further, I pause in front of the couch, before deciding to bypass it and sit on the sheepskin rug on the floor in front of it. Starting to adjust to the heat, I tug my knees up to my chest and bask in the hushed crackling of the fire.

When Chris returns, he's carrying a tray with sandwiches, a bottle of wine and two glasses. "Radio thinks the storm is set in," he announces, as he strolls casually toward me and sets himself on the floor by my side. Stretching out his legs, he leans back against the couch. "So, I figured," he adds, putting the tray down on his right side. "You might want a drink if you're not going to be drivin'."

"Trying to get me drunk?" I ask, joking.

"No," he chuckles, lifting the bottle and pouring about half a glassful.

"Because you really don't need to," I add.

If he grasps my unmasked undertone, his reaction is infinitely more subtle than the comment itself. Handing me the wine glass, he inhales deeply. "I...I've missed you," he says, a hint of nervousness creeping into the edges of his voice. "I know that sounds silly, 'cause it hasn't even been a week since I last saw you, but I have missed you."

Oh. That's not a line of conversation I rehearsed. Taking the drink from him, my index finger lightly brushes his. The tightening of my stomach at that briefest of touches leads me to toss aside any attempt I might have made at pretense. "I've missed you, too," I admit quietly.

"So...?" he puffs lightly, pouring his own drink and setting the bottle down. "What do you think we oughta do about that?" he wonders, taking a sip of wine.

"I don't know," I truthfully exhale. Twisting ninety degrees until I'm facing him, I clasp the wineglass between both hands. "I've been asking myself the same thing."

Turning his face toward me, he smiles before taking another sip. "Perhaps we can see a little more of each other. Just play it by ear, and wait an' see how things turnout."

"But that's the problem," I return softly. "What if things don't turn out the way we want them to?"

Gently lifting one shoulder, he shakes his head. "That's the way the world works, Amy. We never know, but we have to try anyway, 'cause, if we don't, what's the point of living?"

I know he's talking perfect sense. Rationally, I've told myself that, or words to that effect, more times than I can count about dozens of things I've been scared of – most recently, leaving New York. Life involves risk, and it involves the unknown. It often takes us down paths we could never have imagined, to places we don't think we want to be. Right now, however, there is nowhere on Earth I'd rather be, and I would not have thought that possible a month ago.

"Amy?" he quietly nudges.

Shaking myself from my silent reverie, I meet his eyes again. "You're right," I tell him. "I know you're right. It's just that my life has already taken a few turns I didn't bank on, and I'm...Well, I'm a little scared."

Without removing his gaze from my face, he puts his glass down on the tray beside him. "There's no need to be," he assures me smoothly. His left hand lifting gradually, he brushes the backs of his fingers across my cheek. "I can't tell you how things will end up," he admits, his deep tone dropping to a whisper. "I don't know what the future holds for either of us, but I can promise you this: I won't hurt you, Amy."

"I know that," I reply easily, reaching up to his hand and curling my fingers around his warm palm. "What if I'm the one that screws everything up?" I counter, placing my untouched wine near the foot of the couch. Unable to prevent the motion of my body, I gently begin to lean closer to him. "I'm not all that good at the whole relationship thing," I add quietly, before allowing my eyes to fall closed. My breath ceasing, my lips are drawn to his as if by an irresistible gravity. As soon as I meet the tender, warm caress of his mouth, I exhale longingly.

This feels right - so right that it can't be a mistake. No matter what happens tomorrow; next week; next month; or next year, this moment can never be anything other than perfect.

# Chapter Ten

The crackling of the fire has grown almost deafening, and the heat emanating from it is hotter than hell. My pulse is racing, blood driving through my veins and leaving a trail of throbbing desire in its wake. With every fiber of my being, I crave the pressure of his hands; the taste of his skin; the heat of his body upon mine. I have never wanted anyone or anything more than I want him.

With his distinctive delicacy, he pulls his lips from mine, drawing a whimper of lament from me. His fingers still grazing my face, he looks intently at me. I peer back at him, and I think we're both silently asking each other the same question, 'What are we doing?' More than once, we'd agreed that it was best to stick to a simple friendship. I certainly didn't get the impression that Chris was trying to wheedle something more from me. In fact, it was me who initiated everything but our first kiss – and I hadn't exactly met that unwillingly. Intellectually, I think, we both realize what we're doing is not sensible. However, trying to apply prudence to this is like trying to catch the wind in a net. Besieged by dozens of voices screaming at me to just do what feels good, I cannot lift that solitary cry of common sense to be heard above the cacophony.

I don't know what's going through his head, but he says nothing as he continues to stare into my eyes. It's as if he's waiting for me to reach a decision. Giving me time and breathing space to consider the consequences of what we're doing, he is, in his own good-natured way, making sure that I'm comfortable with the path things have taken.

I answer his mute question in kind. Grasping the thick hem of my sweater, I pull it upward. Realizing what I'm doing, his fingers fall and rest patiently on his thighs. My eyes transfixed by his, I sweep the maroon wool over my head and toss it aside. Without hesitation, my hands return to my waist and scoop up the edge of my soft pink T-shirt. It, like the sweater, is smoothly pulled from my torso and dropped on the expanse of rug behind me.

Unmoving, Chris watches me intensely. A subtle smile quirks the corners of his lips as his eyes slide down from my face. His ardent focus drinks in the cleavage that is displayed in my ivory lace, pink-spotted bra. It's not the sexiest item of underwear I own, built as it is for function rather than frill. I certainly wouldn't have worn it if I'd known I was going to be undressing for him. He, however, doesn't seem bothered by the lack of plunge, chiffon or creamy flesh spilling out of black satin.

Breathless, I bask in the heat from his gaze as his attention glides over my naked abdomen. Then, appearing to appreciate the return journey as much as the outbound, his beautifully sensual eyes move back to my face. Yet, he still doesn't leap at what I consider to be a very open invitation. Unused to a man deferring to me and unsure how to proceed, I nervously swallow. "Chris?" I murmur.

"Yes?" he replies, his deep voice silky smooth. Back still leaning against the couch and his fingers resting on his legs, he seems completely relaxed – much more so than I am.

"Touch me," I whisper.

Smiling softly, he unhurriedly lifts his right hand. Any other man I've known would seize the opportunity to grab a breast (any other man I've known would have done it long before now). However, this particular gentleman, strokes the backs of his fingers across the side of my neck. Lightly, he brushes down toward my collarbone, and then sweeps his ethereal touch along my shoulder. Every place his fingers graze burns with the most exquisite fever. Shivering despite the heat that's coloring my cheeks, I realize that featherlight, seeming unsexual contact is causing my nipples to distend painfully against the fabric of my bra. That gentle stroking of my neck and shoulder, though not overtly erotic, is the most arousing sensation of my life. It is, I think, precisely _because_ he hasn't gone directly for the parts of my body that are overtly sexual. His hand is teasing, promising, and sexiest of all, it's deriving pleasure from such an ordinary expanse of skin.

Unable to bear the eagerness that is bubbling lava-like in the pit of my belly, I cover his hand with mine and steer it deliberately downward. Not in the least resistant, Chris graces me with his smile as I lead his fingers down my sternum. Afraid to let go, I continue to guide his hand over my left breast, but he doesn't need any encouragement to cup the soft mound in his palm. He must be able to feel my erect nipple as he gentle squeezes and strokes the globe that is almost swallowed in his large hand. A breathless sigh of need is pulled from my lungs as I arch into his touch, which must tell him how much I want him. Yet, he makes no sudden lunge to take me.

As realization hits that he's still waiting for me to dictate each step, I release my hold of his fingers and reach behind me. Still meeting a gaze that is at once too intense to stand, but too irresistible to leave, I unclasp my bra. The straps almost instantly slip from my shoulders, the cups slacken and fall away from my curves. Lifting his hand, he allows me to shed the garment, but makes no effort to hurry me. In fact, as I drop the underwear on the rug, I learn that he's in no hurry to resume his hold of me, either.

He is, however, moving. Twisting slightly, he shuffles onto his knees as he lavishes my naked torso with admiring regard. "Wow," he whispers, as if unaware the word is slipping from his luscious, pink lips. "You're beautiful, Amy," he adds, dragging his gaze back to my face. "You're so incredibly beautiful."

Robbed of air, my lungs try to expel the nothing they contain. "Please, touch me, Chris," I plead.

Just as calm as he always is, he circles my wrist with the fingers of his left hand and lifts my arm toward his face. "Do you believe me?" he asks, his voice darker, or perhaps it is my ears that are hearing him differently. "Do you believe you're beautiful?" he says before pressing his lips to the palm of my hand.

"I..." I mumble. "I...I don't..."

His bottom lip lingering on my skin, he speaks again and the soft tickle of his breath causes me to jerk with need. "I wouldn't lie to you, Amy," he insists, his caressing lips gliding down to the inside of my wrist, where he playfully licks at my pulse.

Gasping at the intensity of that simple act, all the blood leaves my brain and pulsates down to my sex. The heat that is swirling between my thighs is immense. I feel the yielding folds, pouting in excitement. The crotch of my panties is moving slickly between them. Never in my life have I felt such an intense desire to be taken. My body is crying out, it is incomplete, it is bereft. "Oh, God, Chris," I moan.

Lifting his gorgeous face, he grins soothingly. "You _are_ beautiful," he insists, releasing my wrist. "I need you to believe that," he adds, his own fingers moving to his crisp white T-shirt. Crossing his forearms, he hooks his fingers into the hem and peels the shirt upward.

Even though I already formed a relatively good idea of how physically fit he must be, I am not prepared for the arresting perfection of his torso. His smooth, broad shoulders give way to toned deltoids and impressive biceps. Without needing to verify the fact with touch, I can tell his pecs are incredibly firm. He hasn't got a bulky, meathead, kind of physique, but there are three distinct lines running along the width of his abdomen. At the base of his small navel, there are wisps of almost black hair that draw my eyes down to the waistband of his jeans and the stirring swell at his groin.

"Oh. My. God." I breathe, the words barely audible.

"You OK?" he asks, tossing his shirt aside and placing an arm around my waist.

"Yeah," I reply, nodding weakly. "Yeah, I just...You're...I mean...You look good."

Chuckling, he pulls me toward him. "Thank you," he softly utters, as my soft breasts meet the rigidness of his chest.

Quivering in his arms, I grasp his biceps to steady myself before sliding my fingers up his shoulders, and to the nape of his neck. My still restlessly puckered nipples rub feverishly against the silky smoothness of his chest as I unconsciously writhe against him.

"You know, you feel good," he murmurs, dropping his head and kissing the edge of my jaw. "Hmm, and you smell good" Shifting his torso back a little, he leaves room for his mouth to trail a path down my neck. "You taste good, too," he adds, with a light chuckle before tracing the upper curve of one breast with the tip of his tongue.

"Chris!" I gasp desperately, my heart lurching in my chest. That heavy, lusty beat resounds in my ears, and throbs between my legs. My right hand moves encouraging over the back of his neck, while my other fingers sweep up into his hair, lacing through the thick, dark strands.

Gliding a little lower, he presses his lips to the side of my left breast. Meanwhile, his free hand is gently slipping up my waist. As his mouth finally claims my nipple and I release a groan of unashamed desire, his big hand carefully molds the opposite breast. Mewling plaintively, and muttering nonsense, I don't realize we're moving until my naked back meets the plush sheepskin rug.

On his side, Chris' legs stretch out, brushing against mine. His upper body, meanwhile, is leaning above me. His head is still at my bosom, as he affectionately caresses both of my breasts, alternating between the attentions of his mouth and his hands.

Largely oblivious to the motion of my own body, I don't notice the impatient arching of my hips until his right hand starts to slide over my abdomen. Lifting his face, Chris tenderly surveys my features before claiming my mouth with his own.

Almost immediately, I part my lips beneath the pressure, only too happy to open myself to him. His tongue dips playfully forward, tagging the tip of mine. I respond feverishly, chasing his back into the confines of his own moist chasm. As our lips clasp and unclasp hungrily and our tongues swirl in a febrile dance, his deft fingers, unbutton my jeans and carefully pull down the zipper.

At first, his hand rubs over the front of my panties, stroking my mound and my aroused labia through the thin cotton. Then, as his breath against my cheek comes a little more passionately, he slides his warm hand inside my underwear.

"Mmm," I groan into his mouth, hips jerking eagerly.

As he carefully clasps my lower lip between his teeth and nibbles lightly while sucking upon it, the long, coarse fingers of his right hand glide between my slightly parted thighs. It becomes instantly apparent that he's a man who knows what a clitoris is and where to find it. His middle finger slipping between my excited folds, he sensually circles my entrance, but doesn't set up camp there. Instead, he's quickly drawing the pad of his finger up. He finds my distended bud, almost screaming for his attention, and he does not deny it.

Moaning gratefully against his lips, I cling to his neck as he massages my hyper-sensitive flesh with firm rolls of his finger. Whether he is something of an expert in pleasing women, or it has been so long since I climaxed that my body is anxious to get there, I don't know. But I do know that it isn't long before, I feel my abdomen tightening. The rest of my muscles soon follow. While my lips are still held captive by his, I cannot cry out, 'Faster!'

But, as it turns out, Chris doesn't need any instruction. Pressing just a fraction harder against my lascivious skin, he begins to pull his head back from mine, grazing my lip gently with his teeth as he moves.

It comes over me entirely unexpectedly. Ecstasy spilling out, in quivering, whimpering jolts that make me feel as though my brain is short circuiting. My head tipped way back, as my body contracts, I cry out to the ceiling. Squeezing my eyes shut, I grasp him tightly.

"I've got ya," he says, his forehead coming to rest against my own, as his finger continues to stroke lingering pleasure from me. "I've got ya," he repeats in little more than a whisper.

Eventually, I become aware of my panted breath and the sound of blood thumping against my eardrums. Then, gradually, I peel my heavy eyelids open. I find his generous smile beaming back at me. "I'm sorry," I mumble.

"What for?" he replies, his lips dropping.

"That all happened a little fast," I sheepishly admit.

His erstwhile smile returning and amplifying into a dazzling grin, he chuckles. "I don't think there's such a thing as female premature orgasm," he points out, lifting his head from mine.

"No," I sigh, noting that his hand is still in my panties, and his fingers are still tenderly caressing me, "I guess not." Reaching down to still the motion of his hand, by gripping his wrist, I smile. "Of course, that's 'cause we don't need any recovery time," I point out with an arch of one eyebrow.

His lips stretched wide, he ceases the massage and slowly draws his hand up from between my legs. "We don't have to, you know?" he murmurs, his lips brushing lightly against mine.

"I want to," I reply, pushing myself into a sitting position and beginning to shove my pants and underwear off my hips. "I want to, Chris," I assure him, when I notice he's still peering at me with question in his eyes. Kicking the denim down my legs, I gracelessly flick them and my socks off, before reaching to grab his belt. "I want you. I've never wanted any man as much."

He passively watches me, although his breathing becomes more labored, as I unclasp his belt and begin to unfasten his pants. Unbuttoning his fly, I'm met with a swell of white cotton boxer briefs. Unable to resist, I run my fingers over the warmth and love the way he shudders beneath my touch. He's hard and he's generously proportioned, that much is clear already.

Pulling my eyes up to his, I watch him lick his lips as my hand dives into his underwear and carefully takes hold of his manhood. I suck in a breath of my own, as I run my fingers over the hot, rigid steel. He's more than just generously proportioned. "Please tell me you want me, too," I whimper, knowing that I have passed the point of no return. The need for him now is too great to not be satisfied. I don't care where he was raised, I don't care where he lives, I don't care what he does for a living. The only thing that matters is the way he makes me feel. And the truth is, no one has ever made me feel like this.

"You know I do," he says, his voice gravely. "I've wanted you from the moment I met you," he adds, placing his hands on my waist, and urging me to lie back down.

Reluctantly releasing the hold I had of him, I do as his firm touch bids me. This time, instead of lying out alongside me, he rolls between my instinctively parting legs. And for a few seconds, his body and mine meet only through the barrier of his underwear.

"I need you to know something," he sighs, kissing me as he slips one hand between us and begins to nudge his clothes off his hips. "I know you may not want to hear it, but I have to say it anyway."

Feeling the naked skin of his domed tip pressing against the top of my thigh, I grip my lip between my teeth and tilt my hips in welcome.

His forearms resting on the rug either side of my shoulders, fingers sliding through my hair. His upper body is pressing me delightfully to the floor as he subtly shifts his hips. The softness of his gland finds me without need for guidance, and then, steadily, he begins to push forward.

My body stretching in lustful embrace of him, I cry out a loud, guttural exhaled moan.

Long, deliriously sensual seconds later, when he and I are completely one, he finally says what it is he's been wanting to. "I love you, Amy," he murmurs.

"Huh?" I reply, panting.

Not moving, buried deep within my warmth, filling me with the most exquisite sensation of wholeness, he stares down at me with reddened cheeks. "I know that complicates your life, but it's true, and I need you to know it."

"Don't stop," I urge rapidly, writhing as much as I can beneath his secure, muscular weight.

As he begins to move, long, slow purposeful drives that drain all trace of meaningful thought from my head, all that remains are his words. They swirl around and around, while the scent of him envelopes me, and the presence of his body literally and figuratively possesses me. I'm surprised, and a little alarmed, by my response to his declaration.

Heaving deep breaths, I wrap my arms around his back and stroke the sleek skin. "Say it again, Chris," I beg.

"Ugh," he groans, as his hips meet mine once more. "Say what?" he pants, the sweat beading on his forehead glowing amber from the light of the fire.

"Tell me how you feel about me," I mutter almost incoherently, the words coming so fast and garbled.

"Ugh, Amy," he grunts, his pleasure mounting, and the force of his thrusts increasing with it. I'm glad of the soft rug beneath my back, because carpet or hardwood would be chafing as I'm steadily rocked by the strength of his body. "I..." he gasps, dropping his chin to my shoulder and pressing his cheek to mine. "I love you," he whispers directly into my ear.

It is the single most erotic and intimate moment of my life. And my body and brain respond to it in unison. "Chris!" I cry, my limbs clinging anaconda-like around him. My hips buck, and my whole form quakes. Unbidden, my lips clasp his earlobe and I suck longingly on the soft skin while whimper as I'm hauled under the crashing, deafening and blinding waves of pleasure.

"Oh, God," he quietly groans, his sturdy body jolting to a sudden rigid halt.

The glorious surge of his warmth causes me to tighten my grip on him. "I..." I mumble, releasing his ear. "I....I think I love you, Chris." It's not quite as romantic as his admission, but it's the truth.

His lower body stirring once again and moving in slow lazy circles, his head perks up. Orgasm-drunk eyes moving lazily over my face, his lips slowly smile. "So...?" he mumbles, his voice sexy in its relaxed heaviness. "What are we gonna do about that?"

Grinning back at him, as my hands stroke his back and neck, I shake my head. "I don't know."

"Well," he sighs, his weight still comfortingly bearing on me and our bodies still one, "I'm sure we'll think of somethin'"

"Yeah," I respond, reveling in the sensation of his sweaty skin cleaving to mine. "For now, though," I add, "can we just pretend that there is no tomorrow to worry about?"

His enervated smile growing wider, he leans his face closer to mine. "Sounds good to me," he whispers before kissing me tenderly.

In the firelight, we remain. Both, with childlike innocence, believing that the future doesn't matter. Exploring each other, sampling uncharted skin, and seeking those spots that drive us crazy, we give and receive pleasure. Finally, sated and exhausted, we succumb to sleep in the comfort of each other's arms.

And, for now at least, tomorrow really doesn't matter.

### Thank you for reading!

## Please visit your favorite eBook retailer to view the next books in the "Romancing His Cowgirl Series"
Love In The Outback

by

Jean Brooks
Copyright © 2017 by Jean Brooks

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Love In The Outback

All rights reserved.

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. No part of this work may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording and faxing, or by any information storage and retrieval system by anyone but the purchaser for their own personal use.

This book may not be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of Jean Brooks, except in the case of a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages for the sake of a review written for inclusions in a magazine, newspaper, or journal—and these cases require written approval from Jean Brooks prior to publication. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.

# Chapter One

Laura whistled to herself as she wandered into the kitchen. She'd just got back from a run, but didn't look particularly fatigued by it. In fact, she looked positively radiant in her tight aqua blue shorts, and a day-glow tank, which clung to a form that managed to be both athletic and feminine. Her long, sleek blonde locks were swept back in a ponytail, not a hair out of place. There was a slight gleam of sweat to her forehead as she shook the stiffness in her legs. Those, however, were the only hints that she'd been doing anything strenuous.

The most strenuous thing I'd done that morning was haul my exhausted butt out of bed. Barely able to hold my head up at the small kitchen table, I considered it a Herculean achievement to get the slice of toast from its plate to my mouth.

"Working last night?" she asked, with a sympathetic smile. She only flicked her eyes at me, though. Her focus was predominantly taken up with a small clutch of envelopes she held. One of her iPod's buds continued to pump Whitney Houston's 'I Wanna Dance With Somebody' in her left ear, the other dangled on her chest and told me not only what she was listening to, but also gave me an idea of how deaf she was going to become in her old age. Very deaf.

"Yeah," I muttered dejectedly, crunching on a piece of burnt crust. It wasn't that I hated waitressing, it was just that...No, scratch that, I did hate waitressing. There were no redeeming features to the job. The money was pitiful, the restaurant's patrons were rude, my boss spent most of his time leering at all the female waiting staff, and the chef had a temper that could rival Stalin's. It was all hideous. But there wasn't exactly a surplus of jobs around, and I desperately needed the small amount of cash I was earning.

"You need to get out more," she pointed out. "Meet some new people," she added, sifting through the mail absentmindedly. "Meet some new men."

That last addition was unnecessary. I knew well enough that 'people' had meant 'men'. "I'm too busy," I said around a mouthful of toast. "Besides, it's all too..." Faltering, I waved my half-eaten, charred bread around as I searched for the right word. "Raw," I eventually huffed.

"It's been six months," she pointedly noted, clasping one envelope between her thumb and forefinger and gracefully flicking it onto the table like a lightweight Frisbee. "For you," she succinctly told me.

Six months might have seemed like a long time to her. And, I suppose, it might _be_ a long time. But it didn't feel that way to me. Well, that's not quite true. It existed in a strange realm that didn't obey the normal rules of time and space. On one hand, it seemed like it only happened yesterday. On the other hand, it felt like a lifetime ago.

Hoping to let that topic die a natural death, I dropped my breakfast back on the plate and reached across the table. Picking up the envelope in crumby hands, I turned it over before ripping it open.

"It's about time you moved on," she added, unwilling apparently to let the matter drop. "Ya' know, get back on the horse and all that."

My eyes sticking fast to the motion of my hands as I grabbed hold of the edge of the letter and pulled, I made a noise that acknowledged I'd heard her, but which left no doubt that I was unimpressed by the notion.

"He's moved on, Faith," she added quietly.

"I know," I responded flatly. "If you think I'm wallowing and waiting for him to realize he's made a mistake, you're wrong."

It's something we'd talked about before, and it's an opinion I had been clear about. I wondered if she believed me, though. I guess, from the outside, my reluctance to even consider meeting someone new seemed like an unwillingness to move on. In reality, it was a reluctance to be hurt, and to complicate my life. Things were much simpler single.

Not looking up, I unfolded the piece of paper in my hands and immediately noted the Berkeley logo. It only took another couple of seconds to catch the word, 'sorry' and, at that point, I groaned.

"What's up?" Laura asked, tossing the rest of the mail on the counter and unclipping her iPod from her shorts.

"Dear Ms. Solano," I read aloud, "thank you for your application to enroll in our ancient history PhD program." Not bothering to finish, I toss the letter onto the table and turn my face to hers. "Blah, blah, blah."

Pursing her lips, she gave me a compassionate smile. "Which one?" she asked.

"Berkeley," I sulkily mumbled.

"Sorry," she sighed. Methodically winding the cable of her headphones, she wore a somber expression as she chewed her bottom lip. "So, what does that leave?"

"That's it," I replied, picking up my toast only to tap its corner on the rim of the plate. "That's the last one." Disheartened and disgusted, I abandoned the thought of eating and pushed myself out of the chair. "It's a big, fat 'no' from Stanford, Yale, Brown and now Berkeley."

"Well, what are you gonna do?" she asked quietly.

Tossing both hands theatrically in the air, I shook my head. "I don't know," I grumbled. "Get used to serving ribs, I guess," I added sardonically.

"There must be other programs that have extended deadlines," she contended. One of the things I've always loved about Laura is that she's never entertained my self-pity. She was an expert at wrangling me in from my childish mood swings.

I wiped the disappointed look from my face, but shook my head. "I think I'm gonna have to wait until next year," I stated with resignation. "Maybe it's for the best," I added, trying to find a bright side. "I was going to struggle to afford it. This will give me a chance to save." That was all very true, but I couldn't pretend to feel good about the prospect of another twelve months at the restaurant.

"I thought your parents said they'd help," she argued, her faultless memory recalling my mom's visit nine weeks earlier.

"They did," I agreed, "but I don't want to mooch off of them." Running my hands through my light brown hair, which hadn't even seen a brush that morning, I released a deep sigh. "It's fine," I assured her, forcing myself to man up. "Everything will work out fine. Another year won't kill me."

She knew how much I hated that place, and she also knew how much I was looking forward to starting my PhD in the coming academic year. I'd loved every second of my masters. It had been the sole focus of my life, even before Rich dumped me. He'd implied that was _why_ he dumped me. Although the speed with which he'd hooked up with Candy, or Candice, or whatever her name was, suggested there were other factors in his decision. Since then, Laura and I had taken to using a different shortening of his name when referring to him.

Anyway, the doctorate program had swiftly become the most important thing to me. I'd figured, as long as I had that, I would be OK. And when that was swiped out from underneath me, it was difficult to be positive and philosophical.

Leaning her hip against the counter, Laura peered skeptically at me. "I'm sure it will be," she concealed calmly. "But I still think there must be another way."

With a half-hearted shrug, I scooped up my plate and carried it to the sink. "It's fine," I insisted. "I've still got the summer to look forward to." Forcing a smile, which turned somewhat genuine when I considered that I did, indeed, have the summer to look forward to, I met her pale blue eyes.

"Hmm," she seemed to agree, although it was undeniably subdued.

"Do you mind if I jump in the shower first?" I added; keen to leave the room before she started to pick at my facade of acceptance. "I've got a class in an hour."

"Sure," she responded, reaching blindly behind her to a fruit bowl. "We can talk about it later," she offered, picking up a banana.

I nodded as I left the room, but said nothing and was glad to be out from under her scrutinizing gaze. I hated the fact she could see through my 'brave face'. I hated the fact she knew me so well; I was used to being able to hide around people - even people who had known me for years. To a lesser or greater extent, we all keep everyone at a distance. Even those we claim to be closest to don't really know us; not all of us. Not every single thought and feeling.

But Laura was exceptionally perceptive, or perhaps she simply cared enough to really take notice of those around her. She didn't seem to see my deepest darkest secrets; at least, if she did she didn't make it known. However, she never failed to spot any emotion I tried to camouflage. It was unnerving.

And, at the same time, I loved it.

I had known her for almost five years, and, in that time, she hadn't just become my best friend, but also the best friend I'd ever had. I strongly suspect, she'll be the best friend I ever have.

It was a classic case of opposites attracting. My field of study was humanities, and I was passionate about literature, and art and the theatre. Laura, in contrast, was a woman of 'hard science'. She was in the midst of her masters in chemistry, and had plans to go into pharmacology. On paper, she and I shouldn't have got along so well. We shared precious few interests. But that didn't seem to matter.

We'd been living together for two years. Amazingly, we have never had a big argument. Of course we have are little girly spats, like a couple days ago Laura borrowed my favorite shirt without asking. I did not appreciate that so we talked... I think that is why are friendship is so strong, we talk about everything. Being one of precious few women in her program, Laura had been hit on by almost every single one of her male classmates. She'd dated a few of them, but it never really amounted to much. That didn't seem to faze her, though. She was content just dating. In fact, she seemed to thrive much more on the variety. A steady relationship wasn't in her plans. My own losing in love probably helped to cement her view that 'serious' was not a good idea.

Just as you'd expect from a good friend, she was there to pick up the pieces. Or more accurately, to help me drown my sorrows with ice cream and vodka, then hold my hair back while I spent the rest of the night vomiting. Not a pretty sight. So, Laura had seen me at my worst. I would like to say, I'd seen her at hers. But I don't think she had a 'worst'. She wasn't perfect, but the only cracks I'd seen were minor: arguments with her mom; a penchant for texting an old boyfriend when she'd had a few glasses of wine; a noisy and energetic session of sex with a guy I struggled to look at the following morning - it was almost impossible not to giggle after hearing him yell, 'I'm the man!' as he climaxed.

Anyway, living with her had been fun. Leaving her, and the apartment that had come to be ours, was the one part of moving on and completing my PhD that I wasn't looking forward to. The chance to stay a while longer was the only good thing about all of those great colleges turning me down. By the time i climbed out of the shower and dried off, I tried to hang on to that thought.

# Chapter Two

Dr. Hamilton always insisted on being called Frank. He had a very informal lecturing and tutoring style, wore Armani jeans, and was constantly cracking jokes. He was in his early forties, but clearly felt as though he were still in his twenties. He without a doubt preferred his students' company to that of his fellow professors.

"Right folks," he smiled, tapping his laptop with a flourish and bringing up a new image on his power point presentation. "Next time, I want to look at how some of our contemporary historians have shaped our understanding of the cultures of Rome and Greece."

His bright eyes, filled with passion for his subject, moved over the dozen of us before casting his attention to the clock at the rear of the room. "That's it for today though," he declared. "Unless there are any other questions."

There were none. Instead, the sound of light chatter filled the room along with chairs being pushed back and books being swept up. I closed my notebook, then tossed it and my pen into my bag.

"Faith, you gonna join us for coffee?" a voice from behind me asked as I straightened.

Tossing my face over my shoulder, I found Emily closing the cover of her laptop. She was a striking redhead, who was beautifully petite. I envied her delicate features, and the ease with which she always seemed to smile. It was a genuine smile, too. Not one of those 'have a nice day' forced grins.

"Umm," I hesitated; about to add 'sure', but never got that far.

"Actually, Faith," Frank called from the front of the room, "could I have a word? It won't take long."

My face twisted back in mild surprise. "Oh...OK," I mumbled, unused to being asked to stay after a class. The last time that happened was in junior high, when I'd been caught passing a note between Jennifer Ackerman and Ben Keuther in algebra.

Seeming to note the mild alarm in my hazel eyes, he smiled. "It's nothing to worry about," he assured quietly.

I nodded and wandered slowly toward the small desk that held his laptop.

"We'll be at the Courtyard," Emily said as she walked past me and placed a light hand on my shoulder.

"Great," I replied. "I'll meet you there." However, my attention was predominantly focused on Frank Hamilton as he shut down his computer, apparently waiting until we were alone to launch into whatever it was he wanted to say.

When the room was completely silent, and the door shut behind the last of my classmates, he lifted his face to mine. "By the way, I thought your paper on Caligula was really good," he began, grinning broadly. "You raised some very interesting points."

Rather more confused than when he first asked me to stay behind, I was completely baffled, "Oh, well.... I...Thanks."

"Yeah, it was very insightful," he added, slipping one hand into the pocket of his designer jeans as he perched his hip against the desk. His lively green gaze moved smoothly over my face, but I could sense that was not all he wished to say. I also gained the impression that whatever was coming next would not be quite so flattering.

"Thanks," I said, managing not to stutter and stammer before it.

"Um," he continued, "the reason I need to talk to you is the summer internship has been oversubscribed."

"Oh," I mumbled, not appreciating where this might be heading.

"The dig isn't going to be as large as initially anticipated, so I'm not going to be able to take as many students as I'd hoped." Still, he smiled, which threw me a curve ball. If I was one of the ones being dropped, why did he look so cheerful about it?

Running his free hand through the floppy light brown hair on his forehead, he seemed to wait for me to speak, but I had nothing to offer. And eventually, he surged on. "I'll be letting the others know by email," he said. "But I wanted to speak with you in person, because I know how much this meant to you."

"Oh," I breathed, my features a blank while he continued to grin and confuse the hell out of me.

"How much does it mean to you, Faith?" he wondered aloud.

"Err," I fumbled. "Well, I...I was really looking forward to it."

"Let me rephrase the question," he chuckled. "What would you be prepared to do for it?"

"Excuse me?" I whispered, although it was obviously loud enough for him to hear.

Lifting his hand from his pocket, he reached toward me and swept a strand of hair off my cheek. "I could make sure you're still in," he explained, "if you wanted it badly enough."

For a split second, I was held frozen to the spot, wondering if I'd heard him correctly and then asking myself whether I was jumping to conclusions. It only took that blink of an eye to snap to my senses, though.

Taking a deliberate and hurried step back, I placed myself out of his reach. "Are you out of your mind?" I blurted.

"Oh, come on," he cheerfully urged. "I'm offering to do you a favor, and it could be a summer you'll never forget, if you know what I mean."

He had lost his grip on sanity. That was the only explanation. Some kind of midlife crisis had made him blind to how thoroughly immoral and inappropriate he was being.

"Listen Dr. Hamilton," I stated firmly, emphasizing the more formal incarnation of his name, "I don't know who you think you're talking to, but I am not about to prostitute myself for an internship."

"Woah, woah," he hurriedly chuckled. "Who said anything about prostitution? I'm simply suggesting that there's a way you could come on the excavation, and that you and I could have a very pleasant stay in Greece during our down time."

"That sounds an awful lot like prostitution to me," I snapped, taking another pace backward and moving to the door. "The answer is a resounding 'no', Dr. Hamilton," I assured him firmly. "If I don't make the cut on my merits as a student, then I don't want to know." Still looking at him, and hoping he could see the bald seriousness in my eyes, I reached behind me and gripped the door handle.

"You make it sound like some sleazy proposition," he scoffed.

"Ya think?" I returned in kind.

Flinging the door open, I spun toward it and hastened out of that room as quickly as I could. For a while, as I hurried along the hallway with my heart pounding, I contemplated heading straight to the dean's office. However, with each step, I lost zeal for the idea. It would be his word against mine. Hamilton would deny it; he might even flip it around and say that I offered myself to him in exchange for a spot on the dig. If that version of events was believed, I could permanently kiss farewell to any chance of getting on a PhD program anywhere.

By the time I pushed on a set of double-doors that took me out into the bright, spring sun, I knew that I had to keep my mouth shut. I hated the fact that I would; every instinct rebelled against it. But it was a battle I was very unlikely to win, and what I stood to lose was simply too great.

Gripping my phone from my pocket, I wrote a quick SMS to Emily, telling her only as much of the truth as was necessary. 'Just found out I'm not on the Greek excavation. Sorry, not really in mood for coffee. See you another time.'

***

Later that afternoon, I walked into an apartment that smelled faintly of cookies. Sure enough, on the kitchen table were a plate of freshly baked choc chip beauties, with a note from my friend the chemist (and baker), 'Thought these might cheer you up!'

In and of themselves, they didn't. But the thought; the fact she cared, most certainly did.

Life though, was intent on shitting on me from a great height. No PhD, no internship for the summer, no boyfriend (that one mattered far less, but I'd be lying if I said it didn't still irritate me), and no clear plan for the future.

Wondering if I could stomach twelve months of full time work at the restaurant, I started to think that I should just give up on the grad school idea altogether. Perhaps moving back to Seattle, and getting a job there, would be the best option. God knows, I still could not afford to complete my PhD without working my buns off while studying. Maybe it simply wasn't worth it.

"You're twenty-three," I reminded myself, kicking off my shoes and shuffling to my own room. "Time to start acting like a grown up." Truthfully, I didn't quite know what that meant, but it seemed to imply a 'proper', stable job and a mortgage.

Sulkily throwing myself into the chair in front of my desk, I turned on my computer through habit more than anything else. Without giving much thought to what I was doing, I logged into my college email, and found the official announcement that I was being dropped from the internship. Glancing at the time, I noted it was sent just ten minutes earlier.

Scrolling down, there were the usual mass campus mails: a list of local bands performing at the student bar; the performance artists who would be at the theatre for a couple of afternoons next month; and the senior students trying to sell second-hand textbooks to the juniors.

But then, something else caught my eye. 'Newcastle University, New South Wales.' Bewildered, I shook my hand as I took hold of the mouse and drew the cursor up to the subject line. 'PhD proposal.'

My confusion not lifting, I opened the email and my jaw dropped as I read the email. 'Ms. Solano, thank you for your interest in studying at Newcastle University. We're very happy to inform you that your research proposal on the early Roman Empire has been accepted.'

The fact that I'd applied in the first place had completely slipped my mind. It wasn't something I'd wanted to do even. I was hounded by some guy at one of those seminars, and to get him to go away, I'd given him my name and email address. A few days later, I'd received the application from, which I half-heartedly filled out and I'd just attached the same proposal I was sending to Yale - not even bothering to check whether the research topic was one the college entertained.

I hadn't dreamed, for one moment that I would be offered a place there. I barely knew anything about the university. Hell, I barely knew anything about Australia. I couldn't even point New South Wales out on a map of the country. It wasn't something I'd entered into with any prospect of it becoming a reality. Yet, there I was with it very real, Letter of acceptance.

"Oh, my God," I mumbled.

If things had been different; if there was still a U.S. school considering my application, I would have been completely uninterested in studying on the other side of the world. But as things had turned out, I was forced to wonder what I had to lose.

Closing my email, I brought up the website for Newcastle University, and opened a new tab to Google the weather in New South Wales. It did not take long for me to warm to the idea. Who the heck needs Greece? I could have my very own adventure. There was rich history to be explored there, and, more importantly, they wanted to take me.

What had seemed like a flippant decision seven months ago was beginning to seem like the best thing I'd ever done. A smile started creeping onto my face as I looked at images of architecture, and landscapes around New South Wales, I heard the front door shut.

"Hey, Faith," Laura called. "You back?" She must have seen my discarded shoes, but was no doubt troubled by the full quota of cookies that still sat on their plate.

"In here," I replied, lifting my voice so that she would hear me.

A few moments later rapid tap sounded at the door. I say rapid, because she didn't bother to wait for an answer before entering. "Hey, you OK?" she asked, concern very evident both in her voice and her face. Although the latter lifted very noticeably when she spotted the grin on my face.

"What?" she wondered, drawing the word out. "What's going on?"

Swivelling my chair toward her, my cheeks began to ache. "You know this morning; you were saying there's got to be something else I can do?" I said.

"Yeah," she replied warily.

"Well, you were right," I told her cheerfully. "It might not be Yale, but there is a school that's accepted me."

"Great!" she declared at an ear-piercing volume. "Where?"

"Australia," I responded smoothly.

Her features froze, then fell slightly as her hand released its grip on the edge of the door and flopped down at her side. "Are you serious?" she questioned quietly.

"Yes," I replied, my own smile slightly faltering. I knew what she was thinking. "It's not as far it seems," I added, pre-empting her concerns. "With Skype and everything, it won't seem any different from being in another state."

Shaking her head, she resumed her usual brightness. "No, you're right. You're absolutely right. And it's wonderful," she added genuinely. "It's just wonderful." Walking forward, she spread her arms wide.

I instantly leaped out of my chair and stepped straight into her embrace. Tossing my arms around her, I giggled. "It's a little scary," I admitted, "but I'm excited."

"I'm excited for you," she murmured gently. "I'm going to miss you, but I'm so excited."

"Oh, Lau," I mumbled. "I'm gonna miss you too, but I promise I'll stay in touch."

"You better," she warned good-naturedly.

"And you'd be welcome to come visit," I added enthusiastically.

"Hmm," she hummed pulling back slightly. "I'm not sure about that," she admitted with a purse of her lips. "All those spiders and snakes."

Having not given much consideration to the native wildlife, I stood motionless. "But there's anti venom for everything, isn't there? And besides, the spiders aren't everywhere, right?"

"And then, of course, there's the crocodiles," she added, a broad grin stretching her light pink lips.

"Stop it," I chided, releasing her completely and slapping her upper arm. "Seriously, they're not everywhere, are they?" I repeated my tone more grave.

A teasing grin, she stepped back.

"They're not, are they? Laura?"

Refusing to respond, but beginning to giggle, my friend wandered out of my room. I could still hear her chuckling as she made her way down the hall.

# Chapter Three

Over the next few months, I did some research which reassured and terrified me in equal measure. No doubt about it, the wildlife of Australia was frightening. But, eventually, I reached the conclusion that if it were really that dangerous there wouldn't be half as many Australians. My uneasiness over the various creatures that awaited certainly wasn't enough to put me off. After all, I wanted to be an archaeologist; I couldn't let my fear over a few creepy-crawlies dictate my future.

Work was made much more bearable by the knowledge that the days were numbered, and I quite literally marked them off on the calendar.

Only a couple of times did I think about Greece and what I might be missing - nothing to do with Dr. Hamilton's offer, I felt sure I was missing out on nothing there. But I was much too busy making travel arrangements, filling out dozens of forms for student loans, and finding a place to stay to really worry about the dig I wasn't on.

And by early July, it was time to pack up my things. The university's spring session didn't start until the end of the month, but I wanted to get settled in before my course began. I already anticipated a big culture shock. For one thing, despite the semester being called 'spring', when I arrived it would actually be winter. Then again, of course, winters in New South Wales were going to be nothing like the many winters I'd experienced in Seattle or New York.

Just before flying out, I spent a week with my folks, who were understandably reluctant about my decision, but also wonderfully supportive. Then came the dreaded and very tearful goodbye at the airport with Laura and my family. A cocktail of excitement and fear made an almost nineteen-hour flight seem even longer.

I spent a couple of days in Sydney, exploring all of the tourist hot spot: The harbour bridge and the opera house.

Then, I rented a car and drove the two hours or so to Warabrook; a suburb of Newcastle, where I was renting a small two-bedroom villa. It felt strange, from the moment I walked in, to be living alone. And that was when my first hint of homesickness grabbed me. In a bid to quash the sensation, I lifted my phone from the back pocket of my jeans and wrote a brief line to Laura. However, it didn't take long to figure out that it was still very early in morning in New York, and she wouldn't be out of bed for some time.

For a while I tried to occupy my mind with other things. I read for twenty minutes, or rather I tried to read. I'm fairly certain that what I actually did was skim the same line hundreds of times and still didn't quite manage to absorb it. Abandoning the book, I listened to the radio for a while. Eventually, feeling smothered by the emptiness of the small house, I swept up the car keys and headed back outside.

Muttering under my breath when I at first went to get in the passenger side, I walked around the hood muttering, "Sit on the right, drive on the left." That was yet another facet of life in Oz that I was yet to get used to.

There was no plan in mind; no destination. In fact, I didn't even turn the GPS on, which, I suppose, could be defined as stupidity. Then again, it's not as though the GPS would have been particularly useful. I didn't know any roads or landmarks in the area. So, as I pulled out of the driveway, I just determined to go wherever the mood took me.

And the mood told me to drive, and drive and drive, until I was no longer in town. Leaving the houses behind, I found myself on an old and pot-holed road, with nothing but dusty fields either side of me.

Eventually, I ended up behind a huge truck, which was going ten miles an hour or so slower than me, but I didn't bother to pull out and go around it. Instead, I took my foot off the gas and enjoyed the fact that on my left and my right, there was not a soul to be seen for...well, it must have been miles.

Some way in the distance was a cluster of massive reddish rocks, and as the sun begun to sink, it placed itself perfectly between the gap in two jagged faces. Realizing that I was struggling to take my eyes off the sight, I slowed the car and pulled off the road. Having always lived in cities, this kind of spectacle was rare to me.

"Wow," I whispered, the burnished color of everything around me seeming almost ablaze under the sun's light.

Pulling the keys from the ignition with one hand, I reached blindly into my pocket with the other. Grasping my phone and wishing I'd had the good sense to bring my proper camera, I opened the door and stepped out. The coolness of the air struck me instantly. It wasn't enough to be called cold, but it was much chillier than it had been in my solar-warmed vehicle, and I was glad of the sweater I had on.

Not bothering to close the car door, I took a few steps, while the wind caused dust to sting my face and hands. Blinking out flecks of dirt, I wasn't going to be dissuaded from my goal. Twisting my phone width-ways, I held it in both hands and lifted it level with my face. Partially blinded by the dirt in my eyes, I snapped a handful of shots, hoping that at least one of them would do reality justice.

Then, happy to be able to finally turn my face from the wind, I moved back to the car. With the door closed behind me and the whistling wind shut out, I was once again able to see clearly. So as a shielded my cell phone's screen from the glare through the window, I flicked through the pictures I'd just taken. I was of the opinion that they looked pretty good given the circumstances, and, pleased with myself, I tossed the phone onto the passenger seat and took hold of the keys that still dangled from the ignition.

Taking one last appreciative look at the real sun, I figured its beauty was a good omen. I couldn't define exactly why, but it seemed to bode well for the future.

Although, apparently, not the immediate future.

Twisting my right hand, I tried to start the engine again. But all I received in reply was a sluggish, strained whirring. My fingers froze. "Ahh, come on," I muttered beneath my breath. Flicking the key back, I tried to turn it again. Just like before, all I got was a labored whir.

"Shit," I hissed, a heavy sense of danger and dread settling in my lower abdomen. "Come on," I urged, trying a third and fourth time. "Fuck!" I eventually shrieked, banging the heel of my left hand against the steering wheel. Clamping my eyes shut, I forced out a slow, calming breath. "It's fine," I told myself. "It's fine." With a nod of self-assurance, I peeled my eyes open again and reached for my phone.

Placing it in front of me, I wondered who to call. The car rental company; my landlady, although I'd known her all of five minutes, she was the only person I knew in Warabrook; roadside assistance, did they have triple-A in Australia? Recalling the guy at the car place told me there were details in the glove compartment, I began to lean across to it. But, as I did, I noted that the internal debate over who to call was pointless. I couldn't call anyone.

Foolishly, I turned the cell upside down, a waved it about it a little and then lifted it toward the car's ceiling. It didn't change the fact that I had no service. "Oh, you've got to be kiddin' me," I exclaimed through gritted teeth.

Heart thumping uncomfortably hard, and breath coming anxiously fast, I glanced over my shoulder and the long, empty road behind me. The whole time I'd been parked, no other vehicle had passed. And I could see no vehicle on the horizon, either. My face twisting hurriedly back around, I looked again at the sun. It was still sinking, and seemed to be descending faster now. For a moment, I simply stared at it, weighing my options. However, as I sifted through them, I begin to appreciate how few there were.

And as time continued to pass, I had fewer.

"For, Christ's sake," I muttered, before grasping the door handle, leaping out of the car and popping the hood as I moved.

Having absolutely no clue what I was planning to do once I'd looked at the engine, I swept around the front of the car and slipped my fingers in the gap of the insect-strewn hood. I groped a little before finding the catch and releasing it. The only things I knew about cars were how to check the oil and refill the windshield washer fluid. And on this car, I couldn't even find the dipstick.

Nothing looked amiss, but how would I even know?

Shaking my head, I muttered, "Idiot," at myself before dropping the hood back in place and moving quickly back to the still open driver's door. Leaning my upper body in, I took only the keys and my phone with me. Then, I slammed the door with a hefty and angry thunk, pushed the remote lock and scanned the road in both directions. There were no cars, no trucks, no nothing. Lifting my cell, I waved it around again, stretching my arm right above my head in an overly hopeful effort to get a tiny hint of signal. Unsurprising, it didn't work.

Coercing myself to breathe slowly, I lowered my arm while I tried to remember anything I'd passed on the road; a gas station, a motel or a roadside diner. But I couldn't recall seeing a damn thing for at least an hour. In the other direction, meanwhile, was the unknown. However, it seemed a fair bet that if nothing was behind me for an hour, than something had to be coming up ahead...didn't it?

I simply did not know what to do for the best. But I did feel the compulsion to do something, because standing right where I was equalled lying down and accepting I would have to spend the night in the middle of nowhere, with God knows who, and what, for company.

So, keeping my phone in my hand and snatching desperate glances at it with every few steps, I began to walk away from the car - hoping that my guess about a truck stop, or something, up ahead was right.

At first, I walked with purposeful, long strides. But as dusk drew on, and glimpses over my shoulder told me that I was losing sight of the car, my feet were no longer quite so eager. And still, there was no sign of life anywhere and no damn signal on my phone.

Once I'd wandered so far that I couldn't see the silver Prius at all, my panic returned in earnest. "Shit, shit, shit," I mumbled, my focus flicking in every direction as I searched for something, anything that would tell me I was going to be all right. But, all I could see was dust, and rocks, a few pitiful looking trees and some clumps of desert grass.

An eerie howl rippled through the air, the sound rising and falling like a strange phonetic wave. Panic morphed into something verging on terror and I lifted the phone from my side. The words 'no signal' were still taunting me. Praying there was some scrap of signal from another network and now considering my situation an emergency, I tapped 000 and whispered encouragingly as I brought the cell to my ear. "Come on, come on."

No noise hit my ear, however, and as I snatched the phone back down and stared accusingly at it. The screen told me that the call couldn't be connected. In a fit of petrified anger, I gripped the plastic case hard. And, as helpless tears began to swell, I got the overwhelming, but self-sabotaging, urge to pitch the useless piece of crap as far as I could.

Digging my teeth into my upper lip, I quashed the desire, reminding myself that, next to driving all the way out here, that was probably the stupidest thing I could do. Blinking, I swiped a hand across my cheek bone, where a lone teardrop had strayed.

"OK," I reasoned quietly to myself, turning to look at the sun. It was almost gone now, half sunk on the horizon. I didn't know how much longer there would be light, but I knew it couldn't be much longer. "OK," I repeated, knowing that everything was very far from 'OK'.

I could go back to the car, I would probably be back to it before it got dark. But then what? Sleep there? I could keep walking, but I had no clue whether I was getting myself into a deeper mess with every step.

Meanwhile, the wind was gaining strength, whistling hard against my ears and sweeping up dust that grazed my skin, making it raw and red. There was no doubt about it, I was in trouble. And then, I heard another howl; the creepy noise seeming to roll across the landscape. It was apparent, even to a city slicker like me, that its source was some distance away, but it was no less unnerving for that fact.

Reaching my decision, I concluded the car was the safest retreat. It would not be comfortable, and I would not feel entirely secure, but it had to be better than being completely exposed. I was about to turn back toward it when something stopped me.

"G'day!" a voice called.

# Chapter Four

Swivelling abruptly, and stirring up the dirt at my feet, I whirled around. A few yards away, on the other side of the road, was a man on horseback. The black bay creature, with white rings above its hooves and another light patch on its forehead, cantered energetically.

The man on the horse's back was dirty - that was the first thing I noticed about him. He wore an Akubra (or wide-Brimmed hat), which had once been cream in color, but was now covered in a layer of dust and red handprints. His blue plaid shirt, with sleeves rolled up to the elbows, was equally filthy. His pale jeans, with non-designer rips in the knees, looked as though they had grease stains all over them. His sun-bronzed arms and face were tinged with ochre from the plumes of dust kicked up by the heavy hooves beneath him.

"Hey there," he called, pulling his animal to a halt once they were level with me, but still on the opposite side of the wide highway. His accent was heavy; drawling vowels and round 'A' sounds coupled with the languorous delivery that seemed typical here, as though the heat of the place made speaking itself seem like too much effort.

"Hi," I hollered back.

"You all right?" he wondered, pushing at the brim of his hat and revealing blond hair beneath, which was, as would be expected, grubby.

"I...uh..." I replied, unnecessarily checking the empty road before stepping out into it. "My car broke down a way back." With a flick of my hand, I gestured in the direction I'd come. Crossing the careworn old asphalt, I no longer needed to yell. "I couldn't get a signal, so I was trying to find one."

"Ohh," he smiled. "You won't get one round here. But the ranch is a just a couple of miles up," he added with a jerk of his head. "You can use the phone there."

Slipping my cell into my back pocket, I drew a little nearer to him and his horse stretched its head towards me. Startled, I stepped back out of its reach.

The man chuckled. "She won't hurt ya," he assured, rubbing a hand across a chin that bore at least two days' worth of stubble. "She wouldn't hurt a fly."

I believed him, but I was still too nervous to get any closer. Apart from a friend's birthday party, when I was ten, I had never been near a real horse. And back then, it was a miniature pony in one of those mobile petting zoos. This animal was huge in comparison.

"How far away is your car?" the man asked, smoothly lifting his rugged tan boot from the stirrup and jumping down from the saddle. He landed with a hefty clump that sent a surge of dust flying up.

"Umm...I'm not sure," I admitted softly, feeling thoroughly foolish. But also feeling a little uncomfortable. This man could be a perfectly nice stranger, trying to do a good deed. Or, he could be some grimy, sleazy maniac. The smile, which was broad, easy and bright, could have been lulling me into a false sense of security.

Now he was standing, I could tell that he was a little over six feet. He also seemed to be pretty athletically built; slim, but not weedy; muscular, but not dysmorphic. "You're quite a way from home, aren't ya?" he asked, casually slipping a thumb into a belt loop.

I assumed he was referring to my accent, and also suspected that his question was a rhetorical one.

Pale blue irises seeming to laugh as they slipped over my features, he used his free hand to vigorously pat his horse's neck. "So, you wanna get up?" he suggested calmly.

"Huh?" I replied in bewilderment.

"Well, it's gettin' pretty dark," he shrugged, still rubbing at the sleek long neck of his ride. "I don't think Tia will complain too much about having to carry your weight, too."

Swallowing nervously, I didn't know what to do or say. On one hand, it would be intensely rude to turn down his offer of help, not to mention it was possibly the only help I was going to get. But, was it worth the risk of being raped, murdered and eaten by dingoes just because I didn't want to seem discourteous?

"Umm," I hesitantly replied.

"Listen," he said, his face still occupied with that laidback smile, "I know being out here on your own must be frightening, but I promise all I want to do is help." Taking a small step, he slipped his thumb from his jeans and wiped that hand vigorously down his thigh. "You know what? This is all my fault. Of course you don't trust a stranger." Seeming happy that his palm was relatively clean, he extended it toward me. "I'm Jay," he said warmly.

"Faith," I responded, wrapping my fingers around his calloused hand and shaking it firmly - I didn't want him thinking I had a weak grip. If he did plan to attack me, being aware of my ability to give a good, solid handshake would surely make him think twice! I don't know why it seemed important, but for some reason it did.

"That's a beautiful name," he replied, releasing my hand. "And it's appropriate," he chuckled. "So, what d'ya say? Will you have a little faith and let me take you to the ranch house?"

I cast my mind back to a self-defense course I'd taken in my sophomore year of college. Trying to remember the classes, I wondered if any of the moves, which I'd never had a call to actually use, were fresh enough to muster if required. What I did very prominently recall was the first rule: trust your instinct. If you're in a situation that feels wrong, get the hell out.

As I looked at Jay and then the gentle brown eyes of his horse, who nuzzled her owner's upper arm, I didn't feel uncomfortable. Instinct wasn't telling me to run. I was aware, of course, that my instinct could be betraying me, but it was a risk I had to take...wasn't it?

"Two miles, you say?" I mumbled, tearing my gaze from him and looking in the direction he'd pointed to with his head.

"About that."

"Thank you," I replied softly, nodding.

His grin broadening, he cocked his head to beckon me to his horse's side. "You ever ridden before?" he asked, as I followed his instruction.

"No," I informed him, a little embarrassed by the confession and not sure why.

Tia's face followed me as I nervously approached her. She sniffed me gently and then extended her tongue. I remained motionless, as she licked the sweater that covered my shoulder, anxious that she was about to take a bite out of me.

"Hey," Jay gently chided, placing his palm on the horse's nose and urging her away. "Sorry," he added. "She's not usually that friendly with people she doesn't know." Placing his right hand on the rear of the saddle, he bent to hold the stirrup steady. "Just stick your foot in there," he instructed simply. "Take hold of the saddle, and heave yourself up."

Inexplicably concerned about making a fool of myself, I demurely did as he suggested. Slipping my sneakered foot into the stirrup, I reached up at full stretch to take hold of the saddle. Then, with a light bounce of my foot in preparation for the effort, I hauled myself up with a soft grunt.

Jay moved with me, straightening until his shoulder came into contact with my butt and then giving me the extra push I needed to swing my right leg over the saddle.

Chewing at the inside of my cheek, I looked back down to him and found him laughing.

"What?" I demanded.

"Nothin'," he hurriedly insisted. "Nothin'. It wasn't bad for a beginner."

"Then, what's so funny?"

Refusing to tell me, he ran his hand absentmindedly over Tia's nose. "Shuffle up as far as you can," he said, "and take your feet out of the stirrups."

With slightly clumsy movement, I freed my feet and left them dangling either side the barrel of the horse. Then, gradually, I slid forward until my pubic bone struck the saddle's pommel.

"OK?" he asked as he placed himself on my right and lifted his own foot into the stirrup. After my silent nod, he propelled himself with perfect ease. As he smoothly dropped into the saddle behind me, he inadvertently pushed me slightly further forward.

Pushed tightly against the hard swell of leather in front of me, I experienced an involuntary and entirely unwanted tingling. But I could not move. He was flush at my back. The bulge in his jeans pressed solidly against the top of my buttocks.

As he reached around me and grasped the reins, I was acutely aware of his scent. He was sweaty, but it wasn't a rancid, stale kind of sweat. There was something sweet about it, but it was also earthy, and mingled with the dust around us, the leather of the saddle and something citrusy that I guessed was his deodorant, or shampoo, or shower gel.

Knowing that I was also sweaty, I wondered if I smelt good to him. Then silently asked myself why the hell that mattered. I wasn't trying to attract him. Still, the other mute voice in my head reasoned, I didn't want him to think I stink.

"You all right?" he asked, his breath tickling my ear.

"Uh huh," I muttered, it was all I was able to muster, as I started to feel the thud of my heartbeat in my tongue.

His thighs gripping my hips, he gave Tia a subtle kick of encouragement and she responded instantly. She moved gently, but the fact that she'd moved at all made me feel suddenly very unsteady. My fingers snatched down to hang on to something, and what they landed on was his hands.

I both felt and heard him chuckle. "Don't worry," he kindly said, through his amusement. "I want let you fall."

Self-consciously, I removed my hands from his, but I grasped the reins a little lower down despite his promise.

Then, with a click of his tongue and another kick of his heels, he squeezed both Tia and me. It prompted a burst of energy in her, and the sudden motion forced me back against his chest. Then, as her slender legs eased into a rhythm, my body, and his, undulated evenly with her.

My bound rubbing against the saddle with the temperate cadence, I became ever more accurately aware of the strength in his arms, the heat seeping through his shirt, and that intoxicating, masculine smell. A wholly inappropriate pleasantness blossomed between my legs, and I even began to feel my panties dampen. If the ride had lasted much longer than two miles, I would have been in serious danger of humiliating myself.

As it was, trying to take my mind off my body, I searched the landscape around me and urged myself to focus on something else. Ahead of us was a sprawling property, with several barns, two fenced paddocks, and further back still, a two-story ranch house with a massive deck under the shade of an awning.

The light was fading fast as we drew closer, and I spotted two men walking out of one of the barns. In turn, they noticed our approach and stood curiously waiting. Immensely grateful as Tia began to slow, I also felt the pressure of Jay's chest leave my back as he rapidly jumped down from his horse.

"Hey, Jay," one of the men grinned, "I thought you were going to check the perimeter. I do it, and bring back a dead wild dog. You do it, and you bring back somethin' very much more appealing." He wore a black A-shirt that was soaked with sweat, and a pair of scuffed jeans. His green eyes meandered over my face and then down my body. "Yeah," he muttered. "Much more appealing."

Feeling a little disquieted by the way the man was talking about me, and looking at me, I wondered if I had even more reason to be scared now than I had before. After all, there were three of them. No one knew I was there; we were miles away from any other building.

"Robbo," Jay grumbled. "This is Faith; her car broke down on the highway. Can you take the truck up there, and get it runnin' again?" His focus leaving his buddy, Jay looked up at me. "You still got the keys?"

"Oh, yeah, sure," I muttered, stuffing my hand into my pocket, and then tossing them down at him.

His reflexes were quick, and hands supple, he caught the keys easily in one hand then threw them at his friend.

Robbo was not as quick, nor as adept, and fumbled with them before finally wrestling a tight hold. "Which highway did you find her on?" he laughed, unflustered. "She sure ain't from round here."

"Just go and get her car," Jay returned, obviously nonplussed. "Do you wanna give him a hand, Cam?" he added, addressing the other man.

Of indigenous decent, Cam brushed his dusty hands over his khaki pants before nodding. "I guess, I better," he grumbled in good humor, "otherwise, the poor girl'll be here all night."

Suddenly feeling very uncomfortable about my elevated position on the back of a horse; like an overdressed Lady Godiva, I lifted one leg and slid gracelessly down. Robbo gave a snicker, and Cam clapped him jovially around the back of the head.

Then, the two men turned away and headed toward another outbuilding; one I hadn't been able to see on the way down.

"Pay no attention to him," Jay said as he took a step toward me. "It's a birth defect," he added, "he was born a dipstick."

I smiled at his joke, but felt far too tense to laugh. Evading his eyes, because I was certain I blush still heated my cheeks from the ride; I turned my focus to Tia and patted her neck.

"Between 'em, they'll be able to get your car running again, but if you want to use the phone, you're welcome to it," he suggested, jerking his thumb toward the house.

"No, I don't need to call anyone, thank you," I replied, looking at him while artfully avoiding looking at him.

It was ridiculous really; I was like an awkward adolescent boy who was worried his erection was on display. One of the benefits of being a woman is that you can be intensely aroused and, and nobody ever needs to know. Yet I still felt as though my dirty little secret was visible somehow.

"Sure?" he probed. "Boyfriend won't be worried?"

It was difficult to know, in my foggy state of mind, whether there was an element of interest or if it was a simple question that meant nothing more than its face value. I spent a few seconds trying to work that out before shaking my head. "No, I don't have a boyfriend."

His reaction didn't help. Face unaffected by the news, he reached forward and took hold of Tia's headstall. "Right, well, why don't you come on in anyway? I'll make us a cup of jarrah. They might be a while."

"Uh," my feet stalled as he began to lead the horse away from me. "That's very sweet of you," I added quietly. "But, are you sure your boss won't mind?"

"Boss?" he queried, twisting his face over his shoulder with a curious squint of his eyes.

"Well, the..." I mumbled, pointing at the massive house, "the guy who owns all this."

His lips breaking into a broad smile, he slowly turned and continued to walk. Eventually, once he was several yards away, I heard the words, "I own all this," tossed back at me.

# Chapter Five

After shutting Tia securely in her stable, Jay lead me into the house, and the sleek kitchen with its granite counters and mahogany cabinets. It was an ideal mix of modern and rustic.

"Listen," I began to say as he gestured for me to take a seat at the large pine table, "I didn't mean to offend you, I just...well, you're pretty young to own a ranch. That's why I assumed-"

"It's all right," he quickly interjected, interrupting my clunky attempt to apologize. "Besides, I suppose, it would be more accurate to say, I inherited it," he added, taking off his hat and hooking it on one corner of a high-backed dining chair. "It was my parents' ranch. Dad passed away three years ago, and my mum decided she couldn't bear to be here without him," he explained as he swept both hands through his lustrous, sandy blond hair. "So, she moved out to Perth to be near my oldest brother and his family."

"I'm sorry about your dad," I muttered.

"It's OK," he replied quietly, peering down at his boots. "That's life, right?" Something flicked through his mind and then he swiftly shook the melancholy aside. "Anyway, both of my elder brothers had already got their careers, and weren't interested in running this place, so it was down to me and Rob."

"Oh," I nodded. "Rob's your brother?"

"Yeah," he smiled. "I'm sorry about earlier; he can be a bit of an arsehole, but he doesn't mean any real harm."

"That's OK," I replied, not knowing what else to say. I wasn't sure if the mildly threatening speech was entirely OK, but I did feel perfectly safe with Jay around. And if he trusted his brother, then I guessed it probably was all right.

"Anyway," he breathed, grinning, "what'll you have? I'll fix you up a brew, and then I really oughta jump in the shower."

"Um, I don't mind," I shrugged, brushing hands that trembled slightly over the smooth surface of the table. "Whatever you're having."

Humming, he wandered to a kitchen cabinet and opened it. "Coffee OK?" he said, taking hold of jar of instant.

"Fine," I swiftly replied.

He kept his back to me as he filled the kettle, took two mugs down and began to prepare the drinks. "So, if it's not too nosy of me to ask," he began quietly, "how long have you been in Australia?"

"I arrived in Sydney three days ago," I told him.

"Right," he nodded, although his back remained toward me. "So, you on vacation or a gap year or...?"

"Actually, I'm here to go to school," I responded, glad of the chance to make small talk and get my mind off the potential embarrassment of the ride. I was also, mercifully, beginning to cool down. The tingling between my thighs had ceased, but the fact it had existed at all continued to mortify me.

"Ahh, I see," he countered evenly, pouring the boiling water into the mugs, then turning. "Which uni?"

"Newcastle," I offered, "I've just rented a place in Warabrook, and I felt like taking a drive." Shaking my head ruefully, I added, "I didn't really think it through. Pretty stupid, I guess."

Setting one of the mugs before me, he shrugged. "How were you to know the car would breakdown?" he said kindly. "Unless it's 'cause you ran out of petrol. You didn't, did you?"

"No," I stated sharply. I may not know much about cars, but I do know how to put gas in them. Not really annoyed, because I sensed he was only teasing, I offered him a small smile. "Thank you," I added much more quietly. "For, y'know, rescuing me."

His bright grin seeming to illuminate the entire room, he shook his head. "No worries," he dismissed easily. "Look, I'm gonna get cleaned up. You'll be OK here for ten?"

"Sure," I nodded.

I watched him rub at the nape of his neck and pick up his coffee. He blew on the steaming liquid as he took the cup with him and left the room. I listened to his footsteps along the hall, and then the stairs.

Left in silence, I wrapped my grimy hands around the mug and was struck by how cold my fingers were. It wasn't cold in the kitchen, but it seemed the pulsing adrenaline of the previous hour or so had constricted my circulation. Gratefully, I gripped the coffee a little tighter and brought it to my lips.

It was only at that instant that it hit me. I had been incredibly lucky. Lucky to be found, and even luckier to be found by Jay and not some machete-wielding lunatic. I was suddenly keenly aware of a dozen or more terrible things that could have happened to me, and I began to tremble from within. Traveling alone was an adventure all right, but that afternoon had been an adventure I'd rather forget.

Promising myself that I'd never be quite so foolhardy when travelling alone, I slowly sipped on the coffee until my jittering began to subside.

As I drank, my eyes moved around the neat, clean space and I began to wonder whether Jay and Robbo lived alone. Sexist it may have been, but I struggled to imagine two young men being so tidy. I recalled Rich's apartment, and the kitchen that was always a dump, because he and his roommates seemed incapable of cleaning up after themselves. Of course, Jay was older than Rich - I supposed he must have been in his late twenties or early thirties. But perhaps age had nothing to do with it anyway. The man could have just been a clean freak. It was difficult to picture the very filthy cowboy I'd first laid eyes on as a clean freak, but stranger things have happened.

To my right were glass sliding doors with an almost completely transparent mesh fly screen that covered their length. Beyond those windows, I peered out in the dimness at the unspoiled land at the rear of the property. There were a few evergreen trees out there that looked like Christmas trees, but the pines were sparser. Part of the space was graced with a lawn, which obviously needed to be manually watered. As I took in what was a back yard of sorts, one that Jay and Rob may have played in as boys, I became keenly aware of just how quiet it was. Cocking my head to the side, I strained a little and realized I could hear nothing. It was so unusual to not hear a sound - a car, arguing neighbors, a siren.

"You OK?" his voice startled me and sounded louder for my efforts to detect something in the silence.

Flinching in surprise, I laughed self-consciously. "Yeah, yeah, I was just admiring how quiet it is out here."

As I twisted to the doorway, I found him with hair that he hadn't seemed to towel dry. It was drenched; it was a light brown rather than a dirty blond. Uncombed, some strands flopped onto his forehead. He wore a plain white T-shirt, which amplified the natural tan of his skin. It also clung to his biceps, and shoulders, in a way that made it difficult not to stare. A pair of much smarter jeans than those he worked in covered his legs, and on his feet he wore only black socks.

Coming closer, he pulled out the chair next to mine. "I'm not jumping to conclusions to suggest you're a city girl," he mused in half-question as he sat down with a chuckle.

"I guess I am," I admitted softly, irrationally flustered by the admission. It wasn't as though he'd posed the sentiment as an accusation. Yet, I did get the feeling he found my lack of country smarts amusing. And for reasons I couldn't explain, I didn't like him laughing at me.

"Well, I reckon we could beat that out of you," he added, propping his elbow on the table and casually resting his chin in his palm.

"Wh...What?"

Laughing gently, he shook his head at my alarmed expression. "Not literally," he clarified. "But ya didn't do too bad for your first time on a horse, so I think a little time on a ranch would turn you into a proper hardy Sheila."

'Hardy Sheila' didn't sound much like a compliment, but the way he was grinning suggested he believed it to be one.

"Hmm," I nodded, not revealing my thoughts on the matter one way or the other. "And is your wife a hardy Sheila?" I asked, knowing deep down that the question had more to do with a desire to know whether he was single than it should have done.

"I'm not married," he replied in his mellow, lilting manner.

My lips drifting apart, I was about to follow up with, 'Girlfriend?', but the word stayed in my head.

"I'm sorry," he rapidly breathed, sitting up straighter. "I haven't asked if you wanna clean up. You're welcome to take a shower or a bath or whatever."

"Oh, no," I shrugged. "Thanks, but I don't have anything to change into, so there's not really a point."

"Right, yeah," he noted. "Sorry to say, I probably don't have anything that'll fit you."

"It's OK," I smiled shyly, feeling shaky again under his intense blue gaze.

"Well, do you want another drink, or can I get you some tucker?"

"Tucker?" I repeated in confusion.

Pushing the chair back but staying seated, he licked his bottom lip as he jerked his head in the direction of his kitchen units. "Food," he translated. "Are you hungry?"

"Um," I hesitated, trying to figure out when I last ate. I couldn't put an exact time on it, but it had been that morning. "Yeah, I guess I am," I admitted. "Please don't go to any trouble, though."

"It's no trouble," he insisted, already striding across the room and yanking on the refrigerator door. "Let's see," he muttered mostly to himself as he eyed the contents of his fridge. "I could knock us up some pasta, with some veggies and a bit of chicken," he suggested, lifting his face to the top of the door so I could see him.

"Sounds great," I replied, with a grateful grin.

As he grabbed some ingredients and began to move about the kitchen with the fluidity of someone who cooked often, I watched him with intrigue and interest. More casual conversation passed between us: he asked what I was studying at university. I asked whether he had any misgivings about taking over his family ranch. I told him that I'd always been fascinated by history. He told me that he'd been a bit of a slacker at school.

Then, we ate and I discovered that he could indeed cook. However, my enthusiasm for the meal started to feel as though I was patronizing him and I quickly apologized. "I didn't mean to sound surprised," I explained. "Must guys I know are happier ordering a pizza than making anything for themselves."

"Well, I like a pizza, too," he admitted, sticking his fork into a piece of chicken that was coated in the tastiest fresh tomato sauce I'd ever had in my mouth. "But Mum was adamant that her four boys knew how to cook and clean."

"A bet she's quite a woman," I noted.

"Yeah," he chuckled, nodding. "Yeah, she's that all right."

The rest of the meal passed in a semi-comfortable silence. I figured talk of his mom had got him thinking about his father's death, and her being all the way on the other side of the country. Whatever it was he was thinking about, he fell into a contemplative hush, and I didn't want to disturb him.

Setting my knife and fork down with a sincere thanks, I heard a thud at the front door and the heavy clump of boots along the hardwood hall.

"Jay!" Robbo's shout echoed along the corridor and into the kitchen.

"In here," Jay hollered back, twisting his face over his shoulder to help his voice carry in that direction.

Grinning proudly, the younger man swaggered into the room, swinging my car keys around his index finger. "All done," he declared, "you're up and runnin' again." Approaching the table, he dropped the key triumphantly before sniffing the air. "Something smells good, d'ya save me some?"

"In the pot," his older brother succinctly responded.

"Well," I breathed, "I suppose I better go."

"You don't have to," Jay began to say. "I mean, if you want to head back in daylight, you're more than welcome to spend the night."

"Ahh, man," Robbo groaned rubbing his hand down the length of his bare arm as he wandered to the pan of pasta and sauce that sat on the stove. "I've been bit to buggery."

My attention sliding back to Jay's features, I shook my head gratefully. "I appreciate the offer, but I'll be fine."

"All right," he accepted, "I'll walk you out."

Scooping my keys from the table, I lifted my free hand to the younger man, whose mouth was full. "Thanks for your help," I said.

"Don't mention it," he returned around half-chewed pasta, lifting a grubby palm in return.

Jay then led me from the kitchen, out onto the porch and down to my parked Prius. I groped for something to say and could only muster a, "Well..." as I unlocked the car door.

"Well..." he echoed.

"Thanks again, cowboy," I smiled.

"Err..." he mumbled with a puff of laughter. "I am not a cowboy."

Peering over my shoulder at the ranch around us, I turned my gaze back at him and arched an eyebrow. "You look very much like one to me," I told him in a matter-of-fact attitude.

"Where you come from maybe," he chuckled. "Out here, the cowboy is the kid that does the milking. I'm a stockman."

"Hmm," I respond, smiling at his indignant tone as I opened the car door. I didn't get in though. Instead, I simply clung to the edge of it. "That may be, but 'thanks, stockman' doesn't have quite the same ring to it."

"Nevertheless," he insisted in pleasant humor, "I'm not a cowboy."

"Well, either way, I really am very grateful to you," I said, the amusement drifting from my lips. Experiencing an urge to touch him, I hurriedly quash it and moved to get into the car.

"Hey, Faith," he stalled me, having no similar concern about touching me, his fingers looped around my elbow. "I don't wanna come across like a weirdo, but I was wondering if I could see you again."

Unprepared for his request, I faltered awkwardly. "Oh, well...I..." I can't deny that the thought was not at all unpleasant. But, it was crazy to be thinking about dating someone, wasn't it? "The thing is," I breathed, realizing that my stuttered efforts to speak were not only making me look like an idiot, but also insulting someone who had been immensely kind to me. "The thing is, because I've just got here, I'm settling into a new home, and I'm starting school next week, I've got a lot going on right now. And I-"

"It's OK," he quickly interrupted. "It's fine. I understand." There was no overt hint of annoyance or even a trace of coldness to his remark. Smiling, he nodded as he slipped one hand in his pocket and extended the other open palm toward me. "Can I have your mobile for a sec, though?"

Instantly reaching for my cell, I handed it to him without question.

He took it smoothly and tapped his thumb across the screen. "Do me a favor," he requested while focused on my phone, "give me a call when you get home."

"Uh," I muttered. "Well, I would, but I'm not sure how long it'll take. You must get up early, so I wouldn't wanna wake you or anything."

"Don't worry about that," he dismissed, tapping in the last digit of his number before gently handing me the phone back. "I won't go to bed until I know you're safe, so..."

"That's sweet of you, thanks." I mumbled shyly as I stuffed the cell back into my pocket and finally sunk into the car seat.

Stepping back, he let me close the door and gave me a lopsided grin. "You're welcome," he said. Although the words were muffled, I read the movement of his lips clearly enough.

When the car started smoothly, I silently vowed not to turn it off again until I got back to Warabrook.

# Chapter Six

Three months later, life had slipped into a routine. My new home didn't seem quite so foreign. I'd pretty much learned my way around campus. I'd made a few friends, and spring was kicking in, which (even though the winter hadn't been much of one to speak of) brought a certain optimism. Meanwhile, my PhD thesis was starting to look better and better, and my supervisor, Professor Bowman, was a fascinating and slightly eccentric woman who was always ready to offer the most remarkable advice. Often, that advice was related to the subject at hand. But on occasion, she'd say things like, "If you get stuck, go out and have a couple of drinks. That'll loosen the brain."

As it happened, I didn't do a great deal of going out or drinking. I'd managed to find a job at the local library and, between that and my studies, I was kept occupied. It wasn't all hard work, though. My roommate, someone I'd found through the student website to help make ends meet, would encourage me down to the pub at least once every couple of weeks.

Life was good.

"Don't forget, it's Anna's birthday party on Saturday," Kim mentioned as we walked side-by-side from the lecture hall.

"Yes," I breathed. I had completely forgotten. Pulling my shoulder bag from my side, I rummaged for my phone and made a note of it on my calendar. "Thanks," I added, smiling,

"I don't think it's gonna be a biggy," she shrugged. "Just something tossed on the hot rocks and a few tinnies."

Despite the twelve weeks that had passed, I was sometimes still convinced that these people spoke a different language. But, in this instance, I knew she was talking about barbecue and beer.

"Cool," I replied, casting my attention down to my phone again as I saved the date, and made a separate alert reminder to buy Anna, who was another of the PhD candidates and one of the sweetest people I'd ever encountered, a gift.

A huffed irritably beneath my breath when my stupid iphone decided I needed reminding to 'Buy Anna a girl'. Then, as I jabbed at the screen to delete it, my shoulder collided with something hard.

"Oh, I'm sorry," a voice said.

"No," I quickly insisted. "It's my fault." Lifting my face to the thing, or rather the person, I'd plowed into my jaw fell open. "I wasn't looking where I was going," I finished on a whisper.

"Faith," he grinned in surprise. "How are you doing?" Dressed in a pair of black dress pants, with smartly-shined loafers, and an open-necked white cotton shirt, he looked markedly different from the first time I'd laid eyes on him. His soft, thick hair was parted and had a little gel keeping it in place. His face still carried that shade of stubble, though.

He looked good. He looked really good. And I struggled to decide whether I preferred this 'clean' look or the dirty one that had also made me weak in the knees.

"I'm...er..." I muttered, nudging my brain back to the fact I'd been asked a question. "I'm fine, thanks. How are you?"

"I'm good," he nodded. "Y'know, I'd half hoped I might run into you here, but I didn't think it'd be literally."

A warm palm at the base of my spine reminded me that my friend was still beside me. "I've got to return a few books," she said. "I'll catch you later, all right?"

I'd been about to introduce her to Jay, but she was already walking ahead with easy strides of her lithe legs. "OK," I said to her retreating back, although I'm not sure if she heard me. There was certainly no sign that she did.

"It's great to see you," he said, that warm smile of his still beaming at me. "You look good."

"Thanks," I returned, allowing my eyes to move over him with a little less timidity than a few seconds before. "You look pretty good, too. You scrub up nice, cowboy," I added with a teasing grin.

"Stockman," he breathed, flashing me threatening eyes that were entirely belied by the dimples in his cheeks caused by his grin. "I'm a stockman, not a cowboy."

"Oh, that's right," I said, nodding as though it was something I'd forgotten. "Sorry," I continued, while a quirk flicked across my mouth and, I guess, removed any doubt of my attempt to get a rise out of him.

"That's OK," he replied before jabbing at the inside of his cheek with the tip of his tongue. "It's understandable you'd get confused. After all, you're a city girl. Of course, you're a Yank," he added with a mischievous glint in his vibrant eyes. "And you people didn't get Copernicus' memo. You're under the impression that the universe is actually America-centric."

For the briefest of seconds, I was ready to slap him. But there was no mistaking the humor in his teasing lips. Given how I had intentionally been teasing him, I couldn't really complain about getting it slung back at me two-fold.

I was not about to let the comment slip by unchallenged, though. "Is that so?" I tartly began, pulling myself to my full height. "Well, you-"

"Faith!"

That shout of my name was probably one of the best things that had ever happened to me. The fact is, I had no smart remark to toss at him. I was floundering for one even as I was speaking. And there is no doubt in my mind, if I'd been able to carry on unimpeded, I would have made a complete ass of myself.

Twisting my face behind me, I spotted the six feet and three inches of the man who had called me. Wearing board shorts, which were his permanent fashion choice, and a red T-shirt with the words, 'Train, Eat, Sleep, Repeat' printed over his expansive chest.

"Hey," he smiled, breaking into a jog as he drew closer. "I know I'm a complete pain in the arse, but I need a favor."

"Uh, sure," I replied, blinking curiously up at his intimidating height. Of course, there was absolutely nothing intimidating about him. You only had to know him for five minutes to realize that. Yes, he was built like a tank; played rugby and Australian rules football, but he was a gentle giant in every sense of the phrase.

"Oh, sorry, mate," he added, noticing Jay. "Didn't mean to interrupt."

"No worries," Jay muttered. Without the benefit of looking at his face, it was difficult to be certain, but I felt sure there seemed to be an unusual stiffness to his reply.

"Oh, err," I stuttered. "Matt, this is Jay," I hurriedly said. "Jay, this is Matt."

"Nice to meet ya," the tall man beside me smoothly and amiably stated.

"Yeah, you too," Jay countered, although there was not quite as much warmth.

Focus shifting away from the guy I'd just introduced him to, Matt looked down at me. "I've left my frigging keys at home," he explained, sweeping a hand through his short, jet black hair. "Can I borrow yours?"

Already digging a hand into my bag, I nodded. "Of course."

With a grateful sigh, he held out his hand in wait. "You're a lifesaver."

"No problem," I chuckled, placing the bunch of keys into his warm palm.

The pink, heart-shaped keychain that read, 'Courage and Faith' (a bon voyage gift from Laura) looked peculiar in his big hand, but he thought nothing of it. "If you're not back by the time I go to footie practice, I'll call you," he promised, "and we can arrange to meet someplace."

"That's fine," I assured him casually.

"All right," he grinned. "Well, I've gotta go. Thanks, babe." As he spoke, he bent at the waist and pressed a kiss to my cheek. Then, with his usual manners, he lifted his attention back to Jay. "Nice to meet you, mate."

"Yeah," came the less enthusiastic reply.

It seemed to me that Matt hadn't noticed the frosty reception. In his flustered rush, he left me with another quick, "Bye," and ran back the way he'd come.

By the time I stopped looking at him, I realized the atmosphere between Jay and I had become more than a little frosty, too. As I met his eyes, I wanted to ask him what was wrong. But I didn't have to ask. He answered by posing a query of his own.

"So, you two live together?"

I wasn't too dense to see where this was going. But I was too unwilling to believe that a man like Jay could be jealous...especially over me. He was a handsome guy. He could have any woman he wanted. Even as we stood talking, several young female students had cast him more than just a fleeting glance. Now, Matt was a good-looking man too, no doubt about it. But it beggared belief to think that Jay could be insecure no matter how good-looking another man was.

"Uh, yeah," I shrugged. "He's my housemate."

"Just your housemate?" he probed, his eyebrows pinching in suspicion.

My jaw flopping feebly open, I was both flattered and alarmed by the fact that he cared one way or the other. Over the previous twelve weeks, I'd secretly hoped that he might call me and restate his request that we get together. I'd eventually dismissed the notion, figuring that he couldn't really be that interested in me. Perhaps the invitation had only been a friendly one anyway. After all, he hadn't been the one who was aroused just by being near me. And I knew he wasn't, because there would have been no hiding it if he had been!

"Well, he's a friend," I eventually stammered.

"Oh," he nodded, seeming to read more into the word 'friend' than I'd written into it. His gaze falling away from mine, he shifted his smart shoes uncomfortably. "I'm sorry," he murmured, staring at my feet. "I shouldn't have asked. It's none of my business, I just-"

"He's gay," I suddenly blurted. "So..." I let the vowel dangle in the air awhile, knowing that nothing else needed to be said. And knowing that what I had spoken was proof that I wanted Jay to be under no illusion about the relationship Matt and I shared. We were more like brother and sister than anything else. Although we did talk about men in a way that, if I had a brother, I couldn't imagine doing.

The small movements of his body ceased for a moment, and then he lifted his face to mine once more. "Oh," he breathed. "Oh, right," he added. "Well, that's good...I don't mean him being gay. Not that I'm saying that's a bad thing. I mean, good on 'im. I've got no problem with-" stopping himself with a stern shake of his head, he huffed a self-deprecating laugh. When he opened his eyes again, it was with a bracing inhalation. "What I mean to say is, I'm glad you're still single." His slightly embarrassed smile drooping somewhat, he added a wary; "You are still single, aren't you?"

Unable to prevent the light chuckle that rocked my entire body, I nodded. "Yeah, I'm still single."

"Good," he whispered. "See," he continued, moistening his lips, "I was hoping that, now you're settled in, you might reconsider spending a bit of time with me." Shrugging his right shoulder, he made it seem like a relaxed question, but his awkwardness of just a few moments earlier told me that it was more than just casual to him. "And I'll try to keep my foot out of my mouth," he added coyly.

Two feelings battled within me. First, the more impulsive side of me (which, oddly enough, had made very few appearances in my life) was telling me to go for it. Second, the sensible me was aware of danger. There was danger in allowing myself to be distracted from my thesis. And there was an even greater danger of getting hurt. Jay seemed very interested. What if it all went wrong? What if his interest extended only as far as having sex?

I was a student, I was abroad...so, he might quite naturally assume I wasn't looking to get tied down. Anything that blossomed between us would be temporary. And I had never done temporary. Well, I had, but I'd never gone in with that view. I'd gone into all of my relationships thinking they had staying power. I'd been fantastically wrong.

"Faith?" Jay nudged, reminding me that he'd asked something. Well, in truth, he hadn't asked. He'd skirted around a direct question. It hung between us nonetheless. "I just thought it'd be nice to get to know you a bit better."

"I'd like to get to know you better too," I responded, the words flowing easily and honestly. Maybe it was a mistake to let my barely-used reckless side dictate my decision. But, I figured, as long as I didn't give it too much free reign, I'd be OK. I mean, there really was no harm in getting to know him better. I didn't have to leap into bed with him. I didn't have to go anywhere near his bed if I didn't want to.

The problem, of course, was I already did want to. Something about him made me hornier than I'd ever been in my life. So horny that, if he suggested it, I would have been happy to jump him those second, damn the consequences.

But he hadn't suggested it. His invitation was pretty platonic - the twinge of jealousy over Matt notwithstanding.

"Great," he beamed. "So, are you free at the weekend?"

"Err...yes," I said. "Oh, shit, no," I hurriedly added, my illiterate phone still clutched in my left hand a reminder of what I'd been doing. "I'm going to a friend's birthday party on Saturday. But, hey, I'm sure you could come along."

"I wouldn't wanna impose," he smiled, shaking his head.

"You wouldn't be," I assured him. "It's just a barbecue in the backyard."

"Thanks," he politely said, "but it's not really my thing."

"Not your thing?" I chuckled. "What red-blooded Aussie guy says a barbie and four X aren't his thing?"

His grin growing broader, mischief drifted into his eyes again. "You're picking up all the lingo, aren't ya?"

Finding his smile as infectious as ever, I shrugged. "When in Rome."

"I appreciate the offer," he uttered quietly. "But how about Sunday?"

I can't deny, I was a little hurt. Silently, I attempted to find reasons for his refusal. There were dozens, but none of them made me feel good about myself; maybe he didn't want to be seen with me; perhaps he thought my friends were beneath him. The latter didn't seem as likely, but it was still a possibility.

"Um, I'm not doin' anything," I lazily replied.

"Good," he enthused. "D'ya wanna come back up to the ranch?"

"You don't want my friends to be able to identify you, and you're suggesting I drive alone to your very secluded home?" I challenged, but I was only teasing. No matter how creepy the idea may have seemed on the surface, there was nothing creepy about the man proposing it.

"Do you trust me?" he grinned with a broad wink.

# Chapter Seven

It was a gloriously sunny day, and I'd had the good sense not to get wasted at the party, so there was not even a hint of a hangover. The four people that slept on my living room floor could not have said the same thing. Darren, the only one awake, looked decidedly unwell as he queried where I was off too so early - it was actually ten o'clock.

"Just going to see a friend," I explained quietly before telling him he would be able to find aspirin in the cabinet above the bathroom sink. Then, trusting Matt to ensure that the house wasn't trashed and the carpet wasn't splattered with vomit, I left my worse for wear friends behind.

During the drive to Jay's ranch, I felt inexplicably nervous. Not frightened as such, but that excited, fluttering kind of nervousness. A jittering dwelt low in my abdomen, and my hands trembled slightly. It was the same kind of feeling I'd had when I got on the plane to Australia; that mixture of nervousness and elation. I hadn't felt that way about a person in several years. The last time was probably when I was sixteen; I'd had a huge crush on the quarterback of the football team, a ridiculously handsome boy called Ben Curtis. Nothing ever came of my infatuation, but I used to get that mildly nauseous sensation whenever he was within fifty feet of me.

In the years since, I'd assumed that was just an adolescent thing, and that grown women didn't feel that way around men, even ones they were attracted to. I'd certainly never experienced it around Rich. But over the course of the long drive, I began to wonder if I'd ever really been attracted to Rich at all. When I compared the way I'd felt about him with the way I felt about Jay (or even Ben Curtis) it was a very different sensation.

My relationship with Rich had seemed right on a practical level. We got along pretty well. He was doing a Masters in anthropology; we'd read the same books; enjoyed the same films; liked watching documentaries together. It all seemed to fit. I thought he was the kind of man I was meant to be with. We made a good match. But my love for him, because there's no doubt I did love him, was more intellectual than visceral.

Perhaps, I reminded myself as I passed the spot my car had broken down last time I was on that road, I was looking at it the wrong way around. Maybe the way I felt about Jay was just a shallow captivation. I didn't really know him after all. And what I did know told me that we were worlds apart, literally and figuratively. It was more animal attraction; lust rather than any deep affection. Just because he gave me the shakes didn't mean there was something profound between us.

By the time I pulled up to the ranch, I was sick of my own wondering mind.

Jay must have heard the car, because as I got out of it, he appeared from one of the barns. Dressed in jeans with yet more frayed holes in the knees, and a T-shirt that was drenched with sweat, he lifted a hand in greeting.

My heart lurched at the sight of him, hammering rapidly it seemed to leap into my throat. And muscles deep within me clenched. Yep, there was definitely animal attraction. The key question was lust all there was to it? Determined not to reveal how a mere glance of him turned me into a puddle of gibbering hormones, I silenced the naughty voice that practically pleaded for him to drag me into the barn he'd just come from and have his big, strong, hardy way with me.

There was no doubt in my mind; sex with him would be different from anything I'd ever experienced with old boyfriends. It would be energetic, vigorous, and maybe even a little rough. His coarse workman's hands would grab me. He'd force me to his sweat-coated skin, and he'd take me hard and fast.

Why did that turn me on so much? I'd never wanted it before. I'd wanted to be treated with respect, I'd wanted to be loved and taken care of. However, a sudden mental image of him thrusting me over a hay bale and entering me from behind moistened my underwear.

"Hey," I smiled; waving back at him while my eyes were transfixed by the way his shirt clung to him.

"Hi," he replied, approaching with long, confident strides. His raised arm stayed up and he swiped the forearm across his brow. "I'm glad you could come," he added.

Breathe, breathe. Not wanting to make a complete idiot of myself, I willed myself not to betray my secret, salacious thoughts. "Thanks for inviting me," I returned with more self-possession than I really had.

I was glad that I'd decided to go for a very casual look. Sneakers, jeans and a red and black plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. My hair was swept back in a ponytail, and I hadn't bothered with any make-up accept a little light foundation.

His gaze glided down the length of my body and he grinned. "You look good," he said, his voice low but, I liked to think, appreciative. "This is part of the 'when in Rome' philosophy?"

"Somethin' like that," I chuckled. "I seem to recall you saying something about beating the city out of me." I don't know what it was about him that turned me into a wise ass. Maybe it was the way my subconscious chose to mask my libidinous feelings. It all seemed pretty juvenile, though. Like pigtail-pulling at elementary school. Yet I was no more capable of stopping that then I was of ceasing the heat between my thighs.

"Right, yeah," he nodded. "Are you game, though?" Bright blue eyes widening in surprise, he cocked his head as he continued to study me.

"You had other plans?" I wondered.

"Well, I hadn't really given it much thought," he admitted. "But I figured we could have some lunch and then maybe go for a ride or...well, whatever you wanted to do really."

"You think I'm not cut out for it?" I responded, shutting the car door with a flick of my hip before folding my arms beneath my bosom. "Come on, cowboy, give me your best shot."

As stray beads of sweat rolled down his temple and meandered to his rugged jaw, he laughed. "Y'know, for an intelligent woman, you seem to have a bit of trouble retaining information. I am not a-"

"Cowboy," I interrupted. "Yeah, yeah, yeah," I jovially murmured. "Well, Mr. Stockman, I'm not as fragile as you think. So, bring it on." Was this bravado really fooling anyone?

If his subtle smirk was anything to go on, I definitely wasn't fooling him. He did seem to be enjoying this feisty to-and-fro, though. "Right," he sighed. "All right, you wanna know what it's like to work on an Aussie ranch? Come with me."

I followed the jerk of his head, pausing just long enough to notice that he had an exquisitely pert ass that those tight-fitting jeans hugged. I was envious of that denim.

First, he took me to one of the cattle barns and explained the huge feed bags that had just been delivered, and which sat on a large pallet beside the open doors, needed to be carried in and stacked up.

My upper body strength is nothing to write home about. But I'm no weakling, either, and I wasn't going to shy away from the challenge. So pushing my already rolled sleeves a little higher, I grabbed hold of one of the fifteen-kilo sacks. I ignored his chuckle as I struggled to lift it, and ignored his continued quiet laughter as I walked awkwardly into the barn.

I managed a grand total of three before he insisted that I stop.

"I'm fine," I told him tartly.

"You're gonna hurt yourself," he said with a soft smile rather than the smart-ass grin he had been wearing.

I was feeling pretty hot and bothered, my arms ached and there was a dull pain in my lower back. I didn't tell him about any of that, though. Instead, puffing a loud sigh, I turned and sat on the remaining bags.

"You know," I began softly, "there was something I wanted to ask you."

Mirroring my action and taking a seat next to me, he twisted his face to mine. "Shoot."

"What brought you to the university?"

As he brushed damp hair from his brow, the sun illuminated his glowing skin and highlighted the rivulets of sweat that rolled down his neck and bled into the collar of his shirt. "A friend of mine teaches business there," he explained. "He asked me to give a few lectures on modern agriculture business practices."

"Oh," I nodded, his words sinking in somewhere, but my mind predominantly fixed on his throat.

"He seemed to think it went pretty well," he added. "Reckons he might be able to offer me regularly work, just once a week or whatever."

"So?" I breathed. "I'd see more of you?"

"I hope, whether I'm at the uni every week or not, I'll see more of you," he replied simply and unaffectedly. "Now," he stated, slapping his thighs as he jumped back to his feet, "are you gonna admit defeat like the soft seppo you are?"

"Seppo?" I repeated, my head lifting indignantly and eyes set solidly on his.

"Septic tank," he uttered, slipping both hands deep in his pockets. "Yank."

"Charming," I muttered, getting up and wiping my hands over the dusty seat of my pants. That was one of the many colorful Australian rhyming slangs that I hadn't yet heard. "And I'm not admitting anything," I assured him sternly. "Come on, put me to work. I'll show you how soft I am."

Ours was a strange relationship, I realized that even at the time. He brought out two things in me that I didn't know existed. And I could never, even in my wildest dreams, have imagined they'd co-exist. A potent, heady, passionate sexual desire. And a petulant, childish desire to one-up or annoy him.

The latter he seemed to have for me, too. Of course, that didn't mean he also had the former. What I am sure of is that he demurred at my challenge. He didn't 'put me to work'.

"I've got a better idea," he said, before leading me to the stables.

Getting Tia from her stall, he tacked her up and helped me onto her back, then mounted another of his horses. I asked where we were going, but all he'd tell me was that he wanted to show me around the property.

Thankfully, I didn't need to 'ride' Tia as much as she just carried me. My direction not required or desired, she simply followed her master gently. And I soon began to relax. As it turned out, Jay's ranch was much more vast than I could have imagined. He led me down to a narrow, but freely running stream, where a group of his cattle had stopped to drink.

It was incredibly serene, and the heat of the sun was just starting to taper off. It was beautiful, and neither of us felt the need to say anything, not even a snide remark.

The peace didn't last, though. I heard hooves coming from somewhere over my right shoulder, and then I heard the shout.

"Oi, Anderson!"

Tia whinnied and tossed her head as I wrenched my face behind me.

Four men, all on horseback, all thickset, with dark hair and an unmistakable family resemblance where approaching fast.

"What the fuck are you doing on my land?" one of them, who seemed to be the oldest and who had a scar above his right eye, demanded.

The other men's horses moved hurriedly to form a circle around Jay and me. Panicked, I cast my eyes to my friend and knight in shining armor. I tried to figure out whether he looked worried. He wasn't relaxed that much was obvious.

"This is my land," Jay announced curtly. "My family's land and it has been for four generations."

"That's where your wrong, mate," another of the men chipped in. "This isn't your land, or your family's land. It's ours."

"I'm not gettin' into this again," Jay insisted.

"Then get your animals and your woman off our land," the first shouted.

More than a little unnerved, I cast my eyes carefully at each of the men, trying to assess the danger they posed. I would have been ready to head back right then and there, but Jay was not willing to back down.

"You, and your men, are the ones trespassing," he stated defiantly.

"I don't think you're getting it Anderson," a man with a thick bushy beard yelled, his palomino shuffling anxious hooves beneath him. "We're fucking serious." Abruptly reaching behind him, he grabbed something from the saddle and swung his arm back around. The sun glinted off the blade as he exposed what was more of a machete than a knife.

I sucked in a breath as the weapon was pointed toward me. Tia neighed and rocked back a little on her hind legs. Jay's horse surged forward. Placing himself between the man and me, he stuffed his hand into a pouch on the side of his own saddle.

"I'm serious, too," Jay tersely spat, freeing a pistol from its concealed place and aiming it directly at the other man's face. "Now, you be a sensible boy and put that thing away," he commanded. "We don't want anyone gettin' hurt now, do we?"

"Put it away, Greg," the older man gruffly insisted.

Greg, the guy with the knife, chewed his lip bitterly before finally lowering his weapon. As soon as he did, Jay followed suit.

"This isn't over, though," the leader of the group continued. "Not over by a fucking long way." With a jerk of his sullen head, he gave his companions an order, and they followed it.

For a long time, I watched them slowly retreat. It wasn't until I could no longer see them that I once again breathed.

"You all right?" Jay asked, leading his horse closer to me. Facing me, he pulled his ride to a stop when his leg was brushing mine. "Faith?" he added, reaching across and cupping my face in his large, hot hand. "Are you OK?"

"Yeah," I whispered, panting slightly. "Yeah, I'm OK." Meeting eyes that were so full of concern, I found my efforts to breathe thwarted again. There was such intensity in his gaze, a power and seriousness that was completely unanticipated.

And then another unexpected thing happened.

Slowly, he leaned closer. Frantically licking my lips, I knew what was coming, but couldn't quite believe my senses. His face continued to inch delicately nearer, I felt the whisper of his breath on my cheek, and all at once the warmth of his lips had over taken mine. The pressure was delightfully sweet; the scent of him was intoxicating. My head was spinning, and my lips parted with a quiet moan of need.

He didn't respond as I'd hoped, though. Gently withdrawing with nothing but a tender, almost apologetic, graze of his tongue across my bottom lip, he looked as though his actions had caught him equally unawares. "Um..." he mumbled, with a slight shake of his head. "We should probably head back."

I agreed with a nod that I hoped didn't look as disappointed as I felt.

On the way, he told me that the men were the Kings. A family with land that bordered Jay's family's property. Apparently, a dispute had been waging for some sixty years over where their land ended and Jay's began. Recently, that dispute had become more aggressive, and was one of the many reasons Jay's mom felt unable to remain at the ranch following her husband's death.

"I don't know why they can't get it through their thick heads," Jay muttered when we got back to the stable. Agile as ever, he slipped down from his horse easily before moving to help me. "Anyway," he sighed. "I'm sorry you got caught up in all that."

"Not your fault," I shrugged off quickly, lifting my left leg over the saddle and jumping down with rather less finesse than he had. He was there, however, to steady me.

"And I'm sorry about..." he mumbled, eyes not quite meeting mine. "I'm sorry that I..."

"Kissed me?" I wondered, baffled by his attempt to apologize for it.

"Yeah," he quietly uttered.

My hands feeling awkward by my sides, I quashed the urge to touch him. "Did I seem displeased with that turn of events?" I asked instead, flashing him a shy smile.

"Well, no," he admitted.

"That's because I wasn't," I assured him, marvelling at how unsure he suddenly seemed. Surely, women fell at his feet. He couldn't be unaware of the effect he had. He couldn't have been unaware of how I responded to him.

"So..." he said with a lopsided grin. "What would you say if I asked you to have dinner with me some time?"

"As in a date?" I replied with an arch of an eyebrow.

"Yeah," he nodded hesitantly. "Yeah, a date."

"Then, I'd say 'yes'," I responded, an unbidden smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.

# Chapter Eight

The following Friday, I stood in front of the only full-length mirror in the house; the one in the hallway. Studying my reflection with nit-picking severity. Was my dress too much? Was it not enough? It was a semi-casual white and blue floral print with a scooped neckline, narrow straps, and a straight skirt that clung to my thighs and just reached my knees. Maybe I should have chosen something that showed a bit more cleavage. I'd gone light on the make-up, but what if he preferred a older Hollywood; vibrant red lips and dramatic eyeliner look? I strand of hair kept falling on my face, and no matter how many times I swept it back with the rest, it simply would not stay.

Huffing, I was about to rush back to my bedroom to get another burst of hairspray.

"Hey," Matt grumbled, pushing himself from his casual lean against the wall next to the mirror. "Where are you going?" he chuckled, grabbing my elbow and ceasing my attempt to scamper down the hall.

"I just wanna..." I replied, waving my hand around my head in a vague mime.

Releasing me, he folded his arms across his abdomen. "Why?" he scoffed. "You look great, that little bit of hair is sexy."

"Sexy?" I repeated incredulously, flashing another unimpressed glance at my reflection. "With the greatest of respect," I added, turning my attention only too willingly from the mirror and meeting his eyes. "How would you know?"

"You don't occasionally look at a woman and think she looks sexy?" he probed. "Besides, I don't need to have a craving to climb Mount Everest to know the bloody thing is massive."

Silently acknowledging his points, I sighed. "Are you sure I look OK?"

"You look grouse," he stated without equivocation.

"Grouse," I echoed. "And grouse is good?"

With an elaborate groan and eye roll, he laughed. "For God's sake woman, you look good enough to eat. The question is, is being eaten what you want?"

"I dunno," I murmured. "Maybe," I continued with a slight reluctance.

Did admitting that make me sound like a slut? But it had been nine months. No, it was even longer than that, because, for the last six weeks of my relationship with Rich, we hadn't slept together. It was starting to seem like a drought of epic proportions and, while self-love was something I'd never shied away from, the desire for much more than our power shower could offer had been growing exponentially louder from the day I met Jay.

"Is he legit?" he wondered, crinkling his eyes, one of which had a huge bruise from a rugby match earlier in the week.

"He seems like a nice guy," I replied. Of course, that didn't really answer the question. But then, I wasn't sure what the question was. Legit in terms of liking me? Legit in wanting more than just a quick grope? Well, I figured the answer was a 'yes' on both of those counts. But just how much Jay did want was a mystery to me. "I guess, we'll have to see how tonight goes."

"Well," he breathed, "have a good time, and give me a call if you need me to come and pick you up or anything."

"I'm sure I won't need you to," I assured him. "But thanks."

I leaned forward and, with the help of four inch heels, didn't need to stand on tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. In turn, he wrapped strong arms around my waist and scooped me into a hug.

"You go get him," he said warmly before releasing me.

***

Jay picked me up, and we drove into Newcastle to a restaurant he said was owned by a good friend. I'd expected him to roll up in a pickup with mud all over the tires. In fact, he owned a white Infiniti Q50, which was strikingly clean and had gray leather interior. And he was similarly well turned out. A charcoal suit and an open-necked midnight blue shirt were teamed with parted hair that was that perfect combination of neat and scruffy that seemed effortless, but probably wasn't.

When we arrived at the restaurant, I assumed it must be closed, because the blinds were pulled down. However, Jay grinned at me as he pushed open an unlocked door and greeted his buddy with a typically masculine hug - full of firm slaps on the back.

As they said hello, I glanced about the place and noted that each and every single table was empty. There weren't even place settings laid out.

Then, as Jay turned and introduced me, I found that he'd been blocking the one table that was dressed. It was even topped off with a small yellow rose in the center. He must have seen my perplexed squint, because he began to laugh.

"Kenny's kindly agreed to let me have the whole place tonight," he explained, tugging out one chair and offering me the seat with a gallant gesture of his free hand.

Surprised by the generous favor, I flicked my attention to Jay's friend, a bear of a man with a shaggy beard and a Hawaiian shirt. "That's very kind of you," I told him.

"Not really," he insisted, cocking his head at Jay. "He paid for it."

My date's eyes dropped shyly and he once again signaled for me to sit. This time, I did. And, as his friend walked away, he grasped the other chair, which sat opposite me, and hauled it around until it was placed at my right.

"I don't like having the whole table between us," he explained. Although it was a small table, I sort of knew what he meant. As he sat, his long legs brushed mine, but neither of us felt the ridiculously need to pull away. It felt strangely natural.

"So?" I breathed. "Do you mind if I ask why we have the whole place to ourselves?"

With a grin and a shrug, he reached for the rose. Gripping it's stem, he twirled it in its vase. "Quieter," he offered by way of an answer. "More intimate," he added.

Something about the way he said 'intimate', more than the word itself and its meaning, caused my pelvic floor muscles to flutter wildly. "Well...um..." I murmured.

"You don't mind, do ya?" he wondered.

"No, no," I hurriedly assured him. "It was very thoughtful."

"No worries," he said with a small smile. "Anyway, how's school going?"

And just like that, we drifted into quiet, amiable conversation. I was more than a little surprised that he took a genuine interest in my thesis. At first, I figured it was feigned through politeness or simply an attempt to keep the close atmosphere between us, but when he started asking questions about it, that thought quickly left me.

In the meantime, we ordered our food and some wine. I was impressed that he insisted on having only half a glass, and when I told him I didn't feel comfortable drinking if he wasn't, he didn't push me to continue knocking back the booze.

So, I'd established that he wasn't faking an interest to get in my pants, and he wasn't trying to get me drunk. I liked this guy more and more.

"Will you be lecturing again?" I wondered over appetizers.

"Yeah," he nodded, placing his hand in front of his mouth as he swallowed a morsel of calamari. "Yeah, my mate wants me to do quite a bit this semester."

"That's good," I beamed, figuring that I would be able to meet him for lunches or coffees.

"Well, having an extra income stream is handy," he agreed, unaware of my meaning.

"You seem to be doing OK," I chuckled.

"Yeah, not bad," he conceded with a shrug. "Some seasons are better than others, though. We had a pretty tough winter this year."

"Then, it was naughty of you to go to all this trouble," I gently chided, indicating the empty restaurant around us with a quick circuit of my gaze.

"Well," he mumbled, the merest hint of a blush creeping into his tan cheeks. "I wanted to do somethin' special for you."

Releasing the hold I had on my fork, my brain had no say in the movement of my right hand. It slipped casually under the table and laid itself rather presumptuously on his thigh. The muscle beneath my palm was broad and strong, and I experienced vivid flashbacks of being squeezed between both of those athletic legs. Still functioning without my conscious input, my fingers rubbed him in a way that was decorous but unquestionably more familiar than I had a right to touch him.

He didn't seem offended. He didn't even some thrown by it. Smiling, he pushed that leg closer to me, causing his calf to stroke mine.

"You know what you wanna do when you get your doctorate?" he asked calmly, the conversation suddenly veered away from how our bodies were responding to each other.

It took me a little longer to collect myself sufficiently to reply. "Uh...I thought about teaching," I softly said. "But, I'd really like to get out in the field, take part in some excavations."

"Then you should," he stated simply.

When the main course arrived, I was faced with a choice between trying to eat one-handed or relinquishing my hold on Jay's leg. Eventually, I plumped for the latter, but it wasn't an easy decision to make.

As we ate, I asked him more about his family, and how often he got across the other side of the country to see his mom. It was obvious that, despite the distance, they were close.

"So," he sighed gently, resting his silverware neatly on an empty plate before dabbing sedately at the corners of his mouth with a napkin. "You're gonna be here for three years at least?"

Swallowing the last of my squid ink linguine, I nodded. "Yeah. It seems like a long time, but I guess it'll go fast."

"I think you're right," he quietly confirmed. "I think it'll go dead quick. But not too quick, I hope." Resting the arm closest to me on the table, he reached forward with his other hand and brushed that pesky strand of hair away from my face.

"Sorry," I muttered, annoyed at, and by, my stupid hair. "Was it bugging you?" Silently, I was cursing Matt for not letting me spray it back where it belonged.

"No," he smiled, shaking his head subtly. "No, it wasn't bugging me. I've just been fighting the urge to touch it ever since you answered your front door."

Either the heat from his leg was increasing or my core temperature was spiking, because the sensation of his touch, even with the fabric of his pants between us, seemed abruptly more oppressive. Yet, it wasn't a sensation that made me want to pull away. On the contrary, they were flames I would quite happily have danced in.

His face was so close. His lips so very near, and my own ached for the feel of them. However, he wasn't drawing any closer. After a few agonizing moments, during which I tried to will him to kiss me, I took the plunge. Leaning forward, I closed the gap between us.

My mouth brushed hesitatingly at his, fearing that he might pull away. It was ridiculously unfounded, though. And as his lips gently started to press temptingly back at mine, I determined not to wait for him to deepen the kiss this time. Recklessly, I sucked his lower lip into my mouth.

A deep, husky groan escaped him, rippling through our joined mouths. And then, carefully and with exquisite deliberateness he licked at my upper lip with just the barest whisper. I moaned in turn and forewent revelling in the remnants of the rich lobster sauce from his dinner in favor of sinking my tongue into the depths of his warm, inviting mouth.

I felt and heard him chuckle as my invading tongue swept over the surface of his velvety soft one. And then, his began to slowly entwine with mine. Smoothly, his tongue moved in ardent, teasingly sensual strokes. And very quickly the only thought in my head was that of having another part of his body move within me like that. Feeling my heartbeat thundering, and my breathing become shallower, I pulled back slightly.

"Do...you wanna come back to mine?" I asked, so quietly I barely even heard myself.

Jay had no trouble hearing me, though. "Isn't Matt there?" he wondered softly, his hand slipping under the table and gently curling around my left knee.

I shivered at the sensation of his touch, and struggled to swallow. "Yeah, but your place is much further away," I pointed out with barely disguised desperation.

A mischievous and knowing grin spread across his gorgeous face. "I know somewhere close," he whispered, his fingers stroking small circles on the back of my knee. "If you're sure you want to."

I'd never wanted anything as much in my entire life.

# Chapter Nine

Jay kept one arm around my waist, where it had remained from the moment I got out of his car, as he swiped a key card at the suite's door. With a click it opened, and he gave it a shove with his right foot.

"After you," he insisted, placing a little pressure on the small of my back.

With a flirtatious grin, I reached behind me and grasped his wrist. "You come here often?" I wondered as I walked backward through the open door tugging him gently with me.

"Not often," he replied, needing only minimal encouragement to remain mere inches from me.

That was a pretty unspecific answer, but then I'd asked a pretty unspecific question. However, I quickly dismissed the possibility of posing a more probing question. The truth is, it was none of my business, and it didn't matter anyway. His life was exactly that: his.

Smoothly disentangling his arm from my grip, he placed both hands on my waist. I held my breath, waiting for him to pull me to him. But he didn't. Instead, his sure, strong hands clasped me tenderly and twisted me around.

I lifted my eyebrows in question, but didn't voice the, 'what are you doing?' That was swirling through my mind. As I allowed myself to be guided by his warm hands, my jaw dropped.

In front of me was a living space, with two overstuffed couches and a low coffee table between them. Sitting elegantly on the table was a ice bucket with a bottle of champagne resting within. Next to that was a vase with a dozen red roses.

"Wow," I breathed, "you've thought this through, haven't you?" I didn't bother to face him as I posed the query.

"Well," he hedged, uncertainty creeping into the edges of his voice just as it did when he first met Matt. At all other times, from the moment I first saw him, he has been self-assured, calm and ready with a quip or two.

I liked that strong, confident stockman. But there was also something utterly adorable about the guy who was slightly vulnerable and insecure. Although, I had no idea what he had to be insecure about.

Turning back to face him, I reflexively lifted my hands to his chest and slid my palms gently up and down the lapels of his suit jacket. "What?" I asked with a small smile.

I was immensely grateful that he placed his arms around my waist and tugged me into a loose embrace.

"I wanted to..." he began, pausing to laugh at himself. "See, the thing is, I don't get a lot of practice at the romance thing," he admitted. It was a statement I found difficult to believe, but I remained quiet and let him continue. "Is it too much?" he wondered.

"No," I offered simply.

"I just wanted to make everything nice, y'know?"

"It is nice," I assured him. "It's really, really nice."

His smile growing more comfortable as it broadened, he dipped his face closer to mine. "I thought you must be used to being wined, dined, and wooed."

"Wooed?" I replied, snickering lightly. "Nope, can't say I've ever been wooed. There hasn't been a whole lot of wining and dining, either."

"Really?" he breathed, his lips so close to mine that the whisper of the word grazed my cheek.

"Really," I confirmed, wondering how I was still able to reply to him at all. My mind was a jittery, flighty mess of hormones. "I'm not used to being spoiled like this."

His lips so close I could almost taste them, but still far too far away for my liking, he tightened his grip on me. "If you ask me, that's criminal," he mumbled before finally pressing his delicate mouth to my own.

I whimpered softly and couldn't prevent the natural inclination to arch against him. My hands glided all the way to his broad shoulders, and then entwined at the nape of his neck. Tugging him just that little bit closer, I parted my lips in a silent invitation that he quickly responded to.

His wonderfully agile tongue moved swiftly into my mouth, playfully stroking my taste buds and then drawing intimately across palate. It felt alien to have another person's tongue move over the roof of my mouth, and I realized that's because it was a first. Well, it was the first time anyone had deliberately tasted me that way; there had been times when fanatic, clumsy or drunken French kissing had resulted in an accidental sampling of my soft palate. Those instances had usually accompanied barely restrained gagging as the tongue in question was being pushed further than the limit of comfort.

What seemed strange and almost comical to me was that I had imagined him being so very different. I had envisaged this big, strong guy being sexually aggressive. After all, he was rugged; he was a cowboy (my interpretation of one anyway).

Yet, if his kiss was anything to form an opinion on, his approach to sex was distinctly unaggressive.

With a subtle suck of my lip, he pulled back before releasing it. "Do you want some champagne?" he wondered, his voice seeming deeper and syrupy.

"Maybe later," I whispered, surrendering my hold of his neck for only one reason: to push the suit coat from his shoulders.

His grin widened as he unfurled his arms from my waist just long enough to allow the jacket to fall to the floor behind him. "Are you sure about this?" he asked, his expression not suggesting that he had any doubts himself. "I don't wanna rush you," he added sincerely, though.

This was not something that had ever happened to me before. That question had never been raised, and again it smacked of an underlying insecurity in him that I couldn't quite understand.

"How can I make it more clear to you that I want this?" I wondered softly, my fingers pulling at his shirt buttons. "I want this very much," I added emphatically. Inch by inch, I methodically exposed his chest. Marveling, as my hands worked of their own volition, at the silky smoothness of his bronzed torso. His pecs were solid and sleek. The muscles of his stomach were rigid. There was almost no spare fat to be found. At his taut belly, there was a subtle trail of light brown hair, which led into the waistband of his pants.

So mesmerized by the sight of him, I didn't realize his arms had swept back around me until I felt his hands suddenly grasp both of my buttocks. Reflexively arching into him, I giggled before shoving frustratedly at his gaping shirt.

"I want this, too," he breathed dipping his face until his cheek rested against my temple. "God, Faith, you have no idea how much I want it." Delicately, his large hands slid upward, caressing the base of my spine. The tips of his fingers brushed the zipper of my dress, and then slowly traced it all the way up to the clasp that rested between my shoulder blades.

While he was occupied, I continued to urge him to let me go long enough to rid him of his shirt, but he seemed in no particular hurry. And, eventually, I gave up the fight in favor of sinking my face into the expanse of chest I did have access to. Desperately, I kissed his collarbone and then the small hollow between them. His skin was almost scalding hot, and he tasted inexplicable good. It was not a taste I could define; not one I'd ever sampled before. There was delicate sweetness, but there was something so intensely earthy and masculine to it, too. I quickly decided that it was my favorite flavor in the world, as the tip of my tongue escaped my mouth and licked at his sternum.

He, meanwhile, was pulling gently at my zip. As the bodice of the dress fell loose, the straps slipped languidly from my shoulders. I felt them creep to my upper arms, and then came the glorious sensation of his calm, assured hands helping them the rest of the way.

I happily shifted, lifting my hands from the garment and allowing him to make his same easy way over the dip of my waist, and the contours of my hips. Slipping his fore and middle fingers inside the bunched dress around my middle, he gave it a delicate push, leaving gravity to take over.

As the dress fell in a puddle around my feet, and I was left in nothing but my bra and panties, I hurriedly returned to shedding his shirt. This time, he was more cooperative. In fact, he was more than cooperative, shucking it without much input from my hands.

Stunned silent by the unrestricted view of a torso that could not have been more perfect if it had been sculptured, most of my body was entirely motionless. I say most, because the pounding of my pulse at the roof of my mouth reminded me that my heart was still active; and there was also the subtle quivering of muscles deep within me.

His hands quickly and instinctive moving back to my waist, their impressive size enabled the edge of his index fingers to brush lightly at the outer curves of my covered breasts. The sensation caused my already alert nipples to strain painfully at the black satiny lace bra. Suppressing the ardent need to beg him to touch them, I bit down on my lower lip.

"Come with me," he urged, with a soft nudge of his head to the connected bedroom.

I was moving before he'd even finished making the request, stepping out of my dress and kicking off my shoes. Much shorter than him, I lifted my face in silent solicitation.

He granted it immediately. Sweeping forward, he claimed my hungry mouth passionately. The kiss continued with unrestrained moans of need, as we shuffled into the bedroom - me moving backward, and trusting him implicitly to guide me.

His hands moved heatedly, but respectfully, over my hips, around to my buttocks then up my back. My own fingers were rather less polite in their attempts to know him better. I revelled in the strong muscles of his shoulders. I whimpered as I groped biceps that were large without making him look deformed.

A tender touch slipped under the clasp of my bra, letting me know he was there and what he planned to do. And like a perfect gentleman, he waited a couple of moments, giving me the option to say 'no'. I had no intention of declining. In fact, as far as I was concerned, the bra couldn't be lost quickly enough.

And, as if to express that to him, my tongue grew ever more restless as it moved over his lips and dipped into his mouth. My hands too grew frantic as they grasped his belt.

Still calm, and annoyingly smooth in his motion, Jay gracefully popped my bra open and slowly slid his hands to my shoulders. His mouth left mine and began nibbling at my neck, as he swept the black straps down my arms.

With his belt unfastened, I left my hold of his pants to toss my bra aside. And for a split second, it was as though my breasts weren't bared to him for the first time. Momentarily, in the heat of my desire, I forget that the sight of me was new to him; that I didn't know what his reaction would be. Would he like what he saw? Were they too small for his taste?

Those brief moments of frenetic self-doubt ended as quickly as they had begun. Jay's large, tender hands quickly surrounded the twin globes, his thumbs stroking evenly across keen nipples.

"Oh, God, Faith," he mumbled, lips meandering back up my throat and across my jaw before finding my very willing mouth. "You're beautiful," he whispered before pressing his lips to mine.

His fingers molded softly, feeling the weight of both breasts, and stirring yet more excitement from my already painfully peaked nipples.

My own hands grew so shaky they were almost useless as I unfastened his pants and brushed inadvertently at the scorching hot bulge in his underwear. He twitched slightly in response, I groaned against his mouth and he immediately tore it away.

Smiling into eyes that pleaded with him to put his lips back to their previous use, he dipped forward. His left cheek stroked at the inner curve of one breast, the tip of his nose grazed my sternum lightly. And then, those warm, passionate lips kissed the swell of my bosom. Giving way for his inquisitive mouth, his right hand released the breast it had been caressing and skated down to my hip.

My hand stroked over the intimidating erection that seemed to fight for freedom. Slowly, I enjoyed the heat of him before finding the opening in his tight boxers and seeking a better appreciation of his manhood.

"Ahh," I involuntarily groaned, as his tongue skipped over one stiff nipple.

His long, throbbing cock was silky smooth, broad and rock hard. Clasping him gently, I ran my fingers from its velvety soft tip to a thick base surrounded by short, coarse hair. God, he felt good. A rush of desire reminded me how empty my body felt; how much I wanted to feel him stretching me.

"Jay," I whimpered, beginning to methodically rub him.

His mouth busy sucking my nipple into its avid warmth, he didn't reply. At least, not with words. The hand at my hip seemed to answer me by sweeping around to my belly and inching tentatively into my panties.

I shivered as his touch smoothed over my mound, and my hips bucked as his long, dexterous fingers slowly met my passion-inflamed lips. And then, I released an uncontrolled yelp as he instantly found my engorged clitoris.

Hand going sudden motionless, but not leaving my underwear, or my hungry flesh, he lifted his face. "Y'all right?" he wondered with a subtle grin.

"Yeah," I breathed, nodding frantically. I quickly dismissed the notion of explaining my lurch of surprise by telling him that my ex wouldn't have known a clitoris if it jumped up and bit him. It was not the time to talk about another guy. It was not the time to be thinking of another guy, either. "Yeah, yeah..." I continued to gabble instead. "That's...Oh, God!" His fingers still, my body had begun to stroke itself against him in a way that I may have been ashamed of at any other time in my life. While he looked at me with that sexy intensity, a smile pulling at his gorgeous lips, I wasn't in the least bit apologetic for seeking pleasure from his hand.

And if there had been any lingering doubt that he would judge me for it, it evaporated when he began to press his coarse workman's fingertips more firmly to that sweetest of spots, and move in deliberately strident circles.

His other hand still absentmindedly fondling my left breast, he leaned forward until his forehead was resting against mine. His soft breath seemed remarkably even compared with my labored panting.

"Good?" he wondered with a chuckle.

"Oh, God," I whimpered, feeling a coiling tension in my belly that was causing me to grow rigid.

I hadn't had a wealth of sexual experience; there had been just two lovers in my life, and neither of them had been especially concerned with whether or not I achieved climax. It had certainly never been their first order of business. So it seemed all the more surprising to me that this man, who I'd deemed (in a way that is unflatteringly snobby) less sophisticated than my previous boyfriends, was the only one to put my enjoyment before his own.

While my right hand continued to masturbate him somewhat distractedly, my left hand clung to his shoulder as I felt the world beginning to shrink.

"Jay," I gasped as the fluttering of subtle spasms began to shake me.

Calmly, he continued to stroke me in that same strong, measured rhythm. There was no attempt to rush the inevitable finish. "Faith," he whispered, in a way that was so intensely intimate and oozing with sexuality.

Sensory overload threatening, I closed my eyes as the rush swept me up in a torrent of quivering. "Yes...Yes!" I cried. "Ugh, Jay!"

His hand didn't leave me and his fingers didn't stop tending to my highly aroused, slick flesh until the stiffness left my features and limbs. Slowly, as I opened my eyes, I found his blue ones burning brightly into mine. Something undefined and inexplicable, passed between us, and a heated whirlwind of motion sent us both tumbling down to the bed.

He pulled at my underwear rather less gracefully than his usual way. I shoved his pants and boxers off his hips. He kissed me deeply. He rolled on top of me with his erection nudging at my thigh.

And then suddenly, he stopped. Gasping for breath, he broke free of my mouth and pulled himself up a little. Then, rolling onto his hip, he kicked off his shoes and hurriedly swept his clothes down his legs. However, before tossing the pants to the floor, he dug a hand into one pocket. It re-emerged with a square of foil between his index finger and thumb.

My chest heaving, and legs slightly parted, I watched him intently as he ripped open the condom and slipped the circle of latex over the crest of his shaft. Quickly, and with great ease, he rolled it down to the base before turning his attention back to me.

"Ready?" he asked, his hands settling on the mattress either side of me and his body hovering over mine.

I parted my thighs and wrapped one leg around the base of his spine. My hands swept around his neck and I pulled him to me. "I've never been more ready in my life," I told him huskily.

That was the only answer he needed. Mouth descending feverishly to mine, his hips drove forward and he began to stretch my willing entrance. I moaned around his invading tongue, the sensation of surrender never having felt quite so exquisite before.

With control, he forced himself a little deeper, and my core continued to swell in welcome. Deeper still, and he was further than anyone else had been. Yet, my body continued to crave him. Finally, with a long, loud exhale, he lifted his face as his hips nestled against mine.

My passage pulsed around him, muscles contracting at unfamiliar fullness. "Jesus," I hissed.

"Damn, Faith," he mumbled. "You're so sexy."

Peering up at his tense jaw, I tossed my other leg around him and squeezed him tightly. His jaw relaxed just long enough for him to grin at me. And then, his features were set in concentration again. Bracing himself on those strong arms, he began to thrust.

Each smooth, gliding stroke sent spikes of pleasure right up to the top of my head. Every one of his deep grunts and gravelly groans of pleasure made me feel invincible. I mewled quietly beneath him, my hands indulging in the play of muscles in his upper back. My body was gaining a sheen of perspiration. My sex was wondering where this glorious sensation had been all my life.

And entirely unexpectedly, I felt a burgeoning orgasm building low in my abdomen. Arching my hips, I heightened the friction between his pubic bone and my clit. Meeting each of his drives with an eager counter thrust, my lower half grew restless in its motion.

"God," he quietly grunted, his hips slamming against me harder than before.

Clenching him more intently between my thighs, the ecstasy pulled me under in a flash of color and a mind-numbing rush of blood to the head. "Ahh," I screamed, my entire body shaking furiously. "Oh, Jay!"

My passage clamped around him in fierce, mercilessly grasps that caused him to stop motionless deep within me. "Christ," he whispered hoarsely, his eyelids squeezing tight before his lower half spasmed once, twice, and a third time. "Faith," he groaned, his hips beginning to move in lazy circles that almost caused a fresh wave of euphoria.

As it turned out, his inadvertent massage of my ripe clitoris wasn't quite enough to send me into oblivion for a third time, but it was enough to make my eyes slip back and nonsense words of gratitude to slip from exhausted lips.

# Chapter Ten

With wide eyes and an even wider smile that I couldn't dismiss no matter how hard I tried, I watched him sleep. His features were incredibly handsome, and kind of boyish, in relaxation. He was laid on his left side, one arm casually draped across my waist. His hair was a little messy and I had to fight the urge to brush a few strands off his forehead.

Sex had never been like that before. And it wasn't just because he obviously knew a thing or two about female anatomy. It was something else; something that existed between us that I'd never felt with another man. Had he felt it with another woman? I knew those thoughts would only lead to unhappiness and raging self-doubt, but I couldn't stop them.

Was I any different from the unknown number of women he'd had in the past?

I couldn't bring myself to believe that I meant nothing to him. He'd waited too long, and been far too romantic for the whole thing to have been just a meaningless screw. He hadn't pressed me into it, either. I'm almost certain that if I'd asked him to take me home after dinner, and left him with only a kiss by the front door, he wouldn't have dreamed of pushing for more.

What that made clear to me was that he wasn't a player who held nothing but disdain and lust for women. But it didn't tell me how I ranked in his esteem compared with those who had come before me.

Just because he treated the ladies he bedded like...well, like ladies, didn't mean that he felt some intense attachment.

I did, though. I felt an attachment that I hadn't bargained on, and one that I had never felt before. And that was bad on two counts. For one thing, I'd planned to focus on my studies, and falling in love wasn't exactly conducive to that. And for another, I didn't know whether he felt the same way.

Although, I reminded myself, at dinner he'd seemed interested in the amount of time I'd be spending in Australia. Those three years seemed important, as though getting involved with me wouldn't be just some summer fling.

As the thoughts continued to whirl, and sleep seemed further off than it had before, I tried to take my eyes off him, worried that if he woke up and found me staring at him, he might think I was some psychopath.

But that was easier said than done, too.

After a few failed attempts to close my eyes, I carefully slid away from him, lifting his arm gently in the process. Once I'd scooted far enough to be out of reach, I laid his hand back down and slipped out of the bed completely.

Silently, I wandered in the darkness, not bothered about my nudity until I got back into the suite's living space and trod on Jay's shirt.

Without conscious thought, I bent, scooped it up and slipped my arms into the soft sleeves. As I buttoned it, I inhaled, breathing in the sweet scent that was not only inextricably him, but would, from that moment on, be inextricably linked with memories of that night. Smiling, despite my concerns, I padded toward the couch before pausing to pick up my purse and retrieve my phone from it.

I don't really know what I intended to do. I certainly wasn't going to call any one. Agenda less, I slumped down on the cozy corner of the couch and tapped on the screen to wake it. Through habit, I went to my emails, and noticed that Laura had sent me a picture of the kitten she'd just adopted. She'd always wanted a cat, and couldn't have one while we lived together, because I was allergic.

Automatically moving on to the next unread message, my eyes didn't stray long enough on the address to register exactly what it was. Instead, my eyes focused on: Dear Ms. Solano,

I'm writing to let you know that a spot has opened on my PhD program in the coming academic year, and, because I was very intrigued by your proposal, I'd like to offer the place to you. I realize at this point you may have begun your doctoral studies elsewhere, and if that's the case, any credits you've accrued can be transferred. If you're interested, please contact me at your earliest convenience.

Prof. Calhoun (Yale University, dept. of Ancient History)

Not sure whether I was still breathing or not, I stared hard at the screen. Yale. Yale had been my first choice. I'd been desperate to get into Yale. This was all I'd wanted for several years. Yet, I wasn't sure whether I was excited or not.

After all, attending Yale would mean leaving Australia; leaving Jay. And I was no longer sure that was what I wanted. But, it was Yale. How could I pass up an opportunity like that?

Hearing the soft clearing of a throat, I quickly sent my phone to sleep and dropped it on the coffee table. Peering over the back of the couch, I found him completely naked and running one sleepy hand through his scruffy hair.

"Y'know," he murmured lazily, "a less secure guy might be troubled by the fact that you're out here on your phone."

"I wasn't on my phone," I insisted quietly. "I was just having trouble sleeping."

"Oh," he nodded, his eyes slowly starting to come into wakefulness as he drew closer. Completely unconcerned with the soft sway of his flaccid penis.

To him it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to be unclothed in front of me. I wasn't sure, without the intoxication of lust, I could be quite as relaxed in my own nakedness, but I loved the fact that he was.

"Well, a less secure guy might be troubled by that, too," he pointed out jokingly as he sat himself next to me and instinctively placed a hand on my bare knee. "Are you OK?" he asked with a degree of seriousness.

"I'm fine," I assured him with a definite nod of my head. "I was just thinking."

"About?" he probed, his fingers drawing delightful circles over my kneecap.

Not wanting to tell him about either of the two things that were weighing on my thoughts, I attempted to shrug it off. "It's nothin'," I mumbled.

His brow creased and eyes narrowed. "Faith, listen, I..." taking a pause, he shook his head before starting again. "Faith, if I've done something-"

"No," I hurriedly corrected him, turning my upper body until I was facing him. "No, it's nothing you've done, I promise. It was...It was..." Groping for the word, I eventual whispered, "Perfect."

Giving me what looked like a somewhat bashful half smile, he continued to stroke my leg. "Not too perfect, I hope," he said softly.

"Can it be too perfect?" I wondered.

"I think it would be a shame if we've already peaked," he noted, his fingers sliding higher, but halting at my mid-thigh.

There was no misconstruing that statement. He wanted more than just a quick fling. How long our relationship would last, well neither one of us could predict that, but it was clear he wasn't going into this with his eyes on the exit. And if that was the case, then I was ready to open my heart to the possibility of getting hurt. Realistically, I already had, but I wasn't ready to admit that.

"Faith, it was perfect," he added on a whisper. "Most perfect thing I've known in a long time. And I'd like to hope that you and I could give this a crack, and see just how perfect we could be together."

There was no mistaking the earnestness in his clear blue eyes, and I felt the sudden need to lick at very dry lips.

"What d'ya say?" he asked, hesitantly. "Are we gonna take a leap of faith together this time?"

"Yes," I murmured instantly, the answer coming from some intrinsic place that did not even consider Yale.

The more reasonable side of me, meanwhile, said I still had time. I had a chance to take a throw of the dice with Jay. And, if things didn't work out over the coming few months...actually, no, I didn't like that train of thought. In that moment, all that mattered was the man beside me.

Leaning toward him, I was heart-warmed when he mirrored the motion and met my lips halfway. Yes, that was all that mattered. Yale had done me a favor in rejecting me. And I wasn't going to turn my back on the serendipity that turn of events had presented me with.

"Coming back to bed?" he quietly asked, lips still brushing mine.

"Hmm," I agreed.

"I might have a way to help you sleep," he added saucily.

I had absolutely no difficulty in believing him!

### Thank you for reading!

## Please visit your favorite eBook retailer to view the next books in the "Love In The Outback Series"
Come Home Cowgirl

by

Lacy Hyde
Copyright © 2017 by Lacy Hyde

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Come Home Cowgirl

All rights reserved.

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. No part of this work may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording and faxing, or by any information storage and retrieval system by anyone but the purchaser for their own personal use.

This book may not be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of Lacy Hyde, except in the case of a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages for the sake of a review written for inclusions in a magazine, newspaper, or journal—and these cases require written approval from Lacy Hyde prior to publication. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.

# Chapter One

I tugged at my clothes uncomfortably chastising myself for not giving it more time between work and my flight so I could have changed. A skirt suit and heels weren't the best things to wear on a plane. I was about to switch planes at the airport, but I had a few minutes. So, I pulled my suitcase out and began unzipping it right there in the middle of the airport. I opted for some jeans and a tee shirt, slipping it all on in the bathroom and stuffing the clothes I'd had on into my luggage. Then, I grabbed my scrunchie from my purse and pulled my long, strawberry blonde hair back into a tight ponytail to keep it out of the way.

I zipped my luggage back up and popped out the handle so I could drag it on its wheels behind me. I'd only packed one bag besides my large purse so I wouldn't have to worry about too much of it. But it was a pretty large piece of luggage. It clunked against the tile floor as I headed for the far end of the airport, where my terminal was located. The plane was very tiny, and I wasn't exactly looking forward to the ride.

I climbed in just in time before the seatbelt announcement came on and the pilot was ready to go. As the plane rose in the air, I gripped my seat so hard my knuckles turned white. At least the ride wasn't going to be a very long one.

The plane shook and gyrated like I was in some kind of bottle and a giant had picked me up and shook me around. It wasn't very often that I rode on a plane for that very reason. It made me sick to my stomach and very nervous. It didn't help that the plane I was on was miniscule. In fact, other than the pilots, I was one of three people travelling on it. The other two were asleep, though I wasn't sure how they could be.

I stared out the window as if that little pane of glass was going to show me something. But, it was the middle of the night, and we weren't going to be approaching any town where the lights from buildings would become visible. Instead, the plane was taking me to Melville, Montana; my hometown. The town was so small that it wasn't even incorporated. It was nothing but a bunch of ranches and a beautiful river. Most people thought I'd left because small town life wasn't enough for me, but that wasn't exactly it. I liked the quiet and being so close to nature. I just didn't like the entire town knowing my business. Other than a couple of brief holiday visits, I had been gone for five years, and it was for good reason.

As soon as I graduated high school, I went to Colorado. I attended the University of the Rockies and never looked back. Deep down, I knew my parents had always expected me to come home after I graduated college, but I didn't. I graduated a year early and instantly started my career in Public Relations. I lived in Denver and worked for a large firm. In fact, I had been working my way up the ladder for a while and had made it pretty far.

But now I'd had to take a leave of absence in order to go back home because my grandmothers health was failing. In fact, my family was pretty sure she wasn't going to be around for much longer, and I needed to spend time with her. We'd always been close growing up. This had a lot to do with the fact that I was the youngest and the only girl in the family which meant that my parents were often busy reigning in all the boys. So, my grandmother would spend a lot of time with me, getting me away from all the chaos. She was the one who taught me to cook and to ride a horse. I couldn't imagine her being so ill that she spent her life in a hospital. But that was the reality.

I looked at my watch as my nerves got the better of me. I was certain my family was still a bit disappointed in me for leaving and never coming back. Plus, they were probably going to look at me differently knowing I suddenly lived in a big city where there were tons of people, pollution and crime. Those things were a big deal to people that lived out in Montana. The idea actually scared some people.

I felt the plane dip downward and knew we must have been close to the tiny landing strip we were headed for. It was still a bit out of Melville since there was not even a small airport in Melville or anything for that matter. There wasn't even a post office anymore it was so small.

As we approached the landing strip, I saw the lights lining the runway much like the steps in a movie theatre when the movie starts. But for the most part, that was the only thing in sight. I could just make out the large patches of trees in the distance.

The landing woke up both of the other passengers as the plane bounced onto the concrete and skidded to a stop. I looked out the window once again to see if I could make out my family or at least their car. I saw some headlights a few yards off and knew that must have been them. I wasn't sure if they sent one of my brothers to pick me up, or if my parents came, but either way I prepared myself for the awkwardness. I'd either be teased about my city girl look or be chastised for being gone for so long. At best we'd stick mainly to discussing my grandmother's well-being which while perhaps necessary, was also a depressing idea when you'd been away from home for five years.

As I descended the steps of the plane, I found that my legs were weak and shaky; probably from being jarred around by that plane and tensing up from the nerves. I gulped down the feeling that I might throw up and planted my feet firmly on the ground, trying to get my bearings. A hand patted my back and then tugged me forward and I was instantly encircled by my father's arms before he decided to add in a noogie for good measure. "It's so good to see you, Iris," my dad said pulling back so he could take a look at me in the dim light from the plane and the runway.

"Oh, look at you!" my mother squealed, coming up to me with her arms wide open for a hug. "You look so grown up." I was afraid for a moment that she might tear up and then make me do so as well. I didn't really want to feel the burn of my eyeliner and mascara running down my face. In fact, I was so ready to get it off. The one bad thing about my job was that I had to put on this thick mask of goo every day and wear the most uncomfortable clothes ever to have been made for a woman. That was one reason for me to look forward to being home; jeans and tee shirts were just fine.

"You're just so beautiful," my mother continued, sounding like she was about to get emotional as she squeezed my back hard. When I was little she called it giving me a squnch.

"Oh, stop it, Mom. I look exactly the same. It's just this damn make up," I said casually, playing it off. "But you look good too." My mother pulled away, laughing, and my father sighed really loudly and tugged up his pants so that they sat right at his belly button. It was something I'd always hated, but it was a comfort as I tried to navigate a way back to the girl who used to live there; in their house in Melville. Thankfully, they still hadn't shown any lingering bitterness about the fact that I had been gone for so long.

"Okay you two, you have plenty of time to chit chat later. But right now we need to get you to Grandma like we promised and then get home. I have a date with the back of my eyelids," my father said, clearing his throat and tugging at his pants again. I shook my head and patted him on the back as I opened the passenger door to their beaten up, old, black truck. I climbed in and sat on the bump in the middle so that my mother could scoot in next to me. I was sandwiched in between the two of them like I hadn't been in years, but this time it was a much tighter fit.

"So, how is she?" I dared to ask as we drove through the night on the dark two lane roads that led to the hospital my grandmother was staying at.

"Well, Grandma is in pretty good spirits considering like I'm sure you imagine. In fact, she is always being sassy or asking the nurses to break the rules for her and let her do things." I trained my eyes on the floorboard, feeling very sad for my grandmother. She was not the type of woman who was alright being cooped up, and now she was pretty much confined to a bed. That must have been hard on her. "She's lost a little weight since being in there, and she needs a lot of help these days. Her condition is stable, but it's not going to get any better. In fact, the doctors seem to think that eventually even dialysis won't be enough for her. I don't really understand it all, honey. But what I do now is that she'll be so happy to see you."

My mother patted me affectionately on the shoulder, and the guilt began to set in. I had always been a caring person, but when I decided to leave for Colorado I forgot about that and continued to forget for years. I only came home a couple of times, and when I did I didn't take the time to see how my grandmother was or spend some quality time with her. And while I knew other young people wouldn't beat themselves up about how they treated their family during their college years, I had always felt like I was different. But now it seemed that I wasn't.

Regret is the worst human emotion, or at least that's what William Shatner thought, but the rest of his quote is laughable. But really, regret is truly a place of torture that humans place themselves.

When we pulled up to the hospital, I looked up at the building and saw stains of all shapes and sizes all over the concrete building. It was an older hospital that had seen more illness than any I'd ever been to before. It also looked rather small when compared to the huge hospitals in Denver that seemed to take up more space than the White House.

I hopped out of the truck behind my mother and followed them into the building. Even as we approached the reception desk, I was hit with the mixture of bleach and old potatoes. The smell made my stomach churn. We slowly made our way up the elevator to the second floor to see my grandmother.

By that point, I was with my father. I wanted to lie down in a comfortable bed and close my eyes so that I didn't have to see that place or imagine that people had to sleep on beds worse than cots while they were already suffering.

As we entered her hospital room, we had to move back a curtain to get to her bed. It made this shatteringly loud noise that could have woken the dead. It certainly had my grandmother sitting straight up in bed. I looked at her, in her pink hospital gown with white, thin hair and tired, wrinkling eyes and couldn't help but let a smile spread across my face. She looked at me with such joy that it was hard to think about all the bad things that had led me back to her.

I reached down to give her a gentle squnch before sitting at the end of her bed; ignoring the feeling that my butt would be bruised by the time I left from the hardness of the mattress. "Hi Grandma," I said simply as if I were still some little girl skipping over to my grandmother's house.

"Well, hello to you too, Iris. It's been far too long. How is big city life treating you?" Grandma asked with a neutral smile on her face.

"It has been far too long," I agreed, patting her ankle. "And it's okay. There is a lot of traffic, and there are a lot of people both good and bad. But it's nothing like here, Grandma, that's for sure."

"Oh, of course it's not. I'm not there, honey," Grandma joked, winking at me. At least she had maintained her sense of humor. I laughed and slapped my knee.

"Nice one, Grandma. But I guess you're right. None of you are there." I motioned to my parents as well and saw that they were smiling too.

"Well, Ma, we know you need to get some rest, but I kept my promise to bring her by when she got here, no matter how late. We'll bring her by again tomorrow afternoon," my father said, standing up. We had only been in there for five minutes, and I felt jipped. What was the point in that?

Grandma must have sensed my anxiety because she reached out and placed her aging, wrinkled hand on top of mine and patted me. "I'll still be here tomorrow, Iris, don't you worry. Nothing's going to keep me from spending time with my granddaughter." Not that it was easy to believe considering the circumstances, but something in the way she said it calmed me down. I would have more time with her the next day; I could go home and rest.

"Alright, I'll hold you to it," I teased, pointing my finger at her as I stood up and pulled the curtain back in front of her, leaving the room.

# Chapter Two

I woke up the next morning to the sound of a rooster crowing outside. The sun was just coming up over the fence on the property, and I decided to take a morning walk around the property. However, when I went to the kitchen, I couldn't find my usual morning cup of joe. "Sweet tea it is".

I poured a glass and walked out onto the back deck to enjoy the sunrise. The sun was so bright I could see the small chicken coop near the fence line. Looking at it hurt my eyes, so I went to the stable, which thankfully was still covered in shadows. Hopefully, the horses were still asleep or just waking up for the day.

As I passed by the coop I let my fingers trace the worn wood. I kept on walking along the fence, and eventually I made it to the forested area with a beautiful meandering creek. If I took a left here, I'd eventually hit the Walker property. At least, I assumed the Walkers were still our neighbors. Their ranch was just as big if not bigger, but they focused more on sausage and bacon. They even raised turkeys once for Thanksgiving. Whereas our ranch produced milk, eggs, wool, and sometimes leather and beef if we lost a cow.

I took a deep breath and turned back towards the house. I know the memories that would come back if I went beyond the boundaries of our property. So, I went back inside, sitting back on the couch in the living room to finish my tea. My father passed me on the way out to take care of the land and the animals, and I waved a groggy good morning to him. Even as the world woke up around me, I was falling back asleep on the couch. I guess I wasn't quite ready for waking with the dawn.

When I woke up again, my nose was full of the smell of food cooking. The clock on the wall told me that I had been asleep for another couple of hours, and as I turned around to face the kitchen I saw my mother cooking breakfast. I rubbed my eyes groggily, feeling ready for a nice, hot meal. I headed back down the hall to my room to get changed; I wanted to be ready to see my grandmother after breakfast. I was looking forward to catching up with her and I hoped that the nurse might even let me take her outside or something.

I sat down at the kitchen table across from my father who was reading a newspaper. It seemed he had already cleaned up from his early morning work. "A ranching superhero" I always say.

It wasn't unlike any other typical morning I'd spent in that house when I was younger except, my older brothers were missing. So the house was eerily quiet.

"So, where are Jude and Brad?" I asked out of curiosity. Neither of my brothers kept in touch with me after they went out into the world. Of course, our age difference probably didn't help either.

"Well, Jude moved out to Tennessee with a girl he met. She insisted on staying close to her family, and I think she's a country singer of some kind. Nobody well known or anything, but she plays at that bar sometimes. What is it called again?" My mother looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully.

"Do you mean The Bluebird, Mom?" I asked with a chuckle.

"Yeah, that sounds right. Well, anyway, he's crazy about her. They were actually here a couple weeks ago for a bit but then they went back home. And Brad has his hands full. I wouldn't dream of asking him to take the time to come here, though he doesn't live too far. He came out when we first put Grandma in the hospital. His wife is pregnant with twins, and he has his own farm that needs to be cared for."

My eyes went wide when I heard my eldest brother was going to be a father and owned a farm. I couldn't imagine him being so responsible. "Well, that's a shocker," I said, sitting up in my seat.

"He's really grown up, Iris. I do wish you could see him. Heck, I wish I could see all of you together in this house again." My mother was ready to get sentimental, but luckily my father stepped in this time.

"I'm sure they will all be here for Christmas this year. No need to cry in the eggs," he said, turning the page on the newspaper. I watched my mother shoot him a look and place her hand on her hip before turning back around to the food she was cooking. I stifled a laugh. It was nice to be home like old times, hearing my parents bickering. But I'd barely been home yet, so there was plenty of time for it to go south. I just hoped it wouldn't.

We laughed over breakfast, talking about my childhood and what it was like for me living and working in Denver. We talked about the snow and the heat. Then, we hopped in the truck again to head out to the hospital, to see my grandmother.

When we got there she was eating lunch. I noticed one of the nurses sitting by her bed; it looked like she was taking grandmothers vitals. "Well look at that, you've got some visitors Mrs. Young," the nurse said with a smile. "She was telling me all about her granddaughter coming to see her the other day. I'm guessing you're her?" the nurse asked, nodding towards me.

I smiled and nodded, making a bee-line for Grandma who was slowly chewing on what looked like, a very bad version of a bologna sandwich. That potato smell was even stronger which led me to believe it had something to do with the cafeteria food. Did all hospitals require that the food be disgusting?

I sat down on the bench next to her bed along with my parents to wait for her to finish eating. "So, is there any way I could take her outside somewhere or for a walk at all while I'm here?" I asked, hopefully. I so badly wanted to give her the best day I could and maybe get us some time alone where there weren't machines, doctors and nurses all over her all the time.

The nurse looked thoughtful. "Let me go see what her doctor has to say about it, but she's been doing pretty well this morning. As long as you stay in the hospital and we check her before you go and after you get back, I don't think it will be a problem." The nurse left the room to go get a hold of the doctor, and I did a silent cheer.

"How does that sound Grandma? You might get to get out of this room today!"

"It sounds perfect," Grandma answered in between bites. It didn't take long for the nurse to come back with good news. In fact, she gave the okay right away. Grandma was thrilled and swallowed the rest of her food whole so we could get a move on. It was a bit comedic.

The nurse helped me get her into a wheelchair so I could wheel her around and gave me directions to the roof garden that was attached to the hospital. "Just have her back in about thirty minutes so we can do her dialysis, alright?" the nurse requested with a smile. I nodded and wheeled her to the elevator with my parents trailing behind me. I wheeled her inside, but my parents didn't follow.

"We'll let you have some quality time with her. We're going to take a look around the gift shop and maybe take a walk or something. We'll be back in a little while," my mother informed me as the elevator door slid slowly shut. I pressed the button that would take us up to the top floor and listened as the elevator creaked and groaned on the way up like it could give way at any moment. How I survived in a big city like Denver with a fear of old elevators and of planes I wasn't quite sure at the moment.

We finally made it to the top, and I burst out at almost a run, ready to be free from the tiny space. The top floor was only a half floor with the rest of it being used as the garden. I headed for the door, picking up speed as my grandmother laughed. Then, we slowed down, going through the doors, and came out onto the old brick roof.

"Wow, this is so nice," I commented, wheeling her out into what resembled a Zen oasis. There were fountains, bamboo and palm leaves everywhere with places to sit and a little walking path. There were a few others up there walking around, some hunched over in hospital gowns and others in wheel chairs like my grandmother.

"Thank you for breaking me out of there," Grandma said, reaching her hand back to pat mine. "It's really nice to breathe some fresh air. I just stopped leaving my room because they only let me walk around the floor I was on and then I had to be in a wheelchair. It became pointless. But this is great."

"Well, I guess we'll have to do this more often, then," I said, leaning down to her ear before starting to push her down the path through the beautiful plants. I made sure to stay off of the subject of her illness or the fact I had been gone way too long. But I could tell she was still as supportive of my decisions as she was the day I left for the University of the Rockies. She had been the only one who was happy about it, and thought it was the right thing for me to do.

"Hmmm, I think it may be time to head back down, Iris," she said after a while. I looked down at my watch and gasped.

"Has it really been 30 minutes already?"

"Time flies when you're having fun," she answered with a chuckle. I laughed too and then gave a sigh as we headed back down to her floor. The nurse would be waiting to take her for dialysis. I kissed my grandmother and left her with the nurse before heading down to the ground floor. I felt like I needed a small snack out of the vending machine or something, and my parents still hadn't come back.

As I stood there in front of the machine, trying to decide on my selection, I saw there was a man waiting behind me. I could practically feel him breathing down my neck. "You can go ahead if you know what you want," I offered, stepping out of his way. "I'm just trying to decide between two things. I don't have that many quarters."

The man stepped forward, and I couldn't help but notice he was very attractive. He had sandy brown curls poking out from under his white cowboy hat. He had on a tight jeans and a denim shirt. He was definitely a rancher. "You know, I can spare a few so you don't have to choose," he said, tipping his hat before bending down to pick up whatever he was getting from the machine.

I smiled at him as he handed me some quarters before stepping up and getting what I wanted; Cheetos and mini cookies. "Thanks," I said, about ready to walk away.

"So, what brings you here?" He motioned to the walls around us, but I was pretty sure he meant the hospital.

"Oh, my grandmother is here and not doing so well. I came to spend some time with her. How about you?" I asked, continuing the conversation. It was a strange way to meet someone, but that was no reason to turn down talking to a good looking guy.

"Oh, my cousin came over and was trying to ride one of our horses. He fell off and broke his wrist. I brought him here." I looked him up and down for a moment; his hair, his short and muscular build and his blue eyes looked so familiar. Then, it hit me.

"Hey, I know you!" I said, feeling proud of myself. "You're a Walker. You live on the property next to us. I'm Iris Young."

He chuckled and took off his hat, running his hand through his matted, long hair. "That's who I thought you were. I'm Adam. I have to say I'm surprised you know who I am and are still standing there." I gave him a curious look, searching in the back of my mind for a reason he might have said that. But I heard footsteps and then an angry voice come from behind me.

"What the hell is going on here?" It was my father. He had come up behind us, and he looked plain pissed. His face was bright red, and he couldn't stop tugging on his pants like it was some form of intimidation or maybe a nervous tick. "What are you doing with my daughter?" That's when it started coming back to me. Our families had never gotten along; it was mostly our parents and my grandfather before he passed. There was a well that ran under both our lands, and each family claimed it as their own. For some reason, that well had made them hate each other. I had never paid too much attention to it before, nor did I know it was still an issue.

"Dad, we're just talking," I informed him, feeling a little taken aback by the situation.

"No, you're not," my father said firmly. I was about to scold him, but Adam decided to back down.

"It's alright, Iris. I'll see you around, maybe. It was nice seeing you again." He put his hat back on and walked past us with my father glaring daggers at him the whole way.

"Was that really necessary?" I asked, feeling appalled by the intensity of the encounter.

"Yes, it was. You need to stay away from him and the rest of his family. Young's do not associate with or talk to the Walkers, Iris. You just forget about him, about all of them," my father said with his finger wagging in my face like I was a little girl about to be put in the corner. It was a bit embarrassing, actually. I looked to my mother for support, but she just stayed back, letting my father handle the situation.

"Has it really gotten that bad?" I whispered to my mother as he finally backed off and we headed out to the car. All she did was look at me and nod. I shook my head in annoyance and got into the truck. We road silently back home, but all I could think about was figuring out why the feud over some well had become so hostile.

# Chapter Three

I pushed my dinner around my plate. It was smoked sausage and new potatoes. It wasn't that it was bad; I usually loved my mother's cooking. But I just couldn't get my mind straight, so eating became difficult. Two things were plaguing me at the moment; one of them being my grandmother. As happy as she had been to see me and get to go outside for just a little while, I knew deep down there was a reason they had begun to be lenient. It was because it wasn't going to be long before dialysis wasn't enough. Her kidneys hadn't been great for over a year, and she wasn't even still supposed to be doing okay on the treatment. The second thing that was prodding at my brain was that stupid feud between the Youngs and the Walkers. It was like some western drama unfolding in my own backyard. It was ridiculous!

Sure, both ranches depended on that well since that was about the only way to get water out here, but why couldn't it be shared? Because it was fed from the small lake and stream that ran behind the properties, it wasn't like it was going to run dry anytime soon. And I just felt so bad about the way Adam was chased away like that by my father.

"May I be excused?" I asked, looking up at my father who was loosening his pants in preparation for seconds. I knew I was in my 20s and had been on my own for years, but I still had that politeness and respect for my father. That's what made the situation with Adam Walker so difficult.

He gave me a sideways glance like he disapproved before clearing his throat. "As long as you take care of your own dish," he said, standing up with his own plate to put some more food onto it. I nodded and headed for the sink, washing my plate real quick.

"Alright, I'll be back in a while, guys. I think I'm going to take Cinnamon for a ride if that's alright."

"Of course you can ride him. I'm sure he'll be happy to see you," my mother said with a smile. I rushed out to the stable, feeling excited. A good ride on horseback was sure to clear my head and make me feel right at home.

I slowed down my pace and entered the stable quietly as not to spook the horses. There were three others in there; an elderly one that had been in the family a while, a young one my father had just broken and one we got for my brother Jude when he was a teenager.

In the last stall I found Cinnamon, and he neighed affectionately and started moving his legs back and forth in excitement as I grabbed the saddle to put on him.

Cinnamon had always been the perfect horse who loved being ridden. He had never been difficult and loved children. We used to have children from the neighborhood come visit him all the time.

"Hey, buddy, I really missed you," I whispered to him as I rubbed between his eyes and behind his ears before grabbing his reins and leading him out of the stables. He puffed through his nose and mouth as I pulled him out to an open space. I commanded him to stand still before climbing onto him.

I settled into the saddle and grabbed the reins before bumping his side with my foot. Cinnamon began to trot towards the fence line before following the fence around the property. I whipped the reins so he would go fast and leaned forward as he picked up speed. He was still in great shape, so someone had clearly been taking good care of him. I would have to thank my parents for that later.

Cinnamon rounded the corner and then we were against the fence that separated out property from the Walkers. I could just barely make out the pinprick that was their little yellow house and their brown barn. I heard a whinnying noise and then saw that one of the Walkers was also out on their horse.

We slowed down as the horse got closer. It was larger than Cinnamon but less muscular. It was a chocolate brown with white spots.

As we got closer I could see that it was Adam, so I pulled back on the reins to stop Cinnamon. Adam trotted up to the fence line with a smile on his face. "Fancy meeting you out here," he said with a smile. His hat was off this time, and I could see his hair better. It was pretty long, growing down the back of his neck. He had it tied into a ponytail.

"I didn't know you rode," I said, nodding to his horse. "Is he friendly?" I asked, reaching my hand out to pet him.

"She," he corrected, "is friendly to certain people. I didn't used to do a lot of riding, but my old man has had a few injuries so I help him out now."

"Oh, well, that's nice of you I guess." I reached out and began stroking the horse softly. She closed her eyes in response. "It looks like I must be one of the people she likes," I teased with a smile.

"Yeah, I guess so," he chuckled.

We fell into a bit of an awkward silence for a few moments before I decided the best thing to do was apologize for my family's behavior.

"So, I'm sorry for that scene at the hospital. I had no idea the feud had gotten so bad. In fact, I didn't even know it was still going on. I guess that's what happens when you've been gone for a while."

"I accept the apology, but it's not necessary. My old man would have done the exact same thing. The reason it's gotten so bad is that your father actually took us to court over it, and we were pretty much told to share it. It made things real tense. Anyway, I better get back before one of our fathers catches us again and unleashes all hell," he said with a chuckle. But it was pretty accurate.

"Alright," I agreed. "But maybe we can go riding sometime, you know, off property," I suggested hopefully. When I thought about it, I could have really used someone to talk to about all that was going on who was more my age, and Adam Walker seemed perfect.

"I think I could arrange that. Same time tomorrow?" I nodded, and he kicked his horse, riding back towards the Walker stables.

I did the same, turning around and heading back to the other side of our property. But I wasn't ready to go inside yet. So, I doubled back with Cinnamon and picked up speed again.

***

"Hey, if you're going for your ride, why don't you take out Snickers this time? He hasn't been out in a while either and could probably use it," my father called as I opened the door to head out to the stables for the third night in a row now. Snickers was the name of my brother's horse. He was a few years older than Cinnamon and a bit of a grump, but my father was probably right that he needed to get out of the stables.

It was unusually warm and sunny, so I had to put on my grey cowboy hat to protect from the hot, blinding sun. I'd also found my old boots and put them on. They were a little worn but just as good as they had been before I left.

I headed out to the stables and wrestled with Snickers for a bit as he huffed and puffed in annoyance. But once I got on him and got out of the fence, he was ready to take off. He really had been desperate to go for a ride.

I met Adam just outside his fence. He had a different horse this time too; a blonde one that looked to be a little older as well. "Who is this?" I asked, reaching out to pet him, but he snapped at me a little.

"Oh, his name is Bruce. He's been in the family a very long time, so forgive him if he's a little grumpy."

"Sounds like we've both got the grumpy ones out today. This one's Snickers, he's my brother's horse. He's kinda old too but is so desperate to run I couldn't leave him in there."

"Understood," Adam said, tipping his hat down to better shield his eyes. "You ready?" he asked. I nodded, and we both took off at a slow trot, our horses wanting so badly to go faster. But I knew with their age both would tire way too soon if we let them run.

"So, I feel dumb for not knowing since this town loves gossip, but how is your grandmother? I didn't even know she was in the hospital. Is she still?" Adam asked as we passed the edge of the Walker property.

"Oh, she'll be there permanently, more than likely. She's had problems for a while with diabetes and stuff, but now it's messing with her kidney. That's actually why I came back' to spend time with her. My parents think it's getting to that point, you know?" I looked down at the dark fur on Snicker's back, composing myself. Talking about my grandmother really got to me.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Iris. You guys were pretty close right? I remember her coming to pick you up from school a lot instead of your parents." I smiled at the memories his statement brought back to me. She did pick me up from school a lot, and then she would take me to the store with her or had me help her cook. She always made the simple things so much fun.

"Yeah, we were really close." I nodded. "I kind of feel guilty sometimes about leaving because, I could have had more time."

"I'm sure you had your reasons," Adam responded, looking at me for a second. I could see the curiosity growing in his eyes. "So, you don't have to tell me if you don't want, but why did you leave? You don't really seem like the type that hates wide open spaces and small town life. In fact, you look like you love it out here." He motioned to the green, hilly landscape around us. I looked to the west and thought about the woods; the ones that I had hated for most of my life. I had never really talked to anyone about what happened in those woods in years. But maybe it was time to be honest.

"It's a little petty, actually it's really embarrassing. I wanted to get away from the people here. I got made fun of in school a lot. I know you were a couple years ahead of me, so you probably didn't know about it. But it was really traumatizing for me, and I just wanted to leave it behind. I wanted to go somewhere where no one had any reason to make fun of me."

"I can't imagine why anyone would make fun of you. I guess kids are just mean," Adam said with a shrug.

"Thanks," I scoffed. "But they did have a reason to make fun of me. In the fourth grade I got caught in a fire in the woods behind the property. It burned my left leg and left some pretty nasty scars. I was teased about it forever; even after I started covering it up with jeans because nobody forgot. It just made me feel so ugly, I felt like I could never fit in here. So, I went to college elsewhere and then decided to stay away. It was so nice not being known." As I explained to him, I started to remember the tragic day.

The memory was very vivid in my mind. I had been looking for bugs for a school project when I was nine or ten. I had gone a little farther than I expected to, and suddenly, I was surrounded by flames. There was no way out and no one around. I screamed for help because it was my first instinct, but as I choked on the smoke, I realized I would have to save myself. The only way out was through the burning brush, so I ran through it as fast as I could, leaping over it like I was one of the horses. But I couldn't quite jump high enough. The fire scorched my left leg and stuck my jean shorts to my flesh.

My parents took me straight to the hospital, and I ended up being alright except for the permanent scar that ran down my thigh to my knee. For a while I couldn't wear pants because it hurt, so of course, everyone at school saw how ugly my leg looked. They never let me live it down, and I spent the next two years crying about it until I learned to ignore it. But the teasing and name calling stuck with me, and it still hurts. I couldn't even stand to look at myself in a full length mirror because of the scars.

I looked up at Adam for his reaction, and he looked shocked for a second before the look left his face and was replaced with sympathy. "Yep, kids are pretty mean. And girls have it worse because you don't get the practice at home before you start school," he joked. "But hey, don't beat yourself up about it. It was an accident, a terrible one. And it's only a burn. I'm sure it's not at all as bad as you think it is. And even if it is, you're so pretty I bet no one would notice it now," he complimented, winking at me. I felt myself blush a little, and I looked away for a second. "By the way, I was only one year ahead of you," he added.

I realized that I liked Adam quite a bit, more than I'd liked a guy in a couple of years. But there was also the matter of our families hating each other's guts. Though, what did it matter to me? I had a job in another town, and I was pretty sure that Adam had his own place now as well. He just came to the property to help out. His older brother would probably be the one to inherit the property.

So, I went for it. As we turned our horses around to head back, I got real close and leaned over to give him a soft peck. I landed my lips half on his lips and half on his cheek. "I'll race you back," I said with a laugh, taking off with Snickers as he tried to catch up. We raced the horses all the way back to the fence around the Walker property. Obviously, I won.

"You don't play fair, Iris," he said with a smile, slowing down his horse.

"No, I play to win," I laughed, trotting back to my property. "See you tomorrow!" I called back with a wave. I was sure he would be thinking about that kiss all night. I certainly would be.

# Chapter Four

Friday morning marked one week since being back in Melville, and I had spent most of it riding with Adam or seeing my grandmother. That morning I had gotten over to the hospital early because I wanted to have some time to eat breakfast with my grandmother and then maybe take her up on the roof and play a game of cards or something if they would let her.

I pulled on my clothes and skipped out into the kitchen, grabbing an orange to hold me over and headed out the door. I had already convinced my father to let me borrow the truck. He told me I could as long as I spent some time with my mother and took her into town when he left for the farmer's market Saturday morning. It was a great place to sell the eggs and milk to a lot of people and gain new customers. We used to make it a family weekend all the time when we went to the farmer's market. So, I happily agreed.

It was sprinkling on my way over to the hospital, spitting against the windshield only enough that I had to keep turning the windshield wipers on intermittently. It was getting on my nerves, actually.

When I got to the hospital and walked inside, I walked towards the public restroom but found myself greeted by none other than Adam. "What are you doing here?" I asked him. "Is everything alright?"

He chuckled and gave me a peck on the cheek. "Now it is," he teased. "Actually, I came because I figured you'd be here. I have kind of an important question to ask you, and I didn't want to wait for us to go for our ride." I nodded, not sure what to expect him to ask me. It was a strange encounter, and he actually looked a little nervous.

"Would you like to go out with me, like on a proper date?" he asked, sliding his booted foot along the tile like a nervous school boy.

"I'd love to," I said, giving him a squeeze and a peck on the cheek. "But hey, I have a date with my grandmother first. Just tell me when and where to meet you."

"Iris, I don't want you to meet me anywhere," he said before pausing. I looked at him, feeling confused, but I gave him a chance to finish first. "I know how your father is going to feel about us going out, but I want to face him like a man. I want to face this whole thing like I man. Maybe it will set a good example for the rest of the family." He gave a sigh, and I couldn't help but smile at the amount of pride he had. "I want to pick you up tonight at 6:30. I will not be hiding this." He nodded to me.

"Okay, I'll be ready. Where are we going?" I asked. "So I know what to wear."

"Wear something nice," he answered. "That's all you need to know." He smiled and walked passed me, exiting through the automatic doors at the front of the hospital. I put my mind back on my grandmother and headed up the elevator to her. It was going to be an interesting evening that was for sure. Now I had to work up the courage to tell my father before Adam showed up at the house. If he hated anything more than the Walkers it was surprises.

After a nice long morning with my grandmother, I headed back home, ready to talk to my father about Adam. Well, at least as ready as I was ever going to be. I pulled into the drive and put the truck in park, glad to smell the fresh air. Even with that garden up there, I felt stifled in that hospital. And I hated driving a pick-up. In Denver I had gotten used to my small Honda or sometimes even a bus. I just stood outside for a moment and let the nice breeze hit me before it started sprinkling.

I went into the house and found that my father was covered in dirt, like he had just came back from working on the ranch. It may not have been the best time to catch him; while he was exhausted, but I just needed to get it over with. "Hey, Dad, I wanted to let you know that Adam Walker is going to be coming by tonight. I would appreciate it if you were at least civil with him."

"Why in the world would he be coming over here, Iris?" I cowered a little at his booming voice. His anger had always scared me as a child. At over six feet tall he was a pretty intimidating man.

"Because he's taking me out on a date tonight," I said, flippantly.

"No, he isn't. I forbid you to go on a date with that boy or even see him. You have to stay away from that family, damn it!" I saw the spit spew from his lips with his wrath, but I stood up straight and decided to stand my ground. He couldn't give me any real reason not to see Adam. "Dad, I'm an adult now. I have a career and my own place. I am 24 years old. I am going to make my own decision about Adam whether you like it or not. It's up to you whether you handle it with grace." I smiled, feeling proud of myself in that moment, and walked out of the room.

***

I clipped on my gold hoop earrings and looked at myself in the mirror. I had chosen a dress that cut just below knee so that my scar wasn't visible. It was one of those flowy dresses that little girls played dress up in. It was a dark plum color made out of a soft material.

I smiled and took one spin just for the heck of it as I heard the doorbell ring. I crossed my fingers hoping my mother would answer it instead of my father. My father might have slammed it in Adam's face or worse. Hopefully, he would at least leave his shot gun out of it.

I smoothed down my dress and my hair one more time before heading out to the living room where I found the door hanging open but Adam still standing outside. My father was cursing under his breath in the kitchen, and my mother was patting his back trying to calm him down. "Dad, why didn't you let him inside?" I scolded. The rain had stuck around and was starting to come down again in the darkening sky.

"Because there are no Walkers allowed in this house. It's bad enough he's on my property." I looked to my mother for support, but she just shrugged. She couldn't really take sides in the matter. I understood it. So, I went out the door, and turned around to close it, looking in for one more second hoping to get some term of endearment. I got nothing, so I shut the door and took Adam's hand, letting him lead me out to his pick-up. It was a bright shiny red color and looked like it was probably made within the last five years.

He helped me up into the cabin and shut the door behind me. "You look nice," I told him as he got in and started the truck. He had on a button down and black vest with some black pants. His hair was slicked back and tightened into a ponytail he had tucked inside his collar.

"You look pretty good yourself," he said with a wink as we took off down the bumpy road. I watched out the window as we passed family owned farms and corporate owned ones on our way out of town. When I saw that we were entering Big Timber, I found myself getting even more curious as to what we might be doing on this date.

Big Timber was the county seat, and even though it had less than 2,000 residents still, it was much more interesting than Melville. Part of that was because a lot of famous people came from there like Thomas McGuane and Tom Brokaw, but another was that it had this historic downtown area that looked like it was straight out of the 1800s where there were festivals and events all the time. Right in the middle was the Historic Grand Hotel.

Imagine my surprise when that is exactly where Adam pulled up and parked the car. The Victorian hotel had been turned into a more modern bed and breakfast, but inside there was also a saloon and an amazing dinner menu. "Is this seriously where you're taking me?" I asked in surprise.

"Why, do you not like it? We can go somewhere else," Adam offered nervously." I laughed and gave him a kiss on the cheek, practically bouncing in my seat to get out. I had only been inside one time when I was younger. We'd had breakfast after staying the night for a distant cousin's wedding.

"I love it, Adam!" I exclaimed, jumping out of the car. Adam smiled in relief and hooked his arm in mine as he led me inside. I expected him to take me into the saloon, but instead, he walked up to the attendant and gave his last name. He'd made dinner reservations. I couldn't believe it. Adam did not at all strike me as the type to take a girl to a fancy dinner, especially on the first date, but it was amazing. It looked like a scene out of a movie as we were led to a seat with twinkly lights above and given menus by a man wearing a suit. Right in the middle of the table was a bouquet of fresh roses; yellow ones.

"Oh my gosh, Adam. These are beautiful! I love it, but I think you overdid it on me," I told him, looking around.

"No way, I wanted the best for you. This was as close as I could get." He pointed around him, and a laughed before picking up the flowers and smelling them.

"That was a cheesy line if I ever heard one," I said with a smile. "It's a good thing I like cheesy." We both laughed as the waiter came up to take our order. To be honest, I hadn't even looked much at the menu. But I took that as a sign it was a good date. "Just a few more minutes, please," I told the waiter. So, he nodded and disappeared.

I began to scan over the menu and found that there wasn't a whole lot I didn't want. So, I figured eenie meenie miny mo would be enough for me when it came time to order. But I was chomping at the bit to ask Adam more about our families. "So, I know you said before that my father sued you guys over the well. But I guess I want to know more. When I warned my father you were coming to pick me up for a date, he flipped. He tried to forbid me from going out with you. I just wonder why he could be so angry over all of this."

Adam sighed and looked up at me with stress showing on his brow. "The livestock on both our ranches need an easy source of water. We use it for our personal water, as well as for the animals. But it also means that we're often bringing horses or cattle over towards your land and vice versa. That's why your father had that fence put up, to deter the cattle from going past the well. About a year ago we had a cow wonder over there while my father was getting water. She grazed over there and upset one of the horses; a newer one. My father got hurt trying to get them off of each other, and the horse ended up hurt as well. The cow wasn't in great shape either. But your father was furious. He thinks that my father is trying to steal land and mess up his horses, and my father thinks yours has trained his horses to kill or something. And they're both hell bent of having that extra piece of land to themselves. It's a bunch of misunderstandings mixed with an old feud." Adam shook his head as I hung on every word.

"I had no idea that happened. Nobody told me," I confessed as the waiter came back again. We had already been there at least 20 minutes and hadn't ordered yet. So, I asked for some wine, and my finger landed on a black and bleu bison burger. It actually sounded pretty good.

I tugged at my dress a little, making sure it didn't ride up. I was feeling pretty nervous about my scars showing if I happened to need to get up or use the restroom. "You know, you don't have to worry about that," Adam said, nodding down towards my legs. I turned red for a moment, partially regretting having told him about that.

"I just get really self-conscious about it. That's why I never came back even after college. It just really makes me feel gross, I guess. I keep expecting the kids we went to school with to find me and start calling me names again. I know it's silly, but it was a real problem; still is." I looked down at the table for a moment.

"Well, if they do I'll get rid of them quick, but I don't see that happening. You know, it's too bad I didn't know about it in grade school, I would've decked a couple of kids for you. In fact," he began with a chuckle before the waiter showed up and set our orders down in front of us. It was an awkward second as we were interrupted by steaming plates.

"It's weird to admit this now, but I had a crush on you for such a long time. Whenever we had combined assemblies or field days I would always watch you with your long hair. I remember when we had our eighth grade dance how I wanted so badly to ask you to dance, but you had come with some other guy. And even at junior prom I was just head over heels for you." I saw him turn a little red at his confession and began to feel a little guilty and embarrassed.

I didn't remember ever knowing him in school. I remembered hearing about Casey Walker a few times; which must have been his older brother. The only reason I knew about him was because he was a big bully that eventually went on to be the star quarter back when I was a freshman. I tried so many times in my head to place Adam, but I just couldn't.

"Well, I'm flattered, but tell me, why didn't you ever approach me? Don't tell me it was because I was too popular or something because I so wasn't," I said with a chuckle.

"No, it was my brother; my whole family really. But Casey always insisted that I stay away from you; that I forget about you. I was so scared of my big brother back then, I did anything he said. He's not so much bigger than me now. In fact, we are starting a little online business together shipping farm fresh eggs and things like that. We get along pretty well, most of the time anyway."

"Yeah, I know what you mean." I thought about working with my brothers and couldn't imagine it. "My brothers are pretty obnoxious." That made Adam laugh a little. "But they are pretty good guys when you're in a bind."

The conversation went on like that for hours until it was after 9:30 and we had to leave. We couldn't believe time had gone by so fast. As he left me at the fence to walk up to my parent's house, I leaned in and gave him a peck on his cheek. But as I went to walk away, he pulled me back in and kissed me on the lips, letting his tongue dance just inside my mouth for a moment. As I pulled back he grinned slyly at me. "See, this is why I didn't walk you to the door. Your father never would have allowed me to do that." I nodded, feeling a little lightheaded before looking up at the stars for a moment.

"Aren't they beautiful?" I asked. "You can't see as many from the city."

"I'd imagine," Adam responded. "Hey, do you want to meet my family?" I looked back down, giving him a shocked expression. If things didn't go well with mine, I wasn't sure how well it would go with his. "I know it sounds crazy, but like I said, I don't want to hide this. I really like you." He reached out and grabbed my hands. "Come to dinner Sunday. It's a family tradition; even my brother will be there."

Without overthinking it, I just nodded. I liked him way too much to say no, and anything I could do to stop the hostility between our families was worth it.

# Chapter Five

I tried to act as natural and neutral as possible as I walked up to the Walkers' door. I knocked three times, and the door swung open, almost sucking me in like a tornado. At the door stood Mr. Walker in a pair of overalls and an orange shirt. He glared down at me with a blank expression on the rest of his face. It was almost like I wasn't there.

He nodded behind him awkwardly and limped back into the house. I peeked inside and looked around. I could hear the clanking of pans and sizzling from the stovetop, but I didn't see anyone. So, I took one timid step inside to see if I could find Adam. I hadn't expected a warm welcome, anyway. I supposed silence was better than a bunch of insults or something.

I found Adam setting the dining room table. He looked up at me with a smile while he finished before walking over to me and giving me a big hug. "I apologize for their behavior. It definitely took some convincing," he whispered before pulling away. "I'm so glad you're here. Come to the kitchen and meet the rest of the family."

I followed him into the kitchen where I found everyone gathered around watching his mother cook dinner. I only saw her back, but she was wearing bright yellow, and her hair was long and curly like Adam's. Leaning up against the counter was who I assumed to be Casey. He was chewing on a carrot like he was a rabbit or something and staring at me. He was very pale and had freckles all over him. His hair was more of a red color like his father's. "Well, look at the road kill my little brother dragged in. What could possibly make a Young decide to come into Walker territory?" Casey asked coldly before exiting the room, bumping into my shoulder on the way out. "Uh oh, better check her pockets. I bet she used that as an opportunity to steal something off me." He disappeared and I found myself staring after him with a slacked jaw. He was just plain mean.

"I'm sorry, dear," Mrs. Walker said, turning around to show me her sweet, aging face. "This is just going to take longer for us to get used to than I might have hoped. I'm so glad Adam brought you here, though. He talks so much about you." She smiled sweetly, and I felt genuine warmth coming from her. She was definitely shaky about the rest of the family, though. I could just feel the tension building.

I heard a mumble coming from over where Mr. Walker was standing, and I was pretty sure I heard some curse words. But he kept his voice soft so I couldn't hear. I felt my body tense up from the hostility bouncing off the walls at me. I was sure more than ever I would never get a warm welcome in that house.

Adam led me into the dining room and pulled out a chair for me before kissing me on the cheek. "I'll be right back with our food, okay?" he told me, giving me a peck on the cheek. I played with my hands in my lap, staring down at the dining room table. Casey was leaning against the archway just looking at me, still chewing on a piece of carrot in his mouth. I felt like some kind of circus freak or something the way the whole family was treating me.

"So, why are you here?" Casey finally asked in a hostile tone.

I wasn't sure if I should answer or not, so I just said something simple. "Adam invited me as his date. I thought it was a nice gesture," I shrugged but didn't look up at him. I was a little afraid of the amount of hate I would see there. I had never known anyone to hate someone so much, especially if they didn't really know the person.

"Well, aren't you a comedian?" he snapped at me, getting really close and grabbing the back of my chair. I was almost shaking with fear. "I meant why are you even in town, Young? Rumor has it you have a fancy college degree and a fancy job in the big city."

"Because her grandmother is sick." We both snapped our heads to the left to see that Adam had come back with a plate for each of us. Mr. Walker was trailing behind him, still muttering under his breath. Somehow I preferred the insults that were being said out loud. "Now, could you get your food and sit down like a civilized human being instead of scaring my girlfriend?" Adam asked, not so politely. Casey stood up and walked into the kitchen, his eyes trained on me the whole way.

"I'm so sorry, Iris," Adam apologized as he set our plates down and then took the seat to the right of me. "I had no idea Casey would be that bad about this."

"It's okay," I whispered back even though it wasn't. I just couldn't let them see me falter or squirm. "I didn't expect it to be all rainbows and sunshine." Adam laughed a little. His parents ended up sitting down across from us, and his brother sat to the right of Adam. I could feel the tension yet again as we ate in silence. The food was pretty good, I had to admit. But it was hard to enjoy it with all the animosity going around.

"So," Mrs. Walker began after a while, trying to break the silence. She seemed to be feeling the weirdness too. "Iris, tell me a little bit about what you've been doing since you left Melville. I used to live in a big city, you know, until this guy convinced me it was a good idea to move out here with him." She winked towards her husband, but he just let out an annoyed huff and went back to stabbing violently at his food. I wondered if it was me or my father he was imagining on the plate.

"Well, I went to the University of the Rockies. I graduated magna cum lauder a year early and started my career. I work at Kamcom PR in Denver. It's really a great job. I've been able to move up the latter pretty quickly," I answered, trying to smile warmly at her. She was the only one trying to be civil.

"Just like your father in that respect. Bet he taught you exactly how to lie and steal your way to the top," Casey spat as I was taking the last bite of my food. I had somehow survived dinner at the Walkers, though I wasn't sure how much longer that was going to be the case. I really wanted to be excused from the table, and quick.

"This really was a lovely meal," I complimented Mrs. Walker before looking to Adam for support. Things were getting really tense.

His mother sighed in exasperation, glancing at the other two men at the table. "Thank you, dear. I'm pleased to know you like my cooking. I've heard Mrs. Young is a pretty mean cook herself." I smiled and nodded before Adam stood up from his seat to pull my chair out for me. But before taking me out of there, he placed one open palm against the table and then slammed the other one down after to get everyone's attention. I watched him with great admiration as he stood up to his family.

"You guys are going to have to get used to Iris and I being together because neither of us are going anywhere. I don't see how some silly old feud pertains to us having a relationship, and neither of us cares about that. So, just get over it and show some respect for me and who I care about. You don't even know her." He grabbed my hand and walked us out the door. On the inside, I was cheering for him, but I also felt that familiar guilt creeping in. Because the two of us felt the need to date each other, both our families were getting ripped apart. I couldn't imagine how much worse it would be if my brothers were in town too. They probably would have never spoken to me again.

I let him walk me home, wanting to seem just as bold, and kissed him right under our dim porch light. I could feel myself falling in love with him despite all the chaos surrounding us.

"Can I see you tomorrow?" I asked, looking at him.

"Of course you can. How about we share a horse this time?" he said with a wink.

"Sounds great. I'll meet you at lunch." I waved and stepped into my house, unable to wipe the smile from my face.

***

When I made it over to the Walker property the next day, Adam was waiting with one of the horses. I climbed up onto it behind him and wrapped my arms around his stomach, pecking him on the neck. "Well, you're in a good mood today," he commented.

"Of course I am; I'm riding a horse with my boyfriend," I said with a smile before kissing him once more. "So, what are we doing today?" I asked him, looking around. The wind was blowing my hair back, and I could tell it was going to be a chilly night.

"You'll see," he teased, starting the horse off at a trot. "First, I thought you'd like a tour of the ranch. You've never really gotten to see it before."

We trotted around the land as he pointed out the stables and talked about all the horses they had inside. He showed me the cattle and the barn where they kept the pigs. Then, he showed me their expansive garden where they grew things like carrots, celery and tomatoes. It was a pretty well sustainable ranch. I had been telling my father for years we should use some of our spare land for that.

He ended the tour near the small body of water that ran behind our property that dipped down a hill and led into the woods where I'd gotten my burns. A few yards back from the water was a picnic blanket and basket set out like it was waiting for us. It was probably the most romantic thing I felt any guy had ever done for me.

Adam stopped the horse and let me off, climbing off himself. I sat down on the blanket and started digging into the basket to find some sandwiches, fried potatoes, wine and cheese. "This looks great. Thank you," I smiled at him, and he leaned over to kiss me on the lips. "I can't believe you did this for me."

"I took you to dinner at the Grand Hotel, and it's the picnic you get excited about?" he teased, making me laugh. "Hey, will you be alright for just a minute. I'm going to let the horse down there for a drink real quick. I'll be right back."

"Okay," I nodded, unwrapping my sandwich. I actually found myself suddenly famished and began eating before he got back. I could see him down there with the hose. His back was to me.

As I looked away and then back up again, I saw that my view was being blocked out, and I let out a blood curdling scream that I knew could be heard for miles.

# Chapter Six

I watched in horror as a huge black bear approached, coming after the food. It picked up the picnic basket and began tearing at it with its enormous teeth and claws. Luckily, I could see Adam running our way with a gun in his hand.

I stood up and ran in his direction, crashing into him. "There's a bear, Adam!" I screamed, glad I wasn't being chased by it.

I watched as he fired it into the air, making a deafening crack that split the silence in half. The bear growled and turned around towards the woods, running back into them in fear.

I took a deep breath, grabbing my chest. My heart was beating so fast I was sure it was going to give out. I knew there were bears in the woods and the mountains around Melville, but I had never been unlucky enough to attract one. He must have left the food sitting out there too long. Bears were notorious for scouting for human food all the time. I just hadn't thought about it.

Still feeling shaky, I clung to Adam's shoulder, glad that he was there with me. I don't think I would have fared so well otherwise.

"Thank you," I breathed, finally letting go of him and trying to catch my breath. "You better go get that horse before she runs away," I pointed back at the horse that was trotting along the water's edge. Adam ran over and grabbed the reins, leading it back over to us.

"Nah, I doubt she would have gotten far. But, I think we've had enough excitement for today. Maybe I should go ahead and take you home," he said, helping me up onto the horse.

I nodded and sighed. I wasn't ready for our day together to end, but I did want to go see my grandmother again. I hadn't seen her all weekend because it had been so busy with the farmer's market and dinner with the Walkers.

"Alright, I suppose you're right," I told him as he hopped onto the horse in front of me. I wrapped my arms around him again as he kicked the horse in the side, causing her to take off across the property. It was fun riding fast, but it got me back to the Young ranch much too soon.

"So, that was a fun lunch," Adam said, and I couldn't help but laugh. So far, everything with Adam had been such an adventure. I wouldn't have taken it back for anything.

"You're right about that. I'm sorry I freaked out so badly. He was clearly only after the food. But it was a bear. Thanks for coming to my rescue." I hopped off the horse and looked up at him, wanting to leave him with something to think about. "I'm falling for you Adam Walker," I said simply, before running inside the house and shutting the door behind me. That was enough for now.

I walked in the house just to be bombarded by both of my parents. "Oh my gosh, Iris, are you alright?" my mother asked in her worried voice. She started checking me over like she might be looking for a bullet hole or something. Then, it dawned on me that that was probably exactly what she was doing.

"We heard a gunshot," my father added, crossing his arms angrily. I had a bad feeling where the conversation was about to go. But there was nothing at all they could do. I was in too deep with Adam to get out already. I sighed and pushed through them to the living room so I could at least sit down on the couch. "I'm alright, Mom, I promise. There was just an incident over there on the Walker property while we were having lunch. Don't worry about it."

My mother gave me a disapproving look but then said nothing. It was my father who spoke up and insisted on knowing more. "What kind of incident, Iris?" he asked in a scolding tone.

I sighed and decided to just get it over with. "He set out a picnic for us by the lake and then took the horse down to drink some water. But when he did, a black bear came up to the picnic basket and started rummaging through it. I got scared and screamed and ran to Adam, so he had his gun pulled out. He fired into the air and scared it away. It just ran back into the woods; no problem." I tried to make is sound as casual as possible, but there was no getting my father to calm down about it.

"He could have shot you or just angered the bear more. We could have lost you. This is why I told you not to associate with the Walkers, Iris! This is the last time I'm going to tell you; if you want to be under my roof you're not going to see him anymore."

He was making me feel a bit like a teenager again, though I couldn't think of a time I angered him. I walked up to my father and gave him a kiss on the cheek, mostly in defiance. "I do love you, Dad, but I'm in love with Adam Walker. There's nothing you can do to change that, so you'll just have to learn to be okay with it."

I smiled at him and left the room to get ready to go see my grandmother. I looked forward to telling her all about Adam.

My grandmother and I talked for hours about my date with Adam and about boys in general. I confided in her about how my parents didn't approve and asked her how she felt about it. She told me about my grandfather and how he felt that way about the Walkers as well. She used to sneak over there when he was working and talk to Adam's grandmother. It was funny how there was a long line of this hate among the men with the women trying to understand. But it was great to have someone on my side like that. She assured me my father would come around.

I looked out the window from my old bedroom before closing the curtain and shutting the light off. It was bittersweet being home. On the one hand, I loved being able to look out at the stars and all the hills and trees that covered the country landscape. But, on the other hand, I was missing my Colorado life a bit. I enjoyed being independent and having a job to do every day even though I wasn't particularly attached to the city. And I did have memories and friends I had left there as well, but I couldn't imagine going back to those without Adam.

I lay down on my old mattress, making a mental note to replace it if I was going to be staying for a while and closed my eyes.

But as I began to drift off to sleep, I heard a pinging sound against my window. At first I thought it might be rain, but it beat irregularly without ever picking up. I wondered just for a moment if there was a scene out of a movie playing out. I peeked out the curtains to see that there was. I could just barely make out Adam in the moonlight.

I waved to him and tapped back as he threw another pebble at the window. He waved back to let me know he saw, and I closed the curtains again, before tiptoeing down the hall. It was hard trying to get the boards not to creak as I made my way through the living room, and I realized how silly I was sneaking around when I was in my 20s.

I grabbed the shawl blanket from the couch and wrapped it around me, knowing it would be a little bit chilly out there. I made it out the door and cringed at the noise the screen door made as it clicked shut. Adult or not, my father was sure to kill one of us for sneaking around in the middle of the night.

Without saying a word, I grabbed his hand and led him towards the chicken coop, farther away from the front door. "So what are you doing out here?" I whispered as he pulled me into him and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

"Well, I guess I just wanted to see you. You know, I think we're far enough away that you don't need to whisper," he said with a quiet laugh.

"You're probably right," I admitted. "But, I'm just so nervous, you know?" I looked around, wondering what we should do and got an idea. "Hey, how about I return the favor from earlier and give you a tour of the ranch?"

"As long as there aren't any bears involved this time," Adam replied, tickling my ribs a bit.

I shook my head. "No bears allowed, but there might be a few chickens and horses." I took his head and led him the rest of the way over to the chicken coop, trying not to disturb the chickens inside. "These are our chickens. They make the most amazing eggs. We let them roam around out here sometimes, but at night this is where they sleep." I gestured like a model on a trivia television show.

I felt like this cool rebel as I led him again to back behind the house where the stables were; one of my favorite places on the property. "This is where we keep the horses, obviously. It's probably not a good idea to go in and spook them, but there are four of them including mine which is Cinnamon. You've already met him." I smiled, feeling a little strange as we walked around in the moonlight under the stars with me showing him the Young ranch.

"What's that back there?" Adam asked, looking to the opposite side of the property. On the other side of the house sat an old horse drawn wagon. I smiled as I looked where he was pointing, thinking about the memories I had of it.

"That," I said with a sly smile on my face, "is something very special. C'mon; follow me." I walked fast, pulling the shawl tight around me as the cool wind whipped around my hair blowing it back in Adam's direction. I made it over to the wagon and climbed up inside, spreading the shawl out in the back of the wagon. I let my legs hang off the side and scooted over so that Adam could jump up next to me.

"This is pretty cool, Iris. Is it a replica or the real thing?" he asked, surveying the inside. The cover hid the moonlight from us and made it seem even darker than it already was. If I had to guess what time it was, I would probably have said it was half past midnight. I should've been tired, but my body was on edge, sitting next to Adam in the wagon.

"It's the real thing, actually," I answered with a smile, remembering my father telling me about it. "In fact, this is the very wagon that my great grandparents came in on when they settled here. My great grandfather just packed it up after marrying, and moved out here because he wanted to create a life for himself and have a lot of children. He wanted a ranch. And here it is." I pointed around me, feeling proud of my ancestor. From what I had heard, he was a pretty great man. "He went on to have six children, one of them being my grandfather. Anyway, the wagon has stayed in the family since then, but my father actually restored it to pristine condition when I was a kid. It was amazing, the work he put into it."

"Well, I can see why it's so special, then," Adam commented, catching my eyes with his in the dark. They gave off a warm glow that I didn't think I'd find in anyone else.

"That's why it is important, but not why it's so special to me. This is where I came when the kids picked on me about my ugly legs," I said softly, looking down at my pajama pants as if I could see the scars through them.

"Iris, there is nothing ugly about you," Adam whispered, looking right at me. Then, before I could think about it, he leaned in and kissed me like he hadn't kissed me before. Up until then it had been little pecks and maybe a couple of passionate lip locks, but this one had his hands rubbing at my hips and his tongue dancing inside my mouth. But, he pulled away.

"I'm sorry," he said, pulling away and looking out into the night.

"Stop apologizing for kissing me," I told him, pulling him back into the wagon so that his head rested on the shawl. I kissed him again, pouring all my heart into it. If he didn't know how I felt then, there was no telling him. I felt something in us both loosen as I continued to kiss him, both of us becoming out of breath. My body felt warm as we pulled ourselves further into the wagon. I was laying half on top of him, rubbing my body up against him as his hands traveled down my hip to my thigh. I tensed up for just a second, feeling nervous about his hand being that close to my scars. But I had to let it go someday.

He reached his thumb down into my waistband and ran it along the skin at the top of my delicate flower. I giggled softly into his mouth because it tickled just as much as it felt good. I could feel his chest move in a silent chuckle as well. I gasped as his whole hand plunged inside, his fingers finding that soft, sensitive spot and beginning to rub in a circular motion. I let my body slip down onto the blanket, and a sprawled on my back with my eyes closed, letting his hand continue to explore me.

Adam leaned over my body so that I could feel his breath on my neck, and I rocked my hips up against his hand to increase his pressure on me. I reached out to find his curly hair and ran my hands through it absentmindedly. It was course in places and silky in others, giving my hands something to do while pulling his hand out and running it up under my shirt, tugging the shirt up over my breasts. He left them exposed, and I shivered as the chill hit my nipples, making them harden.

Adam began to kiss up my body starting at my navel and then stopping at the middle of my chest. After a pause, he moved over to each breast, giving each one ample attention with his tongue and teeth. I could feel that my panties were becoming very wet because my body was responding to his warm touch. I wanted to say something so badly that would make him hurry it up, but I knew that would ruin the moment.

My breathing became shallow as he tweaked my nipples with his fingers, moving back down my stomach with his mouth and tongue trailing my skin. It felt like I was being burned everywhere he touched.

Then, he slid his hands down to meet his mouth and hooked his fingers in my pants, tugging them down. I squinted my eyes shut, feeling nervous. Even in the dark I knew he would see the ugly scars on my left leg. But he didn't miss a beat, pulling my panties off after them, leaving my whole body exposed to him. There was no hiding anymore.

I relaxed as he began to gently kiss the edges of the scars, lifting my leg to his mouth. His fingers moved upward, dancing just at the entrance to my wet center. The torture was terrible, and I groaned in protest as he moved away from me. I opened my eyes to see that he had gotten up onto his knees and was unbuttoning his shirt. I felt my insides begin to ache with passion for him as he bared his chest, discarding the shirt behind him. I could make out the few curling hairs making a trail down to his pants and his slightly defined pecks.

I had to reach out and touch him, letting my fingers slide down his body until it reached the button on his pants. I started to unbutton and unzip him, looking up for approval. He didn't stop me, so I went for it, pulling them down along with the pair of boxer briefs he had on underneath.

I could see that he was feeling the same way for me; his member swollen and standing at attention for me as he looked down on me with affection. I took him in my hand and spread my legs for him. I guided him downward as he placed himself between my thighs, and I set the tip of his shaft just at the entrance to my center.

I bit my bottom lip nervously as I removed my hand, allowing him to decided when and how he wanted to explore inside of me. He didn't wait long. Looking right into my eyes, he plunged deep inside of me. I squinted my eyes shut in a moment of pain as he spread me wide open. After a few seconds, as he began to slide in and out of me, I relaxed as the pain went away. He leaned down over my body, kissing down my neck and sucking on it.

I moaned as he left a trail of purple marks down my collar bone, and I picked up my legs to wrap around him. His member was able to plunge deeper inside, and I gasped at the feeling. I pulled at his hair and forced his lips back onto mine, tugging at his bottom lip with my teeth.

Adam picked up the pace, thrusting into me hard. We were both panting and caught in the moment. I could hear him groan with pleasure under his breath. Then, my legs squeezed around his body before I lost control of them. They began to shake uncontrollably as I felt a rush go through my body. It wasn't unlike that feeling I get on roller coasters just before they plunge down a steep hill.

Then, my center squeezed around him tightly, making me scream and wad the blanket up in my hands. My legs went limp and slid down his body as I looked to him to see that he was reaching his apex as well.

# Chapter Seven

I sat up groggily, looking at the man who had been lying next to me all night. I couldn't believe we had been so bold as to make love in the wagon and then sleep half the night in there. It was still dark outside, but I could just feel that the time had passed. I smiled to myself, leaning back on my hands. He hadn't woken up yet, but his hair had fallen over his face like a curtain. I reached over and pushed it out of his eyes.

"Iris!" I jumped at hearing my name, wondering who it could be. Then, I heard it once again but closer. It was coming from the direction of my house. It must have been my father. In a panic that my father might find us together like that, I reached over and shook Adam awake.

He sat up straight and looked over at me with a cute smile, but there was no time for that. "My father's calling for me," I said, urgently. That was all he needed to wake up and get moving. Both of us scrambled for our clothes, tugging them on the best we could. I finger brushed my hair and wiped at my face trying not to look like I'd spent the whole night out there with someone. "Okay, so, don't get out of the wagon and take off until I'm inside with my father. I don't want him seeing you here at this time of night," I said in a panic as I wrapped the shawl back around me. I couldn't help but notice the smell of us on it.

"Will do. Hey, come here a minute," he demanded with a smile. I obeyed, and he pulled me to him and gave me a lingering kiss. "I'll see you later, alright. Hope he's not too harsh on you." I nodded and hopped out of the wagon, taking large steps across the grass towards where I could see my father standing at the back of the house.

"Where in the world were you at this hour, Iris? It's past four in the morning!" His booming voice made me cringe as usual. No wonder I had been an exceptionally well behaved teenager; he was a fearsome man. He never would have let me get away with anything.

"I went to sit in the wagon, Dad," I said innocently. "What's going on? Why are you up so early?" He crossed his arms, looking at me like he knew I was trying to change the subject.

"Were you with Adam in that wagon?" he asked, flatly. Of all the things to ask, he had to go there didn't he? I tried to keep my expression even, but my father knew all my tells. Still, I said nothing even as the guilt welled up inside of me.

"Seriously, Dad, why did you call for me?" I asked, trying once again to get down to the point.

"I'll have to deal with Adam later, and don't think that I won't. But right now, we have other problems. It's my mother, Iris. She's not doing so well."

As he said it, I felt bile come up into my throat, and my heart began to race. Was that going to be the night I lost her? I just couldn't bear the thought. I wasn't ready yet, and I didn't think she was ready to go yet either. "What does that mean, Dad? Is Grandma gone?" I found myself silently praying that she would be alright that by some miracle we would at least have the time to say goodbye to her.

"No, but the hospital said we should go right away. Go get dressed and meet us in the truck as fast as you can, Iris. We need to get there as soon as possible."

I felt like I was in someone else's body as I ran inside to my room to change. I didn't feel my footsteps beneath me. I pulled on the first thing I saw; a peach maxi dress with some stains around the bottom. It didn't really matter what I wore to go see my dying grandmother.

It didn't feel real for me yet, and I've heard that it happens to a lot of people. For some there is a moment that makes reality come rushing back in, and for others, they just move through life after that moment as if in a dream. I didn't have one of those moments.

I got into the truck next to my mother and couldn't even look her in the eye. I just kept my head down as we drove off out onto the road. As we passed the Walker property, my thoughts went briefly to Adam, wishing he could be with me to support me through this but knowing my parents would never be alright with that. What did that say about our future?

The ride was dark and bumpy, but we got to the hospital in record timing. It probably helped that very few people felt the need to be on the road before five in the morning.

I felt that stifling feeling again as we walked into that concrete building, hoping to hear some good news about my grandmother.

Once we got up to the second floor, a nurse took us straight to the waiting room and told us a doctor would come to speak to us in a moment. That didn't make me feel any better about the situation. If anything, it worried me more. I knew she had been bad off before, but I had always been allowed to go in and see her whenever. But now we had to wait to hear something from a doctor. All I knew was that in movies that scene never ended well.

I twiddled my thumbs nervously as I looked down at the tiled floor. My mother was sitting quietly next to me while my father paced back and forth constantly tugging at his pants. I was sure that by the time he was done they would end up all the way at his ears.

Finally, a middle aged man came up to us in dark blue scrubs and a white lab coat. He had a salt and pepper beard and slicked back hair. His eyes were a steely grey.

He shot us all a fake smile, though I couldn't blame him. If I worked with sick people every day I don't think I could smile either. Then, he shook all our hands, meeting glances with each of us. I imagined it must have been part of his training. Maybe doctors went to school so many years because they had to learn the science and then the emotion behind the job.

"Doctor, can you please tell us what's going on? We were told that my mother wasn't doing well and that we needed to get here right away, but then we were told to wait here. How is she?" The words seemed polite, but they were out of place coming from my father's perpetually angry mouth.

"I'm sorry about that, Mr. Young. It was just part of protocol. We didn't want you rushing in there without understanding what's going on. We have Mrs. Young stable for now." Those last words took all the breath from my lungs and hope from my heart. I knew what for now meant. It meant that there would come a time where she wouldn't be stable no matter what the doctor did.

"What does that mean; stable?" my father asked again, even more irately.

"Stable means that she isn't getting any worse right now, but that can change rather quickly. Right now she is sleeping, and we are trying to make her as comfortable as possible. But she is currently in the CCU. Pending some decisions, she might be moved to the Hospice unit." I knew my father was about to blow his lid, saying the doctor was talking gibberish or something, but I knew what it meant. "Look, I'm sure you are all under a lot of stress right now and want to see her. I'm just trying to explain to you the best I can what's going on. She's in complete renal failure, and she's going to need a kidney transplant if she's going to live. Because of her condition, she will be moved higher on the donor list, but as you know from before, you and your sons are not matches."

My father glanced at me, and I could see the panic in his eyes. He looked lost and wild. I had yet to be tested, so I instantly stepped forward. "Can you test me for a match?" I asked timidly. I didn't know how I felt about giving up a kidney, but saving my grandmother sounded like a pretty good idea right at that moment.

"Yes, ma'am. Why don't you come with me, and I'll have one of the nurses take the two of you into see Mrs. Young." He nodded at my parents and motioned to the nurse that had greeted us before he prompted me to follow him to the elevator. I wrapped my arms around myself for support and tired not to cry as the elevator took us back down to the main floor. I followed the doctor all the way back down to the end of a hall to a brown door with the word "LAB" on it.

He left me with a nurse who had instructions to test my blood right away. I looked the other way as she stuck the needle in, pulling my blood out. It wasn't the pain that scared me, but blood, especially my own, did make me feel a little queasy. "All done," the nurse said in a strangely cheery tone before getting up with the specimen in hand. I sat there waiting patiently for her to come back with the results.

"I'm sorry, honey, but you're not a match," she came back and said within about fifteen minutes. I walked out of the lab feeling yet again like I was living someone else's life. But once I got in the elevator I started bawling uncontrollably. There was not a single one of us that could save my grandmother now. And to make matters worse, I wanted to punch myself in the face for being so selfish. The whole reason for my trip back home was to spend time with my grandmother, and sure I'd gotten some time in but not near as much as I should have. There was that regret again, tugging at my heart strings.

I had spent way too much time with Adam Walker, someone who I wasn't even supposed to know. And even though I cared so much for him, I never should have abandoned my purpose for time with him. And then there was the matter of when I went back home to the city. It wasn't like I was going to stick around at my parents' house after my grandmother passed. I had a job that I loved, an apartment, an entire life there. What was I planning on doing anyway when I went back? I doubted Adam wanted to live big city life. I had been so immature getting side tracked.

Instead of going straight back to my parents and finding my grandmother, I rode the elevator up to the roof garden. I needed to call Adam and see what I could do to set things right.

He answered almost right away. "Hey you, what's going on? Was your old man pretty hard on you?" I tried not to smile at his excitement to hear form me because I knew I was about to crush that.

"Adam, I called because I'm at the hospital. My grandmother is not doing well at all now. In fact, she's in complete renal failure." I felt the tears threatening to come. It was hurting my throat to hold back. "They say she's not going to make it without a transplant real soon, but none of us are a match."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, sweetheart. Do you want me to come out there?" he asked. He had never called me a pet name before, and my mind went back to just a few hours ago when we were together in the wagon. It was like a whole other world then. It was funny how quickly things changed.

"No, thank you for offering. But I did want to tell you that I feel like we should take a break from whatever we are. I care for you, I really do, but I need to just focus on my grandmother right now and what little time she has left."

"Iris," he began in a disappointed tone. "I understand that you need to spend time with your grandmother and that things are tough, but that's exactly why you need me around. You're going to need as much support as you can get. Please, don't push me away over this."

"I'm sorry, Adam, but I have to do this. I need to focus. There are a lot of variables here. Just please give me time, and forgive me." I hung up before he could say anything else and make me give in. My grandmother was what was important.

I took a deep breath and let a few tears fall before I headed back down to the CCU.

# Chapter Eight

"Iris, I know you want to be here for her, but you need to take a break. Go home and take a shower and get something real to eat. Maybe take a ride on Cinnamon for a few to clear your head. I'm sure he would love that." I turned away from the hospital window and looked at my mother. She had been trying all day to convince me to leave the hospital. For four days we had taken turns being with my grandmother whether it was actually talking to her, helping her eat or just watching her sleep. It felt like we had been there for weeks or months even just waiting for her to pass or for someone to show up as a donor. I was the only one who hadn't left the hospital at all during that time.

I didn't think I had the right to leave or to relax. My thoughts kept wondering to Adam. I hadn't talked to him at all even though he'd called a few times. He'd even left a note once at my parents' door asking about my grandmother. My father just loved that one.

But as much as my brain wanted me to think about his curly hair running through my fingers or his amazing smile, I forced myself to focus on my grandmother. She needed me, and I needed her.

I turned to my sleeping grandmother and thought about it a moment. I could have probably left and been back by the time she was supposed to eat dinner. And I knew she would begin to notice that I didn't smell so good even though I'd changed clothes and that I had huge circles under my eyes. My hair was a mess too. I did at least need a shower, and I didn't want to take one in her hospital room at all.

"Okay," I nodded. "But if something happens, call, please," I told her, looking between them.

"Of course I will, but I'm sure it'll be fine long enough for you to do this. You need to take care of yourself, Iris." I nodded, not exactly agreeing, but I got up and left anyway.

I got in and out of the shower as fast as I could. I found myself thinking about the night Adam and I had in the wagon again and needed to get away from the thought. I threw on an old flannel shirt and some jean shorts, not even caring about my scars showing. Those things were so petty to think about when a family member was in the hospital.

I went out to the stables, not really feeling it as I walked Cinnamon out onto the green grass. The weather was quickly turning cold, so I wouldn't have long to ride him in what I had on anyway.

Somehow, I was led by Cinnamon to the edge of the property where the well sat, separating us from the Walkers. Adam was nowhere in sight, but he was tattooed on my heart. I couldn't take it anymore. I had to get back to the hospital and focus on what was right. I didn't deserve to think about love or boyfriends.

But when I got back to the hospital I found myself running behind a group of doctors and nurses who had rushed into the room where my grandmother was sitting up, just having woken up. "What's going on?" I asked out of breath as I slid in behind them all trying to find a space to stand in near my family. The doctor that had spoken to us before with the beard was in there, and he answered me.

"We have a donor. We need to prep Mrs. Young for surgery right away. One of our nurses will take you to the surgery waiting room." I looked to my parents with tears in my eyes. I couldn't believe they had found a donor for her and everything was going to be okay. That moment was even more surreal for me than finding out that we might lose her. I hugged my mother as the doctors carted my grandmother out to surgery.

Then, we followed quickly behind a woman in pink scrubs with dark hair who took us down to the OR waiting room on the bottom floor. "She's going to be okay, Dad," I said, patting him on the back. I could see that he was trying to hold his emotions in as we walked into the waiting room. My mother instantly began looking around for a seat, but I froze as I saw three people I knew also standing around in the waiting room.

"Dad," I said confused, tugging on his shirt. He looked where I was looking, and a shocked look came over his face as well. I was sure there was going to be some kind of show down, but my father just shrugged and sat down with my mother. But I had a strange feeling about them being there; especially considering Adam was not with them.

So, taking a deep breath, I approached the Walkers. "Oh, hello dear," Mrs. Walker said to me with a smile. I didn't expect a warm welcome from the rest of them, but I didn't get any rude remarks. Though, Casey stepped away.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but can I ask why you're here?" I asked nervously. I was so sure they were going to send me away and tell me nothing, but that wasn't the case. Mr. Walker scratched the back of his neck and sighed before actually answering me.

"I thought you guys would already know, but Adam's in surgery right now."

"Surgery?" I asked, feeling scared. What could have caused him to need surgery? Was he going to be alright? I would have never forgiven myself if he didn't come out alright after I'd shut him down and ignored him.

"He's donating his kidney, Iris. Adam's information has been on file here at the hospital for a few years now. He wanted to be a living donor. They called him this morning to let him know he was a match for your grandmother. He volunteered for it. He's in there right now."

I didn't know what to think. My head was all over the place. I knew someone could survive with one kidney, but I also knew that it would limit them a little and make them tired. Not to mention the risks of surgery. He was risking his own life to save my grandmother's life even though I'd been so awful to him.

"Mr. Walker, I'm so sorry about all this. I didn't mean for you guys to end up here." I felt like I was going to have a panic attack right there in front of Adam's family. I just kept running pictures through my head of Adam being put under and the doctors cutting him open. I couldn't stand the thought of it. I fell to the ground, my breathing heavy, and placed my face in my hands. I felt a hand on my back, rubbing me and looked up to find Mrs. Walker by my side, helping me to my feet and pulling me in for a hug. I wrapped my arms around her without thinking.

"He's going to be alright, dear. I never would have allowed this to happen if he wasn't. I would have locked him up in a closet if I had to." She made me laugh just a little through the tears. I couldn't believe Mrs. Walker was comforting me like that, but it was working.

"What is going on over here?" I heard my father's voice booming right over my head and looked up to see him shooting the evil eye at Mr. Walker and Casey who had walked back over in a defensive stance.

"Please, you guys, don't fight here. Not now," I begged, looking back and forth between my father and Adam's. If ever there were a time for them to get over their petty fight, it would be while Adam was saving my grandmother's life. "Daddy, Adam is the donor; he's the match for Grandma. He's donating his love for her right now," I explained desperately, trying to diffuse the situation.

"Is this true?" my father asked, looking up at Mr. Walker, hitching his pants up as usual.

Mr. Walker nodded in response. "Yes, it's true. They called him about being a match yesterday. As soon as they told him who it was, he volunteered." Mr. Walker shrugged like he wasn't sure he understood it.

"And why in the world would your son risk his life for a Young? I bet you're not too happy with him for that," my father commented, looking smug with himself.

It was Casey who stepped forward. "Look, Mr. Young, we don't appreciate you coming over here like this and prodding at our wounds. Adam has been a living donor for years, ever since our grandmother died because she couldn't find a donor for a heart transplant. We respect him for his choice even if it is a Young he's giving his kidney to. If it were me, I wouldn't give a damn, but I guess Adam's just a better person than I am. Plus, I can't say why, but he is crazy about you." Casey pointed at me, and I felt both complimented and accused.

My father looked a little dumfounded like he wasn't sure what to do with the information he just received. I wasn't exactly sure either; especially considering I knew Casey still hated my guts at that moment.

"I have no problem with my son's choice." Mr. Walker finally spoke up, look right at my father. It was a climactic moment to say the least. "Our whole family was devastated five years ago when my mother-in-law passed simply because no donor could be found. He came to me after that and told me what he wanted. I felt so proud of him in that moment. I can't take my blessing away just because he decided to give his kidney to a person with a last name I hold a grudge against. And when he comes out of this, he's going to deserve support and thanks from both our families." Mr. Walker looked at my father with a challenge in his eyes, and I held my breath, knowing the moment could go either way.

Mr. Walker extended his hand to shake, and my father stared down at it like it was a bug or something. "I guess you're right about that. Maybe I misjudged the boy. Heck, maybe I misjudged all of you. This war between us was our grandfather's war, and somehow we've continued it down the line so that it's affecting our children. My daughter loves your son, and maybe that's reason enough to drop this whole thing and just share the damn well," my father gruffed out, clearing his throat nervously.

I was so proud of my father in that moment, especially knowing that it was hard for him to do that. I watched as my father reached out his hand tentatively and grabbed onto Mr. Walker's hand. They shook for just a moment and nodded to each other in respect. "I think for my son's sake, I can agree to that Mr. Young," Mr. Walker said. "I believe my son loves your daughter as well, and she seems like a nice kid even though she was raised by you," he joked, lightening the mood a little. "I believe my son, Casey, owes you both an apology." Mr. Walker glanced back at Casey, urging him to show the same respect for our family he just did.

I saw the hatred and hesitation in Casey's eyes and wondered if something with him went deeper than just the feud between the families. It made me think my brothers must not have been the best to him in the past. So, I took the high road and approached him with my hand out instead.

"Casey, I don't know what my family has done to you in the past. To be honest, I pretty much had blinders on as far as your family and this silly feud went, until I came back here and met Adam. But I'm sure my brothers are just as sorry as I am about this whole thing, and on my family's behalf, I would like to apologize and invite you to be my friend."

Casey looked almost confused for a moment as his face softened. He finally reached out and gave my hand a shake. "I can't promise anything, Iris, but I am sorry for how I've treated you. For my brother's sake, I guess I can give you the benefit of the doubt."

"I think I can be okay with that," I said with a smile. I looked back to where my mother was still sitting across the waiting room, and she gave me a knowing smile. She had stayed quiet for years about the whole thing, but I knew she had wanted the feud to end just as much as everyone.

The families parted, sitting at opposite ends of the waiting room in silence as we each waited on news about a family member. I could tell that in no way were the Walkers and the Youngs going to be friends, but they were no longer enemies.

I watched the clock on the wall tick by the time nervously, every minute feeling like an hour to me. I had two people I cared about in the operating room instead of just one. And I was certain I couldn't bear to lose either of them.

Finally, the doctor that had been with us all along came in with his clipboard and pen in hand. He didn't have his usual coat; he was still in scrubs from doing the surgery. "So, it's good news for all of you. Both patients made it through surgery and are being wheeled to recovery right now. They'll both be waking up within the next hour. We'll have to watch Mrs. Young for the next few days to make sure her body doesn't reject the kidney, but I have every hope she'll be alright. Mr. Walker will be on a liquid diet for the next 24 hours, and he will have some limitations for a while that we can go over after he wakes back up. "

"When can we see them?" I asked, standing up and walking over to the doctor. I was anxious to get in there and thank Adam and apologize for what I had done to him. I also couldn't wait to tell my grandmother who had saved her life.

"It'll be a little while; at least an hour. I will let you all know as soon as the patients wake up. Feel free to go home and wash up or do whatever you need to do. They're in good hands." The doctor smiled that familiar fake smile and nodded before leaving the room. I sat back down with my parents and reached for my mother's hand to hold it. They had both came through surgery, and I couldn't be happier.

# Chapter Nine

I rolled down the windows on the truck as my mother and I climbed in. My father had asked me to take her home and help her take care of the ranch and the animals. The chickens needed to be let out to roam and fed, and the horses needed to eat as well. Even the sheep and the goat hadn't been taken care of yet because we'd been so busy with my grandmother. My father thought we should utilize that hour now that we knew everyone was going to be alright. He insisted on staying behind for his mother.

I was pretty sure the real reason he sent us away is that he needed some time to deal with his emotions about the situation. My father was a proud man, but he had always doted so on his mother. I was sure he felt something strong about her life being suddenly saved after everyone was so sure we'd lose her in just a few days.

I turned on our favorite radio station as my mother leaned against the door. She looked exhausted. I knew she hadn't gotten much sleep in the last few days because she'd been trying to be there for my father. I hoped one day to be such a dedicated wife and mother who would do anything for her family even if she disagreed with their behavior.

As we pulled up to the ranch, I looked out towards the well and smiled, knowing that it would no longer be a symbol of our families being separated by hatred.

I helped my mother into the house and told her just to lay down for a bit, that I'd take care of the animals. There was no way I could sleep anyway, considering I couldn't get my mind or body off thoughts of Adam.

I started with the chickens, gathering eggs as they ate their feed. I brought the basket of eggs into the house to be washed and put into our spare fridge for storing until we could sell them.

As I placed the last bit in the fridge, I heard the phone ringing and went to grab it. The number was my father's. "Hello?" I answered.

"Oh, hi, Iris. How's your mother doing?"

"Hi, Dad, I put her to bed because she was falling asleep in the car. Right now I'm taking care of the eggs. What's going on? Is Grandma alright?" I asked, wondering why he might be calling.

"Yeah, she's still asleep. Actually, they just came in and told Mr. Walker that Adam was awake. They told him that you were here, and he's asking for you. But please make sure everything's taken care of first. I can't afford to lose the ranch or anything," he said with concern.

I couldn't help but smile that Adam was asking for me. "Alright, it'll be fine, Dad. I'll take care of everything before I head back. Do you want me to bring Mom back with me?" I asked him.

"No, just let her sleep. She'll have plenty of time to see Mom now. We all will." I smiled at his statement, feeling a calm come over me. He was right; we'd have a lot of time with Grandma now. I just knew that everything was going to be okay.

"Alright, Dad. I'll see you in a little while," I told him before I hung up and headed back out. I could hear the hens clucking as they picked at their feed as I headed over to the stables.

"Hey guys!" I said enthusiastically as I walked into the stalls and opened them up. I watched as they trotted out into the field where the hay was already laid out for them. Cinnamon came up to me and rubbed his head on my shoulder. I rubbed at his ear and head before walking him over to the apple tree. I pulled down a green apple and placed it in his mouth, and he ate it before whinnying and heading out to the field with the rest of the horses.

I took my time with the rest of the tasks enjoying my time at home as I thought about exactly what I would say to Adam. I knew there were still many things to be figured out between the two of us like how we were going to deal with my life in the city; and the fact that our families would never be happy with each other. But the hurdle of my grandmother was long passed, and I knew I should have never taken him for granted.

I decided to take a tour of our time together, hopping on Cinnamon's back. I rode my horse over to the empty Walker property where I remembered our tour of the place. And I thought about that disastrous dinner with his family that had ended in him sticking up for us even though our relationship was so new. Then, I rode Cinnamon over to where he'd set up the picnic. The stream was rushing past in the distance, and the lake sat quietly in the late afternoon sun. I thought of how I had trusted him with my life when that bear had shown up and how we'd been able to laugh about it later.

I made my way back to our ranch, looking at our home. That was where I had confessed my feelings for the first time to my father, defying his wishes never to see Adam again. I ended my tour at the wagon and hopped off Cinnamon, tying him to a post. I climbed into the wagon and felt the wind passing through it. It felt so empty without Adam in there with me.

I closed my eyes and remembered how it had felt to have his lips on mine and his hands on me. I remembered how connected I had felt to him that night, and I suddenly had my answer. I was ready to go and talk to him.

I put up all the animals and left my mother a note before hopping back in the truck and heading back towards the hospital. Hopefully, my grandmother would be awake too so I could let her know that she was going to be okay now because of Adam.

I rolled with windows down again, blasting the music as my hair whipped around my face. I knew I would look back on that moment as a turning point in my life forever. And I figured I might as well enjoy it.

When I got to the hospital, Mrs. Walker led me straight to Adam's room. Casey and Mr. Walker were already in there, standing across from his bed. When Adam heard us coming in, he turned to look at us and smiled. "Wow, look who it is?" he said quietly. I walked tentatively towards his bed as his brother and father took the cue, slipping out the door behind me.

Then, his mother left too, and I heard the door click shut behind her, leaving us totally alone. I took a deep, nervous breath and walked a little closer, daring to sit down beside him on the bed. "I'm glad you're here," he whispered into the silence. I looked up at him and the beeping machines hooked up to him through tubes. He looked a little pale, but other than that he looked like himself. He had a cup of ice water in front of him that he kept picking out of.

"Adam," I began, feeling more anxious about talking to him than I anticipated. "I can't thank you enough for what you did for my grandmother. I had no idea you were even a donor, and I was so scared that you wouldn't come out of this so I could thank you, but really, you've saved her life and changed mine." I felt like I was about to turn into a blubbering blob as I talked to him.

"It was a no brainer, Iris, I hope you understand that. I know I never told you, but my grandmother found herself in a need of a heart a few years back. She ended up dying because we couldn't find a match for her anywhere. That's when I decided I was going to become a donor because I could change that fate for somebody else. As soon as I found out I was a match for your grandmother, I couldn't say no." He reached up and ran his finger softly down my cheek, and I smiled timidly.

"Yeah, your family told me about that in the waiting room. You know, thanks to you, our dads aren't fighting anymore," I informed him.

"Is that so? Well, maybe I should have had my kidney taken out sooner," he teased.

"I wish I could laugh at that, but I can't," I told him, holding his hand for a moment, working up to what I really needed to say. "Adam, I know this is a weird time, but all the events of today have made me realize some things. I'm really sorry for just cutting things off the way I did. I just felt so guilty when I found out I was about to lose my grandmother. And I was ashamed that I hadn't spent the time with her that I wanted to. It felt almost like I didn't deserve to think about you or be with you. And then there was all the stuff with Denver and we'd have to figure that out. I just felt it was easier to let you go, when I should have fought. I understand completely if you don't forgive me, but I have to tell you what I've known for a while. I'm in love with you, Adam. And there's nothing that life can throw at me that's going to change that. But can a Walker ever love a Young?" I asked him honestly, feeling so vulnerable sitting there on his hospital bed.

He looked at me for a minute, and I tried to read his expression and couldn't. "Do me a favor," he said suddenly, his eyes sparkling strangely in the light. "Go over to the black duffel bag over there by the window." I looked at him funny but followed his directions, standing up and walking towards the black lump that sat on the window seal. "Okay, now, unzip the pocket that's facing you. It's that tiny one."

"C'mon, Adam, why don't you tell me what's going on?" I asked with a short laugh. I had no idea what he was trying to get at.

"Just trust me," he said, nodding towards the duffel bag. So, I found the pocket he was talking about and unzipped it. I couldn't see anything in it at first glance, so I put my hands up in confusion. "Reach your hand in, and you'll feel something. Go ahead and pull it out for me."

"There better not be a snake or anything in here that's going to bite me," I said as I reached my hand in. He shook his head and flinched as he started to laugh. I felt instantly guilty. I knew he must have been in a lot of pain. "Do I need to get a nurse for you?" I asked, concerned, pulling my hand out of the pocket.

"No, Iris, I'm fine. It's normal to be in pain after getting my kidney removed. Now, just reach your hand in, please."

I did as he said and felt a velvety object, pulling it out. When I did, I stared at it with my heart racing. "What is this?" I asked accusingly, knowing that there was no way it could be what it was. I held a black velvet box in my hand the same size as a ring box.

"How about you open it?" he said with a smile. I walked slowly back over to him and sat down next to him again. I held onto the bed for support as I popped the box open. Inside was a silver ring with a shiny sapphire surrounded by two tiny diamonds. It was a beautiful and just my taste. "So, what do you think?" he asked as I placed my hand over my mouth in shock.

"I think you're crazy." It just flew out of my mouth without a second thought. My breath was coming in gasps as I stared down at what could only be an engagement ring.

"Well, I think that being crazy and being in love are often similar," he said, taking my hand in his. "Iris, I was hoping that when I got out of here today you would be here. I couldn't stand another day without you. And I know it seems a lot of things are against us, but I'd like to face those things together. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?" he asked, his eyes shining once again.

The answer was so obvious, but my mouth seemed to have forgotten how to move. My throat was swelling shut, and my eyes were blurry with tears that I didn't know had been coming down. So, I just nodded and leaned down to give him a gentle kiss on the forehead as not to put him in anymore pain.

"Hey, I love you, but I bet you need to get your rest, and I need to go see my grandmother. How about we take the time to tell our families about this," I held up my ring finger and wiggled it. The ring fit perfectly. "And then I'll come back, alright?"

"I'm alright with that, as long as you promise not to stay away too long," he said, leaning up to kiss my cheek.

"I couldn't even if I tried," I replied before leaving the room, blowing him a kiss on the way out. I made my way over to my grandmother's recovery room feeling light hearted and light headed with the news I was carrying around on my hand. I was surprised and delighted to see that my grandmother's eyes were open, and she was quietly talking to my father.

"Grandma!" I exclaimed going over to her bed and sliding my hand over hers affectionately.

"Well, hello there sweetheart. Your father here tells me that that guy of yours saved my life. How about that? I knew those Walkers couldn't be so bad," she said with a wink. I saw my father roll his eyes. "What's that on your finger?" she asked me, looking down at the hand I was stroking hers with. I had somehow forgotten in those few seconds. "Oh lordy, it's an engagement ring! Our baby's getting married, Joshua," my grandmother said to my father in an elated tone. He looked like he was about to get angry, his face turning a bright red. But then he calmed down and looked at me.

"Is this what you really want?" he asked softly.

"Yes, of course it is," I answered simply. "Can you handle that?"

"I suppose I have to. You should call your Mom and tell her," he said with a nod.

"No, I should tell her in person."

# Chapter Ten

It was a busy day. It had been a week since Adam was released from the hospital. He would have a permanent scar and have physical limitations for a while if not permanently. We still hadn't told his family about our engagement. He'd decided to wait until he was out of the hospital when we could tell them together. So, that's what we were doing. That and I was moving some of my stuff into his place. Then dealing with what I would do with the left over stuff still in my apartment in Denver.

Lastly, we were having dinner with my family. My parents had agreed it was a good idea to at least get to know Adam since I was going to marry him. They just hadn't warmed up to the rest of the family yet. Not that they had warmed up to me either.

"Let's do this," I whispered to myself as I knocked on the Walkers' door. The last time I'd gone there it hadn't gone so well, and I didn't know how much better it could possibly go with me telling them I was about to be family. I looked down at my ring, wondering how quickly they would notice as the door swung open in my face.

I looked up expecting an unenthused Mr. Walker again, but thankfully, it was Adam. "It's good to see you up and about," I told him, smiling as he pulled me into a gentle hug.

"I donated a kidney, but I'm not crippled. I'm going to be fine. You can stop worrying now," he said as he pulled away from me and led me into a familiar dining room. I had been worrying about him for days now, and I was sure it had started to drive him insane.

"If I stopped worrying it would mean I didn't love you anymore," I told him as he pulled out a seat for me. His family quickly joined and it began to feel a bit like a corporate meeting instead of a family gathering.

I held onto Adam's hand tightly as he cleared his throat, ready to make the announcement. "I know you guys are probably wondering what all of this is about right now. I have some pretty good news, or at least, I feel its good news. I have asked Iris here to be my wife. And she accepted." He kept it simple and to the point, smiling at each person at the table. I looked around at them nervously, waiting on their reactions.

Mrs. Walker reached across the table to grab my hand and look at the ring. She smiled at it and patted me affectionately. "Welcome to the family," she said softly. I was glad at least one of them was on board. I swear I caught her elbowing her husband under the table.

"Yes, congratulations you guys. Let us know if we can help with the planning or anything," his father offered to my surprise.

"Congrats guys," was all Casey said in a bitter tone before leaving the room. Adam looked at me encouragingly and smiled.

"Thanks for being nice about this guys," he told his parents. "We'll keep you posted but we have to be going now. We have a lot of things to do. She will be moving some of her things in with me this afternoon." They just nodded at Adam words and hugged him, his mother including me in the hug. We walked out, and I felt a weight lift from my chest. That was one big thing down.

I let a deep breath out as I climbed up into the driver's seat of his red pickup. Adam still wasn't allowed to drive yet. And I started the engine. I looked over at him to see a concerned look on his face. "What's wrong, Adam?" I asked, sitting back in the driver's seat, waiting to take off until I found out what was going on in his head.

"Are you sure about all this? I mean, there was a reason that you left and that you chose the job you did. You'd be giving up a lot to come here and be with me," he said, looking down. The instant he had asked me to marry him I knew that I was going to move back to Melville or nearby and start a life with him. I made that clear to him. But apparently he was feeling insecure in my decision.

"Adam, I already told you that this is exactly what I want. If I get the inkling to get a PR job we can move closer to Helena, and I can commute. It was never about Denver specifically. Denver was just a way out. And sure, I'll miss some things and people there, but I'd miss you more. I'd miss all this more." I pointed around to the landscape around us; the beautiful mountains and green land that I'd grown up with. All of that had stuck to my heart and never left even when I did. Moving back home was a no brainer. "Plus, I love the tour place in Big Timber. I love Big Timber period. The view is amazing, and I love all those little downtown shops. It's going to be great."

"You don't have to convince me of that," he said, leaning over gingerly to touch his lips to mine. "I know it's going to be great getting to spend all that time with you. I'm just not sure what I'm offering you. But I'm sure glad you think there is something, and I hope you don't figure out anytime soon that I really don't have anything you want." I shot him a look and hit him playfully on the shoulder before taking off towards Big Timber.

***

Before dinner at my parents, I took Adam out to the wagon; the wagon that had really become our wagon. We had gotten quite a few things done and moved around at his place, and I had called a moving company to get the rest of my things from my apartment up in Denver. They were to arrive in a couple of weeks so I could go through it all and see what would fit and what wouldn't.

I laid my head back in the wagon and looked up at the cover. It was like being in a tent only larger. Adam lay down gingerly next to me and took my hand before leaning over to give me a passionate kiss.

Everything had come full circle, it seemed. I admired the beautiful ring that fit perfectly on my hand. I couldn't believe I had come home to spend time with my dying grandmother and now I was engaged to the enemy. Plus, my grandmother was alright. In fact, she was back home with my parents, staying in my old room. That was another reason to move out; there was no space.

Feeling overwhelmed with all the happy emotions, I rolled to my side and began gently running my fingers up and down his arms and chest before leaning down for a kiss. I slipped my tongue in his mouth and moaned into it. Kissing him was as good as making love to him, or at least it was a close second. I could taste sweet tea on his mouth that he'd had while we were at his house. "Mmm, you taste really good," I told him, smiling down at him. Adam smiled back at me with ease.

"Do you want to repeat history, sweetheart?" he asked slyly as I faked a shocked look.

"Oh, I'd love to, but I see just two teeny tiny problems with that my love. You see, it's daytime and my father is in the house over there awake and aware. We'd never get away with that. The second one is that you are not supposed to be exerting yourself that much because of the surgery. It hasn't been six weeks yet."

"Well, I don't have to exert myself," he teased. "I could just lay here and let you take advantage of me. I think I can swallow my pride for today."

I shook my head and laughed. "I think you can keep your pride and we can wait. Besides, it'll be more special that way." I looked over him with his baggy flannel shirt and tight pants that could easily get me going and smiled. I couldn't believe I was going to marry such an amazing man, and I hoped he knew just how excited I was about it. I knew we were young, but it didn't feel that way.

I sat up straight and peeked my head out from the wagon to see that the sun was starting to set. It was a beautiful sight, and I hoped that my grandmother was watching through the window. I knew she must have missed views like that.

"Hey, Iris?" Adam said, sitting up next to me.

"Yes?" I said, looking into his eyes that I had come to love so much. I swore I could see my heart beating in them.

"Before I marry you, there's something I want to tell you." He seemed nervous, and I wasn't sure what to expect.

"What is it? Did you used to be a woman or are we really distantly related and this is incest? Oh wait, I know! You are running a drug ring!" I joked, clapping my hands together and laughing. I didn't think anything he had to say would worry me as much as he seemed to be acting that it would. "C'mon, out with it," I told him, tickling under his chin with my nails and kissing the side of his lips.

He opened his mouth to answer me, but before he could, I heard my mother calling for me. "Iris!" I saw her coming out of the house and walking towards the wagon. I hopped down, wondering what it could be. I doubted she walked all the way out there to tell me that dinner was ready.

"Iris, someone is here to see you!" she called, and I ran towards her, motioning for Adam to stay put for a moment while figured out what was going on.

I approached my mother with an inquisitive look. Who in the world would be visiting me in Melville? In fact, who even knew where I was? I didn't have that many people in Denver I was close with, and most of them had no idea where I was from or how to find me. I was strictly tight lipped about that because of my insecurity about my burns.

"Who is it, Mom?" I asked, looking around to see if the person was following her. But no one else was around. I could hear male voices coming from the house in the background though.

"There's someone here to see you. It's Tom, Iris." My mother wrung her hands nervously as I stood there in shock. I had only brought Tom home once to meet my parents, and it had been a long time. But shortly after that Tom and I had gotten engaged. But we hadn't been in quite some time. Why in the world was my ex fiancé visiting me in Melville?

I looked back to where Adam was sitting, feeling nervous. I had no idea how I was going to explain Tom to Adam or Adam to Tom for that matter.

I looked back towards my mother and followed her inside, taking a deep breath. It was time to face the music with a ring on my finger to explain what I couldn't.

### Thank you for reading!

## Please visit your favorite eBook retailer to view the next books in the "Come Home Cowgirl Series"
Embracing Love Again

by

Stephanie Hunter
Copyright © 2017 by Stephanie Hunter

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Embracing Love Again

All rights reserved.

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. No part of this work may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording and faxing, or by any information storage and retrieval system by anyone but the purchaser for their own personal use.

This book may not be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of Stephanie Hunter, except in the case of a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages for the sake of a review written for inclusions in a magazine, newspaper, or journal—and these cases require written approval from Stephanie Hunter prior to publication. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.

# Chapter One

Missing her husband, Olivia Lane tried to tend to their small apartment without allowing herself to grow lonely. Due to losing his job, He'd been forced to take a contractor's job oversees. They had been through hard times for the last several years and him being gone, only added to her disappointments. Holding two part time jobs and studying business through an online course, she filled her days as best she could. It was the nights that gripped her heart the most. Touching the empty space, reserved for him, caused her to cry herself to sleep. Hope of his return is what kept her striving to rise in the mornings and to meet the needs of two demanding bosses. Every day seemed to be a struggle, trying to make ends meet financially and emotionally. She had become secluded in her everyday reality of missing her husband.

Staying in touch with her mother in her hometown of Sparta, Tennessee was one way she could not only reminisce in memories, but also to release her fear and loneliness. Her father, Paul Tifferton had passed away from colon cancer when she was just sixteen. All she had left was her mother. Leaving her mother behind to carry on the family farm had been a hard choice... but her love for her Curtis drove her all the way to Dayton, Ohio. They married, fixed up an old apartment and began their lives. As hard times fell on them, Curtis lost his construction job, due to downsizing during uncooperative weather. He had been warned only two weeks before the lay-off. They were left in a panic, with bare cupboards. After trying to land a quick-fix job, Curtis Lane crumbled. His only option was accepting a contractor job oversees, with all the promises they offered. He was going to Iraq.

Olivia begged him to reconsider. Just the thought of him being so far away was enough, but in her mind, Iraq was the end. She was filled with fear when he announced that he was going. They only had a couple weeks for him to prepare and the day he left, he promised that he'd return. Their plans to have a family were put on hold and he boarded the plane, clutching to her promise to wait for him. She was asked to remain optimistic and she gazed up into his eyes, believing his last words.... he would return.

Months passed and the first few were heart-wrenching for her. Letters came every week in the beginning, but they slowly began to fade. Walking to the mailbox each afternoon brought disappointment, with only bills to carry home. Her life was dwindling, her fight to survive kicked in and she took on another job. Between her secretarial position for a local doctor, and her late night bartending job in a local bar, she barely made things work. But one thing it did do was keep her busy. From her nine-to-five job, she drove straight to the bar. There she got by on healthy tips, working from five in the evening until closing time.

Quirks came and went as she rustled two jobs, and it wasn't long until she was faced with the reality that she came across as a single woman to every guy that drank at the bar. Wanting sympathy or a one night stand, they sat on a stool, hoping to get lucky. Wondering if her husband would ever get leave and come home, she decided that she had to act. That's when things got tougher when she began online business classes. She had no intentions to keep working as a bartender, listening to every man's issues. Months passed, and one year turned into two. Her heart was missing her husband and her body was in need of being touched.

***

Trying to get a degree wasn't working. It wasn't paying, it was only taking, and so she dropped the courses and succumbed to giving up.

It was the same every day, a mundane life with no meaning. She plunged through, keeping a healthy attitude and filling any spare time with taking long walks or working out in a local gym. At twenty-five years old, she felt sixty.

But her life would change. She had happened to get time off from her day job. Relaxing in the pool at the complex, she laid back, soaking up the warmth of the sun's rays. Thinking about Curtis, she fell into a dream. With children laughing in the background, she had listened to their mothers scolding them long enough. She needed more, and she stretched out on her lounger and dreamt of better days. She was being chased by Curtis in a local park. He picked her up in his arms, and kissed her long and hard. They teased for a time and then returned to their play. Throwing Frisbees across a long stretch of the green grass had become an all-time favorite. He was better at throwing and better at catching, leaving her scrambling to keep up. Her dream took her to intimate times with Curtis, venturing back home and racing to the bedroom. Their clothes would hit the floor as soon as they entered the apartment, laughing as they went. Curtis had always been wonderful in bed, and his aim to please was always as arousing to her as the actual act itself. With him being gone, her dream fluttered inside her mind as she lay there amidst the screaming children. Being finally interrupted, she collected her things and went back into her apartment.

***

After showering, she settled into a recliner and picked up a cheap fiction romance. It always seemed to fit her life, some damsel in distress in need of her knight. She smiled sweetly as she recalled Curtis' face and she read on. She had gotten to the fourth chapter when there was a knock at the door. It seemed abrupt, a little too loud and important. Throwing the novel to the side, she paced herself to the door. Mid-way the horrible thought came. _Was something wrong with Curtis? Oh dear god, don't let it be,_ she whispered aloud. Her fears weren't unfounded when she swung the door open, to see an Army Officer. She was in denial... plain denial. Ushering him to remain quiet, she held her finger over her tightened lips, as if she could ask him to take it back. He stood stiff, tall and firm and he delivered what he had come to say. Curtis Lane was missing, not only missing, but presumed dead.

The earth caved in on her. In seconds, her heart tore; she aged and was hit with screaming pain. She echoed the sounds of her body's struggle with her voice. Collapsing to the linoleum floor, her knees buckled under her. Sprawled on the floor, her knees bent under her like a pretzel, she hugged the cold floor for the lie. She wanted the lie to cover the truth. It took a few moments and the Officer helped her to her feet and led her to the sofa. Staying with her, he listened as she wept, her heart breaking right before his eyes. Standing tall, he had delivered his message, but his core was dying with the young woman he looked down at. She looked lifeless, a child in shear agony as one would cry if their puppy had been struck down in a street. Her face was pale, aging right in front of him. It was his first experience, delivering such horror to such a beautiful young woman. As he dialed her mother's phone number, he handed her the phone. Then he waited for her to end the conversation. He offered to stay until a friend arrived to console her.

Olivia only had a few friends. There was one that she had met at the office. The young girl worked part time, covering Olivia when she was off. The other was a young girl she worked with at the bar. She knew that it would cost either one of them a good day's pay, and she set the phone back down. Looking up into his eyes, she confessed that she'd be fine alone.

Unsure, he asked her if she needed anything else. What she needed was the lie. Of course, he could not give it to her so he walked out the door, leaving her in a tangled emotional mess. She ended up crashing out from exhaustion hours later and didn't wake until morning.

Her recovery from the devastation wasn't coming easily. Days passed with her mother on the other end of the telephone line, pleading with her to come home. Weeks followed with nothing left in her life except misery and the chilling memories of her husband's existence. It overcame her finally, seeing his face everywhere she agreed. Her mother was right; she had to get out this house. So, she packed up all she could get in her husband's old pickup and she locked the door behind her. Looking back as she kicked a few rocks from the sidewalk, her eyes caught a glance of a young child that she had come to know. Her daddy had been killed in a car wreck and had been suffering ever since. Olivia looked at her for the first time with true understanding of her loss. She walked back to the little girl, placed a kiss on her forehead. Inadvertently, she also kissed this life good bye.

***

Olivia Lane had learned to read maps because of her husband. Getting agitated with her, he forced her years before to read the map when he would take them on drives. Driving down the road, she recalled a map that he had tucked deep into the glove box and her eyes welled with tears. Pulling into a local gas station, she filled the tank, bought a cold bottle of pop and headed back to the truck. The sight of seeing two sets of lovers piling out of their van tore through her, nearly making her angry. Sighing to herself, she crawled inside and slammed the old creaky door. Not even sure if the truck would make it to Sparta, she took in a deep breath, said a prayer and shoved off. Forgetting things, she was used to, and she pulled the truck to the side of the old dirt road. She stretched her arm across the front seat and flipped open the glove box. Buried deep under piles of old candy wrappers, bottle caps and insurance cards that had long expired, she felt the edge of the road map. Jerking it, something flew out with it. Staring down at the passenger seat, she looked into the kind and gentle eyes of Curtis Lane. It was him holding a bass in his hands, stretching it to the max, while she had taken the last shot in their Polaroid. Again, she broke down and cried. Giving herself a few minutes, she then stuck the picture on the dashboard, feeling like she'd be watched over as she made her journey back to the only home she had left.

She turned up the radio, and then remembered that the CD player actually worked. Curtis had torn the old one from the truck in a fit of anger, tired of its way of eating cd's. He had saved the money up just before the lay-off and treated himself to a brand new one. Smiling to herself, she cranked the dial. She tested the first few lines of each song, frantically looking for something upbeat. A tear rolled down her cheek as one, two, three songs played glorious old love songs. On the fourth try, she pulled her hand away. Curtis was country at heart and his dresser drawer had been filled with good old kick-ass country tunes. Wishing she had brought them, she'd have to settle. But Curtis hadn't let her down; American Saturday Night by Brad Paisley began to play. She began to sing along with the familiar words of some of their favorite country tunes.

She never planned on stopping, and wanted to drive straight through. However, her mother pressured her to give in and stay in a room. With not much money in her purse, she promised she would, knowing full well that she was driving as far as she could. Eventually, the truck came to a stop, and she no longer had the choice.

Being forced to call her mother, she was wired enough money for a busted radiator, a good meal and a night's stay in a cheap motel. From the looks of the place, she was sure that she'd be safer inside the truck, but she gave in, craving to stretch out her legs. Handing them a fifty dollar bill, they had over-charged her in her own mind and she huffed all the way to her room. After ordering food from a local delivery, she began to grow hungry. She sighed, and left the room long enough to walk across the street to a convenience store. Piled to the ceiling were racks brown teddy bears. Their faces looked as sad as she felt, she had to get one. Adding him to her list, she collected all kinds of unhealthy foods, a super-sized cola and a recent release of Glamour. Satisfied, she handed the grouchy old clerk a wad of cash and waited for her pennies in change. She crossed the street and returned to the parking lot to find a gang of bikers that had taken refuge at what was probably their favorite hang-out. She walked past them, seeing no women on the back of their bikes, feeling them stare her down all the way to her room. Once inside, she slammed the door, drew the two locks and the dead bolt and let out a long held breath.

She could hear the roar of the bikes as they sped around in the parking lot and up and down the side-roads, hoping they'd move on. She was disappointed about an hour later when they rolled back into the lot. Peeking from the edges of her curtain, she looked out and saw what looked to be about twenty pissed off guys. It made her nervous as she checked and re-checked her locks, but she pounced on top of the bed and curled up with the Glamour Magazine and her new friend, Maxwell. A brown teddy that could relate to her pain was what she needed; because it was Curtis' favorite name. She read until she couldn't see the words anymore and then she and Maxwell drifted off to sleep.

She had wanted to get on the road a few hours earlier; however, the morning wake-up call never came. Now she'd be running behind. She called her mother and assured her that she was on the road. The least she could do was tell her that she was about a hundred miles down the road, and she'd make up for the lost time somehow.

# Chapter Two

Plowing through the traffic, she noticed several cars honking and waving her on as they passed her in record times. They weren't aware that her old Ford would shimmy and shake if she went over fifty. At times, she just smiled as they passed by. Other times, she wasn't so polite and raised a certain finger in the air. But Dayton was coming closer and closer and she knew that in no time at all, she'd be wrapped up in her mama's arms. There was no one that could console her like her mother.

Hours later, she could see Sparta just ahead. She almost felt a jolt of excitement as the truck inched towards the county line. Not recognizing a few things, she couldn't believe how things had changed and how other things was exactly the same. Just on the outskirts of town, she could see kids gathered in a lot of an old gas station. It had been the prime meeting place when she was in high school. It looked like it still was, except the station had shut down. It was sad for her to see old Mr. Humphrey's inability to keep it going.

The kids looked younger than her class had, and for a moment she wondered if they were Junior High age instead. But, sitting behind the wheels were long haired kids, boys and girls alike. She waved as she passed them by, but no one responded. They stared at her as if she was unwanted, a stranger who had taken a wrong exit. A few of the girls gave her piercing glares as she drove by them, and she hit her horn in rebellion.

A few miles out of town, she would be passing by a few of her old friends. As far as she knew, she knew nothing about them and if they were still around or not. Slowing down to a crawl, she peeked across the freshly plowed grounds, hoping to catch a glance of a familiar face. Feeling a bit uneasy, she drove on about five more miles. That's when she saw her mother standing on the front porch. Seeing her mother brought back the reason why she was there. An overwhelming pain caused her to speed up. _I need you mommy._ Hitting the soft dusty trail that led straight to the front porch, she could feel the eagerness overwhelm her. She had missed her mother so bad and she was about to land in her waiting arms. About the time she skidded to a halt, she looked up to see a worried frown across her mother's soft face, and she slowed it down. Before she could get out, her mother was right by her side, first scolding her and then embracing her. Olivia held onto her mother for a long time; all the sorrow she tried so hard to hide gave way to groans and a flood of tears. They left her bags loaded in the truck and she grabbed Maxwell by the arm and followed her mother into the old farmhouse.

"I've needed this for a long time." Giving her mother another hug, she ran straight to her old bedroom. To her surprise, it was just as she had left it.

"Oh my goodness, you didn't get rid of anything," Olivia exclaimed.

"Why would I get rid of a thing? I knew you'd be home someday, even for a visit."

Her mom's eyes grew wide as she studied her daughter's joyous reaction. Giggling like a school girl, she was able to lay her sorrows aside. She watched as daughter touched each stuffed animal. She had won many from the county fairs, while others were gifts from old boyfriends. Olivia started to danced with the larger stuffed toys. Her mom laughed softly, she was so happy that Olivia could escape the pain of losing her husband. Her "happy" bear dance was as enjoyable to her as it was to Olivia.

"What do you say? Do you feel like some burgers cooked on the pit? It's a glorious day and we could sit in the backyard and catch up?" Her mother, Diane Tifferton, knew how her daughter's heart must yearn for her husband, and getting her mind off things was her goal. She too, had lost Oliva's father when her daughter was young. If anyone could relate to the pain, she could. She also knew it would take much more than burgers on the pit to keep her daughter's mind fresh and to help her heal her heart. She had thought long and hard before Olivia arrived and she had sat down with an ongoing list. On that list were names scribbled on a pad, from her daughters past. She could only hope that Livy would take to the idea.

***

Growing up on the farm in Sparta, Tennessee, with no father left fewer options to a young girl, because she was busy with chores and helping out on the farm. Chores had to come first... then play. All of Livy's friends knew the rules. For that reason some of those friends hated farming.

Others took to it like water, feeling no burdens when they'd spend the night saving the crops from an early frost. While knowing they had to be up at dawn, helping in the barns or checking on the crops. Farming is a very demanding field. That is why Diane Tifferton and her husband chose it. They wanted their daughter to be aware of her surroundings and to take on the responsibility of earning her keep.

Livy carried many things she learned to the city, and tried to put those skills to good use. Many times, the extra worked proved to be uneventful in a society that lived the fast track. Coming home was like a vacation to Livy, and it was supposed to be the start of a new life, after her husband's passing.

However, Livy hasn't been able to accept the death of her husband. They had told her that he was missing, only presuming that he was dead. That one word, _presuming_ had given her hope that he might be found and come home. In her mind, she was still Mrs. Curtis Lane. Her mom mentioned a few names that were scribbled on the notepad; Olivia was shocked. A few of those names were males, boys that had grown into men. Most of those boys she either dated or know as a young girl. " _Oh my gosh_ _Mom,_ Olivia thought, _what is she up to?"_

She went into the kitchen to investigate; her mother withdrew a small pad of paper from the drawer at the bar.

"What's that Mom?"

"I made a list of old friends that I thought you might like to get back in touch with. The ones on the list still live around here."

"Is that what you were reading a second ago."

Her mother nodded.

Livy looked down almost immediately she started to shake her head....no, no, no!

"Mom, please don't do that.... don't go there. I don't want to date anyone. I love Curtis; he is the only man for me."

"I understand that sweetheart, but you will have to start over some day. Why not just get in touch with a few friends?" Her mother was trying to push her enough to keep her busy, but Livy wasn't budging.

"That's okay. I know you mean well. But if there is a chance that Curtis might be alive, I want to welcome him home boyfriend free."

Twitching in her seat was always a habit that Livy could never stop. Anytime she was nervous or upset, she would twitch, lean the chair on its legs, or kick the chair leg. Usually, her mom would scold her, but not this time. Chairs just weren't that important anymore.

"I see. Alright I will abide by your wishes. But I think you'll change your mind. How about we grill some burgers?" Jumping from the kitchen chair, her mother got a roll of beef from the refrigerator drawer. "It won't take but a jiffy to these guys put together

"Want me to do it? You could start up the pit. You always were better at that part."

"I guess I was, considering you always seemed to start a fire, outside the circle." She aimed for that comment to get her mind off the list.

"Yea right. How could I ever forget that?"

Leaving Livy in the house, Diane hurried to the backyard, preparing the pit to build the fire. They grilled on an open fire ever since her late husband taught them. With wood being stored in a nearby bin, it didn't cost them anything to throw a few logs into the center. While her mom was outside, Livy grabbed her new stuffed bear, Maxwell and took him to her room. Placing him on her pillow, she smiled as she looked back. He was home, right where he belonged.

Livy Lane had grown into a bright and beautiful young woman. At five years old, her daddy told her that she'd break men's hearts. By sixteen, he ran off every young man that tried to woo her. As she strolled back into the kitchen, a fond memory came back to her about her father. She made him sign a contract when she was twelve, claiming that he would at least give each boy she'd bring home in the future, and a chance. If the boy messed up, then he could run him off. That promise wasn't kept. He ran them off as soon as they stepped out of their pickups.

All boys, growing into men, drove pickups. It was unheard of for a young man to own a car. Cars were for girls, trucks were for the guys. It was a rule. She laughed, recalling when the first young man chose to buy a car in Wolf Creek. He was ran across county line the day he showed up on old town square to show it off. The next day he talked his father into buying the car from him, and he went and bought an old Dodge Ram. She chuckled under her breath, remembering Billy Wayne. Until she remembered the letter her mother wrote, about his car accident. At age nineteen, he traded the Dodge for another car. Within the week, he had wrecked it, racing outside of town. She hated memories like that. Several times throughout the years, her mother had to sit down and write one of those letters. Four kids from her school had either been in wrecks or they had died from drug use.

Hurrying to meet her mother at the back door, she handed her a platter of burgers. Perfectly shaped, Diane was impressed. "I don't ever remember seeing such perfect work from you?"

"That just shows that you can learn some things from city life. I guess us city folk get pretty bored." She giggled and let the door slam behind her, forgetting how easy it shut. From the kitchen, she hollered, "Sorry Mom."

They spent the afternoon in the backyard, talking about the new births that occurred on the farm.

"Winnie, had another calve, she was all black with a white patch in the middle of her head," Diane said in a motherly tone.

"Awe I've missed Winnie so much."

"I'm sure she would love to see you. She is out to pasture right now, but you should go round them up later, and say hi."

"I think I will," signed Olivia.

"Hey mom do you know an Amber Dawson."

"Amber?" Her mom responded, "I'm not sure."

"You know Amber. Amber Dawson, she's the one that got me grounded for staying out too late, and swimming naked down at the creek beds."

"Oh.... that Amber. She's still around. She's on that list."

"I saw her that."

"She is living with her mom right now. I guess she had a hard time with the last young man she dated. I heard that he beat her, but you know how the town gossips. I wouldn't have believed it, but I saw the marks all over her arms myself."

"Some guy beat her up? Is he still around?"

"Yea, it's that Cordez boy. What was his first name?'

"Jack. I never did like him. Did she go to the cops?"

"No one could get her to turn him in. Her mother tried until she was blue in the face. If she was mine, I would have made her go to the Police Station."

"Sure you would have. God, I remember when that one kid... what was his name? Something like Cage or Gage?"

"That was Gage Dire. I would have whooped his tail end if I could have gotten past his worthless mama."

"Oh well. I struggled through it."

"It took you two months, before you had the nerve to venture outside the house."

Livy went on a date with a kid from her school. She made her mother promise not to tell her father when she came home bruised. After begging her to keep it quiet, her mother crept out the back door, and hunted Gage Dire down herself. Livy was afraid to tell her father, thinking he'd never let her go out with another boy. However, her father died two weeks later.

Paul Tifferton died of a long battle with colon cancer, leaving Diane to raise Livy through the remaining two years of high school. At sixteen, losing her father was one of the worst things she had gone through. He taught her to drive when she was much younger, so by the time she received her license, it wasn't a big deal at all. But if it wasn't for her father, she might not have been such the experienced driver.

Her driver's education teacher trusted her driving so much, that he bent the laws quietly and allowed Livy to teach half the students. He'd take one in his car, and she'd take the next in her dad's beat up old Ford truck.

They laughed and shared old memories for the rest of the evening. When the cuckoo clock chimed eleven times, her mother suggested that they both get some sleep. Kissing her mother, she skipped to her bedroom, and jumped into bed, tucking Maxwell under the blankets with her. She could hear the crickets and the frogs resting on rocks along the creek, just down the small hill behind the house. It had been ages since she had heard frogs, and it scared her at first. After a few minutes of listening closely to all the bumps in the night, she relaxed and settled in. Just before she closed her eyes, she saw her husband's face. Staring up at him, she remained still under the cozy covers, being sure not to blink so she wouldn't miss the sight. Minutes passed and then he faded into the blackened night.

# Chapter Three

Days passed as Livy settled in on the farm. As weird as it may sound, she was enjoying the chores, mucking the stalls, feeding and watering the animals, checking the crops for diseases, and gathering eggs helped her clear her mind. She loved it because the chores where strenuous enough to keep her mind off of Curtis.

However, after a little while she noticed that she was not as tired as she used to be. _Maybe I'm in better shape than I thought...no something is weird._ Except for Winnie there was only a calve, a bull, a goat, some pigs, chickens, and a goat. She was surprised to see that most of the livestock were missing. Her mother told her she would come out later to help with chores, but she forgot to warn her daughter. Within minutes, Livy walked through the back door.

"Mom, what happened to all the animals? There's hardly any left?" "And where is Bobby." Olivia had to choke back the tears at the last statement.

"Bobby was Olivia's favorite Heifer; she had the most beautiful hazelnut color. She had a connect with that cow because, she was the first animal that her dad had got, just for her.

"Awe sweets, I'm sorry about Bobby." "But I had to get rid of them. After you left, I just couldn't keep up with everything and work a full time job.

"But what about the farmers market, you and dad made a lot of money doing that when I was in high school?"

"Your dad was the one with the green thumb, not me. Winter really kicked my butt. I was going to tell you this later, but I guess it's time.... after this season I will not be growing anymore produce."

Olivia was completely shocked by her mother's declaration. She thought before she spoke. She had forgotten the work involved in slopping pigs, gathering eggs, feeding the livestock, and taking care of three horses, five cows, and four dogs. While maintaining the crops, that where ever changing. She had left in such a hurry with Curtis, being eighteen and in love, she had failed to think about how hard it would be on her mom. She wasn't even sure if she ever apologized for it. Walking over to her mother, she grabbed her and gave her a long hug.

"Mom, I'm so sorry I left so quickly. God, I was so selfish."

"Selfish? Nonsense. You were a young lady in love. Those animals got me by for a long time. Kept my mind off of missing Paul and missing you. I just got to the point where I couldn't keep up, that's all."

Livy returned to the barnyard, noticing that there wasn't even one dog left. _I'll have to fix that,_ she whispered under her breath. _Everyone needs a dog._ When she stepped out, she was glad to see that there was still a small garden in the back corner of the yard. _At least we can have fresh vegetables in the spring and fall._ She couldn't believe all that was left of daddy was in the barnyard. Where an empty water trough and a fence were located. Her work was done and she sat down beside her mother on the back porch steps.

"Well, the chores are pretty easy now."

Her mother smiled, missing the animals herself. The only noises she heard anymore were the moo's, hens cackling as they nestled into their beds at night. It would be nice to have some noise in the aging house.

Each morning Livy collected eggs, helped her mother fix a healthy breakfast and spent the day cleaning a house that didn't have any dust. Nights were spent in the backyard, listening to critters and late nights spent in dreams of Curtis. The same thing every day. Her mother pushed a few more times about getting together with friends, but she still denied herself any kind of life. It would be a long time before she would give in and begin stepping out.

***

Two Years Later...

Livy finally talked her mother into rescuing an old stray dog. Livy loved the idea that she could save the life of a living being. She found a horse on craigslist for a good deal, he looked so lonely, she had to get her. Livy found out that the owner lived about a mile down the road. So she left to go look at the horse in the craigslist picture.

Livy was shocked because the horse looked nothing like the picture. _Wow what a surprise the craigslist picture looks nothing like the actually animal_ Livy thought sarcastically. However, in this case that was not a bad thing. Because the mare was a striking beauty, her mane was black as night with stripes that looked like snow. And her coat was a marble of black and white. Livy was awestruck, for such a young horse she was very strong. The muscles in her legs bulged when she trotted. The ground trembled as she ran towards the fence to face Livy. The mares hoof beats matched that of Livy's pounding heartbeat. For a brief moment they were one person. M _y God, you are an amazing animal._

Looking out across the field, she saw an old farmhouse, a man appeared and she waited for him to reach her. At first the aging woman refused to sell Marcy.

"Someone has been playing a nasty prank on me, they put my address on that online thing. People have been coming by here for weeks trying to buy my precious Marcy," said the aging women.

"What!" replied Livy, so the black and white horse is not for sale?"

"Is that not what I just said?"

I will pay whatever you wa... she was cut short by the aging woman's chuckle.

"Do you think you could offer me anything more valuable than those that came before you?"

"I'm sure there is something you want."

The old women thought for a long time.... she smiled "can you give me more time."

Livy shook her head, "of course not."

"Then you have nothing that I need nor want, good day to you."

"Wait, Livy cried what about the horse?"

"What of her?"

"Can you not see that she is lonely?" She needs companionship; someone needs to take her for a ride. Marcy needs to be around others... Livy stopped short. _Oh my god mom was right... I need friends._

The old lady gave in. She included Marcy's favorite saddle and bridle. The old lady charged Livy a mere two hundred dollars. She was so thrilled that she left and headed home. _Oh no, I forgot to tell the old lady that I was coming back tomorrow. I'll just walk back when I get home, it's only a mile._

***

She hurried and walked the mile back to the old lady's house, refusing a ride with her mother. "It'll give me time to think, Mom."

"Alright, but you could just think on the way home, riding the horse."

"I'll be alright." She was out the door and down the road. All the way there, she thought about her old friends and she realized that she had to see some of them. She had to get in touch with Amber Dawson at least. By the time she made it to Ms. Fletcher's, she had made up her mind. She was picking up that list and moving on. She walked up to the woman's door, and she could see her sitting alone by the front window. Livy's heart broke because she knew how much the horse meant to Mrs. Fletcher. Livy made a vow to visit Mrs. Fletcher. She knocked on the door.

"Where did you go, replied the old lady?"

"Oh I was so excited I forgot to tell you that I was going to come back tomorrow." "Well your here now, go grab the bridle and saddle out the barn. I suppose you remember how to put them on?"

"Yea, I think I can figure it out." She really wasn't sure, but would rather try it alone.

"She's easy to catch. She'll walk right up to you. She loves women, especially pretty ones like you." Ms. Fletcher grinned and closed the door.

On the first try, Livy bridled her, and saddled her. Marcy stood still as if she herself couldn't wait to be ridden. She had life again, and sadly, Livy could relate. She rode Marcy home, taking a long way through a field. Together they became acquainted and by the time she rode into the barnyard, she knew Marcy was the one. There was a pasture on the left side of the house, but she wasn't sure about the fence structure. She guessed it needed some repair, so she put her in the barn, promising to return with handfuls of feed. When she ran into the house, her mother had the phone in her hand.

"Ms. Fletcher said she has some bags of feed for Marcy. There's plenty and will get you through a few months."

"Well, that's really nice of her. I wonder who has been feeding Marcy all this time? I'm sure she wasn't able."

"Probably some young boy that wanted to make a few cents a day."

"I guess so. I'll be back. Can I take dad's old truck?"

"Sure."

"Thanks." She was out the door. Livy was on cloud nine. She now had some chickens, a goat a family of cows, an old loyal dog, and a beautiful horse. Home was starting to feel like home and she couldn't wait to get back. There was a sign on the fence that read "Olivia the feed is in the barn help yourself... ps there is a wheel barrel on the side by the flowers.

By the time Livy got home it was nearly evening. _Ugh I have to call Amber Dawson before it gets too late_. _I have to fed Marcy and the other animals first._

"Mom!" She yelled through the door. Her mood had shifted, she was finally happy.

"In here!" Calling from the laundry room, her mother was bent over, throwing a few items in an old clunky washer.

"Hey, congratulations!"

"On what?" Looking up from the small pile, her mother stared into her eyes.

"For winning, as usual."

"Did I win the lottery?"

"You won with the list. I think I'm going to give Amber a call. Do they still have the same number?"

"They sure do."

"Imagine that? The same number all these years."

"Darling, some things never change. Our number is the same."

Giggling, Livy had to agree.

She ran to the phone and plopped down in a recliner in the front room. Picking up the receiver, she grew nervous. Would she want to hear from me, she wondered. It's been so long, she dialed the number.

"Amber, is that you?"

"This is Amber, who is this?"

"This is Livy!"

"Livy Lane? Omg, are you back? How long have you been back?"

Livy didn't know what to say. She just realized that she had been home for almost two years, hiding in the shadows. But she chose to be honest.

"Don't kill me, but I've been here for two years."

The phone went silent. She knew that Amber had been hurt, and she quickly apologized.

"Amber it had nothing to do with not wanting to see you. I've been through a lot and I couldn't get the energy to get out."

"You've been here for two years? How could you not call me?"

"Hey, I want to see you. What are you doing tonight?"

"Nothing. I planned to just sit around and get fat off ice cream. I broke up with my boyfriend. Caught him cheating on me, and you'd never guess who with."

"Who?"

"Gloria freaking Jackson!"

"Omg! You are kidding? I figured she had hit the road with her thumb in the air, wearing slutty clothes."

Laughing, "She did, but she came back within the year. She ended up living off the homeless in the streets in Chicago. Stupid! She came back long enough to screw my guy."

"God, I'm so sorry. Were you two serious? And who is he?"

"You don't know him. Not from here. He moved here from Minnesota. Hot, but a womanizer. I can't stand him, but I love him."

"Curtis died, Amber."

"What? Why didn't we hear it?"

"I don't know. I suppose because they aren't positive if he is dead. They said he is missing."

"How?"

"Well it's a long story. The condensed version is he lost his job and we were going through a rough patch. So he accepted a contractor job oversees, in Iraq."

"Iraq?"

"Yeah."

"That has to be horrible, not knowing and all. I can see why you've been staying to yourself."

"So do you want to get together," Livy asked shyly?

"Why don't we start with the ice cream, just like old times?"

"Yea, we'll sit on your bed and eat with two spoons."

"Great! See you when?"

"I don't know. Whenever you're ready," said Amber.

"How about starting now?"

"Be there in a jiffy," Giggled amber as she hung the phone up.

# Chapter Four

Meeting Amber for an ice cream fiesta was just what Livy needed. It was as if they had never been apart. Laughing about the good old days, they talked about everything that came to mind. During the conversation, Livy asked Amber about her abusive relationship with Jack Cordez.

Amber signed, "I had hoped you would not hear about that." After a long pause Amber started to talk. "He beat me so bad that I almost died. I recovered in the hospital for a month. I did not want to be pitied by the community so we all kept it a secret."

"Did you know that he was like that? Did anyone warn you?"

"Are you kidding? He was a charmer, smiled like a sneaky cat. I was with him for over a year."

"Did he beat you the whole time?"

"He didn't start until the last three months, but I thought he'd stop each time. The last time he beat me, I thought he was going to kill me. He would have, but a neighbor drove by and heard me screaming."

Girl, I'm so sorry I wasn't here."

"Ahh.. Amber there was nothing you could have done to protect me from him."

"You're going to spend the night, right? You have to I've had such an awesome time.

"Tell you what I'll stay and I'll even help with chores."

"Well lucky for you there really aren't many chores. Mom got rid of most of the animals. But, I picked up a stray dog at the shelter and you won't believe what I got for two-hundred dollars?"

"What, a herd of pigs?"

"They aren't called a herd. No, I bought a beautiful Mare named, Marcy. A little old lady had her in a field, just doing nothing. She threw in a bridle and a saddle."

"That's great. I still have a horse and now we can ride off into the sunsets."

They spent the rest of the night in the room eating about a gallon of cookie dough ice cream, and talking about any and everything. It was the next night when they would hit the town. After helping with minimal chores, Amber talked Livy into riding around like they were in high school.

# Chapter Five

Venturing out, Livy ran into town to pick up some groceries for her mom. While she was out, she stopped at a local gas station to fill up the truck. As she stood pumping gas, she thought she saw someone who looked very familiar. Taking her time at the pump, she waited until he got back to his truck. He glanced over her way just before he opened the door. Watching his reaction, she knew that she had spotted someone from her past. With two cars between them, she couldn't see that well, but when he closed his door and began walking toward her; she froze. It was Brad Sands, her high school sweetheart. She recalled his name on the list her mother had made, but she figured her mother was wrong. She never dreamed that he stayed in Dayton. In school, he had such big plans. He was born a mechanic, playing with tools alongside his father who owned a successful mechanic shop when they grew up. He always dreamed of moving away and working on race cars or motorcycles. But there he was, and he was getting closer with each step.

Her immediate reaction was to worry about her appearance. Grabbing a pair of short sweats, she had thrown on a white tank and a pair of old tennis shoes that she had been wearing, while she worked in the garden. Her long, blonde hair was piled on top of her head in a fluffy, loose twist. Wiping her face, she also realized that she didn't have a stitch of make-up on either. Now he was standing face to face with her, on the other side of the pump.

"Livy, is that you? It is you!"

"Hi Brad. I thought you'd be long gone from here, working on those race cars by now."

"Nope. Never made it to that dream. I ended up taking over dad's shop, so here I still am."

"Well, that can't be half bad. Your dad was always the best mechanic around."

The gas was pumping at a fast pace as she pressed the nozzle tighter. Forgetting to keep an eye on the amount, she failed to notice that she had run the bill up to over thirty dollars. Her mother had only given her thirty, and she was supposed to get milk and cheese for homemade pizza. Brad glanced up when he noticed how fast she was pumping away. By the time he said something, she was sitting over fifty dollars.

"Geez Livy, I don't know anyone that can afford to put that much gas in this town." He looked at the tank and then back at the price.

"What?" She turned to look and screamed. Then she accidently engaged the pump lock as she let go of the pump. By the time Brad helped her get ahold of the line; they had covered her truck with gas and racked up a bill of $69.95. She was speechless. She looked down, seeing her tennis shoes covered with gas, and his boots were drenched as well. But when she looked up with eyes as wide as saucers, all they both could do was laugh. He put the hose back, and led her by the hand over to a water hose and began hosing her and him down.

"That's an interesting way to meet up after all these years, don't you think?" He looked down at his boots and then at her shoes.

"I can't believe I was that stupid! I feel like an idiot."

Trying to make a comeback and to relive her, he bragged, "That's what I do to girls."

He was right. He always had a way with girls and he hadn't changed a bit. The next thing she worried about was paying for the gas. She could feel someone staring at her, and when she turned around to look, it was a clerk looking back. With his hands on his hips, he asked her, "I suppose you have the money to pay for all that wasted gas?"

She did not. She stared at Brad and he knew the look. He had seen that look many times before, and a grin spread across his face.

"Hey, it's your lucky day. I just got paid."

"Omg, I can't let you do that." Turning to the impatient clerk, she said, "I have to call my mom and you'll have to wait until she gets here."

"No he won't. Let's just pay the man. That way you'll owe me."

That sounded good, she thought, at least for now.

Brad handed the clerk a hundred, telling him that he'd come in for the change.

"Before you do, I suggest that you hose down the lot with the water hose. You might want to hose down her truck too." He walked away, mumbling about _stupid kids._

"He's right. Come on." He grabbed the water hose and ran over and sprayed down the lot, and hit her truck too. She watched him as he handled the hose, and noticed how much he had changed. He was much thinner in high school. Now he had filled out, everywhere. Not an ounce of fat on him! She tried to peel her eyes off him, but she kept looking back. His hair had darkened, but those eyes were still the same. She used to sing Crystal Blue Persuasion when they dated in high school because he could persuade her to do anything with his crystal blue eyes. They were still mesmerizing, after all this time.

It wasn't just Livy that noticed changes. He couldn't take his eyes off her either. He'd spray for a few seconds and then he'd steal a glance. A couple of times, their eyes met before she quickly turned her head. With each look, he found himself getting a little more excited about running into her. It had been years and he could still see her in his arms when they were dating. He had fallen hard for her, and never really got over her. Something else was wearing on him. He knew about Curtis and the reports of his death, and he knew he couldn't part with her, without mentioning how sorry he was. After spraying everything down, they went back into the station and he collected his change. Then they went back out and talked some more. In the conversation, he found a way to bring it up.

"Livy, I'm so sorry for your loss. I'll be here for you anytime you need to talk to someone. He was a great guy."

Her pulse slowed way down and she was faced with talking about Curtis again. She had managed to avoid it for some time.

"Yea, it's been horrible. I was devastated. Still am really. I moved back here because I just couldn't stay there in that house or the town."

"How long have you been back here in Sparta?"

She knew that wouldn't go over well either. "Two years."

"What? Where have you been, in hiding?"

"Yea. Yea I have. I didn't feel like getting out. I just came home to Mom and stayed inside."

"Wow. Two years. I can't believe I haven't seen you around."

"I didn't go anywhere. Mom was starting to really worry about me."

"I bet."

Looking at her watch, she mentioned to him that she needed to get going.

"How can I pay you back? I don't know how soon I can. I haven't found a job yet, but I will be out looking next week."

"Don't worry about it. Let's just say that you owe me."

"I don't know if I like that idea at all."

"I do. Seriously, don't worry about it. I might need your help sometime."

"Thank you so much. I don't know what I would have done without you to cover me."

He was walking away, and turned and said, "I don't think it would have happened if it wasn't for me."

He was right again.

By the time she got home, she had to call Amber. Telling her mom about what happened wasn't her idea of confessions. She knew her mom wouldn't be satisfied until she paid Brad back herself. When she ran inside, she found her mom napping on the couch, and calling Amber was the perfect idea.

"Amber, you'll never believe what happened?"

"What?"

"I ran into Brad at the station."

"Brad Sands? Yea, he's still around. Runs his dad's shop. He's just as good as his dad was."

"He had to pay for my gas."

"Why?"

"Long story and I'll tell you later. But I couldn't believe how it felt to see him."

"Oh yea, you dated him didn't you?"

"That was before you moved here. We dated before Curtis and I did. He went to school right alongside of Brad and they were good friends until that happened?"

"What happened?"

"It was like a cock-fight. I broke up with Brad and started dating Curtis. All they did was fight after that. That's about when you moved here."

"Wow, and you moved away with Curtis, and I bet Brian has never gotten over you. I heard that there was someone he was still in love with. I didn't know it was you."

"It was me." She lowered her head, not sure if she really wanted to talk about it, and she twirled the phone cord around her fingers.

"Well?" Amber waited. "Well, is that it?"

"Nothing. That's it. I just ran into him at the gas station. Had a problem with the gas and now I owe him seventy bucks."

"Seventy? My gosh, for gas? Where are you headed, back to the city?"

"No, I just got rattled and pushed the pump lock and dropped the pump. Next thing I knew, I owed the clerk seventy dollars."

"Omg, it's because you fell for him again."

"No it's not. I was just shocked to see him still around here."

"I bet he was shocked when he found out that you've been here for two years hiding?"

"Yea, kind of."

"Nothing like an old flame, Livy."

"I'm not ready for anything like that."

"You're as ready as your heart says you are."

# Chapter Six

Owing seventy dollars to an old flame wasn't Livy's idea of rebuilding friendships. Confused about her mixed feelings after running into him, she brushed it all off as no big deal. But the seventy dollars was. It was time to get a job. She wasn't sure about finding a job in town. There weren't many options around. But when the phone rang from a local Junior High School, her mom yelled out for her to come to the phone. Diane Tifferton had been a substitute teacher for years in Sparta. She had taken her last plunge with that age of kids and swore she'd never go back. But in emergencies, she usually helped cover for someone. This time someone else would cover.

"What is it? Is something wrong?" Livy ran into the house, thinking that something had happened.

"Remember that job you wanted to get? Here it is. Talk to this woman so I won't have to cover the job." The phone slid across the tabletop.

Without any chance to get out of it, Livy picked up the phone.

"Hello? Yes I am. What? I don't know. I'm no teacher. Yea. Okay, I'll give it a try. I'll see you then in the morning."

She hung up the phone. Livy wasn't so sure about it. But Diane was. "You'll make a great substitute."

"Really? Don't substitutes need a degree?"

"Aw, not here. Your more like a babysitter half the time. You can do it if I can. There, that's settled. There's your first job being back. It's a piece of cake."

So Livy was not unemployed any longer. She knew she couldn't expect much income from that, even though she'd be taking over for a teacher that would be out for a while with a back injury. But it was a job. The quicker she paid Brad back, the better she'd feel about the whole thing.

Monday morning, she was up early. Taking a shower, fixing her hair and running across the barnyard to visit with Marcy. She'd have to save her ridings for the late afternoons, now that she had a job. Promising Marcy to saddle her up after school, she left her with fresh water, food and a couple apples. Following close to her heels, the old stray dog had gotten a sudden burst of energy, watching his owner's joy. Bending down to pet him before she closed the door, she realized she had only been calling him Pup.

"You need a real name. What dog owner doesn't give the dog a name? I'm so sorry. You sure are a rascal, so that's your name. Do you like Rascal?"

From that moment on, he answered to nothing but Rascal.

Her nerves were shot by the time she got to the school. She suddenly remembered what Junior High kids acted like. Now she knew why her mother abandoned the part time job. Screams hit her ears as soon as she opened the door.

Already she was running down the hall and tending to a fight between two girls. Thinking that was crazy, she couldn't recall any of her friends fist fighting in school. In the middle of trying to separate the two girls, she managed to grab hold of one of the girl's hair, pulling it a little too hard. She was sorry for doing it, but when the girl reacted the way she did, Livy realized it worked out well. The two girls immediately stopped and stared at her, with fear in their eyes. It was quite funny when Livy walked into the classroom later to find out that both girls were in her first class period. She never had a bit of trouble out of either one. No one reported it and she found no reason to become more involved.

Mornings were spent with a home economics class and physical education class. That covered the teacher that was out with the injury. The rest of the morning she covered study halls and grading papers in a back room. Afternoons were study halls, grading more papers and she then got stuck with tutoring. It could have been worse. She could have been stuck in some science class or math. Those two were her least favorite. Her mind was kept busy and her life could barely keep up. Suddenly she had a life. After leaving school, she spent her time doing what little chores they had to do, and then riding Marcy all over the country side. Housework went out the door, because her mom put her foot down.

"You're doing too much work. Just enjoy yourself for the rest of the days. And go out some with your friends. I'm tired of seeing your face around here."

Of course that wasn't true. Diane loved nothing more than when Livy was home with her. But she wanted her daughter to heal up and to be happy. She could still hear the cries in the middle of the nights and she knew she was still grieving over Curtis.

A weekend came up and Livy's mother was preparing to gather vegetables for the Farmers Market.

"What are you doing, Mom?"

"I am selling some of our food at the market. I do it every year. Last year I made a killing."

"Is it the same one they used to have on the square?"

"Yep, same one."

"Can I help?"

Looking up from the pile of green beans she had sprawled on the back porch, Diane paused. "Are you sure you want to? Don't you have anything better to do on a Saturday?"

"Nope."

Hesitantly, her mother agreed and threw a handful of beans her way. "Okay, but if you go, you have to take the money. I'm more into filling the gunny sacks and buckets."

"Sounds like I get the better deal."

"I tell you what, if you want to finish gathering the beans, I'll get the tent and make sure I can find the missing poles."

"Alright. So we'll be under a tent?"

"Yea, it doesn't sound like much, but in this scorching heat, you'll be glad we are."

Diane disappeared around the corner of the house and Livy gathered as many beans as she could. By the time her mom came back, she had another bucket full.

"Well, I'm impressed. Hope you like the job. Looks like you got it for keeps. That's a lot of beans, Livy!"

"I have the veggies, so what about the fruits?"

"They are already packed up and ready to go. I did that last night while you were in bed. I'm ready if you are."

They packed everything into the back of the truck and headed for town. It was a blistering hot day, the middle of August. With a slight breeze blowing in, they rushed and hoped they'd have the tent sent up before it disappeared. Cars and pickups were parked all over the square. Diane cursed each one as she tried to squeeze her truck through. " Idiots! They are here for the market and they won't even let us in to unload."

Children, latching onto their mother's hands, scurried along the sides of the road, while elders clung to their parked cars, trying to work their way toward the sales. Carrying their canes in one hand and plastic bags in the other, they struggled along to hit the low-end prices. It was like a midnight sale at a local discount store that claimed to be going out of business.

"I don't remember it ever being this busy. This is nuts." Livy searched the pickups, wondering if anyone in particular would show for the sales. Her eyes scoured the area that was surrounded by man-made fences. The square was always blocked off; causing terrible traffic jams every year. "You'd think they'd figure out a new way to do this." The actual sale was fun for Diane, but the getting there was another thing.

Finally they were able to park close enough that they could carry the fruits and vegetables and still feel their legs. After looking around for her spot, Diane hollered for Livy to bring the tent.

"I found our spot. It says number forty two. That's us. Bring the tent honey and we'll get it set up. Don't forget the poles."

Livy hunted the poles down that had rolled all the way to the back of the truck and she hopped down with her hands full. While they hurried to set up their tent, Livy noticed someone moving into the spot directly across from them. It wasn't a big deal until she heard the sound of the truck's engine. She knew that truck anywhere. Raising her head, she glanced over to see Brad, backing up to a spot. Diane noticed Livy watching him and said, "He comes every year, just like clockwork." She smiled and went back to the truck, to grab her lock box and calculator, leaving Livy alone. Taking advantage of her mom being gone, she pulled up a chair and sat down. At the time, there were trucks pulling through and she was able to hide and watch him from afar. But when the traffic slowed, she was caught looking his way. He waved at her and she waved back, pretending like she had just spotted him.

With both being busy, they put off meeting up, and tended to the work. On and off their eyes would meet, and smiles would appear. Diane noticed Livy's interest.

"His daddy left him the farm and the shop. That boy stays busier than three men ought to. He's a fine young man."

"Okay Mom."

"Well, he is."

The morning passed and as the day drew on, the heat grew intense. Wiping sweat from his brow, he kept his eyes on Livy every chance he got. Customers flooded the market, and by the time things were wrapping up, Brad finally worked up the courage to walk over to Livy.

"What a day? Did you guys have a good day?"

"Mom said we cleared a lot more than she did last year."

"So did I. I don't care if I ever see another market. I'm beat."

Livy grabbed a wad of cash and handed him the seventy dollars that she owed him.

"Hey, I don't want this. I want you to owe me." He handed it back.

"No way."

"Well if I can't convince you to owe me, than how about getting something to eat as soon as we're done loading up?"

"I don't know." She looked over at her mom, but seeing the stand so empty, she knew that loading up would go fast. "I guess so. It looks like we sold almost everything."

"How about seven?"

"That sounds good. That will give me time to shower and freshen up."

"I'll pick you up then."

"No, I'll meet you. I'd rather drive myself."

Scuffling his feet around in the dirt, he agreed and asked her where.

"how about Joey's?"

"See you there at seven then."

"Okay." She turned and walked back to the truck, turning just in time to see him looking back at her. She felt an odd thrill as she turned back around. He knew the thrill. He had already been thinking about it.

# Chapter Seven

Chit chat and small talk made up most of dinner, but by the time they were finished eating, the small talk grew quiet. Brad watched closely as Livy bent her head down, looking into her lap. He sensed that she was thinking about Curtis. Reaching across the table, he dropped his hand on top of hers.

"Hey, you want to go for a walk?"

"Sure, why not?" She folded her napkin and draped it across her plate and stood to her feet. A walk was always the way to handle the times she grew uncomfortable. Throwing down a five, Brad left the young waitress a tip and pushed in his chair.

"How about we take a walk around memory lane. I'll show you a good time."

She thought for a moment, and answered, "as long as we don't go too far?"

"Too far?"

"You don't remember the time you asked me to go on a walk and we walked into Clayton County?"

"Oh sure, bring that up. That was because we were so wrapped up in each other and forgot how far we were going."

"Yea, I know."

The old diner wasn't what it used to be. It had been taken over by the older generation.

"Remember what this place used to be like?"

"Yea, it was great. We never had to worry about our parents showing up. They hated this place. Now it looks like it's their place to hang."

"That happened about two years after you left. The city took a nose dive after you left."

"What about the park?"

"It's still something we can count on. You know, come to think about it, we might be considered the old folk by now. I forgot we aren't in school anymore."

She giggled at that, realizing that the park would be filled with high school kids. "I guess we can go sit on benches and watch them, like the old folks did when we hung out there."

"Sounds great, let's do that." Taking her by the hand, they ran off in that direction and slipped into the park, sitting on a bench. Noticing how good her hand felt in his, he began to get sentimental.

"Livy, I meant what I said about if you ever need me for anything. I hate it that you have to go through this with Curtis being gone. Just so you know I miss him too."

She found that odd since he and Curtis hadn't seen each other in years. She must have shown her confusion on her face.

"I meant that I miss the old times with him. He was a great guy." He paused and then finished. "He was the one who really deserved you Livy."

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. She wasn't even sure she wanted to hear it.

"I never resented him for that."

Trying to change the subject, she pointed out some young kids. They were climbing on top of the equipment; making dares to each other. High up on top of swings, two young boys were doing the balancing act. They looked to be slightly drunk as they twisted their bodies in weird ways.

"Do you suppose they are drunk like we were?"

Studying the boys, she laughed and agreed that they probably were. Her eyes left the boys and she looked at a nearby swing.

"Hey, you want me to swing you?" Brad asked.

"No. I'm too old for that."

"You are never too old. I recall you telling me that once."

"Did I?"

"Yep. You said you would never get too old for me to swing you."

Silence filled their space. She remembered. She surely remembered that night. That was their first time they made out. She felt herself blush, and she tried to ignore it. She hadn't blushed in forever. Brad changed the subject, but not before he offered to swing her if she changed her mind.

His mind didn't have any problem recalling her on that day years ago.

She met him after school while her mother was still at work. She had worn a skirt that day and when he asked her to climb the monkey bars; she refused. But when he asked to swing her, she gave in. Each time she swung forward, he would rush around to face her, hoping he could catch a glance at her thighs. It wasn't long until they crawled inside the barrel, stealing their first kiss. As he sat there, he smiled, turning his head away from her. He waited long enough, and then he pointed out the barrel.

"Haha, look at that. I forgot all about that barrel."

It instantly brought back sweet and innocence. She gazed into his eyes and couldn't deny the memory. "Yea, I do remember that. We were so young."

He didn't take no for an answer and grabbed her hand. With a tug there and an extra pull, he persuaded her to go with him.

She giggled just like the last time they ran for the barrel, and tucked inside behind him. It was still the same. He looked around and hunted for their names that would be encircled with a crooked heart and then pointed.

"There it is."

She leaned over him and peeked. "Omg, it's still there."

"Always and forever, it says."

"Yea."

To break the moment up, she leaned back and made them roll. Round and round they went as they used their legs. After a few rolls, and her clinging to his shirt, they slowed it back down.

"I'm too old for this!" Her breath was rough as she tried to slow down. She leaned her head back against the barrel, shutting her eyes. Thought of younger days were flowing through her mind, and not knowing how close he had gotten; she missed the warning. He leaned into her and kissed her lips. It wasn't that she fought the kiss. She knew she should, but his lips met hers and they just fit. Keeping her eyes closed, she breathed him in. It was the same old feelings that she had when she was kissed by him in high school. But reality sunk in and she pulled away.

"I'm sorry Livy. I shouldn't have done that." He looked agitated, but his voice was soft, gentle and full of compassion. He crawled form the barrel, and started to walk away. She waited and watched him go, but when he got about ten feet away, he turned around and walked back.

"You know what? I'm not sorry. Not at all."

She sat in the barrel, not sure what to say or do. She wasn't sorry either. He then turned and walked back toward the pavilion. This time he kept walking and it was her that jumped up from the inside of the barrel. She ran to stop him, but she immediately changed her mind. She stopped and just stood still, watching him walk back to his truck. She heard the engine start up, and he pulled out of the lot. He was trying to make an impression. He just wasn't sure what impression it was.

Livy wasn't ready to go home, so she dropped by Amber's. With no one else home, she knocked and entered when Amber yelled out.

"Come on in!" She had no idea if Amber knew it was her or not. She couldn't believe she'd do that, without knowing who it was. She was quick to correct her.

"Amber, where are you?"

"Hey girl, I'm in the bathroom."

Livy went to the bathroom and leaned against the door frame.

"Do you always yell out for anyone to come in?"

"Yea, why?"

"Because what if it was a stranger?"

"Have you forgotten where we are? This is Sparta!"

"Yea I know, but what if?"

"You lived in the city too long. Nothing ever happens here."

"There's always a first time."

"Okay, I'll ask who they are first. So what are you doing?"

Livy plopped down on the toilet seat while Amber finished applying her last coat of mascara. "I just had dinner with Brad."

"Omg! I knew it. You're getting back together."

"No. I don't know if I can."

"Can what? It's like riding a bike."

"Not that. I mean the whole relationship thing. It just doesn't feel right."

"I thought you two were getting along great?"

"We are getting along. But it feels like... like I'd be cheating on Curtis."

"Are you crazy? Livy, Curtis is gone."

"Maybe, maybe not. Either way, it feels like cheating."

"This is serious stuff. Have you ever thought about seeing someone about this?"

"What? You mean a therapist? Heck no. I don't need that."

"You need something if you think that would be cheating. It's not cheating, even if Curtis was still alive. He deserted you."

"No he didn't. He is missing."

"Yea, maybe so. But why haven't you heard something? Anything? So you're going to live your life in misery and be lonely because he is missing or maybe even dead? That's worth seeing a therapist over."

"Hey, can I try that foundation? I've wanted to change to a darker shade."

"Sure. Sit down and I'll put it on you. You were never good at applying foundation. You always had streaks."

"What!" Jerking the tube back away from Amber, she stood and looked in the mirror.

"Well, it's true."

"Why didn't you tell me then?"

"I didn't want to hurt your feelings?"

"Oh, you don't mind doing that now?"

They laughed and stood side by side, comparing new wrinkles that they thought were forming. After several minutes of fighting over who had more, they moved into the kitchen and began hunting down something to snack on.

"My mom has got to be the worst mom when it comes to buying snacks. She thinks cold veggies are snacks" as she slammed the frig shut. She turned to Livy.

"So, did he kiss you?"

"I'm not talking about that!"

"So he did then. Why not talk about it; you used to tell me everything."

"Because a lot has changed since then."

"Really? He kissed you, how much could have changed about that?"

She was right, and Livy knew it. His kiss hadn't changed one bit. He still had it and his lips felt just like they did in high school.

"Livy, do what your heart feels. Just follow your heart; it always leads to the brain."

Livy cracked up and she said, "You know that is the stupidest thing I've ever heard. Your heart makes some of the biggest mistakes; you of all people should know that."

"Yea, I know. But what else are we going to follow?"

# Chapter Eight

Livy was right about one thing. Her mind believed that she'd be cheating on her late husband. Whether he was dead or alive, she believed it. After she returned home, she went to her bedroom and plopped down next to Maxwell. Taking the plush toy into her arms, she held him close. He was easy to love and easy to understand. Men, on the other hand, were not. She sprawled across her bed, stretching her legs out and dangling her feet off the edge. Leaning against Maxwell, her face sunk down into his brown, soft fur. As she turned over, she caught a glimpse of a picture that she had set on her dresser. It came in a silver lined frame, and it was a head shot of Curtis with his new haircut. Nearly bald, it made his eyes pop even more. Grabbing the framed picture, she rolled over on her back. Within minutes the tears began to flow. She traced the frame all along its edges and then touched his face. Following the outlines of his face, her fingers gently circled around and then stopped at his lips. The first thing she recalled was the sounds of his laughter. The gentle vibration of his deep joy came from his mouth as she laid on her back, gazing into his eyes. Then she heard her name being whispered, him repeating it twice to grab her attention the way he always did. She could hear the question in his voice when he told her he loved her, just to tease her. Memories flooded her mind, the first time they kissed, the ride down the river sharing a raft and him saving her from a spill. Sharing a cold bottle of sprite, and sitting on the tailgate of his truck as they watched fireworks under a lit up sky. The babies they planned to have with the long list of names they had picked out and the many discussions they shared about their future. Everything good she could remember returned to her.

But with the good came the bad and she sat up and stared down into what was gone. He was gone; their dreams were gone. She was left behind, expected to go on without him. A strange feeling came over her and the tears subsided. A silence fell over the room and she stared down at Maxwell who had become her only companion she could relate to. She had changed and she could feel the emptiness of the fact. Her life had become a recluse for over two years. She was too young to sit in agony as she watched lovers stroll the park, hand in hand. She stared at Curtis, traced his face one more time and then she stood and walked to the jewelry box sitting on her dresser. It was a safe place to tuck special things. It came with a lock and key, and she raised it on its side, took the key and unlocked the tiny box. When she raised the lid, a soft tune played with the sounds of someone else's love song and she dropped the picture inside. Standing alone in her room, she made a decision. She was changing. Again, she was changing. She could feel her heart crying out to live, and she could feel the need to go on. She turned the key in its lock and placed it under the box. She had to find the way to go on without Curtis, Her mother and Amber were right. There had to be a life out there that would carry her through. There had to be more than living in a silent pain that held her back. It was time.

That night she slept without the dreams. Curtis didn't come to her in the night, standing at the end of her bed. She didn't hear him calling her above the sounds of the crickets and the frogs. She closed her eyes, gripped hold of Maxwell and didn't wake until the morning sun shone through her window. When she did open her eyes, she could almost see a difference. She felt brilliantly alive, stretching her arms and sensing pleasure. This time the first thing she thought about was seeing Brad. She couldn't wait to announce the truth to him. She did love him; she always had loved him.

It was early, yet she felt the need to rise from bed and dress quickly. Not making a sound, she slipped into her favorite jeans, a tank and her riding boots. She was going to take an early morning ride on Marcy, and then she would visit Brad. Before she walked outside she wrote her mom a note and left it on the kitchen table.

***

Bending down she smoothed his hair with her hands and then kissed him. When she went to the barn, he followed her into the yard, yipping at her heels. Saddling up Marcy, she then slid the bridle on her face and kissed her nose.

"Let's go for a ride Marcy. We both need it." She stepped into the stirrups and threw her right leg over the saddle. Straddling, with her legs on both sides, she wiggled down and found her place. With a light flick of the reins, she left the barn for the expansive open yard. The trees and flowers were flashes of color as Marcy galloped pass them, _God I love this_. She could feel the wind blowing in her hair; Olivia had not felt so free sense she was a child, untarnished by the pain that came with being an adult. She thought about how her life had changed since Curtis died; she thought about how she had been able to let go of Curtis. She had a loving mom that would not let her give up on finding love. And she had reconnected with friends and hopefully she could stir the embers of love.

She rode Marcy hard, galloping through the field. She could hear the morning birds chirping at her as she passed by, and she could see the tiny heads of squirrels and raccoons peeking out of the brush. The smells of freshly bloomed wildflowers and even the fading dead grass had such amazing aroma. It was good to be home. Just like a well-fitting rocking chair, her heart had finally found home. Marcy slowed to a trot; she took in air and released a long held sigh. Coming to a slowed stop, she then walked Marcy deep into the coverage of the woods. Alone they walked, she could feel the silent that held her in bondage began to fade away. She was free; finally she was free. Tears had spilled with her undying love for Curtis and it was time to move on without him.

By the time she had ridden back to the barn, she was satisfied with her decision. Taking over two years to grieve Curtis, she was ready to be in love, to take that chance on Brad. It wasn't like he was a stranger that might be hiding something. She'd loved him before and she still had that tingle when he came near her. With a smile and a happy heart, she fed the animals and put them out to pasture and collected the morning's eggs.

***

When Olivia opened the back door, she could smell fresh biscuits and frying bacon. She ran to kiss her mother's cheek.

"Well, looks like the mornings are good to you, sweetheart." Her mother was elated to see her so happy and bright.

"Mom, I've settled it."

Looking concerned, her mother turned and set the fork down in a tiny saucer on the stove. "What have you settled honey?"

"I've laid Curtis to rest. I'm ready to live."

Coming to her in a rush, Diane Tifferton was thrilled. "Darling that is wonderful!"

"I'm going to see Brad this morning. Do you need me to do anything before I go?"

"Yes. I need you to eat a healthy breakfast first. Then, the day is yours."

Pulling out a kitchen chair, Livy sat down. Everything was ready as Diane placed the bacon on a platter and removed the biscuits from the oven.

They shared a breakfast and then Livy jumped into the pickup and made the drive over to Brad's farm. Turning off the engine, she sat in the seat for a minute, and then excitement came over her. Closing the door behind her, the creak was heard and she stepped away. Gripping the door handle, she felt the firmness of her hold, and then she let go. Fingertips slid away from the cold, hard steel, one by one. She was standing on her own, letting go. By the time she made it to his door, he had come to meet her. He could only hope for the best and he studied her eyes when the door flew open. Neither said a word. There wasn't a need to speak. Voices spoke through the eyes, and he took her by the hand. Quietly their bodies followed their passion, climbing a flight of stairs they both entered his bedroom..

***

When they did finally open their eyes, the early morning had passed away and breakfast was on the horizon. Looking into her beautiful blue eyes, he whispered, "How about breakfast?"

"Sounds great." She blushed at the thought of what they had done. She felt at home in his arms and she rose to her bent elbows and kissed his lips. Gently, their tongues locked, and they had another passionate kiss. He finished her off with kissing alongside her face, tracing the contour of her cheeks and returning once again to her lips. He raised his head and stared down at her.

"You so beautiful Livy and you are an amazing lover."

"And you aren't too bad yourself," She replied. Standing side by side in the kitchen, they cooked an amazing breakfast. Sitting naked across from each other, made them both giggle like children. Young at heart and in love, she had finally given herself permission to be happy again.

# Chapter Nine

Livy and Brad spent the day together, filling their time with laughter, and several rounds of chase around the farm... in the nude. No one could see them for miles, and the idea of danger lurked over them was exciting and fun. Several times they found places to hide and make wild and passionate love. All day they rode the waves of every lustful desire. He kissed her goodbye at her truck; with a promise to see each other the next day, he watched her leave.

It wasn't until she pulled into the drive that she let go of Brad's face. Readjusting her clothes, she quietly slipped in the back door. Her mother met her with a smile, but carrying something hidden. It was her eyes that gave it away, and Livy questioned that look.

"Mom, what is it?"

Her mother led her to her room, opened the door and stared at the bed. Livy followed her eyes and landed upon it. There was Curtis' Military uniform spread out on the top cover.

Silence. Total silence.

Then she walked over and picked up a corner of the jacket.

"Why? Where did this come from?" Her eyes plead with her mother to deny its being.

"It came yesterday while you were gone, through UPS."

They stood for a time in the stillness of the horror. He was back, filling her mind with her steadfast devotion. She broke down in tears as her mother came to her side. Diane Tifferton knew that nothing else would do, and she took her daughter into her arms, rocking her back and forth. The battle had returned and it was raging on in Livy's mind. The chance to love again had just been shattered, destroyed and she was spiraling into an abyss of what-ifs.

All kinds of thoughts came to her while her face was buried in her mother's lap. Visions of making love to Brad stung and pained her heart. She had been guilty after all, not being strong enough to hold herself back. In her mind, she had been unfaithful and was guilty of adultery. Diane Tifferton could feel her daughter's battle raging inside. She held her arms around her, stroking her hair as her head twitched back and forth, as she tried to deny the sight of the stiffened uniform. Olivia wailed in agony. Diane fought back open sobs, as she placed her head above Livy's not wanting to expose her daughter to her rare pain. Diane knew that Livy wasn't guilty of a thing. She had suffered for over two years before she was even able to experience any joy. But she know in her daughter's mind, another story rang true. She bent her head down close to Livy's ear, speaking with whispers.

"It'll be alright Livy. It'll be alright. Just let it out." In her mind though, Diane wasn't so sure it would be alright. It was a cruel thing what Livy's mind was doing to her, keeping her held captive in a make-believe world.

Her daughter felt the heavy weight on her shoulders, and it was not justified. No matter how Diane looked at the situation, her daughter needed to be set free. As she held her tight, her own anger at the curse of it all began to overtake her. It was going be a very long summer, and watching her daughter suffer wasn't an option. Something had to be done Diane thought.

After being held in her mother's arms, Livy relaxed her shoulders. She moved about on her mother's lap, then she sat straight up. Diane thought that perhaps she had settled down, but in moments, the anger hit. Livy lashed about, grabbing the uniform and throwing it across the room.

"I'm going for a ride!" She stormed from her bedroom before Diane could stop her; she was headed for the barn. When she approached Marcy, it was as if the golden mare sensed trouble. Marcy stood still as she became bridled and saddled, which was somewhat uncharacteristic. Marcy usually scraped the earth with her hoofs or shook her mane in excitement. But now, she was staring into the eyes of a known pain. Softly, she swished her tail back and forth, feeling compassion for the tender young woman who had loved her and taken her home. Marcy was ready to hand back a favor, any favor that she could give. She knew that the quick movements of Livy were due to a broken heart. She had felt them herself, once or twice. Running, speeding through an empty field, she had cantered through the wind, releasing her anger at belonging to no one.

With a flick of the reins and a little kick, Marcy started in a trot off. Building was a new feeling of rage and she had to escape herself. Marcy ran under Livy, and she watched carefully as her feet came down on the hardened soil. Wanting to protect Livy, she was careful with each step. Her eyes opened wide, scanning the field for any signs of danger. She knew from Livy's behavior that something was wrong and that she was in need. She could sense her deep anger and she could hear her cries atop of her. A harsh curse had fallen on her loved friend, and determined to keep her safe; she strode across the field, carrying her with care.

They were alone for a long time. Sometimes walking, allowing Marcy to rest and graze, Livy was still functioning with a big heart. Other times, she'd fight against her thoughts and flick the reins with that familiar clicking of her tongue. From the time she left the barn, she threw herself at Marcy's mercy, trusting her to carry her through. At one point, Livy hopped down to the ground, walked around and buried her tear stained face into Marcy's mane. It was soft, not prickly and felt comforting. Marcy stood still, except for her beautiful snowy white tail swishing under the tree. There was a conversation taking place, one of the heart. Animal and human, connected through their love.

After her ride, she put Marcy into the barn, and put away the bridle and saddle. Feeding her and giving her fresh water, she walked away.

There was something else she had to do, and she headed to the truck. She knew her mother wouldn't agree, so she didn't give her the chance to share her point of view. She was going to see Brad.

When she pulled up in the truck, he ran to meet her with her favorite smile. Pausing for a minute, she took it all in. He was standing there, shirtless. His strong arms bulging with muscle, he was a dream to any returning cowgirl. Tennessee had lots of hot guys, but staring through the window, she knew that she had found the hottest Tennessee cowboy around. Sadness came over her because she knew why she was there. She was going to reclaim her love and devotion to Curtis, the one who she'd chosen so long ago. The unexpected appearance of his Military uniform had taken her full circle, and she had no other choice but to end it with Brad. It had only gotten started, and the sooner the better. Her world was crashing right before her and she could already feel misery sinking in. She looked out at him, standing on the other side of the door, and she could barely push the handle down on the door to get out. He stepped back, holding the handle on the other side, but his face grew long, holding dread.

Brad wondered what could have happened. She had left him with a love making glow lighting up her face, and now she had a drawn look. Finally, she turned the handle and stepped out.

"Hey, you want to go for some coffee?" Looking to the ground, she kicked at the dirt.

"Sure. But can't we have it here?"

"I'd like to go into town and we can stop by Missy's Cafe."

"I'm not even dressed yet."

"That's okay. I'll meet you there." She turned away and started to pile into the truck.

Brad knew. His shoulders dropped and he felt the crush of the blow hit him in the chest. He could tell by her eyes that she was there with bad news.

"Tell me that you haven't changed your mind." His eyes straight ahead.

She couldn't. She had changed her mind.

"Livy, what's going on?" He began to pace in front of the truck.

"I'd rather tell you about it in town."

"No. You can tell me right here and right now."

She led him by the hand over to this front porch and sat down. When she was finished telling him about the uniform, he gave her a blank stare.

"His uniform shows up and we're done?. What does his uniform prove?"

"That's not the point."

"It's the whole point. He's gone."

"I'm still not over him, Brad. I still love Curtis."

"That's funny. You didn't have a problem yesterday and last night."

"That's not fair. That was just lust." She teared up, but he wasn't letting her off that easy.

"Don't you dare start crying? It's about us now. My god, how can you just drop us?"

"I have to take my time and get over him."

"Time? It's been over two years!"

She stiffened, seemed colder than ever and she refused to talk to him any longer. She stood to her feet and walked back to the truck. He was devastated. Before she got to the truck, he shouted out to her, not wanting to see her drive away on bad terms. He couldn't handle that.

"I can respect your decision. I understand."

She turned to look at him, but he had already turned around and was walking inside. She slowly drove away.

# Chapter Ten

No matter how much Brad wanted to run after her, he left her alone. He knew from experience that he couldn't make her change her mind. He was devastated, Cutis had won again. Staying to himself for the next few days, he never left his farm. The only time he got out was when he walked from the house to his garage to work on vehicles. Having the most popular mechanics shop around, he stayed busy. It was Livy who had to find things to keep her busy. School was out for summer vacation, so her job at the school as a substitute had come to an end. She decided to check at the stores in town, or possibly the local bar. Joey's was always hiring due to someone quitting. After putting her application in at several businesses, she landed a part time job at Joey's and another part time job, cashiering at the market.

In the meantime, Amber had been looking for another job. She worked at the local vet's office, but her hours had been slowing fading away to only part time. With bills to pay at her mother's farm, and her own car payment, she needed more. It was Livy that helped her get a cashier job at the market, and they soon were working side by side.

"Livy, you need to get back with Brad. I heard he is completely torn up. He won't go anywhere. Just works on those vehicles and he's becoming a hermit."

"I can't help that. I told him the truth. I'm not over Curtis."

"How long is it going to take? How many years did you mourn him? You trapped yourself inside your mama's house, seeing no one. That's long enough."

"How can you say that? Is there some kind of time table for the heart to heal?" Noticing a customer headed for her line, Livy waved her over to her.

"Hello, I can take you here, ma'am."

The older woman changed aisles and wheeled her cart into Livy's line.

"Thank you. I'm in kind of a hurry."

Livy walked around her register and helped place the woman's items on the belt. Standing there, Amber began to talk about the situation with Curtis again. Livy looked up at her, trying to hint to keep her mouth shut about it, but Amber kept rattling on. Evidently the woman understood. When all her items were rung up, she placed a fifty dollar bill on the conveyor belt and then looked at Livy.

"You know, I waited on my husband to come back to me for thirteen years. It did nothing for me, but make me old and cranky. I passed up three proposals and a lifetime of children."

Livy was embarrassed, but she was also interested.

"I'm sorry ma'am. Do you regret waiting for him then?"

"Regret? Well, I guess so. I have no children because I sat around weeping for my husband and passed by every chance for love. I cried right through the prime of my life!"

"See there! I told you that you need to get over Curtis!" Amber said, taking advantage of the lady and her wise words. The lady turned around and stared into Amber's eyes.

"That's not something you can help this young woman with. Love grows deep, and when that seed is planted, there's nothing that can drive it out. I still love George. I visit him every day at the nursing home to this day."

"Oh, he's in a nursing home?" Livy leaned out across her line. "You're together then?"

"No, we aren't together. He came back after years of being gone, running around. But he was sick. What was I to do, abandon him? I've been taking care of him ever since."

"Does he have regret? Does he tell you how sorry he is for what he did?" Amber grew curious if it had been a happy reunion.

"That man never said he was sorry to me one time. Now he's so senile, he doesn't know anything. Bitter. He's just a bitter old man."

By this time, Amber was standing in front of the woman, at the end of her cart. She looked into the lady's aging eyes. "And you?"

"I guess I lost my life for nothing. But, what else was I supposed to do? I thought I was supposed to stay a faithful wife. There are many kinds of love. Don't get hung up on only one kind. You can love your husband while he lays in the ground, and still be in love with someone who's full of life." She inched forward, pushing her cart as Livy stepped out of the way. "Honey, you are too young and pretty. You have to decide to let go. When you find you can do that, you'll be free. Can I ask you something?"

"Sure." Livy was wringing her hands, studying the woman.

"Is your husband cheating on you? If he is, there might be a chance he'll come around and wake up."

"No he was faithful. He passed away."

"Well, now that's something very different. If he has passed on, he knows nothing. He'll never love you back through the years that you put your life on hold. You'll never hear his voice or see his face again. What kind of hope is that? Move on young woman and live. Life is over before you know it. Don't you want children?"

That was all she was offering that day. Her face was drawn, withered and her heart was still in pain at her age. She turned around and looked at Livy one more time. "If you stay stuck, you'll end up looking just like me. I didn't get all these age spots for nothing. Now I have nothing to even show for these ugly things."

She pushed her cart to the front of the store and piled her groceries into a small bag she had draped over her arm. Bent over, she looked like she had lived a life of misery. It tugged at Livy's heart to see her so unhappy. Amber walked over and joined Livy's side and just shook her head. "There's your life. Is that what you want?"

Livy stood and watched the woman as she slowly hobbled out of the store. She could relate to the woman. Love doesn't die. She was sure that she still loved Curtis. But maybe the woman was right. She could still love Curtis in her heart. And she could love Brad Sands.

Livy couldn't wait for her shift to end. As soon as she punched the time clock, she told Amber that she had some things to do. Not sharing what it was Amber pried for the answer. With no luck, she shrugged her shoulders.

"Okay. Give me a call if you want to crawl out of your hole and we'll do something."

Livy was about to do something. She was finding Brad. Without stopping at home to change clothes, she drove to his house, taking curves faster than she should have. She was desperate and she had to get him back. Picking up her cell, she dialed her mother.

"Mom, I'm on my way to Brad's. I have to see him. I met the most amazing old woman at the store today."

"Oh yea? What happened?"

"Nothing except she told me her story of how she waited around for her husband to grow up. He left her and was running around and all."

"Yea? What happened to her?"

"She grew old. I'm not going to do that. I'll be home later. Please don't wait up."

Diane Tifferton couldn't have heard sweeter words. It was like music to her ears. "You go on honey. Home is always here." The phone went silent on her end, and she wasn't even sure if Livy had heard her. Livy was on a mission. Excitement flowed through her veins. She was ready and she was in love. Of all the people in the world, she didn't want to pass through her life without Brad Sands. She had loved him for years. Even when she was married to Curtis, she still cared for Brad. He had been tucked back somewhere in her heart in a special place. It took a little bent over woman to wake her up. She whispered to herself, _there are all kinds of love. She's right. I can love them both. It's not cheating. Curtis is gone. He knows nothing. He's sleeping. I can love Brad because I always have._

She was only a mile from his ranch. She could see the birds hanging on phone lines, pairs sitting perched side by side. Leaning into each other, they would peck and cuddle with their feathers stretching, fluffing up. _That's love, look how they group together_. A happy little love song played on her radio as she took the last curve. Just ahead was Brad's. She hoped that he wouldn't play the hard to get act. But if he did, she was willing to take it. She wanted a future and she wanted children. _I don't want to end up like that little old lady, with no one to love her. I don't want to be like Marcy, stuck out in some field, being forgotten and passed by!_ She began to tear up, just thinking about it. The lady had walked into that store and overheard their conversation for a reason. Livy's mother tried and Amber tried. The lady was right; no one can make you do anything. _There are all kinds of love. I choose to love Brad._

The truck skidded on the road that led to his house. Barely able to keep the tires on the road, she skidded off into the grass a few times. She couldn't wait to take him in her arms and to get started on their new life together.

Just as she turned into his driveway, she noticed that his truck was missing. _Maybe he parked it in the shed_. She inched the truck forward, parked and jumped out. Heading for the side door, she scanned the farm, thinking he might be working in the garage, but she checked the house first. Knocking several times, she pounded on the door. After no answer, she walked to the garage. It was all locked down. The padlocks were stretched across the door, and lights were out. She ran to the barn and walked in, shouting his name.

"Brad! Brad, are you in here?" The animals were in their stalls, and she found that odd. It wasn't until she looked at his newspapers that had been thrown into a pile at the far side of the front porch, when she realized that Brad was gone.

He's not here! She fell to her knees. I waited too late. She was beside herself with pain. Where could he have gone?

She jumped in her truck and headed back to town. Tears streamed down her face and she felt that really big lump form in her throat as she tried not to sob. Her body ached with fear, and her throat hurt from her gasps. Around one curve, she nearly lost control of the truck, and she brought it back to the road, it was hard to see through her tears, and she brushed them away with her hand. _He left me!_ She cried, she wailed and she sobbed bitterly, thinking that he had given up on her.

Her first stop was at Joey's. He used to be a regular there, sitting around drinking cold bottles of pop. He was never into booze and sat at the bar just talking to the bartender. _He has to be there,_ she thought as she pulled into the parking lot. Just before she went inside, she realized that it was the last place he'd go now. He hadn't been there since she got the job there. _I ran him off from there! What have I done?_ She ran in and checked anyway.

"Sam, have you seen Brad? Has he been here?"

"You know he wouldn't come here. You're here. I haven't seen him since you two broke up."

She ran back to the truck. She didn't want to be reminded how she had ran him off from his hangout. She wanted to run and jump into his arms. Checking the stores, she drove by every place in town. There was just no sign of him. Her last stop was the gas station that sat at the edge of town. _If he had left town, he would have filled up here_ , and she pulled in. She jumped out and ran through the door, slamming it against the wall.

"Mrs. Richey, have you seen Brad Tifferton?" She waited.

"Brad just left her about ten minutes ago."

"He couldn't have! I've been looking all over for him."

"You didn't; look here. He stopped in after helping Roy Carter with loading up his boat."

"Thanks!"

That's why she hadn't seen him anywhere. Roy lived on that end of town, and she had been all over town, except there. She ran back in.

"Do you know where he was going? Which way?"

"He rattled on about getting his head clear. Said he was heading for some cabin. He took this highway out of here."

_He's going to his grandpa's cabin!_ "Okay. Thank you Mrs. Richey." She ran back to her truck and headed down the highway. She wasn't sure if she could find it, but she had to try. She traveled for nearly ten minutes, checking out the side roads. Nothing looked familiar. She was upset, and about to give up when she happened to see his truck sitting at a road side diner. Skidding across the road, she barely made the turn-off. As she pulled into the lot, she wiped her tears and parked. When she entered, she didn't see him at first and then way back in the corner, sat one guy, one very hot guy. It was Brad munching on a plate of fries.

Brad saw Livy when she walked in. He was still upset. He was not going to even listen to her, but when she stood next to him, his heart melted. Dried mascara streamed down her face. Her eyes were puffy and her voice was weak. He could hear the shakiness as she spoke his name.

"Brad, will you at least talk to me?" She struggled to beg him. Her body rocked back and forth as she kicked around at nothing on the floor. Her hands were in her jeans pocket and she pivoted on one heel. She looked gorgeous to him, good enough to kiss. But, he held back.

She was not good at begging. She didn't want to beat around the bush. She took a chair and sat down at the end of the table.

"Will you just come back home and we can talk?"

Time ticked as she stared into his eyes. She never budged and she kept looking for any hope. He studied her for a time, and then he spoke softly.

"You're all I ever wanted, Livy."

That's exactly what she wanted to hear. That was enough to make her jump from her seat. She landed on his lap and grabbed his face in her palms. The kiss came and it stayed. She took in his scent, breathing deeply as she kissed him passionately. Tears still ran down her cheek, mixing with their kiss, leaving a salty taste. She opened her eyes to see him looking back and she broke down in tears and pulled away.

"Can you forgive me? Please forgive me. I don't want to grow old and miss out on being with you."

He leaned back in the chair, studied her for a minute.

"Are you sure?"

"Very sure."

That's all he needed. He reached inside his front pocket and slapped a good-sized tip on the table and stood.

"Let's go home. I'll race you there."

Two pickups peeled out of the parking lot and chased the trail back to his ranch. She couldn't wait to get her hands on him. Before they even got through the door, Brad had Livy's shirt torn from her body and swooped her up in his arms. He carried her into the house, straight to the bedroom. They made love once, twice and then tried for a third, but their bodies were completely spent. Afternoon turned into evening, and after a bite to eat, they were at it again. When the dim lights finally went out, they cuddled into each other's arms, finally able to trust their hearts.

***

The next morning...

Morning came along with breakfast. After they ran to her house and saddled Marcy up, they rode all over the countryside. They ended the day in Brad's bed. One thing led to another and before they knew it, they were making a lifetime of commitments. Promising her mother that she would visit every day, she gathered her belongings and piled them into Brad's truck. Then she saddled up Marcy and rode her all the way to Brad's. She was moving in! Her life was just beginning. Leaving Marcy behind wasn't an option. She wouldn't even consider leaving her at her mom's. Marcy needed to be loved every day, not just on visits.

Brad and Livy made up for lost time. They spent every minute they could together. Livy quit the job at the bar, and worked the store, while Brad continued running his successful shop. Their time together was filled with all kinds of fun and even more love. Between fishing, canoeing and riding horses, their calendars were full. There was always time to spend quiet moments under the sheets and life was moving on.

Livy had forgotten about Curtis for the most part. She could still feel her love for him, and she recognized that kind of love. The little woman at the store never did come back in, and she wondered where she had gone. If she never saw her again, her memory would live on because she had taught Livy more about love than she had learned in a lifetime. She still had that picture of Curtis in her locked jewelry box. It still sat there, staring back with his gorgeous blue eyes. She didn't pull it out anymore. Because she knew what kind of love she had for him, and she didn't need to prove to herself anymore that she loved him. There are different kinds of love and she loved him with a certain kind. While she loved Brad with here and now kind of love.

Diane Tifferton became a frequent visitor at Brad's, since Livy moved in. Their time together didn't suffer. She ended up being able to spend more time with Livy than ever before. Seeing her daughter's smile warmed her heart. Amber was happy since Livy was happy, and their lives became filled with family and friends. They had even talked about their futures.

"I want a bunch of kids!" Livy still couldn't get the old woman and her advice out of her mind. The last thing she wanted was to miss out on children.

"That's good, because I will need a couple sons to take over with the shop, so I can just sit back."

"Hey, what if they turn out to be little girls?"

"Girls make great mechanics. They have more patience."

"What about helping me in the kitchen?"

"Well, I guess if the girls are running the shop, then I'll be stuck with the dishes." He laughed and pulled her over, cuddling her in his arms. "It doesn't matter if they are girls or boys. Let's just hope that they like to work on cars."

"You mean trucks?"

"Yea. I guess I work on more trucks, since this town believes cars are for sissies."

"You know though that we need to wait on kids, right?" Brad was making sure.

"Yes. I wasn't talking about having one next week."

"It takes nine months, right?'

"Yep, nine long months."

"Then we had better get started!"

He shoved her off his lap and then grabbed her hand and they both raced to the bedroom. He took her to the bed, undressed her piece by piece and then laid back and looked her over. "Livy, you are the most beautiful woman in the world." Then he leaned into her and devoured her with the most passionate kiss. They made love all afternoon, bringing each other to climax after climax. That's how their days were spent, and they were good at spoiling each other. They both were always bringing gifts home, tokens of their promise. They filled their time with giving back to the town and devoted time to helping out in the nursing homes and local kids clubs.

Livy would find the old woman again. It was on a visit to the nursing home. As she made her rounds, she heard a familiar voice as she passed down a hallway. Standing just outside one room, she listened as some elderly woman spoke softly to someone in the room. She knew the voice and couldn't resist popping in the room just to make sure she was right. On one side of the room there were two beds. They were scooted close together and the woman was reaching across to the other bed. Not knowing anyone was in the room, she spoke to the man in the other bed. Livy stood at the door and listened.

"I don't know what I'll ever do with you George. You are the most stubborn man I've ever known."

The man was quiet, not offering any kind of conversation. The woman went on and on as if he was involved. She'd ask questions, and then she'd play his part, answering those questions. It was heartbreaking to see that nothing ever changed for the little lady. Livy started to walk toward her, but something in her heart begged her not to. The woman looked dreadfully sad as she sat still waiting for her husband to speak to her. Livy heard a every time the woman would take over and begin a new conversation. _Wow, that's all the woman knows. He's never going to change and never going to come back. She was right._ Livy wasn't even sure if the woman would remember her, so she backed slowly out of the room. She'd wait until another day, and then she'd try again. She left the room and leaned against the wall outside the door. Tears welled up in her eyes, thinking how close she came to that kind of loneliness. For two years, she had the taste of being that alone. She never wanted to go back.

***

Three months later...

"Get up sleepy head!" Piling on top of Brad, Livy always loved waking him up in the mornings.

"Is the coffee made?" He rolled over, pulling the covers over his head.

"Yea, but that's not the only reason you want to get up is it?" Sitting up and staring down at him with one crooked brow.

"Of course not. But, it helps this early." He grabbed at her, but she jumped from the bed. "If you want a cup, you had better get up."

She left the room and went back to the kitchen. They had stayed up too late, and now they were paying the price. She hollered from the kitchen again, ten minutes later.

"Hey lazy! You better get up. I'm leaving for work in ten."

Not wanting to miss that goodbye kiss, he threw on a pair of jeans and ran into the kitchen.

"You're not leaving without kissing me goodbye." Pulling her into his chest.

"I thought all you cared about was the coffee." Teasingly, she pulled back.

He grabbed her, kissing her neck, working his way down.

"Don't even start! I'll be late. That'll be twice this week."

"Coffee always comes after you. Are you sure we can't?"

"No way! Your cup is in the cabinet. The coffee is still hot and I left your breakfast in the oven. Don't forget to turn it off. I got to go!"

"Fine! I'll see you when you get home."

She was out the door and into the truck before he could get his cup down.

Amber had learned a lot from Livy. It turned out that Amber met a new guy and they had dated. She was not very good at trusting in love. She had been all talk and no walk. Watching Livy enjoy freedom and love, she sat back and watched. Being beaten by her last boyfriend, she was slow to let any guy back into her heart. After many girl talks and watching Livy let go, Amber followed suit. The couple became very close and spent lots of time getting together. Months passed, and Amber beat Livy down the aisle. On one very gorgeous spring day, Livy stood beside her looking into a mirror.

"You make the most beautiful bride Amber."

Leaning back, she looked into the mirror. "I don't know about that. I think you will be the prettiest one of all. When are you going to tie the knot?"

"I don't know. We've talked about it."

"Talk is cheap. You better take the plunge. I can't be a fat pregnant woman all by myself."

Gently, Livy led her away from the mirror. "Hey, this is your day. Let's walk down that aisle. I'm so proud of you. I told you that he'd make a great husband."

"We aren't there yet." Amber was happy, but her habits hadn't vanished.

"Yeah, but you're only minutes away. Now, let's go. Your groom is waiting."

***

After the wedding...

After the beautiful wedding an idea was planted in Livy's mind. She was going to marry Brad Tifferton. She didn't know how soon she'd be walking down that aisle, but she knew she would. She sent her best friend off with a hug and kiss and then climbed back into the truck with Brad.

"Can you see us getting there?" With a new look in her eyes; it thrilled him.

"I've always seen us getting there." Squeezing her hand, he kissed her cheek.

"Really Brad?"

"Really. You just never knew how much I loved you. I always did. I just had to wait."

So did the lady, she thought. She waited and waited for her husband to go home to her. He waited until he was old, wrinkled up and had nothing to offer. She curled up in Brad's arms, thankful they had finally found each other.

"What do you say we sit outside and cook on the grill? We have left-over hamburger in the fridge that needs to be used."

"Sounds great. We can't let anything go to waste, can we?"

Thinking on the time she had wasted, she replied, "No we can't."

Love had found its place in their hearts. Nothing could come between them. Not bills, not stressful work days, not even cranky neighbors. They worked together in the shop on days she was off, and he had to get vehicles out, and she became quite good at handing him his tools.

***

A few months passed and life was still good. Not to say they didn't have spats. They were over the little things, and they always managed to make up. Brad had meetings to attend, courses to take and he'd travel to different mechanic shows to learn as much as he could, trying to stay up with news skills. Sometimes Livy would go with him, and other times she'd stay behind, taking care of Marcy and old Rascal. She visited her mother a lot while he was gone and stayed close with Amber. She even gave in and paid the old woman a visit in the nursing home.

Little did she know that her visits would brighten the lady's day just enough to put a smile across her face. Instead of wasting her breath, making up conversations with her aging husband, she was able to look face to face with Livy and hear the voice of another one who cared.

Livy worked the day shift and spent many evenings sitting beside the woman. Her name was Gladys, and her husband, George never did participate in their conversations. Livy wondered though if he could hear everything they said. She watched him from time to time and when his wife would complain about his ways, he'd frown and turn his head to the window. But, when she spoke of her undying love for him, he'd look their way. There was a look in his old eyes that told Livy that he would someday say something. She waited and waited and it paid off. Walking into the room one evening, she paused at the door. She heard Gladys talking to George and she nearly walked in and announced her presence. But what she heard next kept her at the door.

"You've been gone a long time George."

Well, I'm back now. Can we just concentrate on here and now?"

"I don't know George. I've waited for ages."

Livy smiled as she stood at the door quietly. The couple had a long way to go, but it was a start. With not many years left, Livy knew that every minute counted. She didn't enter the room. While George was talking, she didn't want to interfere. Gladys had waited long enough to hear her husband talk with her. Livy backed away from the doorframe and walked on down the hall. She'd some back later.

***

One month down the road...

Livy had paid several visits to Gladys and George, never staying very long. She did hear from Gladys that George had finally asked for her forgiveness for the time he had been away. Livy didn't expect to walk into their room that Sunday morning. Brad had stayed at home, catching up on some rest and she ran into town. She walked down the hall and made it to the room. Excited, she couldn't wait to give them the treats she had baked. George liked to eat chocolate chip cookies. Gladys liked to feed him. She busted into the room, ready to make their day. She could hear the nurses stirring about down the hall. The room was quiet and she could see Gladys's hand stretched across the bed, lying in George's hand. Nothing was odd about the sweet picture; they always held hands. Before she could get to their bedside, a nurse appeared. Livy turned to her to say hello. The nurse just stood there with a blank stare.

"What? What's wrong?" Livy could see that something was wrong.

"They are... they are gone. We are just getting ready to call the coroner.

"No!" Livy dropped the plate of fresh baked cookies to the floor and ran to the beds that were sitting side by side. She crept to the end of Gladys's bed and looked straight ahead. There was Gladys and George, still holding hands. She broke down in tears and slipped down to the bed. The old pair had gone together, not willing to stay apart any longer. The scene was emotional as she looked back up. Shaking her head, she went to Gladys and placed a kiss on her still warm cheek. Staring down, she touched their hands that were entwined.

Livy knew that George had finally healed his wife's heart and it left her with a peace that she might never experience again. She'd met a dear old woman that had spoken hard truth and saved her life. Now she had to learn how to let go of such a dear friend. Livy went over, picked up the foil wrapped cookies and laid them on a nightstand. Then she turned and walked out of the room.

She cried all the way home, releasing tears and realizing that her visits with Gladys had come to a halt. But, by the time she pulled into the drive, she understood that Gladys was finally happy and she was free from pain. George had come back to her at the last minute, and late was always better than never. She grabbed her purse and walked into the house, going straight to the front room. She sat down next to Brad and took his face into her hands.

"I missed you." She kissed him long and hard. He didn't even have to ask why. He could see in her eyes a sadness.

"Was it Gladys or George?" He asked her quietly.

"Both. It was both of them. They went holding hands."

"Oh man, that's how I want to go with you."

They curled up, watched movies the rest of the night and woke up at three in the morning. Something about Gladys passing sparked a new love in Livy's heart. Thinking that she knew everything there was to know about love, she could feel her heart swell. Just looking over at Brad working in his garage brought a smile to her face. She had finally found that balance in her life. She still thought about Curtis and the life they shared. She had no qualms about thinking of him, and she felt no burdens of guilt. Gladys had been one wise woman, telling her that there were all kinds of love. Livy had found that out and it made life much easier. Once in a while, she unlocked that tiny jewelry box to look at Curtis' picture. Then, she'd place it back and shut the box. It warmed her heart to know that the time they had together was good and loving. She could rest in her heart as he slept. He wasn't aware of her involvement with Brad. And she even believed that if he was, he would somehow approve.

She had been with Brad for two years. They were getting closer to starting a family. They wanted to wait until they were sure that they could handle all the responsibilities of raising a child. But she sat at the kitchen table many days, making a long list of her favorite names for babies. She circled her choices and then she'd slide it back into a kitchen drawer. Once in a while she'd pull it out and smile, seeing where Brad had circled his own favorites. They played back and forth with the list, never saying a word. The list grew and grew, names were added and some scratched out. She could feel the moment getting closer that they would finally take the plunge. She began looking around, preparing ahead and getting ideas about colors to decorate the special room with. She kept that part secret, waiting for the right time.

Brad's business flourished. He became quite known in three counties wide and was considered to be one of the best mechanics around. Their finances were stable and life was looking good.

Marriage was a thing they were talking about. In a few months, they would take that leap and join hands in marriage. They enjoyed each other so much that they didn't mind the wait. Brad began working on the house, adding a room and another bathroom. Hurrying him along, she helped him as they worked side by side. Materials were gathered and the project was well on its way. This allowed them to take things at slower pace, getting loans paid off before taking on a family. He still had meetings and classes to take, and she traveled with him less than she had at the start. They felt confident with their relationship, and she stayed behind to take care of the ranch and tend to the horses. Quiet days came and went when he was away.

She had a surprise for Brad before he left for a convention. She had been looking through wedding magazines and found the perfect dress. Rushing to him while he was packing for his trip, she plopped down on the bed with the magazine sprawled out. He glanced up from the dresser, and slid the drawer shut.

"What's that?"

"That is the dress I'm going to wear in the day you make me an honest woman."

"I thought you were already honest." He grinned.

"I am. But, you'll make me an honest married woman, and when you do, I want to look like a million bucks."

He leaned over, took a look and then said, "You look like a million bucks already."

"Then I want to look like a billion bucks. What do you think?"

He sat down next to her. "If you wear that, we'll never make it to the ceremony."

"Then you won't be allowed to see me until I walk down the aisle, because I'm not going to miss out on wearing this." Her face was lit up, and he leaned over and kissed her. His kisses hadn't changed a bit. They were still long lasting and filled with desire. She knew he had no time to waste, so she shoved him off.

"Don't start that now. You have a plane to catch."

"Yeah I do. I guess I had better get going. I'm going to just leave my truck at the airport. That way I can just hurry home when I get in." He stood to his feet and kissed her again. Then he turned to walk out the door.

"Hey!"

"What?" Livy looked at him, wishing he didn't have to go.

"Will ya miss me?"

"Every minute of every day."

He started his truck and she listened to him pull out. Brad would be gone a long two weeks this time. It was one of his longest trips away.

He had classes back to back, but he would come back with updated knowledge on engines. The times were changing and so were the trucks. Livy had enough to keep her busy between work, spring cleaning and visiting her mom and Amber. But about midway through she had a lazy day. Waking to the sounds of Marcy and Bullet, Brad's horse stirring around in the barnyard, she looked out and smiled. They had become the best of friends and got along beautifully. Throwing on a pair of shorts, she went to the kitchen and started the coffee. She threw in a couple slices of toast and then sat back and waited. Pulling out the growing list of baby names, she checked to see if Brad had left any surprises. Sure enough. There at the end of the list was _Danielle, Grace Olivia, Rachel_ and then, _Robby, Benjamin_ and _Kage._ She looked the list over and drew smiley faces by her picks. She tucked it back in the drawer and poured a cup of coffee. The toast popped up and she took her breakfast to the front room. Picking up her wedding magazine, she sat down and started making checkmarks. As she turned the pages, she stopped at one page and a smile spread across her face. Brad had left another surprise. Written on the pages edge were, _Will You Marry Me Now?_ Her face lit up and she grabbed a pen and wrote an over-sized, _yes_! He was ready, and she was beyond ready. She tucked the magazine into her chest and kissed the page with her wedding dress. It was really happening. They had finally made it there.

An hour passed by as she sat there. Now she was marking up the pages in not only the wedding magazine, but she began scribbling all over baby magazines. Getting a subscription with the company, they had thrown in a free twelve month subscription to two leading baby magazines. Flipping through the pages, she laughed out loud at all the ideas that she saw. Picture after picture was the face of a laughing child, a dirty faced child or even twins holding hands. She grinned from ear to ear, knowing her own future. _I can't wait to have his baby,_ escaped from her lips.

That's when there was a knock at the door.

It was a soft knock. It was early for anyone to be paying a visit, and her cell hadn't rang once. Dragging herself from the sofa, she laid the magazine down on the table. She glanced down to make sure that she was presentable. She hadn't showered, but shorts and a tee would be okay. She thought about who it could be so early. _Maybe someone is broke down_ , she thought. She looked out the window first and saw a blue Chevy truck parked out front. _I don't know anyone that drives that_ , she whispered. Realizing that Brad was gone, she paused, not sure she should go to the door. She looked again through the curtain, but with the blind spot, she couldn't tell who was there. They were persistent and knocked again, this time a little harder. Tip-toeing across the room, she stood in front of the door. She was always the one that harped at Amber for leaving her doors unlocked, and now some stranger was at hers. Instead of opening it, she talked through the door.

"Who is it?"

There was silence. That bothered her more. She ran into the kitchen and picked up her phone.

"Who is it?" Again they had knocked and she held her breath after asking.

Then it came. A voice on the other side.

"It's me."

The voice was soft, spoken slow and yet it sounded familiar. She replayed the sound of the person's voice over in her head a few times, and then it came to her. Reaching down, she unlocked the door and turned the knob. Stepping back, her bare feet scooted away from the door. She swung the door opened and dropped her phone.

Curtis was on the other side.

### Thank you for reading!

## Please visit your favorite eBook retailer to view the next books in the "Embracing Love Again Series"
Taming The Cowboy

by

Annie Holmes
Copyright © 2017 by Annie Holmes

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Taming The Cowboy

All rights reserved.

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. No part of this work may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording and faxing, or by any information storage and retrieval system by anyone but the purchaser for their own personal use.

This book may not be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of Annie Holmes, except in the case of a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages for the sake of a review written for inclusions in a magazine, newspaper, or journal—and these cases require written approval from Annie Holmes prior to publication. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.

# Chapter One

I rolled down the window as I pulled off the highway and onto the red dirt road. It was clearly in front of me, a long, winding drive all the way to the house, but there were another five miles between me and my final destination. My family's ranch house sat high on a hill, a good distance away from what little traffic managed to find its way to the narrow highway in south central Texas. No one came out here unless they had a good reason and the only good reason was usually because they were heading to the ranch.

I shifted in my seat, muscles still aching from two nights before. It was always worse two days later, after my body had long enough to think about what it had done. Getting on the small bull wasn't the most stupid thing I've done in my life, but I knew it was pointless the moment my butt hit the ground. If my dad had been there to see me on tour, he would have called me on my bullshit. I was just trying to show the men on the tour that I was as capable as they were. There were a few other women on the tour, mostly barrel racers and all of them could hold their own, but I couldn't help trying to one-up some of the bull riders. It was absolutely ridiculous, even though I had a decent amount of experience on the backs of bulls. They were cocky though and knew what it took to get me riled up.

That last ride though...gosh, was I ever regretting it. All I could think about after the long drive from Colorado was a nice, long soak in my tub. My muscles practically groaned at the thought and I rolled my shoulders, trying to work a kink out of them. Just a few more miles and I'd be home.

The ranch looked the same as it did the last time I was here a few months ago. I spotted a new coat of paint on the eastern fence line. It was a pristine white against the alfalfa that waved in the wind. I took a deep breath of the fresh, clean air and sighed. It was good to be back.

My truck ambled up the final hill and the big rock house came into full view. It looked like Mama had every light on to welcome me back and I wondered what might be waiting on the other side of the front door. She wasn't one to skimp when it came to throwing a shindig and I wouldn't be surprised in the least if she had a massive spread set out in the dining room for our family and any of the hands that happened to be around. We were close and I know she missed me desperately whenever I was gone on the tour. She had begged me to let her and Dad cover some of the costs of college, but I was sticking to my guns on that one.

Dad didn't approve of me hitting the rodeo circuit to pay for college, but he never tried to stop me. I wasn't sure if it was because I was his only child, but he seemed pretty pleased that I was bold about making my own choices, even if they weren't the ones he would have made for me. Still, he never came out to see me on tour and since Mama rarely left the ranch either, she hadn't gotten the chance to see me ride. They had probably both had their fill of biting their nails while I was on horseback as a child, running loose on the ranch like I owned the place.

I had a degree under my belt now, one that I'd earned on my own and one that I would pay for on my own. It had taken hard work and several rodeo tours, but I was almost there. Once that was paid off—well, who knew.

Mama asked me repeatedly where I saw myself in five years. I knew she was hoping I'd say married and with a baby and another on the way, but I pushed the thought from my mind. There was nothing on the horizon and I had brushed off the advances of several of the guys on the tour. When my best friend, Kacey, visited me on one of the tour stops, I introduced her to several of the guys. She spent the next several hours chastising me for my hesitance. Sure, they were all good looking and well-built. Hell, a lot of them were hotter than a coal fire, but something held me back with them. Namely the fact that I knew what they got up to at night. Bull riders have groupies the same way that rock stars do and there was a new pack of them at every town we made an appearance.

When it came down to it, I really didn't want to be in a relationship with any of them because they all knew where I came from—the only child of one of the wealthiest ranchers in Texas, set to inherit a massive farm and ranch. It was that fact creeping into the back of my mind while the tongue of Daryl Jameson, one of the best riders on the tour, slipped past my lips that kept me from going any further. It was the one night on the tour when I almost gave in to the only cowboy I would have considered. Sandy blond hair, deep blue eyes, and a hard, flat stomach pressed against me, his raging erection grinding against my hip. He'd been hanging around a lot, complimenting my riding and taking an interest in what I was talking about, doing all the things he needed to do to get my attention. It worked and soon we were spending several hours a day together.

I shivered when I remembered that night, a wet warmth growing between my legs as I pressed them together, willing the memory out of my head. Now was not the time to start thinking hot and heavy thoughts about a cowboy who was three hundred miles away. And who I didn't want anyway.

As I parked the truck in front of our sprawling ranch house, I took a look at the property from the high spot up on the hill. Someday, this would all be mine. While I sometimes thought about what it would be like to do something else, I knew deep down in my heart all I wanted to do was run this ranch. My parents had raised me here from the time I was born and I learned everything from them—from Mama in the kitchen to Dad fixing fence all along the property. Inside, I knew I was born to do this and there was something in me that thrilled at the thought of it all being my responsibility someday. The knowledge that my parents trusted me to take on such a huge task made me well up, a lump forming in my throat.

"Get it together, Farah," I said to myself as I grabbed my duffle and slid out of the truck and stepped onto the driveway. It had been a heck of a long drive and I felt it in my legs when my feet touched the ground. Steadying myself against the truck, I stretched my legs before turning toward the house and heading for the front door. Before I could get there, one of the double doors swung open and Mama was running out to greet me.

"Sweetie!" Her arms were outstretched as she welcomed me in for a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "I have missed you so much; you don't know the half of it. How are you doing?"

"Good, Mama," I squeaked out as she held me close, squeezing me and rocking me in her arms. "That's a little tight though." My ribs were still sore from my last idiotic ride.

"Oh, dearie me." She pulled back and gave me a look up and down, checking to see I was all in one piece. "I've seen a few videos of you riding on the internet. You know I wish you wouldn't do that."

I rolled my eyes and walked past her, entering the foyer that led into the wide open great room. A sense of relief poured over me as I walked into the place that I knew, surrounded by people who loved me. I didn't often stop to think about how lonely the rodeo circuit was, but being home again made me realize how much I missed being around those who were dearest to me. I wiped at my eyes.

"Oh, sweetheart," Mama put her arm around me, gentle this time, rubbing my shoulder. "We're so happy you're back."

"We sure are!" My dad's booming voice echoed from down the hall as he walked toward the great room. He appeared, dressed as he always was in dark wash jeans, a plaid shirt, and a leather belt, and came over to kiss my forehead. "How was the drive, sweetheart?" He took my bag and tossed it out of the way.

"Long." I rubbed my backside. "Feels good to stand up. Sometimes the seat of the pickup feels worse than the back of a bucking bronc." I laughed and sighed.

Dad shook his head and walked over to his recliner, flopping down in the massive chair and kicking back to prop up his feet. "Worse than landing on your ass in the dirt?"

"Not as bad as that, I don't imagine." I took a seat across from him on the large sectional couch that wrapped around a good portion of the great room. I noticed the sparkle in my father's eyes as he asked the question. "You know, I did okay out there."

He snorted, crossing his arms and peering at me over his reading glasses as he picked up one of his agricultural news reports. "Your mama and I saw you. Watched a few of the videos on YouTube. Looked like an embarrassment to me."

The words stung. Not only had he never made it out to see me while I was in the rodeo, he never had a kind word to say about it. The kindness seemed to be limited to allowing me, his only offspring, to participate in such a thing in the first place.

"You should really come out there sometime, Daddy. See what I do. The videos you saw...yeah, they happened, but that's not how it goes all the time." My teeth ground against each other. I knew the social media guy who worked for the circuit and I'd have a word with him about posting only my hilarious falls. "I've had some really great rides out there and I would love for you and Mama to come out and see me do what I enjoy. It would mean a lot."

He was quiet and I knew that meant the subject was closed. He hadn't come to see me in the four years I'd been out on the road, why on earth would I expect him to start now? I loved my father dearly, but he was a man set in his ways. The idea that his only daughter would choose a life on the rodeo circuit was a disappointment; I knew that even though he hadn't told me as much in a couple years. He was supportive when I went to college, no matter how disappointed he had been when I refused to let him pay for it. If I could have gotten in with a fake name, I might have tried that as well. It was of utmost importance to me that I prove myself outside of the shadow of my father and this ranch. It was the only way I could prove I was worthy of running the place.

"Supper'll be ready in a few. You two wash up. And don't worry about changing for dinner, sweetheart. You look beautiful just the way you are and it'll just be the three of us—plus Jace. He'll set the table when he gets here. Sweet boy said he wanted to help." Mama's voice echoed from the kitchen.

I turned back to my father. "Who's Jace?"

Dad folded his paper and placed it on the end table next to his chair. "He's a new hand. I was planning to introduce you at dinner. He'll be working pretty close with me for the next few months. Now, let's go wash up before your mama starts hollering at us."

***

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror on the way to the dining room. It's true, I could have looked worse, but I definitely bore the appearance of someone who had been on the road all day. My auburn hair was twisted up in a knot and tendrils of hair had slipped from the clips grasp, hanging down around my face. I released the clip and twisted the mass of waves back up into something presentable and smoothed the edges. My face was sun kissed, cheeks pink from the long day out in the sun when I was packing up my things and getting ready to leave the tour. I smoothed out my blue and white checkered shirt. The sleeves were rolled up to my elbows and I wore a white tank underneath. This was basically my work uniform and the clothing I felt most comfortable in, no matter where I was. A smile crept over my face and I couldn't hide it—I was glad to be home.

The dining room was one of the showplaces of the house. It could seat sixteen if need be, and sometimes it did, when Dad had other ranchers over for a business meeting, or if all the ranch hands were invited for dinner one night. The table was a dark Cherrywood that matched the trim around the room, set in stark contrast against the cream walls. Gold accents touched every corner of the room and at one end my mother's massive china cabinet was filled with the cream and gold china she had been collecting since she and Dad married. On one wall was a large portrait of the three of us that had been painted sometime around my twelfth birthday. It was tall and imposing, reaching almost to the top of the twelve foot ceiling. On the opposite wall, there was another commissioned painting, this one taking up almost the entire length of the wall. It was a sweeping vista, the view of the ranch from the back of the house.

The table was set when I arrived and Dad was seated at the head of the table, with Mama at the other end and a man I didn't recognize seated directly across from my place.

"Jace, this is my daughter, Farah."

The young man stood and politely offered me his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Farah. I've heard an awful lot about you from your folks."

"Nice to meet you, Jace." I smiled as I shook his hand. His grip was firm, but gentle, and I appreciated the fact that he didn't hand me a limp fish. Dad had always warned me to watch out for a guy who couldn't give a good handshake.

Jace was handsome, there was no mistaking that. His hair was a dirty blond and I could see an indented ring, a sign he'd been wearing a hat for most of the day. His eyes were an arresting green color and I had to pull my eyes away from his own, afraid of being rude by staring. He didn't look like much of a cowboy in the face, none of the typical windburn or signs of being out in the sun. I wondered where Dad picked him up, but figured maybe he was one of the boys who came down from up north. We often had young ranch hands show up from Wyoming and the Dakotas, looking to ranch in the heat of the Texas sun.

I took my place on the other side of the table and scooted in close, ready to dig in to some of my mother's home cooking. We were fed out on the road, but it was rare that we got something as good as Mama could cook.

"Looks delicious, Mama. Thanks for going to all the trouble."

"Oh, it's not a bit of trouble, sweetheart. I'm just glad to have you back for a little while." She smiled as she dipped a spoonful of mashed potatoes onto my plate and passed it back to me.

I forked a piece of brisket, "Well, maybe it won't be for just a little while this time, Mama." I weighed my words carefully. "I was thinking it was about time for me to come back and start working around the ranch." My father glanced over at me, raising an eyebrow as he spooned green beans onto his plate.

Mama clapped her hands together. "Farah! That's wonderful news. It'll be so good to have you back around here full-time again. Won't it, Carl?" She turned to my father and he bowed his head.

"Let's say grace." He waited on us all to bow before beginning. "Heavenly Father, I thank you for this bounty, for all the gifts you have bestowed upon us. I thank you for your mercy and protection on my daughter, bringing her home safely once again. Her mother and I are so thankful to have her back under our roof. I ask that you grant her wisdom as she moves forward in her life. Show her where it is she belongs and clear a path in the right direction for her. Bless this food to the nourishment of our bodies. In your name we pray, Amen."

We all chimed in with an "amen" and I looked over to see my father's grim expression.

"You know, Daddy, you taught me so much when I was younger and I always did look forward to learning how to run the place. Now that I'm nearly finished paying off my school loans, I think it's about time I come back and get to work."

Jace snorted. "Aren't you a little busy out there...rodeoing?"

There was something about the way he said "rodeoing" that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. My eyes flared wide as I shot daggers with a glance.

"If I'm coming back here," I placed my fork beside my plate, "that means I'm most likely done with my rodeo days."

He nodded and grinned. "Good plan. No way to know if you're really suited for the job unless you devote your full attention to it."

"And what exactly do you know about running a ranch, Jace?" I countered.

Jace shrugged. "Not a thing, but that's why I'm here. To learn how one runs. And I've been here for the past few days doing just that."

I snorted involuntarily. " _Days_. That's the keyword there. You have been here days. I've been here _years_. I think I know a little something about how things are run here, since I was raised on the ranch in the first place."

Jace pushed his food around on his plate, looking up with a grin and a wildfire in those green eyes of his that made me catch my breath.

"I guess since we're going to be working so closely together, I'll get to see what you're made of. You talk a pretty big game for someone who has been away for so long."

For a moment I thought I was going to choke on a bite of mashed potatoes, but a sip of water rescued me. I looked between my parents and neither of them would meet my eyes. Who did this guy think he was, talking to me like this at my parents' table?

"Well, Dad knows what I'm made of and what I'm capable of doing. I guess I'll get to remind him starting tomorrow. I'm ready to learn the day-to-day operating procedures." My response was chilly as I turned back to my plate, pushing green beans around with my fork, suddenly finding the meal unappetizing.

Dad shook his head. "We can talk about all that later, Farah. Let's enjoy this dinner your mother has so thoughtfully prepared in your honor."

My father's expression was stony and I was perplexed at his refusal to stick up for me in front of Jace.

"But I'm going to start—"

"Farah." Dad looked me straight in the eye. "We'll discuss it later."

I turned back to my plate and wondered what on earth I had done to make my father so hesitant to say the one thing I had always known to be true—that I was the only person in the world he would trust with his ranch.

# Chapter Two

"There's no way. You have got to be kidding me." I paced the width of my father's office. My shoulders ached with tension and I knew this stress wasn't helping at all. Dad, on the other hand, was calmly enjoying his nightly glass of whiskey from behind his desk.

"Have you ever known me to do much clowning around? I'm not kidding. Not one bit. You'll work with him and you'll like it. Or you'll pretend to like it. Either way, you'll work with the guy and I won't hear any guff from you. Do you hear me?"

I emitted a sound that could only be described as a growl.

"What was that?" He narrowed his eyes over his glass.

Plopping down in one of the fine leather chairs opposite his desk, I let out a long breath. "Fine."

He smiled, a row of sparkling white teeth gleaming at me. His hair matched the color of his smile now and the reminder of my father's age made me feel a little ashamed of putting up a fuss over Jace, but something just didn't feel right about it.

"Good. I think you'll learn to like each other. He needs you around to show him the ropes. He's not exactly used to the way we do things around here."

"What do you mean?" One ranch wasn't too much different from the next, assuming they were raising the same livestock. "Did he work on a horse ranch?"

Dad shook his head, swallowing a mouthful of his drink. "Nope."

It felt like my father was being evasive and it wasn't unlike him, but I wanted the information on this guy.

"Well if he worked on a cattle ranch, I can't imagine what he would need to learn from me. One isn't so different from another. Was it a small operation?"

"It wasn't an operation at all. The boy has never worked on a ranch."

My mouth fell open and I struggled to find words. "You've hired someone...to come on as a ranch hand at one of the largest ranches in Texas...and he's never worked on a ranch before?"

Dad nodded his head. "That's right."

My blood was boiling and I could feel my stomach turning over. I stood and reached over the desk, placing the back of my hand against my father's forehand. He swatted me away.

"Sit your butt back down." He frowned and downed the rest of his whiskey.

"Well, it sounded like you needed to be checked for a fever. What were you thinking, Dad?"

He tapped a finger on his desk and stared at me for a long moment. He reached over to open one of the desk drawers and pulled out a ledger, opening it up to show me a page filled with rows and columns full of numbers, none of which meant anything to me.

"Farah, what is this?" He asked, pointing his finger to one of the columns.

Back in my seat, I leaned forward, peering over the desk at the yellow ledger paper. I looked for some pattern in the numbers or a title over one of the columns, but it didn't mean anything to me.

"I don't have any idea."

He slapped the ledger shut and threw it back in the drawer, closing it with some force.

"That's right. There are things you don't know. Lots of things you don't know about running this ranch. I know you think you're prepared. You grew up here and had the run of the place and I showed you how to do a lot of things. Hell, you helped me pull a calf before you were ten years old. Remember that? Those twins born up on the hill in the back corner of the place. You're capable of a whole lot, little sister, but I want you to be careful and not get so cocky about it."

My eyes were lowered and I leaned back in the chair, sinking down into the cool leather. My stomach was in knots and my temper was still flaring, but I knew that wouldn't get me far in a civil discussion. "Yes, sir."

"One of the other things you don't know much about, maybe nothing at all about, is how to manage somebody and teach them. Jace is your chance to show me you can do that."

The words were settling in and I felt my heart rate returning to normal. There still wasn't anything thrilling about the prospect of working with Jace, but it felt a little less threatening now. At dinner, there was something about the way my father had allowed him to speak to me that led me to believe something was amiss. Maybe it all came down to the fact that Dad still hated my decision to join the rodeo.

"I'll step up to the plate." My tone was appeasing and I hopeed my father took it that way without thinking I was going to roll over at every turn.

"Good girl. I knew you could do it." He was pulling a map from the depths of another drawer.

"But I still don't understand why you got a guy who doesn't know anything about ranching. Where did he come from?"

Dad waved the question off. "Somewhere back east. I think he's schooled pretty well. May have played some college baseball or something. Can't fault a guy for wanting to come out west and get his hands a little dirty." He chuckled and unfolded the map. "Now, when was the last time you rode the perimeter of the ranch?"

I searched my memory, but I couldn't remember a time in recent years when I had ridden the entire place.

I shrugged my shoulders. "Probably not in the last five years. Maybe longer than that."

He nodded and drew a circle with his finger on the map. "That's what I thought. We'll, we've acquired a few more acres since then. You know how I like to add on when I can. It will be good for you to familiarize yourself with the place again. I know it doesn't seem like much, but having a good idea of the perimeter, and exactly how much land you've got on your hands, is always good. Reminds you of what you're responsible for. Why don't you head out tomorrow morning and take Jace with you? Ride the north fence line. It'll take you all day even if you start at dawn, but it'll be worth it. You both need to get to know the place."

I nodded. It was a simple enough request and apart from having to keep company with Jace all day, it wouldn't be so bad.

"We can do that. Anything in particular I need to be paying attention to?"

Dad pointed to the northwest corner of the ranch. "Over here. This is a newly acquired parcel. There's a pond on it and it's one of the deepest we have on the whole place. Or it should be anyway. Haven't had enough rain in the past couple of months, but hopefully the storms they're predicting this week will take care of that. I've got a measuring stick in the thing. Just see where it is and let me know. If you notice any fence that needs mending, make a note of where it is and we'll get someone out there to fix it in the next few days. Other than that, enjoy the ride. You can tell Jace all about growing up on a ranch. I'm sure it'll be fascinating to a city boy like him." Dad grinned and I couldn't help but smile.

"City boys are always fascinated by my stories." I stood to leave. "I think I'm going to take a bath and turn in for the night. Is that all?"

He waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal. "Go say goodnight to your mama. I think she's out back on the porch."

***

My mother was where he said she would be, curled up on a seat near the outdoor kitchen. It was a new addition to the house, one Mama had wanted for a while and I was glad to see her taking advantage of the area and the gorgeous view of the west it afforded. The sun was already down, but there was a pinky blue pastel watercolor sky left in its wake.

"Off to bed?" She sipped her white wine and put her book aside as I came nearer.

"About to be. Daddy told me you were out here, so I wanted to say goodnight." I leaned in to kiss her cheek.

"Aren't you sweet. Well, I'm just going to finish this glass and maybe another chapter of my book. I won't be far behind. Why don't you take a nice warm bath? It'll be good for your muscles. There's a jar of some bath salts I really like up in your bathroom cabinet. Try those. You'll smell like a rose."

"Sounds heavenly." I wondered if I should bring up the plan for tomorrow or if it was something I needed to keep between myself and my father. Mama had a mind of her own, but rarely spoke against anything my father said. As of yet, I didn't know what her thoughts were on Jace.

"You're going for a ride tomorrow? Surveying the property?"

Clearly Dad had already informed her of what he intended to ask me about after dinner.

"Yes. Showing the new guy around."

She narrowed her eyes playfully. "You be nice to him. He's a sweet guy."

"Didn't really seem like it at dinner." His comments about the rodeo and my commitment to the ranch came back to me.

"Well..." she took a sip of wine. "That might have something to do with how much time he's been spending with your daddy. You know he was never a big fan of you running off and joining the rodeo. The circus might have gone over better with him, if I'm one hundred percent honest."

"Oh yes, I'm sure, Mama. The swinging trapeze?" I laughed in spite of myself and crossed my arms, leaning against the cool stone fire pit.

"Maybe not that exactly. But your daddy talks and there's no telling what Jace has heard from him. Cut him a little slack. You might like him." She cocked an eyebrow at me and suddenly I was reading her like a book.

"Oh, no no no. Nope. That's not happening. Is that what this is? Some kind of setup?" My dad had tried a lot of things in the past, but it had been a while since he tried to set me up with the son of an oil baron or another rancher.

Mama laughed, nearly spilling her wine. "No, sugar plum. I promise it isn't a set up. I'm just saying it wouldn't be a terrible thing if you liked the fella. He's sweet as pie once you get to know him. Didn't you hear me before dinner? He offered to come by and set the table for me. I didn't even have to ask." She smiled from ear to ear. Mama was a big fan of any man that offered to help in or around the kitchen without being asked, until they got underfoot, that is.

"Well, I can see he's done some buttering up around here." I started toward the door. "Night, Mama."

"Night, honey. Sleep tight."

I left my mother to her book and her wine and headed down the long hallway on the northern half of the house. My room was almost at the far end, at the opposite side of the house from my parents. When I was a teenager it occurred to me that this might be a great setup for sneaking people in and out of my house without my parents' knowledge, but the one time I tried it I failed to take the motion sensor lights and the five mile walk to the highway into account. I lived too far out and in a far too secure house for that to ever work. Once I was eighteen, and probably before that, I knew all the ranch hands had been threatened within an inch of their lives if they came anywhere close to the house after dark or without Daddy's knowledge. Aside from that, we had never had any really good looking, young ranch hands around. That might have been on purpose, now that I thought back on it.

Jace on the other hand...I pushed the thought as far away as I could. Why did the good looking ones always have to be such damned jerks? And why on earth did I find that sort of thing irresistible? My relationships had been a long string of dates peppered with infidelity. It was a fact of being on the circuit. Any woman who was with one of those guys for very long knew how the story went and it usually ended in some dark corner in the arena when you found your man kissing a blonde-haired hussy from the local diner. The packs of girls that showed up at our nightly rodeos were the same in every town and there was no escaping them.

But here I was, back in my own territory. Away from the drama on the road and ready to settle in and get to business—my business. Learning the ins and outs of the ranch would be a lot of work, but I knew in the end it would be worth it. I would have a chance to prove myself to my father and then there would be no doubt left in his mind. He had always wanted a son and I know he would have preferred handing over his birthright to a male heir, as old-fashioned as it sounded, my dad was a traditional man. I wasn't a boy, no matter how hard I had tried to shed my dresses and shun baby dolls as a little girl, but I knew I had what it took to make our family's legacy a continued success.

If the first step was teaching this good-for-nothing Yankee how a ranch worked, and most likely watching him fail at it, well, I'd do it. Daddy couldn't fault me if the guy didn't end up working out in the long run. If I could guess by looking, the poor guy probably wouldn't make it two weeks here before he got bucked off a horse and bruising his ass—and his pride.

Sure, I could show him around and see that he knew the place inside and out, but that wouldn't make him a cowboy. I still couldn't make sense of why my father would hire someone who had never roped a cow in his life. What would he do the first time he got nicked by some barbed wire? Probably run home to his mama crying.

And if I sped the process up a little bit, who could blame me? I didn't come home to play baby sitter. The sooner he was out of my hair, the better.

# Chapter Three

It was all worked out in my head. I would get to the bunkhouse early and, finding the city boy still sleeping, I would walk in and shout to wake him. Something really annoying, like, "Up and at 'em, cowpoke." I'm sure it's the sort of thing a guy like him expected around here. Why not give him the full show?

Instead, I found him on the back porch, sipping coffee with my mother and laughing over something I missed. I was still in my pajamas, a pair of short shorts and a tank top. Not exactly what I wanted him to see me dressed, but it was done now.

"Mornin' sweetie. There's coffee ready if you'd like some." Mama's tone was cheery, like she tended to be in the mornings, much to the dismay of any guests who weren't early risers like her.

"Thanks. I'll just have it in here." No reason to go parading out there in front of the new ranch hand barely dressed.

"Good morning, Farah." Jace smiled from behind his coffee cup. He was dressed in jeans and a gray t-shirt that was tight enough to accentuate his muscular build. I kicked myself mentally for noticing.

"Good morning." I waved nonchalantly and stepped back into the kitchen to pour myself a cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal. My mother and her new coffee buddy remained outside until they were done and I was washing up my breakfast dishes. When Mama entered, she was alone and I was grateful.

"Sleep well?" She gave me a peck on the cheek.

"Fine, thanks."

"Jace said he'll be waiting in the north barn whenever you're ready to head out."

"Well," I dried my hands on a towel and hung it on the hook over the sink. "I best not keep him waiting too long."

Mama, not one to miss anything, said, "Now, don't get too sassy. We don't want to scare him off. Think of it as a learning experience. You'll get to see how things have changed around here. A nice, long ride isn't a terrible way to spend your first day back, is it?"

"I suppose not."

"There are some sandwiches for you both in the fridge. I don't imagine you'll be back before supper time."

I smiled and gave her a side hug before I headed back down the hall. "Thanks, Mama."

***

Jace was right where he said he would be, waiting for me in the north barn. His horse was already saddled and I noticed mine was as well. The sight was unexpected, but it was nice to know there was at least one thing I didn't have to teach him. Maybe Dad or one of the other hands had shown him a few things in the time he had spent here so far.

"It's about time. I was starting to think you'd never get here."

I smiled politely and walked past him to my horse, Claudette. "Thanks for saddling the horses. I didn't expect you to know how."

Jace nodded, smiling brightly. "I've never worked on a ranch before, but I do have a little experience with horses."

"Oh?" I was genuinely curious.

Jace mounted his horse like he had done it every day of his life. "Yeah," he said, patting Bastian, a black quarter horse. "My mother enrolled me in riding classes when I was in kindergarten. I've been riding ever since."

So maybe he had been on a horse every day of his life.

"That'll make this a little easier for you." I placed the lunch my mother had prepared in a pack and secured it to my saddle before I climbed on Claudette's back, wincing in pain when I engaged my abdominal muscles. It would be a few days before I was back to normal after that rough ride a few days before.

I gave the mare's neck a scratch. "I sure missed you, lady." Claudette was a sorrel mare with a flaxen mane that my parents had given me before I graduated from high school. We were inseparable whenever I was at home working around the ranch and we both seemed to know what the other was going to do before we did it. I missed her when I was out on the circuit, but she wasn't made for life out on the road.

"Good. I hate for you to have to do too much work." Jace chuckled and I had a feeling he didn't mean what he said. "I guess you'd probably rather be out doing whatever it is you do in the rodeo."

"No, actually." I urged Claudette down the dirt road, away from the barn and further north. "I'm happy to be home, doing what I've wanted to do for a long time."

"What's that exactly?" Jace rode up beside me, falling in step with Claudette.

"I've been working on this ranch since I was a little girl. Someday, I'll inherit it and there are still a few things I need to learn about running it. One of them is breaking in new ranch hands."

Jace laughed. "Is that so? Well, I guess you have your work cut out for you, but I know a thing or two. I've watched a few westerns."

My eyes cut over to him and I wondered if he was serious. "You're kidding, right?"

"No. I've seen plenty of cowboy movies."

It was my turn to laugh. "Well, Jace, watching cowboy movies doesn't make you a cowboy. You'd best forget whatever you saw anyway. Half of what you see in a movie isn't accurate."

He cocked his head my direction, a playfully challenging gesture. "We'll see about that. Something might come in handy down the road. Like if you get bitten by a snake and I need to suck the venom out."

This guy was green. That is, if he was serious. For all I knew he was having a joke on me and holding back his laughter. Maybe he and Dad would be rolling over this entire exchange later on at dinner.

"Try to avoid the snakes, please."

"I'll do my very best." He winked and I pressed my lips together to keep from smiling. I got the feeling that he wasn't as much of an idiot as he was putting on, but I had no reason to think that other than what I had been told about his education. There was no way I was going to ask him about it. Showing any interest at all would only encourage this guy and I wanted to avoid him as much as possible in the hours I didn't have to spend showing him how to do things around the ranch.

"So, what are we doing out here exactly?"

"My dad didn't tell you?"

Jace shook his head. "Carl mentioned we were going for a ride, but he didn't say where."

I took note of the fact that he called my father by his first name. It was rare that Dad allowed anyone Jace's age to refer to him by his given name. Usually it was "Mr. Preston" or simply "sir," and that was if he deigned to speak to you at all.

"We are going for a ride around the property. Dad wanted you to see the whole place, to get an idea of how big it is and what you're responsible for around here. It's too big to ride the entire perimeter in one day though. We'll just tackle the north fence line today. He thinks it's very important for anyone he hires to know the whole ranch. Dad feels like it gives people a sense of ownership. And when you own something, you tend to value it a little bit more and want to take care of it."

"Ownership, huh? I guess he's probably right about that."

Unfortunately for Jace, ownership wasn't in the cards. The ranch was mine and I could tell from some of his earlier comments he found it preposterous that a woman would be running this ranch someday.

"I'll be sure to let him know you approve of his methods," I said flatly. I knew how I must be coming across to the guy—like a Grade A bitch. Good. The less he enjoyed being in my company, the better. It wasn't in my nature to be such a shrew and I found it somewhat difficult not to attempt any sort of polite conversation with him, but there was no need to make him think I enjoyed his company.

We fell into an easy pace, the horses moving along as they pleased and about half an hour later we reached the northernmost point of the property. It had been a silent ride aside from me pointing out a few features around the ranch on the way.

"I'm a little surprised my dad hadn't already sent you out to take a look at things. How long have you been here?" We turned, lined up with the north fence line and headed west.

"About a week. Your father was out of town on business for the first couple of days, but your mom showed me around the place a little. Since I didn't have anything to do until Carl got back, I took myself on a few rides."

"Whereabouts?"

He pointed a thumb back to the south. "Just out. A few miles west of your parents' house. Found the remains of an old house."

I nodded. "The house my great-grandfather built. My grandfather was born there, so was my dad. Granddad built a new ranch house about two miles south of where the big house is. That was back when dad was a teenager. Dad had the big house custom built before he and Mama got married."

"The bones of the old place still look good. Building with stone will do that, I suppose."

I knew the spot he was talking about like the back of my hand. It was about as far from the house as my parents' would let me roam when I was a young child. The old rock house made a great place to play when I was little, the only things to watch out for were snakes and scorpions.

"I haven't been out there in years, but you're probably right."

"It's beautiful against the sunset."

I glanced over at Jace. His expression seemed almost wistful, but it didn't last. He urged his horse on a little faster and moved ahead of me, taking the lead.

We reached the pond a couple hours later and dismounted to have our lunch. It was simple, peanut butter and jelly, the sort of thing that keeps well when you have no means of keeping the food cool and you're going to be on the road for some time.

"Haven't had one of these in years," Jace mumbled through a bite.

"Get used to it. They're a staple around here. Those and scrambled eggs." I always had a feeling it was because my dad was such a fan of them and less for any other reason. "How are you liking the place so far?"

He stopped to consider his words for a moment. "Your parents are great and they've been kinder and more patient than I deserved."

Who was this guy talking to today? His tone was so different from the night before at the dinner table, I began to wonder if it had something to do with my father's presence. Maybe he felt like he needed to be macho in front of him to prove a point. It would make sense, seeing that Jace was from somewhere back east. Dad didn't have much respect for "Yanks" and it took a while to get him to warm up to you without that barrier to cross.

My curiosity got the better of me. "Where are you from?"

"Virginia." He took a big bite of his sandwich and chewed.

Not as far north as I had imagined, but back east was back east to my dad.

"Were your folks in cattle? We've been out there for a few auctions before. A big one out in Winchester once. That's a pretty part of the country."

Jace shook his head. "No, they aren't in cattle really, but my father dabbles in a little bit of everything. I wouldn't put it past him. He chiefly deals in investments though."

"How about your mom?"

"She always stayed home, did the PTA thing, made sure I stayed out of trouble as best she could."

I still couldn't figure out why a guy like him would come all the way out here.

"Why here? Why did you come out here?"

He shook his head, swallowing a bite. "It wasn't in the plan, not really. Harvard Law was the plan and I made it through five years of school before my father suggested that I try something else. Dip my toes in the water out west I guess."

"And you chose ranching because...?" Harvard Law and life out on a ranch didn't seem like they could have a single thing in common, aside from an occasional need for an attorney out here.

Jace was quiet for a while before he spoke. "It seemed like the last thing I would do, but my father is a persuasive man."

It still didn't make much sense to me, but the reason Jace ended up here in Texas, on our ranch, could be something as simple as an overbearing father wanting to see his son live out some dream from his own past. Parents living vicariously through their children was always a very disturbing thing to me. I had witnessed it over and over again amongst some of the younger competitors on the rodeo circuit. It never ended well. Parents who had struggled to attain success in a certain event when they were younger often tried to press their children into the life. Life in the arena was hard, period, but mix that with someone who doesn't want it with every fiber in their body and you've got a deadly combination.

Suddenly, I felt some compassion for him. He must be intelligent. You don't get five years at Harvard under your belt if you aren't, but how weak must he be if he bows to whatever his father's wishes are? If this was Jace's circumstance, I shuddered at the thought of what his father must be like, to be able to push him so far away into a life he didn't know and so clearly didn't want.

# Chapter Four

The days that followed were similar to the first one. Dad had a long list of things he wanted me to make sure Jace knew how to do. The list ranged from the very minimal, up to some of the more challenging work you would find around the ranch. Part of me wondered if Dad was trying to wear one or both of us down. We started with one of the first jobs I had ever tackled on the ranch—the annual task of picking up rocks.

Every year it seemed like the fields sprouted rocks. When I was really young, I thought they actually grew out of the ground. That was before I learned about erosion in school. Still, picking up rocks was one job I found pointless and boring, not to mention hot and hard work, depending on the size of the rocks that had been uncovered by the previous year's rain and wind.

I let Jace drive the old dump truck that we used for jobs like this around the ranch. It was against my better judgement, but I could tell he was eager to try his hand at something he might be good at doing. There was more to driving a dump truck than just pointing it straight ahead though, especially when you were talking about driving it near my father's fields. He would kill someone for rutting them up, so we waited for an especially dry day. Driving that enormous vehicle through the fields in the mud would be unacceptable.

"Park it here." We were on the edge of a field, one that dad used for growing alfalfa. It was one of his prized crops for making hay or just letting the cattle graze, but it required a lot of water. It wasn't far from the house since it needed access to irrigation lines and we were within site of the back porch.

I hopped out and climbed into the back of the truck, grabbing the wheelbarrow Jace had stowed there. We would be doing a lot of walking back and forth to fill up the truck, but the wheelbarrow would make the job a little easier.

"Okay, the job is pretty simple. You see a rock, you pick it up and put it in the wheelbarrow. Once it's full, we'll push it back over to the truck and fill the truck. Got it?"

"Seems easy enough," Jace responded, confidently.

I thought it was as well, but he felt the need to ask about the size of every tenth rock he picked up.

"This one big enough?" He asked, holding a rock no bigger than my thumb in his hand.

I turned from where I was squatting to pick up a rock half the size of my head and nodded. "Just throw it in."

A few moments later, he piped up again, "What about this one?"

"Jace, if you can see and you can pick it up, throw it in the wheelbarrow." I snapped.

"You don't have to get testy about it."

I heard the rock ping as he threw it into the wheelbarrow. It took us almost an hour to fill the thing up and I let Jace push it back over to the truck. It wasn't noon yet and it was already hotter than blazes. There would be a couple more months of this weather, at least, before we saw any relief in the fall.

"You get up in the truck," I instructed my protege. "I'll hand them up to you." It was the only way to manage the job since the truck was so high off the ground. We were both wearing leather gloves to protect our hands from the rocks' rough edges. It created a swampy cesspool of sweat against my palm and I considered working without the gloves, but I knew that it would only be worse if I didn't.

I turned to hand Jace the first rock and my eyes were greeted with the bare flesh of his chest. He had stripped off the shirt he was wearing and thrown it over the side of the truck. I don't know why I was shocked. Often the ranch hands stripped down to the waist to do some work outside, but I had never been treated to this view of Jace.

I shook myself out of whatever shock had overcome me at first and handed him the first large rock without looking him in the eye. He was as well built as he looked with clothes on, maybe better, and I wondered what sport or activity had kept him in that kind of shape while he was in law school. Probably one of those they play back east, like lacrosse. I was turning to hand him another rock while he was bent over, placing the first one in the far back corner of the truck's bed. His back glistened in the sun and his muscles rippled as he bent over to drop the rock.

Jace turned to find me standing, hand outstretched with the next large rock.

"You know, you can throw them. The truck can take it. 'Cause if you drop each of them that gingerly, we're going to be here a while."

His face was stony, but it broke into a smile as he took the rock from me.

"Yes, ma'am."

***

The next day we cleaned a corral, one of my least favorite jobs around the ranch, and it turned out Jace wasn't very enthused or great at that either. He was constantly asking me if he was doing something right and often, when I told him he wasn't, he got huffy.

"Just listen to what I say and do it." It was as simple as that in my opinion. That was the way my father and grandfather raised me. In fact, that was one of the reasons my grandfather told me I was such a good hand—I did what I was told and did it quickly and correctly the first time. Granddad didn't live to see me join the rodeo circuit though and I had a feeling he wouldn't have been supportive of that kind of move. In fact, I was only a good hand as long as I was doing exactly what I was told. Joining the rodeo wasn't that.

"That's easy for you to say, you're the one barking the orders."

"Excuse me? I'm not barking." I stood at the edge of the corral with a hand on my hip and I knew I was cutting the same silhouette as my mother. I could see my long shadow spread across the dirt in the setting sun.

"If you'd just leave me to do it on my own, I would get it done. You don't have to watch over my shoulder."

I rolled my eyes. "You require supervision. If you mess something up, I have to be there to clean it up. You're my responsibility."

Jace slammed his shovel into the dirt. "I'm a damn grown man!"

I straightened up and looked him square in the eyes. It was the first time he had shouted at me and it made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

"Then act like it."

He picked the shovel back up and turned to me. "That would be easier to do if you weren't standing over me, watching my every move like I'm a child."

I gritted my teeth. It infuriated me that he thought I wanted to be here. I was just as annoyed as him, if not more. There were much more valuable ways I could be spending my time. Did he actually think I enjoyed following him around, telling him every move to make, and making sure he did it without causing some catastrophe.

"Listen, I want to be here about as much as you do. You want to make this a little easier? Drop the attitude. If you think my dad will let you stay around very long speaking to me the way you have been, well, I've got news for you, Jace." I turned and started to leave the corral. "This place is going to be mine someday. You are just a drop in the bucket. Your sort come and go and as soon as you leave, there will be another person to replace you. Someone who wants this work and needs it."

I felt his eyes on me as I shut the gate behind me.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm leaving you to your work. Close the gate when you're done. And meet me near the big barn tomorrow morning."

***

He was there the next day, just as I had asked, and he barely glanced up when I walked toward him.

"Good morning," I greeted him, wondering in exactly what sort of mood I would find him.

Jace met my eyes. In the pale morning light they seemed more green than usual. Something about the gray t-shirt really made them pop. "Hello, Farah."

He didn't use my name very often. It was usually "ma'am" or a playful "sir," which he knew I hated and proceeded to use whenever he could work it in. That typically meant when we were somewhere alone, away from any of the other ranch hands and out of earshot of either of my parents.

"So, Jace..." I dug around in the tight pocket of my jeans, pulling out a set of keys and tossing them to him. "You get to drive today."

He looked from the keys back to me. "Where are we going?"

I strolled into the barn from one of the side doors and he followed. At the push of a button, I opened the large bay doors and sunlight streamed in, lighting what was dark in a flood of golden morning light. Once the place was illuminated and our eyes adjusted, I pointed to the truck with the gooseneck trailer hitched to it.

"We're moving some round bales from one of the other barns over to areas where the cattle are. Got to keep the girls fed."

I slid into the passenger side and waited for him to get in and start the truck. He was a little slow moving this morning and I wondered if I had been working him too hard. It was nothing for me, even working through the pain of my stupid rodeo injury over the first few days. But I had no idea what Jace did before he came here. My guess was it wasn't as physically taxing as everyday chores around the ranch.

He hopped up into the truck and took off his hat, placing it on the console between us.

"Nice hat," I said, without a hint of sarcasm in my voice. He had worn it every day, but I hadn't stopped to ask him anything about it. I was a little surprised he wore one at all, but maybe he thought it was a part of the costume.

"Thanks. Your dad gave it to me."

I looked out the window as we pulled out of the barn and onto the dirt road that wound around the property. Pointing Jace in the right direction, I drifted off into my own thoughts as he drove the eight miles to the barn deeper inside the ranch.

Of course my father had given him the hat. What was it about this guy that my dad liked so much? It wasn't cheap, I could tell that just from looking. My dad wouldn't give something like that to just anyone and again, the thoughts pricked at the back of my mind—who was this guy and why did he matter so much to my father?

It was a rough ride with the trailer on the back, but Jace handled himself well.

"You're doing nicely," I said, breaking the promise I made to myself to run this guy off. Being a pill was work and I wasn't up to it this morning.

He cut his eyes toward me. "I'm just driving."

"Driving with a trailer isn't always easy. You handle it well."

Jace shrugged. "I guess anybody could do it."

The guy couldn't even take a compliment! Well, I would remember that for the future. It didn't seem like it was worth going out of my way to make him feel better about the work he was doing around here.

As we ambled down the road, the barn came into view and I pointed Jace where to park. Another of the ranch hands had left the big green John Deere tractor next to the barn and I gestured in its direction.

"That's your next lesson."

"The tractor?"

"Yup, so hop on out. Head over to the tractor and I'll show you what to do."

I knew this was a little risky, but if Dad wanted him to know how to do everything on the ranch then this had to be tackled at some point.

By the time I came around the other side of the truck, Jace was already climbing up in the tractor and I wasn't far behind him. The cab was really only big enough to fit one person comfortably, something I had forgotten. When I was little I would ride around on the spot behind my dad's seat when he was doing chores on the tractor. It was fun then, to be up so high off the ground, with the windows all the way around the cab affording me a view that I rarely had.

"You're coming in too?" Jace asked.

I smiled. "Someone has to show you how to drive it."

The key to the tractor was on the same ring as the one for the truck and I showed him which one to use as I shut the door behind me. I sidled in uncomfortably close to Jace as he put the key in the ignition and stirred the beast to life, a low grumble coming from the engine.

"It's loud!" I shouted over the noise.

"You tell me that now!"

"Okay, the steering is pretty basic..." I took Jace's hand and placed it on top of the knob on the steering wheel.

Loading the bales on the trailer wasn't as difficult as I thought it might be. Once a person gets the hang of it, it's fairly simple. The trickiest part is knowing the exact place to let go of the bale, dropping it onto the trailer in a way that insures it is securely in place. The first few bales didn't look great and by the time they were on the trailer they were all a little worse for wear, but the cows wouldn't mind. We loaded eight total and I was pretty pleased with how it looked when we were all done.

"See? Easy as pie."

He nodded, surveying the work he had accomplished. "My ears are ringing."

"Yeah, and your butt will probably be numb for a little while. There's a lot of vibration in the cab." I rubbed my backside as I walked back over to the truck and got in.

"What next?" Jace asked as he got in the pickup and started it.

"We'll drive these over to the pasture where some of the cattle are and then we'll use another tractor to unload the bales."

We took another dirt road, this one trailing down through the middle of the ranch. It was a different sort of landscape here, with a deep ravine on one side of the road. We passed through the area fine, but it wasn't until we were on the other side that I saw the problem.

"Stop," I said, reaching out to touch Jace's arm.

He hit the brakes easily, so that the trailer didn't come slamming forward. "What is it?"

I pointed ahead of us. A few hundred feet down the road was a spot that had been washed out by recent rains. There were at least three feet of road missing there and it was impassable with the trailer hitched. On either side of the road there was a steep incline into a ditch, not as treacherous as the ravine, but steep enough that we wouldn't want to risk it.

"We need to back up and turn around—"

I heard the crumbling under the tires before I finished my sentence. It took me a few seconds to realize what was happening, but it soon became clear. Dirt and gravel ground under the tires, followed by a hellish screech of twisting metal, then we were falling on our side.

"Holy shit!" Jace shouted.

I was falling into him and losing all sense of balance. We couldn't be sliding down the ravine, we were past that. Then the falling stopped abruptly and everything was still. Unbelted, I had fallen to the left, right over the console and into Jace.

"What happened?" He was trying to help me up, but it became clear the only way out was through my door. His was against the ditch and we were sideways.

"The road gave way." I braced myself against him as I tried to stand and reach my door handle. Opening a door from this direction was a feat of strength and one I wasn't up to on my own. As soon as Jace freed himself from his seat, he was beside me, rolling down the window.

"We need to climb out the window."

He was right and soon we were both outside, hopping off the passenger side of the truck. Once outside, I was able to survey the damage and it wasn't good.

"Well...crap." The weight of the hay bales on the gooseneck had turned it on its side, carrying the truck with it. The hitch was completely twisted and it looked like the trailer might be a total loss.

"That's not good," Jace observed. Maybe he was learning.

"No. No, it isn't."

"What do we do now?"

I climbed back onto the truck and reached down through the window. When I returned to Jace's side, I had his hat in hand.

"We walk," I said, handing him the hat.

***

It was already getting dark when we got back. Neither of us were carrying a phone and it would have been pointless anyway. There was no service on most of the ranch. My parents would have already had dinner and there was no telling what the two of them thought of me not being at the table. And if they had gone looking for Jace, well...

"You can go get cleaned up. I'll tell my dad what happened."

"Wait." Jace grabbed my arm. "You don't have to go in there alone. I was the one driving. I need to take the fall for this if anyone does."

His hands were sweaty, but his grip was sure. I shook him off of me. "If you insist."

We entered the house from the back porch, both of us sweating and caked in dust after the seven mile walk back to the house.

The door to Dad's office was open a crack, but I knocked just to be sure.

"Open."

"Hey, Dad..." I opened the door slowly and enter, Jace following closely behind me.

"Missed you at dinner." He peered at us over his reading glasses. "I didn't realize you had a date tonight."

"What? No." I shook my head. "Something happened, out there when we were moving the round bales."

Jace stepped up closer to my father's desk. "Carl...er, sir, it's not Farah's fault. I was driving and the road gave way underneath us. The trailer started to slide and the hitch is twisted all to hell."

My father raised an eyebrow. "Is that right, Farah?" He turned to me, his lips pursed.

"Yes, sir. That's what happened."

"Carl, I'll pay for the damages. Whatever they are."

Dad nodded, setting aside the papers he was reading. "Jace, you can go. Farah, have a seat." He pointed to one of the chairs in front of his desk.

"But sir..."

Dad looked up sternly. "Jace. Go. I need to speak with my daughter."

I took a seat and looked back. Jace was hesitating near the door, but eventually walked out, closing it behind him.

"Dad, I'll pay for it. Don't make him."

My father chuckled. "So, your charge has ruined a trailer."

"Dad, _he_ didn't ruin it. It was an accident. It would have happened to whoever was driving. We're both lucky it happened there and not a few hundred yards sooner. We would have been down the side of the ravine."

He made a tsk sound with his mouth. "Sounds like you should have been paying better attention. Why on earth would you put him in that truck hauling a trailer? Has he ever driven with a trailer before?"

"No, but you told me—"

"Farah, I told you I wanted you to show him the ropes, not to let him drive down a road and destroy a hay trailer. He'll pay for it? His father will pay for it."

I chewed on my lower lip. "Dad, if you're going to make someone pay for it, let it be me."

He shrugged. "Maybe I should. Might teach you something about who you give responsibility to."

I slapped my palms against my thighs. "Dad, you told me I'm supposed to be teaching him! Why the heck do you have him out here in the first place if you don't want him working?"

"I do want him working."

This was typical of my father. He never gave anyone a straight answer and he wasn't going to start now. Whatever reason he had for being secretive about Jace's presence here made no sense, not even after talking to Jace. I just couldn't figure out why all this blame fell on me. Why was I being scolded like a child for doing what I was asked?

"Well, you're sure sending me mixed messages! I thought I was doing exactly what you wanted me to, but no."

"Farah!" His voice was a loud rumble. I knew yelling at him would get me nowhere, but I couldn't help it. If there was one thing I had inherited from my father, it was his temper.

"What then? What do you want me to do with him? Why is he even out here if he doesn't know what he's doing? Dad, he's from the city. Did you know he was going to school to be an attorney before he came out here? It makes no sense for him to be here, I don't care what his father thinks."

Dad dropped his pen. "What do you know about his father?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "Nothing. Just that he said his father wanted him to come out here. It wasn't in his plans."

"Is that so?" He picked up his pen again and tapped it quickly against the desk, a nervous gesture. "Farah, this ranch is mine and as long as I am around, things are run the way I want them to be. You'll do yourself a favor to remember that."

I sat, not stunned, but hardly believing that he wouldn't decide to send Jace back. If he couldn't see that Jace didn't belong here, I would have to make Jace see it himself. If he decided to leave on his own, Dad couldn't stop him.

"Now, get out."

# Chapter Five

That was the only plan I had—get him out. If he realized he wasn't made for this work, he would leave on his own and he would no longer be my responsibility. It was the only thing I could think of to do. Until then, anything he did wrong was going to fall on me and I didn't want to deal with it.

But it was like he was reading my mind. Every challenge I put him up to, he started working harder. I don't know if it was because he had it in his head that he needed to pay for the trailer or out of some need to prove himself either to my father or me. Frankly, it didn't matter to me, but it soon became clear that any ideas I had about running him off of this ranch weren't going to work. And if I couldn't get him to leave, there was only one thing left to do—make sure he was a success.

Over the next couple of weeks, we became a team. It wasn't what I imagined happening, but being forced to work so closely with someone over a period of time has a tendency to either make or break you together. It turned out that we worked quite well when we set our minds to it. After a while, there was a lot less yelling, Jace picked up on things quickly, and soon became a real asset around the ranch. He didn't always have to have me nearby, but seemed to prefer it. We worked well together and developed the sort of communication any good team has—a type that doesn't require any words. I could guess his next move and he was getting better at knowing mine.

I didn't mind it so much whenever he was invited for a family dinner a few times a week at my parents' table. What had happened with the trailer seemed to blow over and my dad never brought it up again. I still planned to pay for the damage myself, but it would mean quite a bit more cash than I had on hand right now and I had no idea where that would come from.

***

"There's a cow about to calve." Dad said, in the middle of one of the dinners Jace had been invited to join. "She's in the west barn. Farah, I thought you could take Jace over and watch. Ever seen anything like that, Jace?"

"Not outside of the Discovery Channel, no sir."

Dad nodded. "All right then. After dinner, why don't the two of you go over there. I don't think she's going to need any help, just make sure things are going okay for her."

It had been a while since I had witnessed a birth and I was excited. There had been a few scary ones around the ranch when we had to call the vet to help out a cow that couldn't get it done on her own, but as long as it looked like a smooth birth, they weren't so bad.

As we walked over, I could tell Jace wasn't as enthused about the idea.

"Squeamish?" I asked, winking at him. The sun was out of sight now, but the lingering light made it easy for us to find our way to the barn. Even in the dark, we could have found it with the occasional bellow from the cow inside.

Jace smiled at me. "You can tell?"

"Of course I can." I gave him a playful shove. "I don't know if anyone is ever very excited about seeing their first one, but it's really not so bad. And Dad said this one is going smoothly."

"Sometimes they don't?"

I shuddered. "Sometimes they really don't. If you stick around very long, you'll end up having to pull one yourself. It's not great, but it has to be done sometimes."

"Pulling? You mean you stick...right up her...?"

"Right up there." I chuckled. It probably sounded like the worst thing in the world to someone who hadn't grown up around it. "But it's really not that bad."

"Gross. I know. I'm going to have to work on that if I want to be around here very long."

"You'll be fine, don't worry." We stepped inside the barn and found the cow laying on her side, part of the placenta hanging out of her hindquarters.

"Oh God, I thought you said it wasn't that bad!" Jace stopped at the door and I laughed at him, grabbing his hand and pulling him closer to the action. There was a light trained on the cow where she lay there in the hay and it was easy to see it wouldn't be much longer before the first of our fall calves would be here.

"Gosh, that looks like work, doesn't it?" I said absently. The cow was heaving and her body tensed as she worked with the flow of labor.

"It certainly doesn't look like any fun."

I realized I was still holding on to Jace's hand and he was squeezing it somewhat as we watched the birth.

"How long will the calf stay with her?" He asked, watching intently.

"Until it's weaned and grazing. If it's a female, she'll be added to herd, most likely. If it's a male, well...good eating."

Jace looked over and gave me a wry smile. Suddenly he realized he was squeezing my hand and he let go, moving to put some space between us.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"It's all right," I said, turning back to the cow. "See? There are the hooves."

It wasn't pretty, but it wasn't a sight to look away from either. It didn't take long after that. A few more minutes and one shuddering heave from the cow and her calf slipped from her body and onto the floor of the barn.

"Wow." Jace stood staring.

"Yeah," I smiled, watching him. "And nothing seems to be causing any problems, so it's all up to her from here."

He shook his head. "That's crazy. It's so different from how we do it."

"We?"

"You know, humans. Though to be honest, I can't say that I've seen a birth other than the one we had to watch in 9th grade health."

I smiled. "Pretty sure it's still the same."

"I guess you're probably right."

I turned toward the barn door. "That's really all there is to it. You ready to go back?"

"The fact that you were holding my hand is probably the only reason I didn't run screaming when we first walked in, so, yeah. I'm ready." He laughed and the sound of it made me smile. He wasn't laughing at me along with my father and that was a change I liked. "I'll walk you back to the house."

"You don't have to do that. It's out of the way. The bunkhouse is halfway between."

"What do you take me for?" He steered me out of the barn by my elbow. "My mother raised a gentleman."

We were both quiet during the walk back, but before we stepped into the light coming from the porch, Jace took my hand.

"Farah, I wanted to thank you."

"Oh," I was taken aback by the gesture. "For what?"

"Putting up with me and how I was when you first got back. I know I was sort of an asshole and I'm really sorry for that. It's not who I am."

My mouth broke into a half smile. "You sort of were, but I wasn't much better."

"I guess I had been hanging out with your dad quite a bit before you got back and...I'm not saying your dad is an asshole, don't get me wrong—"

"He can be," I laughed. Jace squeezed my hand and placed his other hand on top of mine.

"I just wanted to say thanks." He let go then and turned, heading back toward the bunkhouse. I stood there, stunned and strangely pleased by his words.

***

"Honey, the Lefler's will be here any second. You know how Tara is, always has to be the first one anywhere, even if it means arriving half an hour early. You need to get dressed." Mama stood in the doorway to my room, putting on a pair of pear shaped diamond earrings. She was a small woman with black hair and blue eyes and the diamond earrings made her eyes sparkle.

"Okie dokie. You look pretty, Mama."

"Thanks, sweetheart. Now, put on a dress."

It was a few days after the birth of the first calf of the fall season and there had been a few more since. Today Jace had the chance to witness my dad pulling one and I was pretty sure that was enough excitement for one day. Dad had come back to the house to shower and get ready for tonight's cocktail party.

The cocktail party was an annual event that my mother always hosted for some of the people dad did business with in the area. They drove from all around and parked on our long, red dirt drive, the cars lining up in the dark.

I stood in front of my closet, wrapped in a towel, trying to decide which dress to wear. Eventually, I settled on a vibrant blue. It fit well, hugging all my curves and accentuating my figure. I curled my dark auburn hair and let it fall past my shoulders in soft, bouncy curls, and applied just the slightest hint of makeup. It had been a long time since I wore makeup on a daily basis and I had gotten to the point where I really only put it on for special occasions. A little eyeliner, some mascara, and a dab of lipstick and I was ready for the party.

When I stepped out into the great room, couples were already milling about, meeting up with people they hadn't seen since the last party my mother hosted. I was created by a chorus of ladies saying my name in unison, all of whom had to come over and ask what I was up to, if it was true I was still in the rodeo circuit, and when in God's name I would be getting married.

I laughed it off. "Oh, you know, I need a boyfriend before that happens. Besides, I'm having a great time just working here around the ranch."

"I would be, too." Tara, the wife of one of my father's associates, spoke up. "I saw who your daddy has you working with. Someone just try and tell me that's not a match made in heaven."

"Who?" One of the other women cut in to ask.

"What are you talking about, Tara?" Said another.

"I mean...oh, what's his name, Farah?"

I grabbed a glass of champagne from one of the two waiters my mother had hired for the evening and took a sip. "Are you referring to our new hand, Jace?"

"That's the one! I saw him with Carl down at the feed store. Ladies, he is a _dream_." They all burst into giggles. "Honestly, Farah, if I weren't already married, you would have your work cut out for you, keeping that one around. Oh, Jessie!"

She called for my mother and soon she joined the group. "Yes? How are all you ladies doing?"

"Just perfect. We were all wondering about that new ranch hand of yours. I was telling Farah that I think they would make the cutest couple. Can you imagine, Jessie? Oh, their kids would be gorgeous. With Farah's hair and his eyes? You should start planning that wedding right now."

I sidled away, feigning a wave to an imaginary friend across the room. There was only so much of that sort of talk that I could tolerate and once the conversation shifted into my imaginary wedding with a man who worked for my father, that I barely knew, it was time for me to leave.

I did wonder why Jace wasn't here at the party, but that question was soon answered by my mother, who said Dad had only wanted his business associates there. Jace was only a hand, why would he be invited, after all. Seeing the response from some of those women, I thought he would be relieved that he didn't have to put up with them for an entire evening.

Once I got away, I found a cozy little corner and spent most of the evening nibbling on the buffet of finger foods that were on offer, sipping champagne, and avoiding that noisy group of hens. A few of my mother's friends stopped by to chat with me and I ended up circling the room to be polite, at my mother's behest.

As soon as the first guests started disappearing, I took that as my cue to step out on the back porch with my champagne. It was a chilly night, a little odd for this early in the season, but it was welcome. I sipped my champagne slowly, enjoying the fizzing feeling and reveling in warmth it sent through my blood stream.

I looked out across the outdoor kitchen which was adjacent to the spacious porch and I noticed that one of the smaller fire pits was lit. Flames flickered from the top of the pit and fear rose up in my throat before I saw the figure seating near the fire. It was Jace.

"Jace?"

He looked up from the fire and stood. "Farah. Sorry, I hope I didn't scare you. Your mother told me to make myself welcome out here. I tried to stay as far away from the house as I could. Didn't want to disturb the party."

I noticed him looking at me pretty intently and remembered I was wearing a dress, a far cry from what I usually wore in his presence.

I waved back toward the house. "They're starting to leave now. Thank goodness."

"Not a good time?"

"Not my idea of a good time. A lot of rich guys and their busy body wives."

"Ah, well..." he returned to his seat and motioned to the one beside him. "Care to join me then?"

I brushed off the seat nearest him and sat, raising my glass in a toast. He raised his beer and we both drank deeply.

"That's one thing I'm not sure I'm up to."

"What's that?"

"The parties. The ones my mother puts on. I'm not sure how it will work for me anyway. It's usually a rancher's wife that puts them on, but in my case, I'll be the rancher."

Jace nodded. "You could get a wife."

I glared at him. "I'm not interested in having a wife."

He laughed and shrugged. "I was only trying to be helpful."

"Thank you, but..." I trailed off. "I don't know. I guess I'm not sure what my role will look like around here. I'll inherit the ranch and work it like I do now. Maybe I'll hire someone to come in and throw all my parties."

He nodded and was quiet for a moment. "I think you will do whatever you want to do. You seem to excel at everything you put your mind to."

It was my turn to chuckle. "I don't know about that."

"Well, I'm sure you think differently from me, but I believe that."

I looked at him for a long moment. "You know a lot about me, but I don't know much about you, Jace."

He finished his beer and looked my direction, his face shadowy and angular in the firelight. "You've never asked."

The words pierced me because they were true.

"I'm sorry about that."

He seemed to be choosing his words carefully, but when they came out they were blunt. "Were you trying to make me leave?"

I breathed in deeply, and then finished off my champagne, setting my glass aside.

"Yes. I thought it was my only option at the time."

"Why? Did you not want me around?"

"At first, absolutely not. You said it yourself the other day, you were an asshole. I made it my job to be as wicked and shrewish as I could possibly be. Turns out, that's not as easy as it sounds. I don't think I'm naturally that mean."

He grinned at me. "I don't think you are either."

"Then that didn't work and I gave up. Figured if I had to be responsible for you, I might as well see to it that you did well around here. At that very least, it would mean my dad might yell at me a little less. It's tiresome being a disappointment."

"I doubt very seriously that you're a disappointment to anyone, Farah."

"Try telling that to my dad," I said with a snort. I knew how my dad felt about my decisions and if there was one thing I had become sure of in the week's since I returned home, it was that my father wished I had taken a very different path. "At the very least, I should have been born a boy."

Jace shook his head and stared into the fire, his eyes glazing over a little. "In the end, I don't think that would have mattered at all."

"What?" I was taken aback by his statement. It seemed to come out of nowhere.

He rubbed the daze from his eyes and looked back at me. "Nothing. What else happened in there?"

"The ladies were talking about you." I said the words and immediately regretted them. It was the champagne talking.

Jace chuckled. "Oh yeah? What did the ladies have to say about me?"

He asked, so I figured I might as well go ahead. "They think you and I are some sort of match."

He nodded. "You mean, your parents are trying to get us together?"

"I don't think they are actually trying, but the ladies at the party sure thought it was a great idea. Honestly, my mother probably doesn't think it's that bad either. She likes you."

"That's fine and all," he cocked an eyebrow at me, "but do you like me?"

I was quiet for a little while. The question didn't shock me. I had enough alcohol in my system that it came as no surprise. I had a feeling he wouldn't have asked me if he hadn't been drinking as well. But when I really thought about it, I had to pause. Did I like him? What was this, junior high? Sure, there was an attraction, but I had no idea what it meant. I had gone from trying to run him off my ranch to being thankful he was there to work with me every day.

"Well, I don't want you to leave anymore." It was the truth. It was loaded and I had no idea how he would take it, but there it was.

He stood, smiling. "That's progress. Goodnight, Farah."

I kicked off my heels and carried them back to the house, wondering what the hell I was getting myself into.

# Chapter Six

I got the call early the next morning. One of competitors was out with an injury and my boss wanted to know if I could come back for a couple of days to fill in.

"You aren't considering it, are you?" Jace asked as we brushed our horses in the barn.

"How can I not? It's good money." I didn't mention that I still planned to pay for the destroyed trailer. There was no need to make him feel any guiltier than he already did. "Besides, it'll just be for a few days."

"Are you going to tell your dad?"

There was no way around it. I knew that, but wished there was some way I could get Jace to cover for me. I would be missed though, around the house at least and my mother would worry.

"I'll have to."

"Good luck with that."

I needed every bit of luck I could get. Still, none of it would have helped. Dad was madder than a hornet when I told him, instead of asking him, and he questioned my devotion to the ranch.

"How am I supposed to trust you to care for this place whenever you can't even devote yourself to it for a few months at a time? Why should I continue to allow this?"

"Dad, it's only for a couple of days. I'll be back in no time and I'll get right back to what I was doing. Jace is very capable. He's learned so much in the last two months, I'm confident he'll be able to pick up any of my slack for two days."

He was near his boiling point, I could see it in his eyes.

"Go. You do whatever you want to do, just don't go thinking that this place is going to be sitting here, waiting for you, every single time you decide to run off and do your own thing."

I didn't know how to take my dad's words. Sure, he could disinherit me, but I didn't think my mother would stand by and allow that to happen.

I left that evening, giving Jace my cell number and instructions to call if anything went amiss. There wasn't much I could do from a hundred miles away, but I could do my best over the phone.

In the end, it was me calling him over the two days I was gone. I wanted to make sure he hadn't burned the place to the ground, but each time he greeted me with news that everything was fine and assurances that I had nothing to worry about. My dad was still angry, but not fuming the way he had been the day I left.

I tried to focus on the rodeo and my events the two nights I was out on the road. My mind never caught up with my body though. All I could think about was how things were going back home and how Jace was doing. And Jace. It was this latter development that gave me some concern. How had I gone from hating him to wanting to see his face every second of the day.

That last night, after a tumble that would most certainly be on the internet before I made it home, I called him. A few of the other girls on the circuit had taken me out to one of the local bars, I had a few, and now I was back in my trailer, dialing Jace well past his bedtime.

"Farah? Are you okay? It's late."

"Mhmm. I didn't wake you up, did I?"

He yawned, but it didn't sound like he had been sleeping. "Nope. I was just reading before I turned in. What's going on?"

What _was_ going on?

"I just wanted to talk to you."

He waited for me to speak and when I didn't, he asked, "Okay, about what?"

"Why are you so nice to me, Jace? You don't have to be so nice to me. I know my dad thinks that I'm not fit to run the ranch and I'm worried. Are you...in on it? Did he bring you around to take the ranch away from me?"

Jace was quiet for a long time. "Have you been drinking?"

I giggled. "A little bit."

"You need to get some sleep." I could hear him smile as he spoke.

"Okay. I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight, Jace."

"Goodnight Farah."

***

I woke up the next morning with my phone still in my hand and a heck of a headache.

"Never again," I said as I gathered up my things and packed them in my truck. The drive home was good. It gave me time to think, but it also gave me time to regret the phone call I made the night before. I remembered most of what I said, but I couldn't be sure that I hadn't said too much.

I didn't know what I was doing. Maybe it had been too soon to let me guard down and maybe Jace was on the ranch for a reason that was no good. All I knew was that I couldn't keep falling for him like I was. There was no good end to this. Once my dad found out, he would be livid and he would kick Jace off the ranch anyway. I knew what the rules were about ranch hands and I had never pushed the envelope too far before. Sure, I was an adult now, but that was no excuse.

Once I got home, I knew I would have to put an end to this... whatever these burgeoning feelings were. I hadn't said anything to Jace about how I felt, but surely he knew something was growing between us. As soon as I was back on the ranch, I would go back to plan A—get him away from here as quickly as possible.

***

We were stacking square bales and I was throwing them much harder than I needed to be throwing them.

"Hey! Watch it." Jace said, frowning down at me.

"Watch yourself," I said as I threw another one up.

That went on for several more minutes before Jace hopped down off the stack and pulled off his gloves, grabbing his water bottle.

"What's up with you today? Your butt still sore from that fall?"

I glared at him and took a drink from my own bottle. "Nothing. I'm fine."

"Oh God, you aren't _fine_ , are you? I know what fine means. What did I do?"

I continued working in silence until I felt a splash of cold water running down my back. I turned to find Jace grinning at me, his water bottle still in hand.

"What the hell are you doing?" I spat out.

He shrugged. "Trying to cool you down. Something has clearly gotten you all riled up."

I moved closer, pointing my finger into his chest. "You watch yourself, mister."

"Or what?" He asked, pulling my hand from his chest and holding onto it.

"Or—"

Jace's mouth crushed into mine and my eyes went wide with shock, then something else came over me. I was reaching, pulling, shoving myself into him, moving both of us back into the bales of hay. His hands were on either side of my face and I was reaching on tiptoes, pressing my body into his. I didn't know how many seconds lasted before I pressed my hands against his chest and shoved him away.

We were both gasping. I rested my hand on the back of the truck and took a moment to catch my breath, unwilling to look his direction.

"That can't ever happen again."

"Farah, I'm sorry—"

"Get back to work." I left the barn, the blood rushing loudly in my head. I could hardly hear my own thoughts and for a moment, I was glad. What on earth had possessed him to kiss me and why in God's name would I kiss him back?

I was in the house, standing over the sink in the powder room nearest the back door, splashing water on my face.

"Are you all right, sweetheart?" Mama stood in the doorway, a look of concern covering her features.

I nodded silently, patting my face with a towel. "Just got a little hot out there, that's all."

***

Over the next couple of days, I did my very best to avoid Jace. It was difficult, because I was supposed to be in charge of him, but I found that he had reached a point where he was able to carry out most instructions without me standing over him. It was a relief, but it meant I had to find other work around the ranch and different ways to spend my time. I ended up taking myself out to one of the pastures and searching for rocks. I still hated it, but it was the sort of work that allowed you to think while you did it. I didn't have to focus much on the rocks. It was nothing more than picking up, throwing, thinking about Jace, and finding another rock.

I found myself giving him work that I thought he couldn't do, hoping that maybe at the end of the day he would call it quits and decide to leave. After all, if he left, I wouldn't have to deal with what I was feeling. But the thought of him leaving sent a pang of regret right down to the pit of my stomach and I knew that wasn't what I wanted either.

Where had it all gone wrong? When I traced the lines back through my memory, it all came back to that night on the phone, right before I came back from the rodeo. It was the content of that conversation that stirred up worry in my mind and I struggled to remember exactly what part of it.

It hit me a few days later when I saw my father and Jace out by one of the watering holes. It was made of rock and cement and needed filling every few weeks thanks to evaporation and thirsty cows. Dad and Jace were laughing and talking and I realized the feeling that made me stop in my tracks was jealousy. I knew it was ridiculous, but I couldn't help feeling like Jace had so much more to offer my dad, no matter if he was only now learning his way around the ranch. Yes, I was flesh and blood, but my father had always wanted a boy. Whatever his connection was with Jace, it was strong enough to make me pause.

Would he possibly consider Jace as a replacement for me? I tried to push the thought out of my head, but it stayed there, nagging me throughout the day.

There was only one way to calm this fear and as much as I hated the thought, I knew I needed to have a heart-to-heart talk with Jace.

My opportunity came the next evening when I saw Jace organizing some tack in one of the barns. He knew what he was doing, especially when it came to horses, but I knew how my dad liked things done and I had already spotted something in the wrong slot.

"That doesn't go there."

Jace glanced over his shoulder briefly. "So, you've decided to speak to me again?"

I pushed past him to show him the spot where the item should go. "There."

The pickup that had been designated as his was backed into the barn, the tailgate down. He had been emptying items from the bed of his truck and returning them to their appropriate places. I hopped up to take a seat on the tailgate.

"We need to talk."

"As long as you promise not to run off this time." He lifted himself up a few inches to take a seat beside me. The pickup sank a little under his weight. Jace was a tall guy, broad-shouldered, and even sitting down he seemed to tower over me.

"I'm sorry I've been ignoring you. And I'm sorry I've gone back to the way things were in the beginning. It's not fair of me to be so hard on you, when it's nothing you've done to deserve it."

There was a look of genuine concern in his eyes. "What is it then?"

I sighed and closed my eyes, willing myself not to get emotional over things. The last thing I wanted to do was cry in front of him.

"It's just some stupid worry. It's nothing you've done, specifically. I guess it all started whenever I came back and you were here and it felt like I was being replaced or something."

Jace shook his head. "Farah, I can't replace you. This is your home. These are your parents."

"I know. I told you it was stupid. It's just that I've never seen my dad take up for someone like he does with you. Even when you've really messed up, it's like you can't do any wrong. He's never been that way with me."

He sighed and nodded. "Well, I'm sorry if any of my behavior has caused you worry. I would never want to do that to you."

I shook my head. "No, it's done now. I wanted to clear the air and tell you I think you're doing a great job. I don't even know if you need me around to help you out anymore."

With that said, I started to get down from the pickup bed when Jace placed his hand on mine. It stilled me and I turned to look at him.

"There wasn't anything else you wanted to talk about?"

I knew what he meant. It had only been a couple days since he kissed me and the memory of it hadn't left my mind.

"What about it?" I asked tentatively.

"I wanted to know what you thought about it. Because I haven't been able to stop thinking about it."

I felt every nerve in my body come alive at his words. Deep down, I knew this was something I shouldn't pursue, but I couldn't help myself. There was something brewing between us. It had been going on for weeks now and I couldn't deny my attraction to Jace.

I hopped off the tailgate, removing my hand from his grasp. "Me neither."

Jace was behind me then. I could feel the heat radiating from his body and I knew this was it. I could choose to act on my feelings now, or run away and forget them forever.

# Chapter Seven

I turned and reached up to kiss him. He was there, waiting for me, answering every desire that pounded through my veins.

I pressed myself against Jace's body, feeling the heat radiating from every inch of him. His tongue searched my mouth at a fevered pace and I moaned into the kiss. He pushed me against the wall of the barn and an old saddle fell from where it hung on a hook. Jace's hips rocked against mine in a slow, needy grind and I could feel him as he hardened against my waist.

He wanted me just as much as I wanted him and I grew wet at the thought. His left hand was on my breast now, kneading it through my tank top, damp with sweat from the day's work. I arched into his touch and felt for the hem of his shirt. I tugged and pulled and he released me just long enough to pull the shirt over his head, baring his chest to me before he returned to my mouth. He tasted like fresh spring water and all I wanted was to drink deep from him.

"Are you sure—"

"Yes." I didn't give him time to finish his question and soon my tank top was over my head and he was releasing the clasp at the back of my bra like a professional. Jace threw the undergarment aside and kissed down my neck, leaving my mouth open and gasping. His touch was searing and cooling at the same time, burning me with his kiss and cooling it again with his breath when he pulled away. My nipples hardened like pebbles and I struggled to keep my mind focused on his mouth and where it teased my neck. I wanted that seeking tongue against my breasts and without realizing, I pulled his head further down, urging him to taste.

Jace lifted his eyes, a grin growing on his face. He lifted my arms over my head, holding them at the wrists with one hand. My breasts were fully exposed to him and pushed out toward his face. The way he was holding me made it impossible to wriggle out of his grasp and that knowledge created an ache in my core. I squeezed my legs together, trying to bring some relief to the growing want between my legs. My nipples stood out like pencil erasers and he moved down to suck one between his lips, still holding my arms above my head. I was at his mercy and I couldn't imagine anywhere else I wanted to be.

I reached for his belt and deftly unhooked it, loosening it to give me access to his zipper. His stomach quivered under my touch and I slipped my hand inside his underwear, my fingers yearning to touch him. When I found his manhood, it was hard and throbbing, precum leaking into my palm. He latched on hard around one of my nipples as I began stroking him. The velvety skin of his penis felt so good against my hand, I tightened my grip and stroked him with fervor.

He jerked my pants down, moving down to kiss my most delicate area through my panties. I let out a long sigh, wanting to feel him again, but now he was out of reach, pulling my panties down around my ankles before he returned to face me.

"Jace, I want you."

It was all I had to say. He dropped his pants and lowered me to the floor. For a moment I struggled to suppress a giggle, happy that we were in one of the barns that wasn't filled with manure. The ground was soft dirt covered in hay and as he lay me down, I spread my legs, beckoning him closer.

Jace drove into me with one long, slow thrust, filling me completely. Slowly he withdrew, then returned, and I shuddered under him. He braced himself with one hand, using the other to rub deliberate circles around my clit. I felt my orgasm building and soon I was clenching his cock as he continued to thrust into me, his pace building as I cried out against his shoulder.

He pressed his mouth against mine and stifled a loud groan while his hips thrust furiously against me, spilling himself inside me. It seemed to go on forever and I wrapped my legs around him, holding him tight to my body, never wanting this feeling to end.

We lay there like that for some time, our bodies slowly coming down from the fevered heights where they had peaked. Jace lay beside me, his palm flat across my stomach. His eyes were closed, but he wasn't sleeping. I wanted nothing more than to lean over and kiss his face, to tell him how much I loved what we had just done, how much I loved...

I closed my eyes and tried to think. There were so many emotions colliding at once. My body was sated, but that was totally physical. It had been a while since I had been with a man and there was no doubt, I wanted it badly for that reason alone. But there was more going on here than only that. I had answered his touch, not just because it felt good, not just because he was a man and I was a woman and that was what's done. No, I had some very real feeling for Jace that had been growing throughout our time together and I wasn't exactly sure what they were yet.

I looked at him, his sandy blond hair a mess, hay sticking out of it. We would both have to make sure to clean ourselves up before we went anywhere we might be seen.

Maybe it was the right thing to do, making love to Jace. I had wanted it after all, and so had he. There was no denying the attraction between us, but beyond that, I had no idea if he had any feelings for me at all. It was enough to make me want to throw on the brakes and stop this train before it got too far down the line.

Even if he did have feelings for me, I had already been over this scenario in my head dozens of times. My father didn't allow this sort of relationship between his daughter and one of the ranch hands. It could never work out, given what his rules had been up to now.

It occurred to me that things might be different now, more specifically, with Jace. He and my father had some understanding that I was still in the dark about, but if he liked Jace well enough, maybe a relation between myself and the new ranch hand wouldn't be as taboo as I had anticipated.

But it couldn't be. I knew better than that. This was doomed from the start and now I would have to put everything into reverse.

"What are you thinking about?" Jace brushed my hair away from my face.

"A lot of things." I smiled at him through dazed eyes.

He kissed my neck, my cheek, then my lips, lingering over me. "Are you okay?"

I nodded and sat up, grabbing my clothes and trying to get myself in order.

"I should get to the house. They'll be wondering where I am."

Jace leaned over, sitting up to watch me dress, a slight look of concern in his eyes. I brushed my hands through my hair, shaking out any lingering hay and started toward the door without looking back.

"Farah, wait."

I turned around at the door, tears threatening to stream down my face. "It was a mistake, Jace. This never should have happened."

I saw the look come over his face and I knew what I had done. Never in my life had I seen someone look so hurt and betrayed. And I was the one who had done it.

When I reached the back door to the house, I let out a sigh of relief and attempted to compose myself before I went inside. I didn't have time before I heard my mother clear her throat. She was sitting on the porch with her book.

"Good evening, sweetheart."

"Hi, Mama." I couldn't go in the house without speaking to her. She would know something was up if I did that. Instead, I walked over and sat on the edge of the large, unlit fireplace that was the centerpiece of the porch.

"Is everything okay?" Her eyes were searching and I did my best not to meet them for too long. My mother had a way of reading me and I knew she would figure out something had happened.

"It's fine," I answered, wiping the tears at the corner of my eyes.

"Farah, honey." She dropped her book and leaned forward. "I can see that you're upset. What's wrong?"

I sniffled and buried my face in my hands. My mother could see it. Of course she could. She was one of the few people I felt comfortable crying in front of and I lost it. All of the worry and stress from the past few weeks came flowing out of me and I let it go. She was beside me, cradling me in her arms, hushing me and telling me it would be all right.

"It's Jace," I blubbered.

"Oh dear," she said, smoothing my hair and stopping to remove a stray bit of hay. "What has the boy done?"

I shook my head. "He hasn't done anything. It's me. I don't know what I want and I've been a fool, treating him so badly. It's all been back and forth and he can't count on me for anything and I feel like such an idiot." I was bawling like a baby now.

"Shh, hush now. You're not an idiot. You're just confused."

She rocked me for a while, waiting for me to calm down and gain the ability to speak again.

"So, tell me. How is it you feel about him?"

"Well," I took a deep breath, "I thought I hated him at first. He was such an asshole, but I think that was because of Daddy."

Mama frowned at my language, but I continued speaking.

"I don't know if I know enough about him to be certain, but...I think I'm falling in love with him."

She smiled. "Sweetheart, there's nothing wrong with that."

"But there is. You know what Daddy thinks about ranch hands. I know Jace is different, but still."

She patted my knee. "Don't you worry about your daddy. If he has a problem, he can talk to me about it."

I sighed deeply. "Mama, I just want to make Daddy proud. I want to be a strong person and a good fit around here. I know I'm all he's got and I've got a lot to live up to. I don't know if I can ever do it."

"Why on earth not?"

I shrugged and gestured back toward the barn. "Jace, for starters. I feel inferior to him and I'm falling for him. How am I supposed to make it around here with feelings like that swirling around inside me? I even had a plan all worked out. Well, 'worked out' is a stretch, but I was doing whatever I could to make him want to leave. But now...now I'm not sure I want him gone. No, I'm sure I _don_ ' _t_ want him gone. I want him here with me, but at the same time I feel like he poses a sort of threat to my position here."

Mama laughed and patted my back. "Honey, no one is a threat to you. You are your father's daughter. There isn't anyone who comes before you, male or female. You are going to do just fine running this ranch when the time comes."

"You really think so?"

"The only thing that could get in your way is yourself and your pride. You've got that in spades, just like your father, and it could be the barrier between yourself and true happiness."

I knew what she meant. I had a tendency to get in my own way, to sabotage the good going on in my life. There had been several times in my past when happiness was well within reach, but for some reason I had pushed it away.

"Farah, I am over the moon that you have turned out to be such a strong woman. I would like to take some credit for it, but I don't know where the rest of it came from. You've got the strength of an ox and when you set your mind to something, you stand there like a pillar. No one can move you. While I think this is a wonderful attribute, I don't want your strength and the pride that comes along with it to be the thing that keeps you from what you deserve. You have to soften yourself, you have to be open and willing to embrace happiness."

My tears were dried up now and my face felt raw. I knew my mother was right.

She looked off in the direction of the barn. It was within view of the porch and there was no doubt she knew Jace had been working there before I had gone in to talk with him.

"I've seen the two of you work together. I've seen the way you talk with each other. It was rough at first, but it's easy to tell that things are very different now. I can see that he makes you happy, Farah."

Jace made me happy. I knew it and my mother could see it. How on earth could I ever make him see?

# Chapter Eight

I didn't get any sleep that night. My thoughts were plagued with what-ifs and why-nots. All I wanted was a clear answer. My mother made it seem so easy. Choose what makes me happy, she said. But it couldn't be that simple. It never was. We still hadn't dealt with my father and even though she said she would take care of that, deep down in my heart I worried that he would be the final barrier that stood between me and what I wanted.

But my mother was right. This behavior, this search for strength and power, was a self-destructive path that I would come to regret if I continued. I knew what that meant. If I kept doing things the way I was doing, I would end up like Daddy.

I knew my mother loved him, but he wasn't the same man she married. He had grown sullen and secretive over the years, reveling only in the things he could hold over others. Buying up new parcels of land to increase the size of the ranch was the same thing all the other ranchers did, but my father was almost obsessive about it. It was a point of pride with him, that he was the sole owner of one of the largest ranches in the state of Texas. The fact had been held over my head and beaten into my brain since I was a child. There was no way I would forget it, but did I want that to be my only legacy?

The tiniest fragment of light peeked through my bedroom window and I got up to make coffee. I found my father there, eating his scrambled eggs, the same thing he had for breakfast every morning before anyone else was awake.

"Morning," he said, nose stuck in one of his agricultural papers.

"Good morning. Want some coffee?" I reached into the cabinet for the canister and opened the drawer, looking for a measuring spoon.

"Stomach can't handle it anymore, but you enjoy a cup for me."

I measured out enough for myself and my mother and after a thought occurred to me, I measured out another cup's worth. I could take it over to Jace and we could have a talk.

I sat at the bar while the coffee brewed, picking at some granola I found in the pantry. When the coffee was ready I poured a cup for myself and drank it in silence, wondering if my father would ever take any interest in me or my life. More and more, signs pointed to "no." The coffee was bitter on my tongue and I relished the scorching feeling as it slid down my throat. It was almost too hot to drink, but I didn't care. It was a distraction and I needed one more than ever this morning.

When I reached the bottom of the cup I went to the sink to rinse it out and place it in the dishwasher. I kissed my father on the top of his head before I returned to my room to dress for the day, picking a ragged pair of jeans that were too tight and the same blue and white checked shirt I had worn the day I came home from the rodeo and met Jace for the first time.

I went back to the kitchen to pour a cup of coffee for Jace. My father was gone by now, headed out to start his day and I was grateful. The silence was too awkward and I could hardly bear it.

I found a travel mug for the coffee and carried it all the way out to the bunkhouse, knocking on the door before I entered Jace's small, single room. Instead of finding him asleep like I expected, he was standing over his bed, suitcase open, throwing items inside it.

I stood stunned for a moment before he looked up at me, breaking the spell.

"What...what are you doing?" I asked.

Jace shook his head and continued packing.

"Jace, seriously. What are you doing?" I sat the coffee down on his dresser and moved toward him.

"What does it look like I'm doing, Farah? You're finally getting what you wanted."

"What I wanted...but...you..." I was at a loss for words. When I left him in the barn the night before, I knew I had hurt him, but I didn't expect him to up and leave the next day.

"That's right, I'm leaving. You don't have to worry about me anymore. I'm not going to be in your way. I'm done with this city-slicker, wannabe ranch hand business. It's all yours, Farah. Find someone else to make miserable out here in the middle of nowhere. I'm done."

His words stung and I sat down on the bed beside his suitcase.

"You can't really be doing this. Jace. Please. I don't want you to go."

He laughed, but the laugh was tinged with bitterness. "See, that's the thing with you. You have no idea what you want. One minute it's one thing, the next it's something else. I can't keep up with you and I'm tired of trying."

I swallowed hard. "What about last night? Do you want to talk about it?"

He slammed the suitcase shut, struggling with the zipper.

"No, Farah. That is one experience I have absolutely no interest in reliving." His tone was cold and harsh and it hurt.

I reached out to touch him and he brushed my hand away. "Jace, please..." I was pleading now and I could hear the tears threatening to return.

"Farah—"

"Listen to me!" I shouted, finally finding some power in my voice again. "I know I've been an idiot. I have been struggling for weeks with my feelings for you and I didn't know how to address them. I know this makes me seem like an immature teenager, but I promise, there is more to me than all that. Figuring out what I want is tough but...I don't want you to write me off entirely and the last thing I want you to do is leave."

"I'm pretty sure twenty-four hours ago this is exactly what you wanted. Make up your mind."

I pressed the bridge of my nose, trying to keep the tears from falling.

"I sat on the porch with my mother for a long time last night. She's the only one who knows, Jace. She could see it even when I couldn't. She sees how happy you make me. It took me a long time to realize, but you're what I want."

He pulled the suitcase onto the floor. "I'm what you think you want right now. What about tomorrow? Or next week? A month from now? What will you want then?"

I grabbed for his hand and he wrenched it away, picking up his bag and heading out the door. "Farah, I'm leaving."

# Chapter Nine

I sat on his bed for a few seconds, reeling from our exchange. How could this be real? How could any of it be happening after yesterday? It took me a few moments to gather myself together before I realized he was heading to his truck and going to the airport. He could be gone in an instant.

I ran out the door of the bunkhouse, past the barn where we had been the night before, where he had first touched me, the place where I knew...

That was it. I knew it then and I knew it now. I just had to get to him in time. If he left without me telling him, it would be too late. He would never come back here. The whole ranch idea hadn't been his in the first place. It wasn't his dream, it wasn't what he wanted. There was nothing here for him, not unless I told him.

I came around the barn to find him getting into his truck and I sprinted, almost tripping before I reached his truck.

"Jace, wait, please..." I was out of breath, mostly from crying. I reached for him and fell against him there at his truck. He was almost inside when I got to him, but now we were standing here together and I ached for him. I put my arms around his neck and held on, sobbing.

He restrained himself for a moment before he placed one hand on my back, gently stroking it. "Farah, I'm leaving. Your life can get back to normal. You won't have to put up with me anymore."

I shook my head against his shoulder, trying to catch my breath and stop the crying. "That's...not...it." I shook against him and his arms tightened around me. He didn't want to leave any more than I wanted him to.

Jace held me like that for a moment before he moved to let me go and get into his truck. "I've got to go."

"Jace," my face was pressed against his and all I could manage was a whisper. "I love you."

He grew still, his arms still around me. Then, like a knife through my heart, he pushed me away.

"No, you don't."

He let me go then, pushing me away so he could get into the truck. Something came over me and I reached out, yanking him back toward me. It must have been adrenaline because it worked. I pulled his massive body close to mine and looked him straight in the eyes.

"I love you, Jace. I love you with all my heart and I cannot let you leave. Please, please don't leave."

Jace stared at me and for a moment I thought he was unmoved, but there was a flicker of something in his green eyes.

"I am so sorry for the way I've treated you. I know I have jerked you back and forth and it was unfair. It took the idea that you were really leaving for me to see how much you meant to me. I have been denying my feelings for so long, trying to be strong, I didn't realize how important you are to me. I love you."

I waited to see if he would say anything and the silence seemed to last for hours. Then he turned to look down at me and took my face in his hands, leaning down to kiss me tenderly. I leaned into him, wanting nothing more than to be wrapped up in him. I wasn't sure how long we stayed that way, but when he pulled away again, he finally spoke.

"I love you, too, Farah."

***

He drove the truck to one of the more remote corners of the ranch and he had barely put the vehicle in park before I was on top of him, unzipping his jeans and stroking him before I settled down onto him. We were both eager and it was over soon after it began, a loud groan of release from Jace filling the cab of the pickup.

I stayed there on top of him for some time, resting my head against his shoulder. Other than the rodeo, I had never run after something I wanted so badly. That's what Jace meant to me and I could finally see it.

We held each other like that, talking about the future, asking each other questions we hadn't gotten around to up to now, only stopping when the fire flared between us again and we sought shelter inside each other.

"I love you, Farah." Jace's voice trailed off somewhere in the distance as I fell asleep in his arms.

***

It was not easy for me at first. Every other relationship I had been in was fevered and furious and while my relationship with Jace had those passionate elements, there was something different between the two of us. We were friends first, but before that, I had tried to make us enemies. It made for a very interesting dynamic as we moved forward, but it was something we worked with every day.

Our day-to-day lives weren't much different after that. Other than a few visits to the hay loft, the most private place we had located on the entire ranch, everything was fairly normal. Neither of my parents realized that he had almost left that day. I was sure of that because if my father had an inkling that I had almost succeeded in running off his prized ranch hand, he would have kicked me out.

I also knew that my dad had no idea what was going on between the two of us, because Jace hadn't been kicked off the ranch yet. We both aspired to keep the situation like that for the time being. Letting my dad know so early on was bound to end in heartache and neither of us wanted that.

Instead, every day was much like the ones before, only now they were peppered with knowing smiles and kisses stolen in the dark. We both felt like teenagers and enjoyed the covert nature of our relationship, however difficult it was to manage at times.

My mother never mentioned anything, but I knew she had an idea of what was going on. After that talk with her out on the porch, of course she had known that something happened, but later, when things developed between Jace and I, I knew she could tell that something was different between the two of us. She went out of her way to invite Jace to more dinners and it wasn't unusual to see him at our dinner table seven days per week.

The strangest thing for me was embracing the unknown. I had never been a fan of going into something blind and this was the first time I willingly walked into a situation where I wasn't totally in control. The experience was scary and more than a little thrilling. I knew I wasn't necessarily the best at maintaining a good relationship, but with a little help from Jace, we were managing just fine.

We slipped into this cozy, secret life together that no one really knew anything about. Like I was in school again, I would sneak him into my room on occasion and we would be silent as little mice. It was a difficult task given what we were up to.

I had no idea where our relationship was going to go, but I wanted to stick around and see what happened. There was something frightening about the unknown, but with Jace along for the ride with me, I didn't made nearly as much.

# Chapter Ten

Once I was done trying to run him off the ranch and back to his city boy roots, I was able to take a bigger interest in his life before he came here, asking the questions it had never occurred to me to ask before.

"Sheffield."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously? You're asking me my last name. Yes, that's my last name. What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing," I shrugged. "I guess it's just not what I expected."

"Well, who's the one who waited months to ask me what it was?"

He tickled me then and I collapsed into a pile of giggles.

I learned that he had been a baseball player and I told him that had always been a deal breaker for me in high school and college.

"Why?"

"They were always the biggest assholes."

"You're so cruel to me."

"Aww," I gave him a peck on the cheek. "You know I don't mean you. Even though I bet you could give them a run for their money."

***

It was a rainy day across central Texas. We always needed the rain, so I wasn't going to complain, but it made our plan for chores that day go right out the window.

The ranch house glistened in the early fall shower, it's already dark stone turning several shades darker when it became damp. I was reading in the great room, in front of the large window that overlooked the western side of the ranch. My book was boring and I looked up, gazing out across the range land.

It wasn't beautiful to everyone. I knew that already. But there was no place on earth I would rather be than on the ranch where I was born and raised. It was a delicious feeling, knowing exactly where I belonged and that this place would be a part of my future for as far as I could see.

The day I told Jace that I loved him, it felt like everything fell into place. There were no more secrets between us, nothing hovering over us, waiting to fall. It was so freeing to know that everything was out in the open now.

I noticed movement out near the bunkhouse and watched as Jace walked from his room over to one of the barns. I gave him sufficient time to get there and waited to make sure no one in the house had noticed him going there. When it looked like the coast was clear, I headed out the back door and picked my way across the puddles in the field.

When I found Jace inside, he looked startled, but happy to see me.

"What are you up to?" He asked, grabbing me by the waist and pulling me in for a kiss.

"Coming to see what you are up to." I kissed him again, lightly this time, barely grazing his lips. "What _are_ you up to?"

"Oh, nothing. I just had a little cabin fever."

His hair was plastered to his face from the rain and something about it made him look younger. I wasn't sure what I saw in his eyes today, but it looked like he was thinking.

"What are you thinking about?"

He was quiet, then his face broke out in a grin. "A lot of things." Suddenly, he lifted me and carried me toward the ladder that led up into the hay loft. "I was thinking how nice you smell." He planted a kiss on my forehead. "And how sweet you taste." He kissed my lips then and his tongue pressed past the barrier of my lips. "And how much I want you."

He was pressed completely against me then and I started to shimmy up the ladder.

"Well, come on up then."

We had a place made up for ourselves on the loft and I prayed that none of the other hands ever stumbled upon it. It was a rarely used portion of this barn and I wasn't too worried, but I had no doubt that if anyone ever did locate it, my father would be the first to know.

Our hands sought out bare flesh and soon we were both completely exposed to each other, and completely hidden from the outside world. Jace crept down my body like a cat, kissing every inch of me. When he reached the apex of my thighs, he spread my legs and began lapping me up. That was a first for me and my body welcomed him with delight. His tongue laved my clit as one of his fingers pressed inside me, then two. I was bucking my hips against him, biting my knuckle to keep from crying out.

When it was over, he was inside me. His movements were teasing and slow, bringing me to the edge over and over again, only to let me back down gently. He cupped my breasts and feasted on each one in turn, teasing and sucking until my nipples stood out straight and pointed. His chest scraped against the sensitive buds as he continued thrusting and I lifted my body to meet him every single time.

I felt down the length of his back, his muscles rippling under my fingers and remembered that first day I had seen him in the back of the truck, hauling rocks without a clue. I reached down to cup his buttocks and brought him in closer, urging him to thrust faster. I wanted him buried deep inside of me. I wanted to feel his release as he shuddered between my legs.

But more than anything, I wanted him to know that I love him and that this was what I wanted. Forever.

"Why are you so quiet?" My fingers traced lines down his chest, still sweaty from our love-making. He sucked in a gulp of air as my hand trailed further down to his waist, but quickly grabbed my hand and brought it up to his mouth. He pressed his lips to my fingertips and stared up at the rafters above us.

"I got a call from my dad today."

"Is everything okay?" Jace didn't talk much about his father. I knew they had a prickly relationship and I hadn't pressed him for information when he clearly didn't want to talk about the man.

"There's something I need to tell you."

His tone made my veins fill like they were filled with ice water, a stark contrast to the blood pumping hot and quick through them only moments earlier.

"Okay," I said, bracing myself for something terrible. He was seldom this serious and it worried me. "You know you can tell me anything."

"I know you've been wondering why I'm here. Why your dad would hire someone who didn't know a calf from a coyote." Jace still held onto my hand tightly. "And your instincts were right when you went to him and asked. There is a reason I'm here."

I sat bolt upright and grabbed for my shirt to cover myself. "Tell me," I insisted.

Jace sat up and reached for my hand again. When I wouldn't let him have it, he looked me straight in the eyes. "Promise you aren't going to hate me for it. Hear me out."

My mind raced. I couldn't imagine what reason my father possibly had for hiring Jace, much less one that would make me so angry that Jace thought I would run out on him.

"I love you, Jace, but I can't possibly promise anything until you tell me whatever it is you've been hiding from me." My heart thumped wildly in my chest as I sat staring at him, my shirt clasped in front of my heaving chest. "Why did my father hire you? Why did you come to the ranch in the first place?"

"Your father isn't the only person with a stake in the ranch. I came here because...because..." Jace swallowed hard and kept his eyes locked on mine. "It's going to be mine."

### Thank you for reading!

## Please visit your favorite eBook retailer to view the next books in the "Taming The Cowboy Series"
The Nurse And The Cowboy

by

Rebecca Davis
Copyright © 2017 by Rebecca Davis

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

The Nurse And The Cowboy

All rights reserved.

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. No part of this work may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording and faxing, or by any information storage and retrieval system by anyone but the purchaser for their own personal use.

This book may not be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of Rebecca Davis, except in the case of a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages for the sake of a review written for inclusions in a magazine, newspaper, or journal—and these cases require written approval from Rebecca Davis prior to publication. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.

# Chapter One

"Is your homework finished?" I called up the stairs to my son. When he'd gotten home from school half an hour ago, he grunted, mumbled something about hating school, and then ran upstairs. I didn't know what was up with him lately, but his attitude was awful. I wondered if that bully, Paul, was harassing him again.

"Jamie! Did you hear me?" I shouted again.

"Yes!" he hollered.

I sighed with frustration, hating when he did that. What was he saying yes to? The homework question or the one about hearing me? "Is your homework done?" I tried again, gripping the solid oak banister a little tighter, curling my toes against the soft, plush carpet then flexing them. There was nothing quite like the feel of soft carpet after being in heels all day.

"YES!" He turned up his radio, drowning out any further attempts I could make to talk to him.

I hesitated for a moment, debating whether I should march up to his room and reprimand him for his disrespectful behavior or just let it go for the sake of keeping the peace. I'd had a horrible day at work and really wasn't in the mood to have a disagreement with Jamie, which we'd been having a lot of lately. My own mother had warned me the teen years were the hardest, and she hadn't been lying. The day Jamie turned thirteen, things had drastically changed. He wasn't the same sweet little boy anymore, and I missed him.

The throbbing in my temples was my answer. I turned away from the stairs and headed into the kitchen. I'd give both of us some time to calm down then I'd talk to him over dinner. I made a mental note to call the school first thing tomorrow morning to find out if there had been any recent incidents between Jamie and Paul.

I stepped into the kitchen and took a deep breath. This was my favorite room in the house. It was always the cleanest and had a unique scent of spices and floral dish soap. The marble countertops accented the stainless steel appliances perfectly, and the chandelier style overhead light was gorgeous. There was a beveled floor to ceiling window in the corner with a small two person table situated in front of it. In the morning, I'd sit there and sip coffee while watching the sun rise. And the connecting dining room was fit for royalty. A twelve person table sat in the center of the room. It was surrounded by hand crafted china cabinets, packed full of dishes from all over the world. I used to host countless dinner parties there, but since the divorce, I hadn't had a dinner guest over in months. I got our son and the house in the divorce while my ex-husband, Phillip, seemed to get all of our friends (and his hot, twenty-two year old secretary).

Opening the refrigerator, I pulled out the package of pork chops I'd put in there this morning to thaw. I knew they were Jamie's favorite, and I hoped it would soften him up and get him talking. I sliced open the package and set them on a baking sheet before searching my spice rack for just the right seasoning.

My cell phone rang, startling me from my thoughts. I reached for it. "Hello?"

"Heather?"

I froze. "Mom, what's wrong?" Her voice is tight and strained with tears. She's sobbing and muttering something I couldn't understand. "Mom. Calm down. Take a deep breath, and tell me what's going on." I moved toward the small kitchen table and sat down.

"It's... Oh, God, Heather. It's your grandmother. She's..."

"No," I said, shaking my head. The color drained from my face, and everything around me seemed to disappear. I propped my elbow on the table and dropped my forehead into my hand. "No, she's not gone. She can't be."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, sweetie. So, so sorry."

My hand trembled, and tears burned my eyes. Growing up, my grandmother was my best friend, the one person in the world I knew I could always count on no matter what. She was my favorite person, and now she was gone. And the last words I'd had with her weren't the greatest.

"Heather? Are you still there?"

"Yes," I whispered as the first tear rolled down my face. "How?" I didn't know why I asked that question because I wasn't sure I really wanted to know. Yet it seemed like the logical thing to ask.

"She went to sleep last night and just didn't wake up this morning," Mom said.

I took some relief in the knowledge that her passing was peaceful. I could only hope her final thoughts were the same – happy and peaceful.

"We're having the funeral this coming Thursday. Can you make it?" There was a brief pause, and then she added, "You have to make it. Grandma's last wish was for you and Jamie to come home, to be here for the reading of her will. She made me promise I'd get you to come home."

The tears came too fast and hard now that I couldn't do anything to stop them. My grandmother had practically begged me to move back home to Texas, to raise Jamie near his family, to give him the same opportunities I'd had when I was his age. But at the time, I'd been so focused on me – on my career, my failing marriage, my social life. It was the only thing she'd ever asked of me, and I'd blown her off. And for what? A lying, cheating husband who left me and our son all alone?

I straightened and wiped at my face, sniffling. "Yeah." My voice cracked. I cleared my throat. "Yes, I'll be there. I'll book a flight right now."

My mom sighed with relief. "Thank you. I know this would mean a lot to her."

"I'll call you back when I have flight information."

"Okay, love you."

"Love you, too, Mom." I hung up and rested my head on the cool, wooden table. Once again, my tears took control of me. My shoulders shook, my breaths were painful, and my entire body trembled. Grandma was dead. It couldn't be possible. I wrapped my arms around my midsection and rocked in the chair, trying and failing to calm myself. If only I had one more day, one more chance to tell her how much she meant to me, how much I loved her and adored her.

"Mom!" Jamie's footsteps pounded down the stairs. "I'm going to Derrick's. Don't worry, I'll be—" He stopped in the kitchen doorway. "What's wrong?" He came over to the table and pulled out a chair, sitting. "Is Dad giving you shit again?"

"Jamie!" I snapped. "Language." My response was automatic, and I immediately regretted it. I wiped my face again and took a deep breath. "My grandmother passed away."

"Nammy Noreen?"

I simply nodded, knowing I wouldn't be able to speak again right now. For a brief time, when I first learned Phillip was cheating on me, I'd gone home for a few weeks. Jamie had hated it, but he'd hit it off with Nammy Noreen, and even though he wouldn't admit it, he'd missed her. What kind of mother was I to deny my child from knowing their grandmother?

Jamie stood and gave me an awkward side hug. "I'm sorry."

"Thank you." I hugged him back the best I could. It was nice to know that no matter what our disagreements were, he was still the loving, compassionate boy I raised. "We're going to go to Texas for the funeral."

"When?" he asked, pulling away.

"Probably tomorrow. The funeral is Thursday, and then we'll have to go to the reading of the will on Friday." I already knew he was going to give me a hard time, so I tried to head it off. "Don't worry. We'll be back home by Sunday."

"That means I'll miss school the rest of this week." He failed miserably at containing his grin.

"It's only three days. I'm sure you'll be fine, but you'll have to make up the work," I said sternly.

"Okay. Can I still go to Derrick's tonight?" he asked.

I sighed. Ideally, I'd like to have him home with me, but my night would now be spent making travel arrangements and finding someone to cover my work commitments. My boss was probably going to have a fit that I needed time off. He could be a real jerk, especially when there were big meetings lined up, like I had the next two days. But what could I do? I had to be at Grandma's funeral.

"Yes, but please be home by nine okay?"

"Okay," he said without argument. Then he kissed me on the cheek and left out the side door attached to the kitchen.

I blew out a breath. At least he didn't argue with me on curfew like he normally did. That was a blessing. I took another moment to compose myself then reached for my cell phone. The first person I called was my boss.

"Jeremy Johnson," he answered in his usual, no-nonsense, gruff voice. The man had the personality of a rock.

"Hello, Mr. Johnson. It's Heather Walsh. I'm so sorry to bother you after hours, but I just found out my grandmother passed away. I need the rest of the week off to travel home to Texas for the funeral." I stood and began to pace. He always made me so nervous because his moods shifted so often and so easily. You never knew how he'd react to something.

There was a long pause, and my stomach knotted. If he threatened to fire me... "How long?"

I stopped abruptly. "The rest of the week," I repeated. "I'll be back on Monday."

He made a noise that sounded an awful lot like an angry groan. Great. That's just what I need, for him to be a jerk about giving me time off. "And what about the meetings we have lined up this week?"

I knew this was coming. I took a deep breath. "Amanda can handle them. She's been working very closely with me on the campaigns and knows just as much as I do about the clients. She's more than qualified."

"She better not screw it up. We've got too much riding on these new clients, Heather."

I hated it when he said my first name like that. It sounded too much like my father scolding me. "I know, Mr. Johnson, and I promise she won't screw it up." I would make sure of it even if that meant I had to spend the rest of the night on the phone coaching Amanda.

"Fine. But plan on staying late Monday to catch up," he said brusquely.

"Yes, sir, of course." That was the last thing I wanted to commit to, but it was better than losing my job over this. "Thank you."

He grunted, "Yeah."

"Okay, well, have a good night, sir," I stammered.

"Mmm hmm. And sorry for your loss, Heather."

"Uh, thanks." Of all the things for him to say, that was the least expected thing for him to say. I shook my head and ended the call. His moods were as finicky as feline at times. Next, I dialed Amanda's number, silently praying with each ring that she'd answer. Finally, on the fourth one, she did.

"Hello?"

"Oh, Amanda, thank god you answered." I exhaled with visible relief. "I need a huge favor." I returned to the table and sat, feeling slightly calmer now that I knew my boss wasn't going to fire me.

"Okay," she said slowly, "what's up? You sound really frazzled."

"I just found out my grandmother passed away." Simply saying the words had tears clogging my throat. I swallowed hard against them.

"Oh, sweetie, I'm so sorry. What can I do?" she asked without hesitation.

"Thanks." I forced a tight smile, not that she could see me, but she was always calling me sweetie, even though I was a few years older than her, and hearing it now really comforted me. "I have to head back to Texas for the funeral, and I need you to cover the meetings this week. You know these clients and their needs probably better than I do."

"Yeah, of course, I can totally do it," she said.

If I wasn't mistaken, I'd think she was a little too excited about the idea of covering my place in the meetings. Maybe she was. She was still young, unjaded, had a driving zest to prove herself, to move up within the company. I wondered if I needed to be worried about my job. Would she try to undercut me? No, Amanda might be enthusiastic, but she wasn't a backstabber.

"Thank you so much, Amanda. I owe you big time," I said.

She chuckled. "Seriously, don't worry about it. I'm the one who owes you. You've really taken me under your wing and taught me everything I needed to know."

I sighed, grateful for her gratitude and willingness to help me in my time of need. And regardless of what she said, I'd be sure to repay her somehow, even if it was just lunch or a delivery of flowers or something. After a few more moments of small talk, I said goodbye and hung up. Then I retrieved my laptop and began to search for flights. It was a good thing I had some money saved up. The prices were ridiculous, especially for roundtrip. Maybe I should just book one way tickets for now, and then book the return flight after all of Grandma's estate is settled. I'm sure my parents would help with the return plane tickets.

It was almost nine by the time I finished booking flights. Jamie arrived home exactly at nine. I gave him a weary smile. "We leave tomorrow morning at seven," I said.

He nodded. "Cool." Then he jogged upstairs and I heard his bedroom door close a second later.

I didn't know if I should be happy or worried that he wasn't putting up more of a fight. I yawned and stretched. For tonight, I'd be happy. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise. Lord knows I needed one right about now. Tomorrow would be a long day, so would the day after and the entire weekend.

As I trudged up to bed, I realized I never ate dinner. My stomach rumbled, and I headed back downstairs to grab a bowl of cereal. Jamie hadn't come in complaining he was hungry, so I assumed he ate at Derrick's. It wasn't the first time. I scooped a spoonful of Cheerios into my mouth. Exhaustion seeped into my bones, and more tears trickled from my eyes. I couldn't believe Grandma was gone.

# Chapter Two

The past two days had passed in a blur. I buried my grandmother yesterday, the one person in the world I knew I could always count on, and the one person I'd disappointed the most. My heart was broken. Because, I was convinced that she died of a broken heart, and I was responsible for her death. I sniffled and fought back more tears. I didn't know if it would ever stop hurting, but I knew I had to move on. It's what she would've wanted. Not to mention, Jamie needed his mother, and I couldn't be a blubbering mess.

I sat on the foot of the bed and looked around. This was the same exact room I'd grown up in. Other than removing the toys and girly things I no longer had a need for, the room was exactly the same, right down to the purple flowered bedspread. There's something weird about sleeping here again, despite the calm nostalgia I felt. What was that old saying? You can't go home again. I wasn't sure about that, but it was certainly much different than I remembered. Everything around here seemed to move slower with less care for time and deadlines, a true culture shock from the hustle and bustle of the city.

"Heather, honey, are you ready?" Mom knocked lightly on the bedroom door and peeked her head inside.

"Yeah." I smile tightly and grab my purse from where I'd tossed it on the bed earlier. "Are you sure Jamie will be okay here with Monica?" Monica was my parents' maid. They'd hired her shortly after I moved to the city with Phillip and had Jamie. I think they were looking for a way to fill the void of their only daughter leaving home for good.

"He'll be fine. Those two have hit it right off, and I know she'll enjoy his company." Mom smiled. "Now come on or we'll be late."

I stood and followed her out of the room. This wasn't the first time Jamie had been here, but I knew he didn't like it around here all that much, and the last thing I needed right now was for him to get in one of his moods and have an argument with him. I found him in the living room, sitting on the couch, flipping through the channels.

"We're heading to the lawyer's office, Jamie. We shouldn't be too long. Are you sure you don't want to come along?" I asked, standing in the doorway.

"Nope. I'm good here," he said without ever looking at me.

I sighed. "All right. See you later then. Call me if you need anything."

"Yup." He gave a halfhearted wave.

Jamie and I used to be so close, but ever since his father and I divorced and he became a teenager, it's like we're strangers forced to live together. Would I ever be able to repair our relationship back to what it used to be? Reluctantly, I followed Mom outside and got into the car with her.

***

"And finally..." Mr. Munroe said, studying the stack of papers in front of him.

We'd been at the lawyer's office for almost two hours now. I didn't realize my grandmother had so much stuff to giveaway. And in her typical fashion, she'd made sure everything was accounted for, each of her prized possessions outlined meticulously. So far, she'd left my parents several collections of antiques. Jamie had been willed a nice chunk of money to be used for college. So far, she hadn't left me anything. Not that I expected much from her. We hadn't exactly left things on the greatest of terms.

"The entirety of my ranch, including the house and property, all the furnishings within the house minus those items already bequeathed is left to my granddaughter, Heather Mills Walsh," Mr. Munroe said, finally looking up for the papers.

My jaw dropped, and the tips of my ears burned hot. Had I heard that correctly? My grandmother left me her ranch? Why would she do that? I cleared my throat and shook my head. "Uh... I don't know..."

Mom reached over and patted my arm, smiling. "This is what she wanted, honey. You know her dream was always to have you home, to raise Jamie here, with his family."

I sat speechless. Of course. Why hadn't I put the pieces together? That was the argument we'd had the last time I saw her. She told me she wouldn't ever give up on me, and even in death, she'd kept her promise. My heart raced. What was I going to do with her ranch? I couldn't possibly move in. I had my job and my friends back in the city. Jamie had school and his friends and his father, who didn't visit nearly as much as he should, but still. I couldn't tear him away from everything he knew. Could I?

"Upon your grandmother's death, I took it upon myself, per her wishes, to begin the title transfer. All I need is your signature, and it's all yours." Mr. Munroe handed me a clipboard with a pen. "I've put signature stickers near each spot I need you to sign."

In a daze, I took the clipboard from him and began to sign the papers. I was too surprised to make any rational decisions right now, but I knew I couldn't decline the ranch. It would break my mother's heart, not to mention it could make my grandmother roll over in her grave. Once the property was legally mine, and I had a chance to think things through, I'd made a choice. Either I'd move it or sell it.

I hesitated. The thought of selling my grandmother's ranch induced a mild panic attack. I couldn't imagine someone else living there. What if they demolished the house? Tore up the yard? Some of my best childhood memories were at that ranch. How could I even think about letting it go?

"Heather, are you all right?" Mom asked.

"Yeah." I smiled and nodded then resumed signing. When I was finished, I handed the items back. "So, what happens now?"

"I'll file these papers with the county and in a couple of weeks; you'll receive the official title in the mail. There's a small mortgage owed on the property." He flipped through more papers. "In the amount of seventeen thousand dollars, this will automatically transfer to you as well. Your grandmother was a very thorough woman. She made sure there would be no issues with the transfer of the ranch to you."

My stomach knotted. A mortgage? I could barely afford the mortgage on my house in the city. There was no way I could afford a second mortgage on top of it. I gripped the arms of the chair and forced my breaths to stay calm.

"Now, as the executor of her will," he continued, "we can schedule a time to meet at the ranch and disburse the personal items she bequeathed in her will. What date and time will work best for you?" He looked directly at my mother.

"Uh, I'm not sure. Heather?" She turned to me as if I had any idea what to say.

"Well, um, how about tomorrow? I know it's Saturday, but I have a flight back to the city on Monday, and it's really the only time I can do it..." I trailed off, uncomfortable with how he and my mother were staring at me. "What?"

"You're going back to the city? Why? Your grandmother just left you the ranch. Why on earth would you even think about going back to that crowded, unsafe city?" my mother asked, indignation dripped from her voice.

I sighed and shrugged. "I don't know, okay?" I said sharper than I intended. "My job is there. Jamie's school and friends. His father. It's not so easy to just pack up and move back to Texas."

My mother's face reddened. It was the telltale sign she was about to give me a tongue lashing. I held my breath, waiting for it to come, but thankfully, Mr. Munroe cut her off.

"I can certainly do tomorrow. How does eleven a.m. work for the two of you?" He smiled in an attempt to diffuse the situation brewing between me and my mom.

"Fine." Mom stood and yanked her purse over her shoulder. Then she stormed out of the office.

Great. It was going to be a long drive home. I stood as well. "Thank you, Mr. Munroe, for everything, and especially for looking out for my grandmother. She always spoke so fondly of you."

He stood and shook my head. "Well, she was certainly my favorite client. She'll be greatly missed."

I gave him a final smile, and then proceeded out of his office. When I approached Mom's car, she was already inside, the engine running. I couldn't help but feel like a teenager again, like I'd done something wrong and had to suffer the punitive wrath of my parents. As much as I loved my mother, she needed to understand I was a grown woman now. I had an ex-husband and a teenaged son. I hated disappointing her, but my decisions needed to be made for me and my son.

"I can't believe you, Heather Marie!" She pulled out of the parking lot, squealing her tires as she did.

"Mom," I groaned. Even at thirty four, I still cringed when she used my middle name like that. "I haven't made any definite decisions yet, okay?" I turned to look at her. "But I have a job I need to go back to on Monday. Jamie has school. And even if I decide to move back here, I have to sell my house, pack everything..." I turned to stare out the window. "It's not just a matter of never returning to the city, you know."

"I know," she whispered.

I jerked around to stare at her. I couldn't remember the last time she'd ever agreed with me so easily.

"I also know how much this meant to your grandmother, and I'd hate to think of her not being at peace in heaven because of the decisions we're making down here."

I rolled my eyes and turned away again. That was my mother – the queen of guilt trips. Well, this time, it wasn't going to work. No matter what she said or did, I had to make a decision that would be in the best interest of Jamie. He was my top priority.

The rest of the drive was made in silence. I was grateful for that, but based on the way my mother slammed her door, I knew she wasn't. She wanted me back in Texas, and it was hard to blame her for that. I couldn't imagine my child or grandchild being so far away from me. I sighed and climbed up the front steps.

"Hey mom, how'd it go?" Jamie asked when I entered.

He was in a surprisingly good mood. "It was good," I said, dropping my purse onto the kitchen island and taking a seat on a stool across from him. "How were things around here?"

"They were cool. Monica made me the best grilled cheese sandwich for lunch." He grinned, and I chuckled.

"That's good." In that moment, I realized something: Maybe moving away from the city would be good for him. I hated the idea of tearing him away from his school in the middle of the year and away from his friends and father, but we'd been here two days and his attitude was a hundred times better. The people around here were nicer, more accommodating and welcoming. Maybe this was exactly the change we both needed to be happier.

"You really have to learn how to make them," he said.

"I'll be sure to do that." I stood and ruffled his hair like I used to do when he was a little boy. I was shocked when he didn't push my hand away. It felt like he was my boy again, and the love I felt for him squeezed at my heart. I missed him terribly, missed the closeness we always had.

"Did you know Monica had a son?"

"No, I didn't. How old is he?"

"My age. She said he'd be here later, after school. She's going to introduce us. His name is Dean."

"Cool," I said, unsure where he was going with this. Then it hit me. "Let me guess, you want to hang out with him tonight?"

Jamie laughed. "If he's not a total dork, yeah."

I pretended to be upset with him. "Jamie," I said with an exasperated sigh and a shake of my head. "That's not nice."

"Mom," he groaned and moved out of my reach. "I'm not about to hang with a nerd."

"I doubt he's a nerd, but if you two hit it off, I don't mind if you hang out tonight. It'll do you good, I think."

"Thanks." He smiled then planted a kiss on my cheek. "I'm actually having fun here this time."

My breath hitched. It was now or never. He was in a good mood and now was the time to strike. "Jamie, we're going to move here. To Texas."

He stared at me for a moment as my words registered in his mind. "What?"

"Nammy Noreen left me her entire ranch and all the property. So, I've decided we're going to move to Texas and live there." I swallowed hard. Generally, I wasn't afraid of my son or his reactions. I was the parent after all, but this entire situation was so big and scary for both of us.

"Is this some kind of joke?"

"No, this is no joke, Jamie. Financially, it makes sense."

"What about Dad?" He crossed his arms and glared at me.

I gritted my teeth. There was so much I wanted to say – like how his father was too busy diddling his secretary to be a dad, or how his father couldn't be bothered to visit once in the past three months, or how his father was a month behind in child support – but I didn't say any of those things because I didn't want Jamie to think poorly of his father simply because of the hurt feelings I had toward Phillip.

"The decision has been made. We'll return to the city on Monday and spend the week making the necessary arrangements." My tone was firm, and I hoped he knew this wasn't up for discussion.

"I hate you!" he screamed and ran up the stairs. A second later, he slammed the guest room door. I cringed.

"What on God's green earth is going on out here?" Dad asked, coming in from the backdoor.

"Nothing." I headed upstairs to try and talk some sense into my only child.

# Chapter Three

The transition from the city to my grandmother's ranch – or rather, my ranch now – didn't go as smoothly as I'd hoped. Jamie fought me on everything. He hated it here, and I couldn't blame him. He'd left behind all of his friends, everything he'd known, his father – who gave me a ton of shit about moving back to Texas yet didn't do a thing to talk me out of it or make amends with our son. And on top of all that, I was struggling to learn the ropes around here, to know what to do and when. There were so many animals that needed my attention, so much land that needing tending, and not enough time or money or help. The five ranch hands my grandmother had employed agreed to stay on, to help me get my bearings, but six people wasn't enough. I honestly don't know how my grandmother did this all the time.

We'd been here about a month now, and every day brought on a new challenge, a new skill I needed to have but didn't, new arguments with Jamie, and constant visits from my parents wanting to offer "helpful" advice but never willing to get their hands dirty to actually help. I was constantly exhausted, and I didn't know how much longer I could go on. Maybe selling the ranch was my only option. It would certainly bring peace to my life. But every time I think of selling, my heart breaks, knowing it would disappoint my grandmother.

I wiped my hands on my jeans and walked up the front porch. There was still a lot to be done, but I needed a few minutes to catch my breath and get a cold drink. My mind, however, didn't ever rest. I poured over different scenarios on how to make life around here easier, more affordable. I might be able to sell some of the animals. Surely there must be people around here willing to buy a cow for meat. The horses – there were several horse farms nearby and a rodeo.

The problem was I didn't know where to begin seeking buyers. Would placing an ad in the local paper work? Maybe I should just ask one of the ranch hands. They'd probably know. Once inside, I grabbed the pitcher of lemonade from the refrigerator and filled a glass. I took a long drink, then another. The cool liquid calmed me a little. Grandma always told me no problem was insolvable, that you just had to ask the right questions and the answer would find you. I channeled that thought, clung to it, and prayed it would come through for me now like it had in the past.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. A knock at the door interrupted my thoughts. When I answered it, four tall, well-built men in cowboy hats and boots stood on the porch. The man in front had a thick, dark mustache. He took off his hat and bowed. "Ma'am."

I remained in the doorway, refusing to let them in until I knew who they were and what they wanted. The ranch was situated on several acres far from town, far from any other houses and help. "How can I help you gentlemen?" I eyed each of them, committing their appearances to memory.

"Sorry to bother you this afternoon, but we were hoping you had time to accommodate a brief meeting with me and my brothers here," the man said.

Brothers? That was shocking. None of them looked anything like each other. "Excuse me for sounding rude, but who are you?"

The man smiled, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on edge. Something about the way he smiled, the way his eyes darkened and his teeth filled his mouth creeped me out. Then he chuckled. "I apologize for my manners. I'm Buck Jennings, and these are my brothers Will, Jim, and John."

I nodded and gave my politest smile despite the unease in my veins. "Nice to meet you." I stepped out onto the porch and closed the door behind me before nodding toward the wicker table and chairs situated on the far end of the porch. "I have time now to meet with you gentleman. Please, let's sit." The sooner I heard them out and got rid of them, the better.

Buck took the seat next across from me while his brothers sat on either side. Clearly Buck was the leader of this little group. I folded my hands in my lap and waited for him to speak.

"We were very sorry to hear of Noreen's passing. She was a staple in this community," Buck said, smoothing his fingers over his mustache.

"Thank you. She truly is missed." I took a deep breath. "Did you know her well?"

Buck gave a curt nod. "We'd done some business in the past, which is what brought me out to see you today Miss...?"

"Heather," I said.

"Heather." Buck grinned. "Shortly before Noreen passed, we'd been in negotiations to purchase this ranch. Unfortunately, we didn't get around to making the deal due to her untimely departure from this world."

The more he talked, the more uncomfortable I became. I couldn't put my finger on it, but everything about him screamed slimy. I glanced around at his brothers, who all appeared bored or uninterested. I shifted in my seat and leaned forward; giving the illusion I was interested in what else he had to say.

"But we're still very much interested in buying this ranch." Buck leaned back, the chair creaking under his weight. For a moment, I worried it might break. "And we're prepared to offer you twice as much as we'd offered Noreen."

At that, my ears perked up, and my heart raced. In one of my many nights of sleeplessness, I'd researched the value of a ranch this size. Even if their initial offer was half of the market value, it was more than she had right now. It could solve all of her problems. "And how much is that exactly?" I asked.

"Five hundred thousand. Cash," Buck said, a glint in his eyes.

I inhaled sharply. Half a million dollars? That was a lot of money, more than I'd ever make in my lifetime, more than this ranch would make in the next twenty years. It was on the tip of my tongue to say, "Yes, you've got a deal" and shake Buck's hand in an old fashioned gentleman's agreement. Yet, there was something very odd about this entire situation. I couldn't believe my grandmother had considered selling the ranch. She loved it here. She'd wanted me to be here, wanted Jamie to be here. It was her dream. So why would she sell? Unless... Maybe she'd decided to sell after we'd had our argument. Was she that heartbroken she'd give up her life's work, her passion? I swallowed hard, tears burning my throat.

That much money would solve all my problems. I could pay off the debts, give the ranch hands a decent settlement, move back to the city without having to worry about jumping right back into work. The idea of going back to the city turned my stomach. For so long it had been home, but what was left there for me? Even though Jamie hated it here, it was better for him. Around here I didn't have to worry about him going to a friend's house and running the streets, getting into trouble, getting mugged or worse. There wasn't much trouble or danger for him to find around here.

As much as I could use the money, I had to do what was best for Jamie, and I couldn't disappoint my grandmother again. Not to mention my parents would probably disown me if I sold this ranch to anyone let alone these four guys. I took a deep breath and mentally prepared myself for what might be the dumbest decision of my life.

"That's a very generous offer, Buck, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to decline. I'm sorry. The ranch isn't for sale."

His smile faded, and his eyes darkened as he narrowed his brows. But then just as quickly, his face lightened, the anger replaced with something easier. "You drive a hard bargain, Heather. All right," he nodded, "we can give you six hundred thousand."

"Again, that's extremely generous of you, but it doesn't change my mind. I'm sorry." I stood, hoping they'd get the hint and do the same. I wanted them to leave. "The ranch isn't for sale."

"Told you it wouldn't work," Will mumbled.

I shot him a dirty look, wondering what he meant by that. Were they trying to scam me? My decision not to sell felt better and better as the seconds ticked by. I didn't know what these men were up to, but I wasn't going to have any part in it.

Buck stood, and his brothers followed his lead. "I'm sorry to hear that, Heather. I think you're making a big mistake, one you'll come to regret." He tipped his hat in farewell. "Good day, ma'am."

I stood by the front door and watched as they climbed into their pickup truck and left, dust and dirt swirling behind their tires. I shook my head and went back inside, locking the door and the deadbolt. I was probably being paranoid, but Buck's parting words swirled in my mind. _One you'll come to regret._ Was that a threat? It sure sounded like one. I forced myself to forget about it and went to take a shower. Jamie would be home from school in an hour, and I promised my parents we'd go over for dinner tonight.

The shower helped to calm me, and by the time I was dressed and ready, it was almost three in the afternoon. I yawned, hating how tired I was all the time lately. Granted, working nine to five in that office made me tired, too, but that was mental exhaustion, which was so much different than physical exhaustion. Every muscle in my body ached.

With just under an hour to kill, I started to clean up the kitchen. When I was a little girl, I'd stand on a chair near the sink and help Grandma bake cookies and breads. The kitchen here was so much different than the one in my old house. This wasn't nearly as updated or pristine, and still had that distinct fifties look to it. It definitely needed a major upgrade, but that would have to wait until the funds were available, if I even decided to remodel. I kind of liked the rustic, nostalgic look. The memories alone made it worthwhile to leave it as it was. It had an open floor plan and great functionality. I would've killed for a refrigerator that size at the old house.

"Excuse me, Miss Heather?" Richard came in through the back door, hat in hand, and a sad look on his face.

I sighed, knowing whatever he was about to say wouldn't be good. "Hey, Richard. How's it going?" I tossed the dish cloth into the sink and gripped the edge of the counter.

"Well, uh, me and the other hands were talkin' and we were wondering what you'd like us to do?"

I raised a brow. "What do you mean?" An edge of panic slipped into my voice, and I cleared my throat to try and hide it. "You guys can just keep doing whatever it is you do, whatever my grandmother always had you do."

"You see, that's the thing, Miss. Your grandmother always gave us direction, told us what to do from one moment to the next." He shook his head. "She shore worked us hard, but we knew from minute to minute what we were supposed to do. And now... Well, we're all a little lost."

Breathing became difficult, and I gripped the counter tighter, my knuckles turning white from the force. I had no idea what to tell him. I had no idea what I was doing and had been relying on them to teach me, to keep this place running smoothly. If they didn't know what to do then I was in some really big trouble.

"Okay, um, so maybe you guys could come up with a list of things she used to have you do, and we could go over it and delegate tasks that way?" This is why I wasn't ever in a management position. I hated telling people what to do. I wasn't any good at it. "Or..." I pushed off the counter and paced in front of the sink. "You've been here the longest? I mean, you're the first hand my grandmother hired, right?"

"Yes ma'am." He smiled proudly.

I smiled back at him, hoping my somewhat brilliant plan would work. "Okay, then how do you feel about a promotion?"

"Excuse me?" He took a step back, the idea seeming to scare him.

"A promotion, you've been here the longest; you know this ranch better than I do. So, I'm officially making you a supervisor." I frowned, wondering if that was the right title to give him, but figured it didn't really matter so long as he could do the job. "You can be in charge of the other ranch hands, give them tasks, and ensure the chores are done. And I'll still be here, so it's not like you have to do it all on your own."

Richard began to shake his head. "Oh, no, I don't think I can do that. It's a nice offer, Miss Heather, but I'm in no position to—"

I stepped toward him and clutched his hands in mine, my eyes pleading with his. "Please, Richard. It's no secret I'm struggling here. I don't know what I'm doing, and if I don't have someone to help me, this place is going to fail." Tears pooled in the corners of my eyes. I couldn't fail. Grandmother would never forgive me. "Please. I'm begging you. Help me."

He let out a heavy sigh and nodded. "All right, I'll help and be the supervisor, but we need to sit down and go over some things. Noreen was very clear on what she did and didn't want us doing. I need to know the same from you."

I squealed with delight and smiled. "Deal! First thing tomorrow morning, we'll sit down and go over everything. Be in here at six a.m. I'll have breakfast on the table."

Richard chuckled. "I can see why your grandmother adored you so much. You're just like here." With another chuckle and a shake of his head, he left.

I blew out a breath, feeling mildly relieved. I knew things were getting behind around here, but I had no idea how to fix that. Hopefully now, with Richard's help, we'd get this ranch back on track. In the distance, I heard Jamie's bus coming down the road. I flung open the door, intent on meeting him near the car so he couldn't lock himself in his room, when I came face to face with a man on a horse, a cow on a rope trailing behind him.

"I believe this belongs to you, ma'am," he said, his voice deep and velvety.

# Chapter Four

I was dumbstruck by his handsomeness, unable to form a coherent thought let alone speak any actual words. So I stood there, staring at him for far too long, but I just couldn't help it. He was all man with muscular arms, tanned skin, a strong jaw and deep, penetrating eyes. A large, black Stetson sat atop his head, strands of dark brown hair curled around his ears.

"Ma'am?" He dismounted from his horse, and I watched his long, lean legs as he hit the ground, that rope still clutched in his hand. "Found your cow wandering through my pasture. It has your ranch tag on it, so I'm just returning her."

"Uh, that's my cow?" Of all the things to say, I had to say that. I was so stupid at times. Heat crept up my neck and face. I fanned my cheeks with my hands then quickly dropped them to my sides, feeling like a jerk.

The man smiled, and each side of his face caved in with two of the most gorgeous dimples I'd ever seen. The effect they had on me was surreal, and they should be illegal. My heart raced, and my breaths were shallow.

"Yes, ma'am." He held out the rope, and I took it, unsure what else to do.

"Thanks." I glanced around, hoping one of the ranch hands were nearby, but of course they weren't.

He nodded, tilting his hat in her direction. "I noticed a large hole in your fence over by my property line." He turned and pointed off to his left. "Pretty sure that's where she escaped. You'll want to get that fixed."

"Yes, of course." I clutched the rope tighter, and the cow picked at the grass, chewing aimlessly, oblivious to me or the sexy stranger who'd brought her home. "Thank you."

Jamie's bus pulled to a stop at the end of the driveway. He walked with his head down, ear buds tucked in his ears, completely ignoring everyone. He walked by with a quick glance at me and the cow, a slightly longer look at the stranger, then he bounded up the porch steps.

"Don't forget, Jamie, we have dinner plans tonight," I called after him. He didn't give me any indication he'd heard me. I sighed. Great. Now I'd have to fight with him to get him out of his room. Maybe I should call my parents and invite them over here. It'd be easier.

"Well, I won't keep you." The man turned back to his horse and slipped one foot into the stirrup.

"Wait," I said a little louder than necessary. "I didn't even get your name."

He graced her with another amazing smile. "Hudson Lyle."

"Hudson." I smiled. "I'm Heather Walsh."

"It's a pleasure." His gaze moved between me and the cow. I felt foolish for standing here, holding a roped cow. "Would you like some help putting her away?"

I sighed with visible relief. "That would be great."

Hudson took the rope from me. "Where would you like her?"

I looked around. I knew which barn the cows were kept in, but I wasn't sure if they were in there or out in the pasture. "Um, in that faded red barn over there, the one with the broken door." Talk about a mess. A hole in my fence, a broken barn door, this place was falling apart.

He tugged on the rope, and the cow began to walk with him. I fell in step beside him, my hands tucked in my back pockets. There was an air of quiet arrogance to him, and I found that so attractive. My ex, Phillip, had been much too needy, always asking for reassurance. It's no wonder he found a young thing to make him feel good about himself. But in the very brief time I'd known Hudson, I had a feeling he wasn't like that, he didn't need a woman or anyone to validate his self-worth. That was a refreshing quality.

"So, you said you saw the cow near your property line. You live nearby?" I asked.

"Yes. I live just over there." He pointed off toward the left, same place he had before. "My ranch is just beyond that tree line over there."

"We're neighbors. Lucky me." I laughed nervously.

He glanced over and smiled, which sent my heart racing again. "Or lucky me." He winked then stopped at the barn door, opening it with little effort. "Lead the way," he said, motioning for me to go in ahead of him.

I took a deep breath and walked inside. While I knew the cows were housed in this barn, I had no idea where this one went specifically. As we walked down the center of the bar, I stopped at the first empty spot. "Here is fine."

Hudson expertly guided the cow into its spot and secured her. Then he grabbed the rake leaning against the wall and gathered some hay from the neighbor stall. He put it in front of her then rubbed her head. I watched in amazement. He truly cared about her even though she wasn't his.

"There." He replaced the rake. "You really should get that fence fixed as soon as possible. You're lucky I found her. Some of the other ranchers around here aren't as honest. You could lose quite a bit of livestock that way."

Memories of the men who'd visited earlier flashed through my mind, and I suppressed a shudder. I wanted to do something nice to thank him for his kindness, but I didn't have any money to give him. Living in the city, the primary way to show gratitude was to give a tip, but I was positive that didn't work around here.

"Would you like to go back to the house and come in for a drink? It's the least I can do for you bringing back my cow." I smiled, silently wishing against all odds that he'd say yes.

He shrugged, showing the first signs of indecision and embarrassment. "Sure."

"Great." We headed back to the house, and I led him in through the kitchen. "Make yourself comfortable." I nodded at the kitchen table and made my way to the refrigerator. "I have lemonade, sweet tea, water. I have some diet pop. Or I have coffee."

"Some sweet tea would be great," he said, his voice taking on a deep, southern drawl. The sound sent a shiver down my spine.

I pulled the pitcher from the fridge and filled two glasses then carried them to the table. I handed him one and sat in the chair across from him. He took a long drink, and I watched with fascination at the way his throat worked up and down, and the way he licked the excess liquid from his bottom lip.

"This is some mighty fine tea. Did you make it?" he asked.

I nodded. "It was my grandmother's recipe."

"You're Noreen's granddaughter." He tilted his head to the side, studying me. "Yeah, I can see the resemblance. Noreen was a wonderful woman. Sad to hear she passed."

"Thank you." It warmed my heart to know so many people had admired my grandmother. Despite refusing to move here while she was alive, it was nice to know she had people around who cared about her. "She left this place to me," I said, looking around at the interior of the house.

"You're running it alone?" Hudson's face turned a light shade of pink, and I smiled, averting my gaze to my glass.

"Yes. It's just me and my son, Jamie." It wasn't the smartest or safest thing to tell him, but I had a good feeling about Hudson. He didn't give me the creeps like those other guys had. "Do you know anything about the Jennings' brothers?"

Hudson's face went stoic, and if I wasn't mistaken, anger clouded his eyes. "You'd be best off to avoid those boys. They ain't nothing but trouble."

I sighed. It was nice to know my suspicions and instincts were still accurate. Now, more than ever, I was glad I'd declined their offer. Even if they had come through with payment, I was sure doing business with them would've been a nightmare.

"Do you have help around here?" Hudson asked, disrupting my thoughts. "This is one of the largest ranches in the area. Your grandmother was a strong woman, but even she had a lot of help."

"I have about six men who stayed on to help, but I'll be honest, I have no idea what I'm doing." I laughed.

Hudson smiled and took another drink of his tea. "Well, if you need an extra pair of hands, I'd be happy to help out. Until you're on track with things, of course."

I raised my eyebrows in shock. "You'd do that?" People in the city were never this friendly, and most of the time they wouldn't volunteer to help out unless they expected something in return. "I can't pay you." I frowned.

He chuckled, the sound like a virtual caress. "Good because I'm not looking for a job. I'm just being neighborly, helping a pretty woman in need." He winked.

I felt my face flush with warmth, and I was again diverted my attention to something else. Looking at him for too long was like staring at the sun – exciting but dangerous. "Well, thank you. I'm meeting with my ranch supervisor tomorrow morning to go over a list of chores. Could you come for that? It would be nice to have someone else here who knows what's supposed to be done."

"What time?"

"Six in the morning." I scrunched up my face expecting him to tell me I was crazy. But all he did was smile.

"I'll be here."

"Really?" Did I sound too excited about that? I cleared my throat. "Thanks. Again." I laughed. "I can pay you for tomorrow with eggs and bacon."

"Now that's the best form of payment." He chuckled and finished his tea. Then he stood. "I'll be heading back now. I recall you saying you had dinner plans this evening. Don't want to hold you up."

I was surprised he remembered that considering I'd said it to Jamie in passing. I stood as well, searching for a reason to get him to stay. I was enjoying talking with him – and staring at him – and I desperately wanted him to stay longer. "Oh, those plans." I waved my hand in a dismissive gesture. "They weren't anything too important. In fact, I'll probably just order a pizza. You're welcome to stay and join us." I chewed on my bottom lip as I waited for him to answer.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." I smiled. "It's the least I can do." I felt like I owed him a huge debt for how nice he's been to me. And I couldn't deny I was physically attracted to him. I hadn't been on a date with anyone since my divorce. There hadn't been anyone I was interested in – until now. I glanced at his left hand. No wedding band, and no tan line to indicate he'd had one and removed it. That was good.

"All right. I'm going to take Carter home then I'll be back. He doesn't do so well at night."

I gave him a confused look. Carter? Oh, right. "Your horse."

He laughed. "He's more like my trusty sidekick, but he's getting up there in age. I won't be too long."

"That's okay. Take your time. I'll order the pizza."

As soon as he was out the door, I rushed to find my cell phone. I texted my mom first to let her know I wasn't feeling well and to ask if we could reschedule dinner. Thankfully she didn't ask any questions or give me a hard time. Next, I called the local pizza joint and ordered two large pizzas. I forgot to ask Hudson what he liked, so I went with the standard cheese and pepperoni.

"Jamie!" I shouted up the stairs.

"What?" he hollered back.

It stopped me in my tracks. Normally he ignored me. "I ordered pizza for dinner. Our neighbor will be joining us."

"I'm not hungry."

I sighed. He was always hungry, but he was probably angry at me over something again. He was always angry lately. "You can eat in your room if you want."

"Fine."

Then I heard the sound of him turning up the radio. I had half a mind to march up there and throw that damn radio out the window. Instead, I turned and walked away, trying to remember he was struggling with this change just as much as I was. Hopefully, with time, he'd come around and realize it wasn't so bad around here. With a resigned sigh, I headed down to the basement. On top of everything else she did and was, Grandma was a wine connoisseur, and she had an impressive stock of wine. I thought a nice red wine would taste perfect with the pizza. I stopped halfway down the stairs. Wine? What in the hell was I thinking? If I brought out a bottle of wine, Hudson might think I thought this was some sort of date. And I didn't think that. I mean, it would be nice if it was, but it wasn't.

I turned and went back upstairs just in time to hear a pickup truck pulling into the driveway. I peeked out the front window. Hudson was getting out of a rugged looking black Dodge Ram. It its better days, it was probably a pretty sweet looking truck. But it had certainly seen better days. I went to the door and opened it. "That didn't take long at all."

"Told you it wouldn't." He laughed and held up a brown paper bag. "I brought a bottle of wine. Hope that's okay. It was given to me as a gift, and I'm generally not a big drinker..."

It was my turn to laugh. Apparently Hudson and I thought the same way. I nodded. "That's perfect." I stepped aside to let him enter, and took the bottle of wine. "I'll chill this in the fridge until the pizza arrives. Would you like something to drink in the meantime?"

"Another glass of that sweet tea would be nice," he said, pulling out the same chair he'd sat in earlier.

"Coming right up." I poured him another glass and set it in front of him. "I'm glad you came over today," I said before I could filter my thoughts and stop myself.

"I am, too. I'd heard around town that someone had taken over the property, but I had no idea it was Noreen's granddaughter."

"Yeah, she left the house and all the property to me in her will. It was a shock to say the least."

"Why's that?"

"She and I didn't exactly part on good terms. The last we spoke, we had a bit of a disagreement." I frowned, remembering how heated that discussion had been, how mean and inconsiderate I'd been toward her.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Families can be complicated." His tone implied he had some firsthand knowledge of that. I wanted to pry, but that would be rude, so I just nodded in agreement.

There was a knock on the door, and I jumped up. "That's probably the pizza." By the time she got the door opened, Hudson was beside her.

"Two large pizzas? One cheese, one pepperoni," the delivery guy said.

"That's me," I said, taking the two boxes from him. I turned to set them on the nearest counter so I could grab the money I'd set there, but before I had the chance, Hudson was pulling bills out of his wallet.

"Keep the change," Hudson said to the delivery guy. He closed the door.

I set the pizzas on the stove and sighed. "You didn't have to do that you know. I invited you, it was my treat."

"I know, but I'm not the type of man who allows a woman to pay for a meal," he said simply.

I had to resist the urge to squeal like a teenage girl who was just asked out by the hottest, most popular boy in school. "Thanks. Seems like that's all I've been saying to you today."

He smiled. "Good thing that's my favorite word then, huh?"

I laughed. It was so easy to be with him, to talk with him, to laugh. It was a welcomed change from being with Phillip, who was always so serious and intense. I took three plates from the cupboard and handed him one. I loaded a second one with three slices of pepperoni. "I promised Jamie he could eat in his room tonight."

"I take it he doesn't like it around here too much."

"That's a colossal understatement. I keep hoping he'll eventually come around."

"I'm sure he will. Kids are resilient."

"Do you have any?" I asked.

"No, but I have several nieces."

I smiled. There was nothing sexier than a man who adored children. "Okay, help yourself. I'll be right back." I left him in the kitchen and headed upstairs, the smile never leaving my face. I had a feeling tonight was going to be a very good night.

# Chapter Five

I stumbled downstairs at 5:45 a.m., barely awake. After pizza last night, Hudson had hung around, and we'd spent the night talking. He hadn't left until a little after midnight, and I was so excited, I hadn't been able to fall asleep. I was certainly going to pay for it today. I yawned and rubbed my eyes. Richard and Hudson would be arriving in fifteen minutes, and they were expecting a breakfast I'd promised them. What I really wanted to do was go back to bed for a few hours.

"Morning," Jamie said as he walked into the kitchen. He was dressed for school in his usual jeans and T-shirt. His Converse sneakers were firmly laced up his feet, and his backpack was slung over one shoulder.

"Morning." I smiled. "Hungry? I'm making bacon and eggs."

"Nope." He grabbed a donut from the half empty box and took a large bite.

I shook my head, wishing he'd learn to eat better. Of course, greasy bacon and fried eggs weren't all that healthy, but it was better than a chocolate topped, cream filled donut. "Are you coming straight home today?"

He shrugged, grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl and shoved it into his backpack. "Maybe. Dean mentioned something about going to the pool hall after school."

"Yeah?" Hope swelled in my chest. Dean was Monica's son – my parents' maid – and he and Jamie had really hit it off the first time they'd met. I knew they stayed in touch via phone and internet, but until just now, Jamie hadn't expressed any interest in hanging out with Dean. "Well, you're welcome to go as long as you call to check in."

He stopped with the donut half way to his mouth. "I am?"

I laughed and playfully swatted at him with the dish towel. "Yes. In fact, I think it would do you some good to get out of this house and socialize. Dean's a good kid."

"You're only saying that because you know his mom."

I rolled my eyes and reached for my purse. "Here." I handed him a twenty dollar bill. "Make sure you get yourself something to eat. I'm not sure what the plans are for dinner yet." Part of me hoped it would be a repeat of last night, but chances were good I'd have to cash in the raincheck I took with my parents last night.

"Thanks, Mom." He kissed me on the cheek. "I'll call after school." Then he was out the door and down the driveway.

I watched him for a moment, lingering long enough to see him safely board the bus. It was a habit I'd never been able to break, watching him get on the bus. When we'd lived in the city, he had to walk a block to the bus stop, so I was deprived of watching him, so it was nice to be able to do that again. As soon as the bus pulled away, I began to prepare breakfast.

"Morning, Miss Heather." Richard entered and tipped his head in greeting.

"Hi, Richard." I tossed a smile at him over my shoulder and turned back to the frying bacon. "Breakfast is almost ready. Have a seat."

"Smells delicious," Hudson said, stepping out from behind Richard.

I momentarily froze, the sound of his voice paralyzing me, warming me from the inside out. "Hello," I said, my voice giving out slightly. "Uh, I'm almost finished with breakfast. So, have a seat." It was hard to concentrate on not burning the eggs when I knew Hudson was watching me. His gaze was like a warm, loving caress on my back.

"Oh," I said suddenly, turning to face them. "I'm sorry. Richard, this is Hudson Lyle. Hudson, this is my new ranch supervisor, Richard."

The two men exchanged handshakes and pleasantries as I put the finishing touches on breakfast. I brought each of them a plate, and made myself a smaller one. "There's some orange juice in the fridge, or I have freshly brewed coffee."

"Coffee," they both said simultaneously. I laughed and poured three mugs of coffee. Then I sat and dug into my food.

"So, did you two ever meet before?" I asked looking back and forth between them. Hudson gave me an odd look, so I added, "I mean, with Richard having worked on the ranch for so long and with Hudson having done business with my grandmother before..."

"No, I didn't really come over here all that much," Hudson said, chewing on a piece of bacon. "Most of my interactions with Noreen were in town when we'd meet in passing."

"Oh. Well, Richard... Hudson here as graciously offered to help me learn the ropes a little better and get the ranch back in a smooth working order. I figured the three of us could work together this morning on all the lists and duties."

"Whatever you like, Miss Heather."

I sighed. Richard was an older gentleman, nice, but the constant "Miss Heather" was getting on my nerves. I knew it was a sign of respect, but it drove me nuts. "Okay then." I gathered up the dirty dishes and placed them in the sink then returned to the table with a notebook and a pen.

"The best place to start is probably with a list of repairs that need to be made," Hudson said. "During my ride over here yesterday, I noticed a few things. That whole in the fence for starters." He winked at me, and I quickly looked away, afraid Richard would see how smitten I was with Hudson. Not that I had anything to be embarrassed about, but I didn't need my ranch hands thinking I was a sap or something. "That barn door."

Richard nodded in agreement. "The horse stable needs a new roof. It's holding up for now, but the first bad storm we get and it'll be torn off like a wet Band-Aid."

I sighed and wrote the items on the pad of paper. "Any idea who can fix these issues and how much it will cost?" There wasn't much money left in the ranch's maintenance account, and I'd spent all of my personal savings on travel expenses for the funeral and then the move here.

"I can fix them," Hudson said, tapping his fingers on the table.

I stared at him. "You can?"

He nodded. "Yes. I'll start with the fence so you don't lose anymore animals." He chuckled, giving me a playful smile. "I believe I've got some spare fencing back at my place I don't need. And the barn door just needs some new hinges. The stable roof will need a bit more, but I think between my guys and your ranch hands, we should be able to get it done this weekend." Hudson looked to Richard, who was smiling and nodding.

"Wow. Thanks." I was a bit overwhelmed by the amount of help and generosity Hudson was giving me. I was a stranger to him, yet he was going out of his way to help me, help keep this ranch functional. "Okay, so, let me know what you'll need for the stable roof and I'll call around on supply prices today."

"Good. I would also suggest we take a full tour of the ranch, inspect things to make sure nothing else needs repairs." Hudson cleared his throat. "You do know how to ride, don't you?"

If I wasn't mistaken, I thought I heard a bit of contempt in his voice. Just because I'd moved here from the city didn't mean I didn't know how to ride a horse. I had been born and raised here for crying out loud. "Yes, I know how to ride," I said, giving him a dirty look.

He laughed, and so did Richard. I rolled my eyes, trying to be mad, but I smiled nonetheless. "You're a jerk," I mumbled, and Hudson only laughed harder.

"Aw, we're just teasing, Miss Heather. You're so easy to get going. Just like Noreen."

I smiled fondly. I loved to hear how much people around here adored my grandmother. If only I hadn't been so stubborn, if only I'd spent more of my adulthood here. I sighed. There wasn't a thing I could do to change the past, but I could – and would – work my ass off on this ranch to make her proud.

"All right, back to work." I tried to make my voice stern and authoritative, but the mood was too light, too easygoing, and that was fine. It was better than working with people who were grumpy and unreceptive. "So, we've got a plan for the repairs. What's next?"

"Daily chores," Richard said. "Every day, the animals need to be fed, cleaned, and watered. The cows and horses need to be let out to pasture, and then put back in at night."

"Okay." I took a deep breath. That seemed easy enough. "Who is currently doing that?"

"Frank, Larry, and I feed and water the cows while Hank, Chris, and Jeremy feed and groom the horses. Then we let them out to pasture and work on cleaning the barn and stable. After that, Noreen usually gave us other tasks to do."

Now it all made sense why Richard and the other guys were lost and needing direction from me. Too bad I had no idea what to have them do. "Okay," I said slowly, "well, what did Noreen normally have you do?"

"All sorts of things. She usually sent me into town once or twice a week for supplies. Hank would generally travel to the next town over to get hay. If one of the animals were sick, she'd have us contact the vet. And then whatever other things she needed done."

I nodded and set the pen down, stretching my arms over my head. Who knew there was so much to running a ranch? "So, you're okay with still doing those things?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good." I stood and refilled my coffee mug, offering both of them more, too. "Then we'll stay on this schedule for the time being. When the morning chores are done, you guys can help Hudson with the repairs. And I'd like a complete list of supplies we need. So as you're going about your day, keep an eye on things that need to be fixed and supply's we may need..etc.

"Sure thing," Richard said.

"Thank you both for your help."

I sipped my coffee and wracked my brain for anything I might be missing, but nothing jumped out at me. "All right, let's get to work then."

Richard stood and smiled. "Thanks, Miss Heather. And if you need anything, just give a shout. One of us is always around to lend a hand."

"Thanks, Richard." When he left, I turned to Hudson, who was still seated at the table. "I really can't thank you enough for all of your help. I know you have your own ranch to worry about, so if you can't help around here, I'll understand."

"I have a great team of men at my ranch. They can handle things around there for a few days while I help around here, and if they need me, they know how to reach me. In fact," Hudson retrieved a business card from his wallet and handed it to me, "there's my personal cell phone number on there. Call me any time.... for anything."

I took his card and clutched it in my hand. "Thank you." I wondered if his invitation to call any time for anything included personal reasons. Forcing the thought from my mind, I refocused on the tasks at hand. Daydreaming about a real date with Hudson was silly. If he liked me in that way, he would've asked me out last night. Lord knows I'd given him plenty of opportunities, and he hadn't picked up on a single one of them. Or maybe he had and had chosen to ignore them, which only confirmed my fears that he wasn't interested in me romantically.

"If you're ready, we can head out on that ride around the ranch. Anything you see that you want repaired, point it out, and I can notice things you might not."

"Sounds good." I finished my coffee and put the mug in the sink. "I should warn you, it's been years since I've ridden, but it's like riding a bike, right?" I laughed.

He grinned. "Yeah, something like that." Hudson held the front door open for me, and I stepped out into the bright, rising sun. I shielded my gaze against the shine and considered going back inside to get my sunglasses.

"How well do you know the horses in the stable?" he asked as we walked toward the barn.

"Uh, not well. I know Biscuit is gentle. One of the last times I was here, Grandma let me ride her, so I'll more than likely take her out today. I'm sure one of the ranchers can direct you to a horse that'll suit you."

"Fair enough."

We walked in silence to the horse barn. When we entered, Hank smiled. "Miss Heather."

I smiled to hide my annoyance. I should really send a memo or something to let the men know they don't have to constantly call me Miss Heather; that just plain 'ole Heather is sufficient. "Morning, Hank. My friend here needs a horse. Do you have any suggestions?"

"Nico is a good, strong horse. He's well trained and easy to handle."

"Perfect," Hudson said.

"And I'll be riding Biscuit," I said.

"Yes, ma'am. I'll get her saddled up for you. Nico is all the way down at the end. Saddles are on the far wall." Hank pointed toward the opposite end of the barn.

Hudson moved down there and busied himself with getting Nico ready to ride. I hung by Hank, watching how he saddled Biscuit. I used to know how to do all of that, but it had been so long. Made me wonder if riding a horse was anything like riding a bike – would I really remember once I was up on her back? I took a deep breath. The last thing I wanted was to prove Hudson's teasing to be true. I wanted to show him I could ride alongside him without too many problems.

Several moments later, I mounted Biscuit and met Hudson outside. He was atop Nico, a calm, serene look upon his face. Being on horseback was home to him, and it looked damn good on him, too. He was so sexy and confident and totally not interested in me. I frowned. "Let's go," I said, wanting to get this over with so I wouldn't have to force him to spend a moment longer with me when he clearly wanted to be somewhere else.

Hudson nudged Nico and the horse began a lazy walk. I maneuvered Biscuit the same way and was soon right next to Hudson. We started at the house and rode along the perimeter of the fence.

"I don't know when the last time this fence was repaired, but if you've got one hole, chances are good you've got more, so we'll check this out first then make our way around the rest of the property," he said.

"Okay." I gripped Biscuits' reins a little tighter and studied the fence as we moved past it. So far, things looked good. Maybe I'd get lucky and there would only be the one hole.

"That fence post there might need replacing." Hudson came to a stop and hopped off Nico. "It's loose, see?" He put his palm on the top of the post and it moved much more than it should. "It's a cheap, easy fix. I'll grab a new post when I go to get the fencing." In one swift movement, he was back on Nico, and we were walking again.

"I miss riding," I said after a length of silence. "I'll have to do this more often."

Hudson glanced over and smiled. "If you ever want a riding partner, let me know. I love to saddle up and spend the day in the wild."

I grinned like an idiot. "How about tomorrow? I could pack a picnic. We could head out after morning chores." I couldn't believe I'd just asked him out. Even though it was masked as something else, in my mind, it was a date.

"I actually have a meeting tomorrow afternoon with a horse buyer. How about the day after?"

"Yes," I blurted out, excited he'd agreed. Then I laughed. "Sorry. Guess I'm just a little excited about getting out of the house and exploring nature."

"Don't apologize," he said seriously, his gaze locked on me. "You've got a great laugh, Heather, and I admire your enthusiasm. It's refreshing."

His compliment made my face turn a hundred different shades of red. "Thank you."

He gave a single nod, then guided Nico forward again. I followed just behind, enjoying the view of him, letting my mind wander with the possibilities of what our day date would hold. Obviously I'd been wrong about his interest in me.

# Chapter Six

I spent most of the day making phone calls, getting quotes on supplies for the repairs, trying to find a cheaper but same quality distributor of animal food and hay. Grandmother had fostered good relationships with the people she did business with, but I simply couldn't afford to use them. If I ever found new ones, I would hope the people I'm cutting ties with would understand.

When I wasn't on the phone, I was answering the ranch hands' questions and staring out the window, hoping Hudson's meeting would end early and he'd surprise me with a visit. But so far, nothing. Each hour that passed, my hope dwindled a little more. I didn't know why, though. We'd stayed up late last night chatting on the phone, getting to know each other. Thanks to that call, I knew he'd never been married, hadn't had a serious girlfriend in almost four years, had three younger sisters, and his parents were still happily married. I also knew he hated his brothers in law because, he thought they were lazy bums who were mooching off his sisters.

I'd been nervous to tell him about my divorce, but he'd taken the news well, hadn't judged. Not that I really thought he would. I mean, I wasn't the one who'd cheated, but still, I often wondered if I had been a better wife if Phillip still would've strayed. I shook my head. No. I would not take the blame for his actions.

I moved away from the window and filled the sink with warm, soapy water to wash the dinner dishes when there was a knock on the door. I dried my hands and went to answer it, but there was no one there. That was odd. There was an unmarked white envelope on the porch though. I picked it up, flipped it around. No name. No address. "Hmm." I glanced around, hoping to see someone, but everything appeared quiet.

Closing the door, I locked it and then opened the envelope. There was a single sheet of folded paper inside. I read it aloud. "Miss Heather, we hope you've changed your mind about selling us your ranch, but if not, allow us to persuade you. One million dollars. Cash. You have twenty four hours to decide. Signed, the Jennings."

Anger sparked inside of me, and I crumpled the paper, shoving it into the trash can. What was wrong with those men? Didn't they understand that no meant no? I rubbed my hands up and down my bare arms to stave off the shiver I felt coming on. They'd shown up here, uninvited, vaguely threatened me, and now they were leaving ominous notes on my porch. I feared to think what other lengths they'd go to. Maybe I should tell someone. But who? My dad? I feared what he might do. I could tell Hudson. No, I didn't want to involve him in this mess. It wasn't his problem, and he was already doing so much to help me. I didn't want him to think I was too needy. I suppose I could call the police, but I'm not sure what they could do knowing I hadn't been harmed.

Sighing, I pushed the thoughts from my mind and returned to the dishes. But my thoughts wouldn't settle. What if the Jennings became violent? What if they attacked Jamie or me? My hands started to shake, and I dropped a plate to the floor, shattering it.

"Damn it." I jumped back, out of the way.

"If you hate the dishes that much, buy new ones. You don't have to destroy them," Jamie said as he came in from the side door.

"Lock that door behind you," I said, fear still niggling at my mind. "And I'm not destroying them. I dropped it." I gathered the broom and dustpan and cleaned up the mess.

"So, Mom." Jamie leaned up against the counter, hands shoved deep into his pockets. "Dean is having some guys over this weekend, and he invited me."

I raised a brow, a small smile tugging at my lips. "And you want to go?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I mean, I know some of the guys, and they're cool."

"Okay." I dumped the broken glass into the trash. "Who is going to be there? What will you be doing?"

Jamie groaned and rolled his eyes. "I don't know. Darren. Brett. Chad, I think. And we'll just be hanging out."

I studied him for a moment, wondering if he was telling me the truth. I hated being skeptical of my own son, but he'd lost my trust more than once, so now I had to be that mom, the one who asked too many questions, was too involved.

"And you swear to me you're going to be staying at Dean's house?"

"God." He shoved off the counter. "Yes, Mom. I promise we'll stay at Dean's house. It's not like we can go anywhere."

I bit the inside of my cheek to hide my victorious smile. Dean and his mother lived on a rundown farm on the other side of town. It was a good two miles to the nearest neighbor and six miles to town. None of the boys were old enough to drive, and I knew how much Jamie hated to walk anywhere. My concerns were assuaged.

"Yeah, I don't care if you go. You'll ride the bus over and stay the night?"

"It's not a sleepover," he grumbled.

"Oh. So you won't be staying the night? Then how are you getting home?"

He scrunched up his face in annoyance and shook his head. "I'm staying the night, but it's not a sleepover. Guys don't have sleepovers. That's a girl thing."

"Ah," I said, nodding in understanding. "Gotcha."

"But yeah, I'll ride the bus. Can you come get me on Saturday?"

I smiled. "Just tell me what time."

"Cool. I'll call and let you know." He grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl. "Thanks, Mom." He kissed my cheek and disappeared upstairs.

It made me feel good to know he was making friends and settling in around here. Maybe he'd stop hating me so much now if he developed some sort of social life. I hummed his favorite childhood lullaby as I finished up the evening household chores. Checking to make sure all the doors and windows were locked, I headed upstairs, intent on climbing into bed and reading for a while before falling asleep. It'd been far too long since I'd been able to really relax and enjoy a book. For the first time since my divorce and the shock of my grandmother's death, I felt at peace, like things truly would work out.

***

I stretched out on the blanket and let the sun warm my face. Today was the day I'd been waiting for – my picnic date with Hudson. We'd rode to a secluded corner of my property and set out a blanket. I'd packed enough food for a small army, but I'd been so afraid I wouldn't pack enough or that I'd pack something he hated, so I went with the, 'more is better' philosophy.

"I can see the top of the tree from the hayloft in an old barn I no longer use," Hudson said, breaking their spell of silence.

"Uh-oh." She laughed. "Do I need to worry about you spying on me?"

He grinned, his dimples tempting me with forbidden thoughts. "No, I won't spy on you. If I want you, I'll just come over and get you." He winked.

My heart raced, and I leaned closer to him, resting my head on his shoulder. "Well, for what it's worth, I won't put up a fight."

He chuckled. "Don't make it too easy on me." Hudson put his finger under my chin and tilted my head back so I was looking at him. Then he closed the distance, pressing his lips to mine. Hesitant at first, then when I welcomed him, he was more insistent.

Parting my lips with his tongue, he kissed me slowly, deeply. My eyes fluttered closed, and I surrendered to him, savoring every movement of his lips, every flick of his tongue over mine. He gently guided me down to my back, bringing his upper body down over mine. I wrapped my arms around him, holding him to me, afraid he'd suddenly decide to get up and leave.

"Heather," he sighed, resting his forehead to mine, "you're..." Instead of finishing his thought, he kissed me again. And that was totally okay with me. I could spend all afternoon kissing him. He was so self-assured yet gentle, unlike the way Phillip used to kiss me – on the rare occasions he did. Phillip had always been so rough, wanting to mimic the things he watched in his pornographic movies whereas I wanted someone to love me, to make me feel cherished.

Hudson broke the kiss, his breaths ragged and strained. So were mine. He rubbed his finger over my lips, smiling. "I hope you don't mind that I just did that." He laughed. "Suppose I should've asked first, huh?"

Asked to kiss me? Did men do that anymore? The concept seemed so foreign. "I liked it," I whispered.

"So did I." He rolled onto his back, tucked his hands behind his head and stared up at the sky. "It's so peaceful out here, isn't it?"

"Yes." I took a deep breath to calm my racing heart. "It's so different from the city. I've wondered a lot lately why I ever left here."

He shrugged. "We all need to find our way, and sometimes to do that, you have to explore. Nothing wrong with that."

I let his words roll around in my mind, realizing how poetic and true they were. "Have you ever explored? Or have you lived here all your life?"

"I'm a homebody at heart." He turned his head to look at me. "I've wondered what it'd be like to go somewhere else, start over, but this is home. I really don't think I'd be happy anywhere else."

"Makes sense." I'd always thought the city was home, too, but now I realized it wasn't. It was just temporary, a stop along my life's path.

"Do you miss it?" he asked.

"Miss what?"

"The city?"

"A little," I admitted. "Sometimes I miss the hustle and bustle. I miss my friends and my normal, nine to five job." I chuckled. "But I don't miss all the noises in the middle of the night or constantly worrying about Jamie being out and getting into trouble."

"Must be a culture shock for him to go from city living to living in the middle of nowhere, with a bunch of horses and cows."

"I'm sure it is, but I think he's starting to adjust," I said, the memory of our conversation last night popping into my mind. "In fact, he's going to be with some friends Friday night if you want to do something..." I trailed off, feeling foolish for assuming he'd be excited to spend his Friday night with me.

"Why don't you come over to my place? I can show you around my homestead, cook you dinner," he offered.

"I'd love that," I said a little too eagerly.

"Good."

We fell into a comfortable silence, both of us lost in our own thoughts. I wondered what he was thinking, and it was on the tip of my tongue to ask when he spoke.

"Have you ever considered selling?"

She paused, her face burning and her heart hammering so hard in her chest. "Selling the ranch?"

"Yeah." He rolled onto his side and propped his head in his hand. His free hand settled on her stomach. "Not to be rude, but you don't know much about running a ranch, so I guess I'm just curious as to why you're keeping it."

I sat up, causing his hand to fall from my stomach. What was with everyone around here wanting me to sell the ranch? Was there something here I didn't know? His question unnerved me, shocked me. "Does it matter?" I finally asked my tone bitter even though I didn't intend it to be.

"No, of course not." He sat up and slid his hand along the side of my neck, bringing my lips to meet his, and then he kissed me. "Can I tell you something without you thinking I'm crazy?"

I laughed. "I guess that depends on what you want to tell me."

He gave me his dimple laden smile, but his eyes remained serious. "We haven't known each other long, but I've really enjoyed the time we have spent together."

"So have I." I smiled.

"I think I'm falling in love with you, Heather."

My jaw dropped and my eyes widened. I hadn't expected him to say that, but I couldn't deny I was starting to feel the same way. I leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss to his lips. "I don't think you're crazy."

"You don't?" he asked, surprised.

I shook my head. "No, because I feel the same way about you, and I know I'm not crazy."

His laughter wrapped around me, made me feel safe, loved. I sighed and leaned into him as he hugged me. I never once thought I'd find another man to love after Phillip, but I had, and it was just the start of a whole new life for me and Jamie, a life I was thrilled about.

# Chapter Seven

Hudson and I had spent every day together, growing closer and closer. Every evening when he left, he told me he loved me, kissed me deeply. We had yet to have sex, but we were certainly headed in that direction. Maybe tonight would be the night. Jamie was sleeping over at Dean's, and I was going to Hudson's house for dinner.

It was eerily quiet as I put the finishing touches on my make-up and double checked my reflection in the mirror. Butterflies filled my stomach, made me nervous. Tonight was the first night Hudson and I would truly be alone. Normally, when he was here, Jamie was upstairs. Nodding at my reflection, I flipped off the bathroom light and went downstairs. When I got to the kitchen, Hudson was standing outside the door, peeking in through the window.

I laughed and opened the door. "Hudson, what're you doing here? I thought we were going to your place tonight."

"We are." He grinned and looked me up and down. "You look fantastic, Heather."

I glanced down at myself. "Thanks."

Hudson gave my cheek a kiss. "And yes, we are going to my place, but this is a date, and a gentleman always comes to the door and picks up his woman." His eyes sparked with mischief and... Desire? My heart tripped a few beats before pounding loudly in my ears.

"Well, whoever said chivalry was dead was wrong." I laughed nervously.

"Ready?" Hudson held out his arm, and I looped my arm around his.

"Yup."

We stepped outside and I froze. I couldn't believe my eyes. He'd brought his horse, but more than that, he'd hitched a cozy little buggy to him. It was big enough to fit just the two of us. "Wow, Hudson. You didn't have to do all of this."

"Nonsense." He helped me into the carriage, and then climbed in beside me, taking the reins into his hands. "Hope you don't mind going the long way."

"No, of course not." I snuggled up next to him, resting my head on his upper arm as he led us away from the ranch. He took a scenic route around my property, down what appeared to be an abandoned dirty road, and through the back end of his land. The sun was just beginning to set, and the air was still warm. It was a perfect ride. Silent, but romantic. The scenery was gorgeous. More and more I was loving it around here, missing the city less and less.

"Here we are," he announced. One of his ranch hands awaited our arrival, took the reins and disappeared. Hudson took my hand and brought me inside.

His house was a two story log cabin. A floor to length picture window took up one entire wall in the living room, while a handmade, stone fireplace took up another wall. A small fire crackled in it, giving the large room a warm, cozy feel.

"Dinner will be about an hour. Care for some wine?"

"I'd love some," I said as I continued to look around. His place was amazing. For a moment, I could picture myself living here, making a home and life with him. The thought of that had my breath catching in my throat, and I had to remind myself, again, to slow down. Just enjoy what we have right now. Don't rush for something that may or may not happen. I'd made that mistake with Phillip, rushed the relationship, got married before either of us were ready. I wouldn't make the same mistake again.

Hudson came over to stand beside me, handing me a glass of white wine. I took a drink, savoring the sweet burn. I generally preferred a nice red, but this was good, too. "That's me and my sisters," he said, nodding to a framed picture on the mantle. "My mother thought it would be cool to have a group photo of them in their wedding dresses and me in a tuxedo. I think she wanted to wait until I was married, too, but she got tired of waiting." He laughed.

I smiled and studied the picture. He and his sisters looked so much alike – all of them with the same strong jaw and dimples. "You all look so lovely."

He shrugged. "Yeah, I much prefer my jeans and cowboy boots."

I playfully nudged him with my shoulder, taking another sip of my wine. "So, what's for dinner?"

"It's a surprise." He took my glass from me and set it on the mantle. Then he pulled me into his arms and kissed me.

Slipping my arms around his neck, I leaned into him, welcoming him and his kiss like a woman starved for attention, which is exactly how I felt. I craved him, craved the way he touched me and kissed me and looked at me. "Hudson," I whispered, teasing his lips with my tongue.

"Hmm?" He groaned.

"I want to make love." As the words left my mouth, my face burned and my heart raced. I'd always been the one to initiate sex in my marriage – I had to if I wanted the intimacy. I later learned it was because he'd been sleeping with other women, but the familiar feelings of rejection surfaced.

Hudson jerked back as if he'd been hit. "Now?"

I nodded and bit on my bottom lip, afraid if I spoke again, I'd be tempted to take it back and apologize profusely. Slowly, a smile spread across his face, showcasing his dimples, and lighting his eyes.

"Don't move." He left the room and returned a moment later with a thick quilt. He spread it on the floor in front of the fireplace and motioned for me to join him. I slipped off my shoes and settled on the floor beside him. "Is this okay?" he asked.

"It's perfect." My heart still raced, and my breath was almost non-existent.

"Good. That's how I want this to be. Perfect," he whispered a second before claiming my mouth in another soft kiss. But unlike all the others, this didn't stay soft, nor did he pull away. Instead, he guided me onto my back, and slipped his hand up the hem of my shirt. His hand was warm and rough in all the right places, a result of years of hard work. I arched into him, wanting him to keep going. His hand travelled up, his palm cupped my breast. I moaned.

"So soft," he muttered, moving away from my lips and kissing along my jaw, down my neck. I tilted my head to give him greater access, running my fingers through his hair. He nipped at my earlobe, and I groaned. My ears were my weakness, and if he kept it up, he'd learn that very quickly.

Hudson moved away from me and grabbed the hem of my shirt, lifting it off over my head. As soon as he had it off, I reached behind my back and removed my bra. My nipples hardened under his gaze. He let out a shaky breath, his gaze caressing me the way his hand had just did a few moments ago.

"You're beautiful, Heather."

I smiled and reached for him, pulling him back down on top of me. Chuckling, he gathered my skirt and bunched it around my waist before settling between my parted legs. I could feel his erection straining behind his jeans, my thin, cotton panties doing nothing to mask the sensation of him there. I braced my heels against the floor and lifted my hips, grinding against him. He let out a throaty moan and pushed forward, pinning me between him and the floor. His body was so hard and warm on mine.

Grasping at his shirt, I yanked on it until it was off. The brief glance I got of his chest before he was on top of me again was impressive. Tanned flesh, a dusting of dark hair, rippled muscles, flat, defined abs. I had the sudden urge to lick ever glorious inch of him. Hudson closed his mouth around my nipple, suckling it before moving to the next. The sensations wracked my body, made me tremble in the best possible way.

He kissed down my stomach and back up again, stopping to tease my breasts with his tongue, taking his time, teasing me in a torturously fantastic way. "Kiss me," I gasped, unable to take another moment of his teasing.

His lips came down hard on mine in a bruising tangle of tongue and teeth and panting breaths. Then I felt his fingers brush over my sex and then slip under the elastic band. I gasped and lifted my pelvis, making his thumb land on my clit, exactly where I wanted it to be. He rubbed me gently, his pace steady and firm.

"Hudson," I whimpered, my orgasm steadily building inside of me. I couldn't believe I was so close already. He'd barely touched me, but then again, it had been a really long time.

"Trust me," he said at my ear, his voice raspy and full of need. He eased a single finger inside of me, and I clutched at his arms, my fingernails digging into his biceps. "I've got you, baby. It's okay."

I closed my eyes and did as he said – I let go. I let him touch me, give me pleasure, bring me to much needed, glorious release. My body writhed against his hand, wanting him to go deeper while at the same time wanting him to keep doing exactly as he was. Keeping his finger inside of me, he pressed his thumb to my clit, rubbing it while simultaneously stroking my inner walls. My orgasm was intense, physically draining me yet also making me want more.

Hudson smiled, his eyes dark with desire. "You okay?"

"Mmm hmm," I hummed, my eyes still closed, a satisfied smile on my face. Even though I wasn't looking at him, I could feel him. His body heat rolled over me, his breath tickled my face. When I felt him move away, I cracked open my eyes to see him unzipping his jeans, tugging them down over his hips. I watched with fascination as he removed his boxers, leaving his manhood bare and exposed to my gaze.

He was big, much bigger than Phillip, and a wave of fear washed through me. What if it hurt? What if I wasn't good enough? What if he found me boring and decided he no longer wanted to be with me... Like Phillip had done?

"I've wanted you since the moment I met you," he said, retrieving a condom from his wallet and rolling it down his length.

"You have?" I asked before I could stop myself.

He smiled and looked down at his erection. "Look at me, Heather. Look how hard I am. Does it look like I'm lying?"

"No," I breathed out, unable to take my gaze off him. Everything about him was so perfect, so manly. I wanted to devour him.

"Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?" he asked.

I nodded. "Yes."

He sighed with relief and removed my panties then my skirt. Lying naked in front of him like this made me feel vulnerable, exposed, but also cherished. He looked at me with so much love and adoration, emotions I wasn't used to seeing in a man's eyes. Kissing me, he settled between my legs again, this time his hardness pressing at my entrance. I sucked in a breath when he entered me, expelling it fast when he was all the way in.

Hudson moaned, resting his arms on either side of my head. "You feel so good." He nipped at my bottom lip as he began to move. Slow and steady, his body perfectly aligned with mine like we were made specifically for each other.

"Yes." I met his thrusts with my own, both of us finding a comfortable rhythm. Our moans and ragged pants filled the room while we made love, our hands and lips exploring one another.

"I'm not going to last," he said through clenched teeth, "it's too good."

I wrapped my legs around him, tucking my feet under his butt and rode his motions, both of us edging closer and closer to the brink of ecstasy. My vision blurred, and the room started to spin. "Hudson." I chanted his name as if it would somehow anchor me, but it didn't. I continued to feel like I was floating outside of my body, unable to do anything but feel. And holy God, did it feel good. So good.

"Come with me, Heather, please." His voice was strained, and he swelled inside of me, making me cry out with pleasure.

Seconds later, I came for the second time, Hudson doing the same. He collapsed onto me, his face buried in my neck. I stroked his hair and sighed. "That was incredible," I said.

He laughed. "Yeah, it was." Putting his weight into his arms, he peered down at me. "I love you."

"I love you, too." So much love filled my heart, I was afraid I must burst.

"Dinner's probably ruined."

I laughed. "That's okay. This is so much better than pizza."

He smiled. "Mmm, I like the way you think."

If I had my way, I'd stay right here all night, just like this. And based on the way he made no effort to move, I'd guess he had no intention of doing anything else tonight either.

# Chapter Eight

Another two months had passed. Things on the ranch were becoming smoother, the repairs were made, and I wasn't pouring endless amounts of money into it. Although, it wasn't making a profit yet, either, and finances were tight. My savings were completely wiped out, and if something didn't give soon, I'd have no choice but to get a job, which would be a nightmare while still trying to run the ranch.

On the bright side, Hudson and I continued to see each other every night. He made me so happy; I couldn't imagine my life without him now. I only wished Jamie would be nicer to Hudson, but Jamie made his feelings clear – He hated it here. Hated my relationship with Hudson, hated that his father and I were divorced. He had high hopes of moving back to the city and reconciling with his father. It had broken my heart to have to tell him – again – that his father and I were never getting back together. The same devastated, 'my life is over' look had clouded his eyes right before he ran up to his room and slammed the door. He didn't speak to me the rest of that night and most of the next. I sighed. My son hated everything lately, and I was at the top of that list.

I hoped, with time, he'd come around to the idea of me and Hudson, because I had no intentions of ending things with him. I loved him, and he loved me. We made it each other better, and Lord knows I wouldn't have survived around her without him. He'd been a true Godsend, a miracle.

I brushed the stray strands of hair from my face and blew out a breath. Now that the ranch was running better, I finally had time to devote to the cleaning and repairs inside the house, starting with Grandma's office, which had turned into a junk room. There were so many boxes stuffed full of papers and files. I don't know how she lived like this. The clutter drove me nuts.

Closing yet another box of items to throw away, I lifted it and set it outside the door for pick-up. Richard said when I was finished he'd gather the boxes and dispose of them. As I turned to go back in the office, a crumpled envelope caught my eye. I bent to pick it up. There was a bright green sheet of paper inside, and it was from the local gas company. "That's weird", I thought. I pulled the paper out and read. My heart raced and my eyes widened. My hands even began to shake a little.

"We have reason to believe there is a large amount of oil beneath your property, and we're interested in the prospect of exploring this. Please contact us at your earliest convenience to discuss this matter," I read.

Holy crap! I put my hand over my chest and fought to catch my breath. My knees were shaky, and I was having trouble wrapping my mind around this letter. There was oil under the property? If that were true... "Wow." I shook my head. There's a lot of money in oil. If I could strike a deal with the gas company, it would solve all my problems.

Clearly Grandma had opened the letter, but had she ever called about it? Did she think about it? I know she never did it, but why? Well, there was only one way to find out. I grabbed my cell phone and called the number on the letter.

***

I was waiting in the driveway when the bus pulled up and Jamie got off. I was so damn excited, I couldn't stand still. "Mom?" he asked, giving me a confused and concerned look. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" I threw my arms around him and hugged him. He pushed me away in that way teens do when their moms hug them or show them any affection in public. I laughed. "In fact, everything is fantastic." I looped my arm through his and turned him toward the house. "I have a lot to tell you."

He stopped and turned to face me. "Are we moving back to the city?" Excitement flashed in his eyes, and my mood turned sour.

I frowned. "No, we're not going back to the city. I told you already, I've got too much invested in this ranch to just walk away."

"Not if you sell it," he grumbled.

Refusing to let him get me down, I straightened my back and took his arm again. "There's oil on the property, Jamie."

"Oil?" he asked with disbelief and contempt. "So what? Who cares?"

"Jamie, don't you realize what this means?" I rolled my eyes. "Oil means money, and money means..."

"We get to go back to the city?" he asked hopefully.

I sighed with frustration. "No," I snapped. "We're not going back to the city, now stop asking me that." When he pulled away from me, a pang of guilt stabbed at me. I truly did feel bad about snapping at him, but I was so tired of him asking me the same question over and over again. His life here would be so much easier if he just accepted this was home now.

"Fine. So tell me what's so great about living on top of oil." He stormed toward the house and I rushed to catch up.

"I've agreed to lease a small parcel of this land to the gas company so they can drill for oil. They're paying a large sum of money plus royalties on whatever they collect and sell. This means no more struggle." I clutched his hands and searched his face, hoping he showed an ounce of the enthusiasm I felt. "I can do what needs to be done around here; I can afford to send you to whatever college you want to go to... See, Jamie? This is good for us. It's an answer to my prayers."

"Yeah, what about my prayers, mom? Huh? What about what I want?" he shouted at me then ran inside, slamming the door behind him.

I covered my face with my hands and fought back tears, wondering if he would ever forgive me. He blamed me for everything – the divorce, his father's absence, moving here. Nothing I did would make it better, except agreeing to move back to the city, but that just wasn't a possibility. I had a life here, and he did too. Granted, it wasn't the same as the city, but he still had friends here. He only had to give it a chance.

I entered the house and found Jaime standing in the kitchen. His arms were crossed over his chest, but he didn't look as angry as he had a moment ago. "The oil...it's a good thing, and I'm happy you found it."

"But?"

"Is it safe?"

I nodded and then shrugged. "For the most part. There are some risks, but they're minimal. It'll be fine." I studied him, realizing just how worried he was about this. Maybe that's all this was – worry. Maybe he didn't hate the idea or being here. "A representative from the gas company is coming out here tomorrow to talk to me, to explain the process and the risks. You're welcome to stay home from school so you can be here if you want."

"Really?"

"Yeah." I smiled, hoping he'd take me up on the offer. It would do both of us good to have a mother son day. If he stayed home, I could cook him his favorite breakfast like I used to, take him to lunch, maybe let him buy a new video game before we had to meet with the gentleman about the oil. "We can make a day of it if you want."

"Okay, I'll let you know." He gave me a half smile then went up to his room.

Well, it wasn't exactly the reaction I'd hoped for, but it was better than yelling at me and demanding to go back to the city. The more I thought about it, the more I realized it was probably just his nerves making him act the way he was. Once I got the information, I could share it with him, and he'd see there was nothing to worry about.

I set about making dinner, humming softly to myself, feeling pretty good about the future when I heard the side door open. "Richard? Is that you?"

"No, it's me," Hudson said, entering the kitchen. He walked up behind me, slid his arms around my stomach and kissed my cheek. "But if you'd prefer to have your ranch hand in here with you, I'm sure I can go find him."

Turning in his arms, I gave him a proper kiss. "Hmm, no, you'll do."

He laughed, the sound filling me with so much joy. "I'll do?"

Giggling, I nodded, kissing him again. "Yeah, you'll definitely do."

"Good, because I'm not going anywhere." He pulled me closer, the evidence of his arousal pressing against me. If only we were alone right now... "So," he stepped back, clearing his throat, "how was your day?"

"Oh my god! You'll never believe what happened!" I led him to the table and made him sit, then I divulged the details of my day – finding the letter, calling the gas company, their offer. He sat silently until long after I finished. When the moments ticked by and he still didn't answer, I said, "Aren't you going to say anything?"

He sighed. "I'm glad you're excited, but do you really think it's a good idea?"

I stared at him, stunned and hurt that he didn't share in my excitement. "Of course it's a good idea. Why wouldn't it be?"

Hudson shrugged and avoided my gaze. "Just seems dangerous is all."

I stood. "Well, it's not." What was with everyone being so negative about this? Couldn't anyone see how great this was? Sure, there were risks, but there were risks with everything in life. I went to the counter and finished putting seasoning on the steaks. Behind me, Hudson remained at the table, not saying anything, the silence between us awkward and tense.

"Do you even know what this entails? It's not just you this affects you know."

Spinning around, I glared at him. "And what does that mean?"

"Our properties touch, Heather. And while the gas company will stay on your property the noise and equipment and land disruption will affect my animals, the operations of my ranch." He stood and came over to me. "And the Jennings... They're on the other side of you. How do you think they'll react to this?"

My jaw dropped as realization sunk in. The Jennings, now it all made sense. Their desperation to buy the ranch, their scare tactics and threats. They must have known about the oil, that was why they wanted the land. They didn't want it for the property or the house or the ranch. They wanted what was beneath it. Oh, those sneaky rotten... now, more than ever, I was going to do this. Nothing or no one was going to stand in my way.

# Chapter Nine

Once I signed the contract with the gas company, they wasted no time getting on the property and drilling. It was noisy, but so far there hadn't been any issues. Jamie was more excited about it, too, especially since we know had money to do things. I splurged and spoiled him when we got the first check. All talk of returning to the city seemed to have died on his tongue. Things were peaceful for once. Hudson still wasn't thrilled with my decision, but he didn't have to be. It was my choice to make, and he supported it, even if a little begrudgingly.

"Whoa, easy Biscuit." I pulled on her reins, guiding her to slow down a little. I think she was just as excited to be ridden as I was to ride her. The last time had been weeks ago when Hudson and I inspected the ranch for needed repairs. I promised myself I was going to ride more regularly, and that started today.

We rounded the corner edge of the property when I noticed the Jennings brothers lurking around. I slowed Biscuit to a stop. "Can I help you gentlemen?" I kept my voice loud and firm. Inside, I was terrified. They were four big men. If they decided to attack me, there was no way I'd be able to defend myself.

"You shoulda sold to us," Buck said, venom lacing his words. "That oil and the money you took for it belongs to us."

I snorted. "Nothing on this ranch has ever belonged to you, and it never will. It would serve you well to remember that."

Buck sneered a mix of a smile and a scowl. I had to stop from physically cringing at how evil he looked. "It doesn't belong to you, either! Noreen was days away from selling to us, and then you swooped in and took it. A true woman would honor her grandmother's wishes."

My eyes widened, and my heart raced. Anger boiled in my gut. "How dare you! I know damn well she never had any intention of selling to the likes of you four."

Buck stepped closer and for a moment I was worried he'd climb the fence and come after me. Instinctively, I backed Biscuit up, prepared to make a fast retreat if necessary. "You have no idea what you're talking about, but I promise, you'll found out soon enough." His brothers snickered, and I glared at them.

"Are you threatening me?"

He flung his head back and let out a loud cackle. "Nope. Don't need to threaten you."

I cleared my throat and straightened my back, making myself sit a little taller. "Then I suggest you leave. You're all close to trespassing, and one thing my grandmother taught me was how to shoot a rifle." It was a total bluff, but they didn't know that. I hoped. And even if it were true, there was no way I could ever actually aim a gun at anyone let alone pull the trigger.

"Little miss thing is all tough now. Guess fucking your neighbor gives you a renewed confidence, huh?" Buck spit on the ground, grinning. "Maybe I should give you a go, see what it does for me."

"Uh," I huffed, making a disgusted face. "You're so vile." I shuddered at the thought of that man getting anywhere near me.

"If you only knew..." one of his brothers muttered.

"Yeah," Buck said, spitting again, "you might wanna rethink who you're calling vile. Your precious Hudson isn't as wonderful as you think."

My heart stopped, and my ears burned hot. "What does that mean?" I had no idea why I asked, or why I was still here listening to them. They weren't worth my time, yet that nagging voice in the back of my mind wouldn't let me leave.

Buck shrugged lazily. "Just hope you're enjoying Hudson because we sent him to you, Heather. He's one of us, and his sole goal has been to convince you to sell." He laughed, and his brother's joined him. What do you have to say to that, Miss haughty-taughty, Buck said with a smirk? I was too shocked to respond. My response must have been what they were looking for because, they all turned and walked away, laughing and giving each other high fives.

Hudson was only with me because he wanted to convince me to sell? No. That wasn't true. Buck was lying. They were bitter because they didn't get the ranch and the oil and the money, and now they were trying to get under my skin, make me question everything, try to drive me away.

I turned Biscuit back toward the house, my mind racing with the possibility that Buck might be right about Hudson. I didn't want to believe Hudson would do that. He wasn't that kind of man. He was sweet and caring and loving. The way he looked at me and touched me – a man with an ulterior motive couldn't do that. No. No man could fake the emotion Hudson showed her. It just wasn't possible.

But... Things, memories, slowly drifted into my mind. Like, how he asked me out of the blue about selling the ranch. His severe lack of enthusiasm when I told him about the oil. His stern warning to stay away from the Jennings. Originally, I'd thought he told me that to keep me safe, but now I wondered if he told me because he was afraid I'd find out the truth about him. The closer I got to the house, the angrier I became.

What was I supposed to do now? Should I just ignore what Buck said, chalk it up to the ramblings and accusations of a bitter man? Or should I confront Hudson? Part of me believed if I asked Hudson about this, he'd laugh it off and tell me Buck was crazy. But what if he didn't?

When I first suspected Phillip of cheating, I ignored it. I discounted my friend when she'd told me she saw Phillip and another woman together. I'd trusted my husband, believed he wouldn't do that to me. I ignored my instincts, and when I finally did open my eyes and see the truth, it was too late. I vowed to never blindly trust a man so much. I knew what I had to do. I had to confront Hudson and make him answer for Buck's accusations.

***

"Hey, baby." Hudson came up behind me and kissed my neck. "I've missed you today."

I stood still, unresponsive to his affection. I'd spent all day stewing over the things Buck had said to me. One minute I was angry at Buck for saying such awful things about Hudson while another minute I was livid with Hudson for lying to me, using me, making me fall in love with him and then breaking my heart. I was emotionally exhausted and didn't know if I was strong enough to face him, to say all the things I knew I had to say.

"What's wrong?" He turned me to face him, concern etched on his handsome face.

I took a shaky breath and moved away from him. There was no way I could have a serious talk with him when he was touching me, tempting me to forget everything and fall into his arms. "I had a run in with Buck Jennings today."

Hudson raised a brow and crossed his arms over his chest. His face went blank, his eyes dull. "Did he hurt you?"

"Not physically."

"What the hell does that mean?"

I sighed and went into the living room. He followed. "Heather, talk to me. What did Buck do to you?"

"He didn't do anything to me. But he had a lot to say." I watched him closely, looking for any signs of deception or guilt in his eyes. I didn't see anything right off, but that didn't mean he was lying. He could just be a really skilled liar.

"And what exactly did he have to say that's making you act so cold toward me?"

I let out a harsh laugh. Oh, he had a lot of nerve. "He told me you've been working with them, that the only reason you're with me is because you want to convince me to sell the ranch to them, that you knew about the oil here."

Shock registered on his face, and then he took a small step back, away from me. To most, it wouldn't mean much of anything, but to me, it said volumes. I crossed my arms over my chest. "Is it true?" I asked. "Is that the only reason you got involved with me?"

"What? No." He shook his head adamantly. "I love you, Heather. You have to know that."

I sighed. Deep down, I did know that. I didn't doubt his love for me, but I did doubt the sincerity of it. "Is it true, Hudson? Has this whole thing between us been nothing but a ruse, a way for you and your cohorts to get your hands on my grandmother's ranch, the oil? The money?" I bit out. To think he'd been sleeping with me in the hopes of getting money made me sick to my stomach made me feel like a glorified whore.

Hudson dragged a hand through his hair and stepped toward me. I stepped back, refusing to let him get too close. "Damn it." He rubbed at the back of his neck and shook his head. "It's not what you think."

Those words destroyed me, and I whimpered, cupping my hand over my mouth. "You used me."

"No." He took my hands into his and continued to shake his head. "When Buck first came here to talk to you, when he asked you to sell and you refused, he came to me. He told me he knew there was oil on this land, and if I helped convince you to sell, he'd split the profits with me. So, yes, the very first time I came here, I had done so with the intent of getting you to sell."

I jerked my hands from his, disgusted and heartbroken. Tears burned my eyes, and my throat felt raw, unable to form any words. And even if I could physically speak, I doubt my mind would come up with something intelligible.

"But then I saw you, and things changed. I got to know you, know Jamie... And I couldn't go through with it. I told Buck I was out, that if he wanted this land, he'd have to convince you himself." Hudson licked his lips and swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing hard in his throat. "I fell in love with you, Heather, and I don't ever want to do anything to hurt you. I should've told you, and I'm sorry I didn't."

I closed my eyes, forced every ounce of courage I had to the surface. I loved Hudson with all my heart, more than I ever loved my husband, but what Hudson had done hurt worse than everything Phillip ever did. How could I have been so stupid? I opened my eyes and stared at him through my tears. I prayed this was all a nightmare, that I'd wake up and be in bed next to him, wrapped safely in his arms.

"Heather... Please, say something. Tell me you understand, that you forgive me." There was so much pain and longing in his voice, I almost caved and did what he asked.

"I can't," I whispered.

"Don't do this," he said.

"Don't do what? Call you on your bullshit?" I shouted. He wasn't going to blame me, make me feel bad for his actions. "Get out."

He raised his eyebrows, his eyes wide in shock. "What?"

"Get out," I said more firmly, planting my feet on the floor and pointing toward the front door. "I have no room in my life for liars and users."

"I'm not a liar or a user," he ground out through gritted teeth. His hands were clenched into fists by his sides. "You know me, Heather. I've shared parts of myself with you that I've never shared with anyone else. Do you think I'd do that if all I wanted was this damn ranch?"

I shrugged, refusing to meet his gaze any longer. I really just wanted him to go so I could go upstairs and cry in peace. I wanted to mourn this relationship, say goodbye to the man I'd thought Hudson was so I could pick up the pieces and move on. Just like I'd done after my divorce, I'd grieve then move on. Like my grandmother, I was a survivor.

"I don't give a shit about this ranch or the oil or the money," he said, taking my face into his hands and making me look into his eyes. "I. Love. You, Heather. I love Jamie, and all I want is to be with you, to have a future."

I pulled away from him, sniffling. His mention of Jamie steeled my resolve. No matter how I felt about Hudson, I had to think of Jamie, protect him, and not let anyone into his life who could hurt him.

"Please forgive me, Heather. Please," he begged.

"I'm sorry, Hudson. I can't get past the fact that you lied to me, used me. Even though you backed out, you still lied to me. Now please, get out."

He stared at me for several minutes, and I expected him to say something more, to try to change my mind, but with a sad nod, he left the house. I blew out a pent up breath, and then the tears started. They streamed down my face faster than I could wipe them away. I slouched down to the floor, tucked my knees to my chest, and cried.

I thought being betrayed by Phillip was bad, but kicking Hudson out of my life hurt worse. There was a physical ache in my chest, a growing hole I didn't know if I'd ever be able to fill. Why did every man I got involved with have to be a jerk? Well, this would teach me to date again. I was done with dating, with love, with men. I was fine being single.

Taking a deep breath, I wiped my face and stood. It would take a while for me to get over Hudson, but I refused to let him keep me down for too long. "Jamie!" I shouted up the stairs. "Pack a bag. We're leaving."

Jamie came down the stairs, took one look at me and furrowed his brows. "Where are we going?"

"To the city." I turned on my heel and walked away, thankful he didn't ask me what was wrong, and not wanting to have an argument with him. I knew the moment I told him where we were going he was going to assume it was a permanent trip. When we were on the road, I'd tell him the truth, but until then, I just needed to get out of this house and away from everything for a while.

# Chapter Ten

I put the house key in Richard's palm and closed his fingers around it, holding his hand in mine. I smiled at him.

"Are you sure about this, Miss Heather?" he asked, placing his hand over mine.

"Yes." I nodded. "You've been so wonderful to Jamie and I since we arrived, and Noreen trusted you, so that alone is good enough for me." My grandmother was a smart woman, and she had impeccable instincts when it came to people. In fact, when I told her Phillip and I were engaged, she'd told me I was making a mistake that the marriage wouldn't last. At first I thought she was just being mean, saying hurtful things because she knew I would be moving to the city and she wanted me to stay here. If only I had actually listened to her, I would've saved myself so much heartache.

He pulled his hand from mine. "I'll do you proud."

"I know you will." I grabbed my purse and pulled the strap over my shoulder. "And if you need anything at all, just call me. I'll be available night or day."

"Yes, ma'am."

"We won't be gone for too long..." Although I had no idea how long that would actually be. A week, maybe two. It certainly wouldn't be much longer than that. The reservations I made were only for two weeks. I'm sure I could always extend them if needed, but I didn't want to mislead Jamie, make him think this move was permanent.

"I'm ready!" Jamie said, bounding down the stairs, suitcase in tow. "I just spoke to Devon. He's going to get my assignments for me."

"Great," I beamed. It warmed me to know he was taking the initiative with school. Not to mention, gathering assignments meant he accepted that we'd be coming back here. "All right, let's go." I placed a quick kiss to Richard's cheek, smiled, and then left.

I popped the trunk on the car and Jamie put our bags inside while I put my laptop bag in the back seat. Originally, I was going to book a flight, but decided it was best to just drive. It would give Jamie and I time to reconnect, for me to think about this while situation with Hudson – who had called daily for the past four days, apologizing, begging me for a second chance – and it would prevent me from having to explain to my parents what happened. My mother would accuse me of running again, and I didn't want to have to spend time justifying my decisions to her. It was none of her business. Plus, this little trip would give Jamie time to see his old friends, which I knew he wanted to do.

As we drove down the road, past Hudson's property, I saw him standing on his front porch. He straightened and stared at me, and I swore I saw a hint of expectation in his face, like he was hoping I'd pull into his driveway. But I didn't. I averted my gaze back to the road and ignored him. It wasn't easy though. It was tempting to turn around, go back, forgive him; pretend none of this ever happened.

The pain in my heart though, the betrayal, it ran too strong, cut too deep. I couldn't just forgive him. I couldn't let him get away with what he'd done to me, to Jamie. I could handle him hurting me. I could not handle him betraying Jamie in that way. "How about some music?" I said, deciding not to let Hudson or my thoughts of him get me down. I cranked up a country station, put on my sunglasses, and looked forward to our mini-vacation.

***

I'd been in the city for just over a week now. Jamie had spent every day with his friends, and I was back to worrying about him every second he wasn't with me. Now I knew why I would never move back here. All the noise never used to bother me, but now... I couldn't sleep a wink with all the chaos. Every small noise, every siren would wake me; make me fear that something had happened to Jamie. By the time we left, I was going to need another vacation just to catch up on my sleep.

"Hey, Mom. I'm going to Vick's. I'll be home before dark." Jamie kissed my cheek and left.

I sighed. So much for using this trip to reconnect. He spent less time with me now than he had back at the ranch. That might have bothered me quite a bit if it wasn't for the fact that I'd reconnected with some old friends. In the week I'd been back, I'd been invited to dinner several times, bowling, a movie, and a yoga class. I went to every single one of them. I had to, otherwise I'd sit in this hotel suite alone, missing Hudson, tempted to call him. And I wasn't ready for that yet, wasn't sure I could forgive him.

My cell phone rang, and I grabbed it. Part of me kind of hoped it was Hudson again, but it wasn't. "Hey, Callie. What's up?"

"I'm headed to the mall. I have to buy a cocktail dress for a work thing at the end of the month. Want to tag along?"

"Yes," I said a little too eagerly. "I'll be to your house in ten minutes."

Callie laughed. "Great. I'll even buy lunch."

"And I'll buy the daiquiris." I laughed and grabbed my purse, leaving the suite. It felt good to laugh again, to have a social life, to interact with friends. Even before I'd moved back to Texas, I hadn't felt this alive. I'd been so engrossed in work and caring for Jamie I'd avoided life outside of the house and office. When I returned to the ranch, I was going to make it a point to look up some of my old high school friends, start living life again now that I was over my divorce, and slowly getting over Hudson..... I think. I frowned. Despite everything, I missed him something terrible. Maybe a phone call wouldn't hurt.

***

My cheeks hurt from laughing and smiling so much, but I felt good, lighthearted and positive. I'd be sad to leave in five days, but at least I could return home with a renewed sense of purpose. I'd left the city so abruptly, I hadn't had time to make peace with the decision, but now I had, and it was time to look forward, not back.

I dug my key card from my purse and walked into the lobby. Then I stopped cold. My heart leapt into my throat and raced, and I blinked rapidly, unable to believe what was right before my eyes. "Hudson?" He stood there, in the middle of the lobby in dress pants, a button down shirt with a tie, and a large bouquet of red roses.

"Hi, Heather." He smiled sheepishly then looked down.

I couldn't help but smile. He looked so out of place here, but also so scared and unsure. "What're you doing here?"

"Looking for you." He stepped toward me and held out the flowers. "These are for you."

I took them and inhaled their sweet scent. "Thank you."

He nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Before you say anything, I just want you to know how sorry I am. I didn't come here with any expectations, okay? I only want to have a few minutes to talk to you."

A piece of me melted at his words. "Would you like to come up to the suite?"

"Yes," he said, relief swamping his words and face.

Silently, I led him up to the suite and tossed my purse on the chair. "Would you like something to drink? I believe I have some water, and the mini-fridge is fully stocked."

"No, I'm good. Thanks." He sat in one of the chairs, legs parted, and elbows on his knees. "Thanks for agreeing to talk to me."

I nodded and took the chair across from him. "Well, I was going to call you tonight anyway, and you did travel all this way. It wouldn't have been right to turn you away."

Hudson smiled, and my stomach fluttered. His smile always had that effect on me. Even after a couple of weeks apart, I still felt the same way about him I had the day I'd met him. It was intense and if I hadn't been sitting, I probably would've stumbled backward.

"I know I messed up. I've thought about what I did wrong every single day since you left. It was wrong for me not to tell you about the Jennings and my involvement with them." He sighed and hung his head. "I'm not trying to make excuses, but my history with those men is a long and complicated. I owed them, and they cashed in with you. I figured," he stood and began to pace, "okay, I thought I'd do this one thing for them, wipe the slate clean, and then I would never have to deal with them again. But then I met you and everything changed for me."

I stood and went to him, placing my palms on his chest. I could feel the heavy beat of his heart, the strain of his breaths. Swallowing, I looked up into his eyes, and every memory I had of him rushed at me. My head spun, and I was suddenly dizzy.

"Heather?" He wrapped his arms around me, and I leaned into him, finding familiar comfort in his embrace. "Can you please forgive me? I'll do anything. Just tell me what you want."

I sighed and nodded slowly. "Yes," I whispered, "yes, I do forgive you. But you have to—"

He cut me off by pressing his lips to mine and kissing me deeply. I threaded my fingers through his hair, holding him to me so he couldn't decide to pull away, to leave me again. Or so I wouldn't talk myself into kicking him out again. That's not what I planned to do, but I'd been known to convince myself of some pretty crazy things before.

"What were you saying?" he asked, smiling against my lips.

"Hmm?" I hummed dreamily, trying to clear my mind of the fog that had taken up residence there. "Oh, just that you have to promise never to lie to me again."

"I swear it on my life," he said.

"Good." I rested my head on his chest. "What happened when you told Buck you weren't going to help him?"

Hudson pulled away and stared at me. I couldn't tell if his expression was genuine concern or confusion. "Do you really want to know?"

"Yes." I nodded firmly. "I need to know." I took a deep breath. It was time to come clean. If I didn't want him lying to me, I couldn't lie to him. "Buck has threatened me, told me I'd regret not selling to him, he even left me some ominous letters. Now that you've bailed on him, I need to know what he said. I'm afraid of what he might do."

"Heather," concern laced his voice, "why didn't you tell me this before?"

I shrugged. "I really didn't think it was that big of a deal, but now that I know what lengths he's willing to go to, I need to be able to prepare for him. I have to think of Jamie."

He kissed my forehead. "I know, and I'll tell you everything, I promise, but can it wait until tomorrow? It's not like he's going to do anything tonight or track you down all the way out here. I would really like to just spend the evening with you."

"Okay." I smiled. "Speaking of, how did you find me?"

"I bribed Richard into telling me." Hudson laughed. "But don't be mad at him. It took me a week to get him to tell me anything."

"No, I'm not mad at him. How about we go get some dinner? Catch up a little."

"I'd love that."

"Great. I just want to freshen up a bit, and I have to let Jamie know where I'll be, let him know he can stay with his friend longer if he wants."

"Take your time." Hudson returned to the chair, and I went to the bathroom.

After washing my face and reapplying a touch of makeup, I fixed my hair a little, taking it out of the ponytail I'd had it in and putting it in a loose braid that hung over my right shoulder. I dabbed on a bit more perfume, and then sent Jamie a quick text. _Going to dinner with Hudson. Be back later. Please let me know where you are and what you're doing._

Almost instantly, my phone rang. It was Jamie. "Hey, sweetie. Having fun at your friend's house?"

"You're going to dinner with Hudson?" There was so much animosity in his voice, it made me cringe. "What the hell is he even doing here?"

"Jamie!" I scolded. "Watch your language."

"No, Mom. I can't believe he's here or that you're going out with him. He lied to you, remember? He used you."

"That's enough," I said sternly. Even though he was right, I would not allow him to speak to me this way. Nor would I allow him to speak of Hudson so poorly. And I certainly wasn't going to stand here and justify my actions to him. "My reasons for going out with Hudson are none of your concern."

"They are when he's going to be part of our lives."

I sighed with defeat. "I'm disappointed in you, Jamie. I really thought you'd changed, learned to give people the benefit of the doubt."

"I don't like him. He's no good for you."

I knew the only reason he was saying that was because he still held onto the hope that his father and I would reconcile, that he'd get his old life back. I hated to keep disappointing him, but the sooner he accepted our new life, the better. "Are you staying at Vick's longer? Or are you heading back here? If you want, I can leave some money for you or you can order room service for dinner."

"I'm staying here." Then he hung up.

I wanted to throw my phone across the room in anger, but that wouldn't solve anything. He was having a hard time adjusting, and I would just have to be patient, to give him more time. Eventually he'd accept life in Texas, and Hudson. Double checking to ensure I still looked presentable; I left the bathroom and returned to Hudson on the couch.

He stood. "Everything all right?"

"Yeah," I forced a smile, "just... Jamie." I sighed. "I guess I should've known better than to bring him back to the city. We'd finally gotten to a good place together, and now he's right back to his old ways."

Hudson put his arm around me, kissed my temple. "I'm sure once you get back to Texas, things will go back to how they were."

"I sure hope—" My phone rang again, and I rolled my eyes. If this was Jamie again, calling to give me grief... But it wasn't. It was my dad. Weird he'd be calling. "Hi, Dad," I answered.

"Oh, good. I thought you might still be in that God forsaken city."

"I am in the city, Dad. Hudson's here with me." Man, what was it with all the men in my life wanting explanations about my decisions in life?

"Well, you need to get back here ASAP."

The tone of his voice gave me pause. "Why?" I asked slowly. "Is something wrong? Did something happen to the ranch?" Panic swelled in my chest, choking me as I tried to swallow.

"No, the ranch is fine. It's your mother, Heather. She's in the hospital."

I swore my heart stopped beating and all the color drained from my face. I reached for Hudson to steady myself. The last time I'd gotten a call like this, my grandmother had fallen ill then died a few weeks later. The thought of losing my mother, too, was too much to handle. "We're on our way," I said, ending the call.

### Thank you for reading!

## Please visit your favorite eBook retailer to view the next books in the "The Nurse And The Cowboy Series"
The Cowgirl's Love

by

Jane Little
Copyright © 2017 by Jane Little

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

The Cowgirl's Love

All rights reserved.

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. No part of this work may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording and faxing, or by any information storage and retrieval system by anyone but the purchaser for their own personal use.

This book may not be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of Jane Little, except in the case of a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages for the sake of a review written for inclusions in a magazine, newspaper, or journal—and these cases require written approval from Jane Little prior to publication. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.

# Chapter One

Madison Maringo usually returned home from work at 5 P.M., but today she was running late. She had scheduled two parent teacher conferences and she hoped the parents would show up and be receptive to her attempts to help. Madison taught high school English in an inner city school in Los Angeles, CA and it was hard to get parents to come to conferences. In Madison's seven years of teaching, many parents had not shown up when called. But today two sets of parents were waiting for her outside the principal's office after school. Madison took the Henderson's first and led them into her classroom. Isaac Henderson, sixteen-years-old, was a class clown and was doing poorly in his studies. Twice he had come to school reeking of wine, but she had not been able to prove he was drunk as he sort of held it together. The second time he slumped in his chair and went to sleep. Madison had decided to let him sleep. She was not big on getting the administration involved in her classroom; she liked to solve problems herself. The administration would have sent him home anyway and at least at school, Isaac had a chance of learning something. Today she brought up the drinking to Mary and George Henderson and they were horrified.

"Mr. and Mrs. Henderson, besides the two drinking incidents, Isaac is receiving a D in this class. He doesn't read the assigned material, doesn't do his term papers and he does very poorly on tests. I know he is a smart young man, but he doesn't apply himself, I am willing to work with him after school but he never shows up for tutoring. Maybe the two of you can help me work something out?" Madison asked the expectant couple.

"He will be there from now on whenever you want to meet with him," George Henderson sternly asserted. "We have had some trouble at home, Isaac has a curfew, but he hangs out with his gangster friends who are up to no good and stays out until late. We always ground him, but he is hard to discipline. I guess in some ways we have lost control."

"Does he read at home?" Madison asked, pushing her blonde bangs away from her pretty face.

"I have never seen him pick up a book, but he used to love to read," Mary Henderson answered. "When he started 10th grade, his marks started going down and we have been frustrated. It is mostly about the company he keeps."

"Where is he now?" Madison asked.

"He has a job after school washing cars, he gets off at six," George answered.

"Well, we are reading To Kill a Mockingbird" and he should have the book with him. I need you to check his book bag when he comes home and after dinner, make sure he has the book, and that he reads for at least an hour. We are already halfway through the book, and the students are really enjoying it. But Isaac can't reap the benefits of this great novel unless he picks up the book and reads. I would appreciate all the help you could give me," Madison said. She took out her grade book and showed the Henderson's Isaac's scores and they were very upset. The conference ended with a promise that Isaac would meet Madison on Tuesdays and Thursdays after school the two days Isaac didn't work, and the Henderson's agreed.

Before the Edelman's could come in, Madison's phone buzzed. She checked the number and didn't recognize the name but she knew the area code the call was coming from. Durango, the western town of the ranch she had grown up on. She couldn't take the call, but she was immediately worried. Her father, Dan Maringo, ran a sprawling ranch outside Durango for 40 years. Madison and her father were not close, but she cared about him and wondered if anything was wrong. The caller's name was Dylan Morris. Did he work for her father? Was her father ok? Madison listened to the voice mail and Dylan asked her to call immediately. He said it was important. Just then the Edelman's walked in and Madison put her worry on hold. The problems with the Edelman's son, Coffee, was chronic tardiness. Coffee was doing ok in class, but he always dragged in 10-15 minutes after class had started. Madison tried to concentrate.

"Coffee is always late, and I mean 3 out of 5 days of the week, does he work at night?" Madison asked.

"He works in a diner, busing tables, often he doesn't get home until 11," Marge Edelman answered. "I always ask him about his schoolwork, and he always does some homework when he comes home. But he is tired and falls asleep with a book in his hand."

"How about if he does homework before his shift starts?" Madison asked, worry shading the recesses of her mind. Worry about her father.

"He works six hours and starts at 5. He eats dinner at the café. He wants to do well at school and we could make sure Coffee puts an hour at least in before he starts his shift, would that work?" Marge asked. Her husband, Daryl, was silent.

"Time before work spent studying would be a great help. There would be less chance of falling asleep, and he would be more alert. Could the two of you work on Coffee and get him to study earlier?" Madison asked.

Marge nodded and Daryl Edelman stood up to leave. Madison had the feeling his wife had forced him to come and maybe he had even missed some work time. Madison said goodbye to the Edelman's and sat down at her desk. The reception wasn't very good at Terrell's Bay High School, but Madison tried to call Dylan Morris. The call was dropped twice before Madison decided to start her long commute home to West Hollywood and call once she returned home.

Madison grabbed her purse and a light jacket as it was January and the temps were slightly nippy. She smiled at herself and realized how temperate LA was compared to where she grew up, where all four seasons were in full force all year around. She thought of Durango and the 100 acres of beautiful farmland her father owned. As a child and teenager she rode her horse, Springer, almost every day unless it snowed. And she rode him for miles. She had loved the life of a rancher in many ways, but not enough to want to stay. Her desire to be a teacher had always interfered and her relationship with her parents had been strained as she entered her teen years.

Her commute was 45 minutes and she knew it would be 5:30 or 6:00 when reached her cozy cottage. She would have to walk Angel, her Cocker Spaniel when she got home, but first she had to call this mysterious Dylan Morris. What did he want? Once she arrived home, Angel greeted her at the door, wagging his tail wildly and needing to go out. Madison let him out in her fenced in back yard and knew Angel would be ready for his evening walk. Madison walked Angel twice a day, once in the morning after she had her coffee before school and again after she returned home before dinner or afterwards. Today would be afterwards. She put her books on the hall table, poured herself a glass of white wine and sat down to make her phone call. She dialed Dylan's number and he answered on the first ring. It was 6 PM, the dinner hour.

"Hello, this is Madison Maringo, you called me? I would have called sooner, but I was at work, and the school building has spotty reception."

"Miss Maringo, I have some bad news. I am afraid your father died today. He was out feeding the hogs and just collapsed. I saw him collapse as I was fixing a fence close by. I ran to him and administered CPR but I think he died instantly. He didn't respond to CPR, either by me or from the paramedics who came after I called 911. The paramedics told me that they thought it was a massive heart attack. I found your number in the desk he keeps in the den. It just said Madison and a number. I looked up your area code on my laptop and you are in LA, right?" Dylan asked.

"Yes, I live in West Hollywood. My dad and I were not what you would call close, so I didn't know of any health problems he had. Had he been sick?" Madison asked.

"He had heart problems for a while now, it slowed him down significantly. I have been running the farm full time for two years. Dan was still working with the cattle; he got up earlier than I did. By the afternoon though, he was tired. He milked our Holsteins early in the morning, then checked the cows and the hogs and looked over his crops in the early afternoon. There is less to do in the winter, but he was always working when he could. I always asked him to slow down and let me handle everything, but he was a stubborn old coot, he had a strong personality and really cared about this ranch." Dylan answered.

"And who are you?" Madison asked.

"I am Dylan Morris, I am a ranch hand who has been helping your dad for the last five years. I do everything from planting in the spring, to feeding and watching the livestock the rest of the year. I really liked Dan, he was like a father to me and we worked together real well," Dylan answered. "I haven't made any arrangements yet. He is still at the morgue and I need to get him into a funeral home. Do you know any in the area that you would prefer?"

"My mom died about ten years ago and she was cremated at Holmes Funeral Home in Durango. My father wanted to be cremated as well, but I don't know where he wanted his ashes spread. I think maybe he put it in his will. Do you anything about his will and if he had a lawyer?" Madison asked.

"I have some more bad news to tell you," Dylan said, hesitating. "And the lawyer will tell you this. The bank that holds the note to the ranch is threatening to foreclose. We have been doing poorly for the last year and a half. I need you to come home and see to things."

"I have a full time job," Madison said. "How long do you need me to stay?"

"I think it might be for a while; you may need to help me save the ranch. I know your dad thought the world of you," Dylan said. "And unless we can save the ranch, Dan's legacy, the farm he worked for all of his life, might be worthless. I know you don't want the bank to own it. Can you take a leave of absence, at least for a few weeks?"

"I will come home for the memorial service of course and then I would like to see the financial papers and ledgers. Are there horses still at the ranch?

"We have three horses in the corral; one of them is my workhorse, Moses. Then there is Buttercup and Sam they are great horses, although Sam is getting pretty old."

"Good to know"

"When should I expect your arrival?" Dylan said.

"I will try to arrive within the next couple of days." "I will need to buy a winter coat when I get there.... or before. How has the temperature been lately? Also, please have my dad moved to Holmes Funeral Home in Durango; and I will take care of the arrangements when I get there." Madison asked.

"Okay will do. To answer your weather question, we have had a really nasty winter. It has been in the 20's and 30's, so you will definitely need to get some warm clothes. Do you have any warm flannel? Any long underwear?" Dylan asked.

"Goodness no, I live in Los Angeles, I don't have anything warmer than a light jacket. But I will go shopping; I know how to prepare for the snow. I am going to leave tomorrow afternoon so I can get some winter clothes and pack. I will be drive with Angel so hopefully I will get to Durango the following afternoon," Madison said.

"I look forward to meeting you," Dylan said. "We will get a room ready for you, I'm not much for housekeeping, but Maggie is still here."

Madison had fond memories of Maggie, her parent's housekeeper for 35 years. She had been serving the Maringos since Madison was born and she had stayed on long after her mother's death. After Madison said goodbye to Dylan, she made a chicken salad sandwich for dinner. Afterwards she took Angel for a 45 minute walk. It was too late to do any shopping, but not too late to call her principal to let her know she would be gone for a couple of weeks. Mrs. Noble would not be happy to hear her news and Madison felt bad about abandoning her students, but it could not be helped. Madison took a deep breath and made the call.

"Mrs. Noble, this is Madison Maringo. My father died suddenly of a heart attack today.

"How long will you be gone?" Mrs. Noble cut in, not offering an apology for Madison's loss. She was a hard-nosed woman, not given to sentiment.

"For at least a couple of weeks, I have to take care of his estate. I am afraid you will have to get a sub, I'm really sorry, but it can't be helped," Madison said.

"Call me when you return, is there anything else?" Mrs. Noble asked.

"I have completed lesson plans for the next month and they are in my cubby, just have the sub follow the directions, it's all there," Madison said.

"Thank you for being so prepared," Mrs. Noble said coldly.

Madison couldn't completely blame her. It was hard to get subs to work at Madison's school. The school was in a high crime area and most of the students were residents of the neighborhood and all were very poor. Some only received a good meal when the free lunch was dispensed at noon. Madison devoted herself to her students and spent a lot of her own money for pens, notebooks, poster board, and printer paper. There simply wasn't money in the budget for everything the student's needed.

After the uncomfortable call, Madison relaxed in her easy chair. While Angel crawled and pawed her way onto Madison's lap. Angel was a rescue from the local SPCA, Angel had been a part of the family for about a year now. Her thought immediately went to her father, how could she have a better relationship with a dog than her own father. She tried to remember some good times... for some reason she could not. She was an only child and had grown up on Harrison, the name of her father's ranch.

Neither of her parents lavished affection on their only daughter, but she had open fields to run in, horses to ride, and lots of fresh air. She had a great childhood. Madison's mother Arlene had been a cold woman who had forbid Madison's dreams of attending college at UCLA; and discouraged her dreams to be a teacher. Her father had been a little more supportive; but had told her repeatedly, like her mother, that her place was at the ranch. The ranch was her legacy because there had been no other children. And while Madison loved the ranch, she had wanted to try out city life and see what the bright lights of Los Angeles offered. Her father had been very sad when she left Colorado on a full scholarship to UCLA in California, but told her he hoped she came back after college. She had never returned, however, except for short visits. Her father had finally stopped calling and she didn't even know he was sick. She felt horrible and she blamed herself. _Maybe if I would have called him back just once, he may still be alive._ She started to cry, tears of grieve and regret.

Madison pushed her long bangs away from her face, a habitual action and dried her eyes. Madison was tall and thin with large hazel eyes. Her face was heart shaped and her thick hair curled in natural waves around her face and down her back. Men found her attractive, but for all her beauty, Madison was very guarded around men. In her thirty years, she had only had two semi-serious relationships, one in college and an uptight banker a couple of years ago. The latter had been good looking and athletic which she liked, but they didn't have a connection. He didn't read and she was a voracious reader; he didn't challenge her mentally, meaning he didn't have any original ideas. He didn't share any of her ideals on how to make the world a better place. She didn't need fantasy, but she wanted a man with a vision. She wasn't sure what that looked like or sounded like, but she would know when she found it and she knew he was not it.

Madison went to bed early and Angel jumped on the bed and curled at her feet. Madison didn't want to lose the ranch. She was worried about a possible foreclosure, but she didn't want to move to small town Colorado, and live her father's passion, not hers. Maybe she would feel differently when she got there, she wasn't sure though. She fell asleep dreaming of her horse, Springer. In the dream she was in the fields of her father's ranch looking at the majestic mountain ranges surrounding her.

# Chapter Two

The next day, Madison woke up early and ate a quick breakfast of granola with almonds and took Angel for a walk. The sun was just coming out and Angel was leaping and running from bush to bush, forcing Madison to jog to keep up. After she returned home, she showered and headed out to a winter sports store called Boundary Waters. It was similar to LL Bean and created for Californians who skied on Mountain Lake and Tahoe. She carefully chose a down coat and two down vests, several flannel shirts, a couple of new pairs of jeans and a pair of Uggs. She decided her purchases should be enough; she didn't plan on staying for an extended period of time.

Once she returned home, she packed all her new winter clothes, nightgown, and all her toiletries. She also took her camera and a good book; a murder mystery she was enjoying, just in case. After lunch, she loaded her bags into her Subaru Forrester. She packed the dog bowls, fresh water and dog food _._ She looked at her watch, _oh no it's 2pm I have to get going._ She fastened Angel into his doggy seatbelt in the back seat. If she drove straight through she could reach Flagstaff by evening. She had already made a reservation at a pet friendly Best Western.

The drive was very pleasant, Angel always the enthusiastic observer, took in all the smells on the road. Every two hours, Madison stopped to give Angel some water and let him relieve himself. She had fed him after his morning walk, so she knew he would be ok on food. Around six, she drove through a small town and grabbed a burger and some fries in a drive through. By 8 she reached Flagstaff and used her GPS to guide her to the motel. She was tired so she skipped the sit down dinner; and grabbed some peanuts and a diet coke from the vending machine. There were two double beds and Angel enjoyed his bed for a while, but soon hopped on Madison's bed. Madison went to sleep she planned an early start after a hearty breakfast in the café downstairs.

Morning came fast. After breakfast, they took off towards Durango. The country was becoming more mountainous and Madison enjoyed the view. After a quick lunch, she drove through the quaint town of Durango ahead of schedule and drove another four miles until she reached Harrison Ranch. Her father had named it after his father by the same name. There was big horseshoe with Harrison Ranch over the entrance to the property. She was shocked at the dilapidated appearance of the once grand house. The two-story ranch style home was in need of a coat of paint. The nearby barn looked abandoned and desolate. It had been two years since Madison had been home, and the Ranch had really gone downhill. As she pulled into the front driveway, an elderly woman and a very handsome man came out to greet her. Madison recognized Maggie right away and hugged her warmly. Then a gorgeous man, with withering blue eyes, and excellent bone structure introduced himself as Dylan Morris. Madison couldn't take her eyes off of him. His smile was contagious and intoxicating. It revealed a vast array of beautiful dimples. He was perhaps the best looking man Madison had ever seen. He was wearing tight Levis, with a cowboy buckle, and a wrangler work shirt. He also wore some worn cowboy boots. It was cold and Maggie hurried them inside. Madison grabbed the water bowl to take it indoors. The house, though shabby and more run down than she remembered, was clean and orderly, _Maggie's doing_ Madison thought. Maggie offered to feed her lunch and some iced tea but Madison said she would skip the food and have the iced tea.

"I'm so sorry about your father," Maggie said. "He was the best boss ever and I loved him like a son."

"Thank you," Madison replied, feeling that Maggie probably had known her dad better than his own daughter.

"I had your father moved to the Holmes Funeral Home like you asked. There is enough money to cover a memorial service, but we are low on cash, it will have to be simple," Dylan said and he added, "I loved Dan Maringo like my own father. He used to tell me I was the son he never had. I will do whatever I can to honor his memory."

"How about if you help save the ranch, it is in big trouble, right?" Madison asked, not wasting any time.

"The Bank of Durango is threatening to foreclose. Since your dad became ill a couple of years ago, I have worked alone to keep up with the crops and all the livestock. We simply can't pay the bills, it is just that simple. I am sure your father left you the ranch Madison, but if we can't save it from the bank, your legacy could go up in smoke," Dylan said.

"Let's get settled before you start talking about all this depressing things" Maggie insisted, and showed her into a guest room. The room, like the rest of the house was shabby with an old wooden dresser, an antique mirror, and a blue chenille bedspread. It would do. Dylan carried Madison's bags and placed them side by side on the double bed.

"How about a tour?" Dylan asked. "We can check on the crops and you can see what we planted. Plus, you can look over the livestock. We also have three horses and three Holsteins. Madison perked up at the idea of the horses, _ahh I forgot about the horses_. Dylan seemed to read her mind. "You ride?" he asked. "I used to a long time ago, but I love horses almost as much as I love dogs," Madison answered. "I would love to see them."

"So you shall, what is your dog's name?" Dylan asked, petting an excited Angel who was furiously wagging his tail.

"Angel, he is a rescue. I just took one look at him and we fell in love. Can he really run free? Are the fences safe?" Madison asked.

"I'll let you see for yourself, let's go," Dylan said. "You'd better get a jacket, it is cold out there."

Madison donned her down jacket, put a leash on Angel and followed Dylan to his red pickup truck. It was surprisingly clean for a vehicle used on a working ranch. Madison secured Angel from the seatbelt extension from her car. Dylan backed out of the driveway and took off on a dirt road that ran through the property. It was a cloudy day and the mountain ranges that surrounded them were magnificent. Dylan turned on the radio to the country western station and Merle Haggard was singing about "Luckenbach, Texas."

"So Madison, what do you do back in California?" Dylan asked, using one hand to drive and other hand to ruffle Angel's fur.

"I am an English teacher in Los Angeles. I also put together most of the school plays and I helped form a dance group," Madison replied.

"Wow, a teacher, where in Los Angeles?" Dylan asked.

"In Torrance near LAX. It is an inner city school and there are lots of problems, but I feel like I am making a difference in those kid's lives," Madison answered.

"Are there gangs and crime?" Dylan asked.

"Yes, there are a few gangs, but the leaders are mostly dropouts. It is a hard fact to deal with and we have to constantly encourage education for students as a way of escaping their circumstances. Most of my students get it, a few don't and I lose a lot of sleep over that," Madison replied. "These kids come from homes that don't have windows, let alone books, and some of them are hungry and only get to eat at school. I keep a constant supply of granola bars and other tasty treats to encourage my students and keep them fed. I make a big batch of cookies every week and they are very popular."

"The kids must love that," Dylan observed.

"They always know cookie day, that is true! I usually eat lunch in my room and a group of 20 students join me to talk about life and what difference they can make. The principal of the school calls my room "The Honey Pot." I am worried that they won't be able to find a good substitute, but I will have to trust they can find someone who cares," Madison said, realizing she was talking a lot. But then again, Dylan seemed interested and he was easy to talk to.

"You must be tough," Dylan said. "And I admire you for teaching in a difficult area that takes guts and a real dedication."

"Thank you; I invest a lot of time and heart in those kids.

"What was the most impactful thing that happened"?

"Well I am also in charge of the drama department, and we put on plays and skits. The last play we did over Thanksgiving was A Raisin in The Sun, it was hard work trying to get the students to practice their lines. But the production was a success and we made enough money to take a trip to Disneyland in May," Madison said. Most of those kids are government kids with no vision of their future. I think the trip to Disney, represented more to them. Because, they were excited that through hard work they earned the money. That meant the world to me."

"Wow, I am impressed. Did you always want to be a teacher?" Dylan asked.

"Always, I used to play school with my dolls when I was a little girl. I admired most of my teachers and really appreciated what they were doing to make me a better person. I never lost my resolve even though both my parents wanted me to stay on the ranch and run things. I guess I disappointed them a lot," Madison said, a little sadly as she was thinking of her father.

"I talked to your dad all the time and I never heard him say he was disappointed with you. He told me you were in LA, but he didn't mention you were a teacher. To be fair though, we were always busy and maybe he just didn't want to get into it," Dylan said.

"What parent doesn't tell people what their children do for a living?" Madison asked.

"Your dad, he wasn't too keen on sentiment maybe that is why. I realize he could have told me, but he kept family matters close to the heart. He never talked about your mother. He was interested in my life but I can't say Dan did a lot of sharing. That is just the way he was," Dylan said.

Dylan showed Madison their crops of soybeans, corn, and beans. There was also a healthy crop of almond trees, which Madison had never seen. Everywhere throughout the land, cattle were grazing. They looked content.

"How many cattle do you have?" Madison asked as Dylan stopped to fill the feeding trough full of corn.

"We have 75 head of cattle, Angus and Herefords. We used to have more but like I told you, times have been hard. We have had to cut back and beef prices are at an all-time low," Dylan explained.

"Are you from Colorado, have you always worked on a ranch'" Madison asked? Dylan was about 6 foot, with broad shoulders, a flat stomach, and he was strikingly handsome. He liked to smile and the dimples in his cheeks creased alluringly when he grinned.

"I grew up in Cortez, a town close to here and my father was a rancher as well, but a much smaller ranch than the Harrison Ranch. We only had 20 head of cattle and a few hogs. My dad sold his ranch when I was 18 and I went to CSU in Fort Collins, Colorado to study agriculture. After I received my degree I worked on a ranch in New Mexico for a few years; then I came back home to farm a few acres here in Durango. That's when I met your dad; he had just lost his foreman and your mom. He was struggling to keep up the ranch so I offered him my help. He brought me on the ranch full time and I have been here ever since."

"And you and my dad got along well?" Madison asked.

"We wanted the same thing, for Harrison Ranch to be a success. And for the first three years I was here and for decades preceding me, this ranch was thriving. Things were going great until your dad got sick; I couldn't keep up with all the work so the Ranch went downhill. The timing is not that simple though. All ranchers have had it hard. Like I said, beef and pork prices have been low and we lost money on our soybeans and corn due to the drought. We just kept losing more money than we were making and Dan and I let some things go. Lately the bank has been pouncing and we are officially in the red and in big trouble. I'm sorry you had to come home to this, both your father's death and the run down ranch," Dylan said. "Do you want to see the hogs?"

"I'm afraid I don't know a lot about hogs except I love bacon, but sure, let's go," Madison said and smiled.

Dylan drove to three large barns that housed the hogs. There was a separate building where the meat was smoked. As hogs went, Madison decided the large number of rooting, grunting animals looked healthy.

"How many hogs are there?" Madison asked.

"There are 50, I need to build another barn, but we haven't had the funds lately. But I've recently caught a break, the lumberyard will give me most of the materials on credit, and I plan to start tomorrow. It won't be a perfect barn but it will give the hogs more room," Dylan explained. "There is also the old farmhouse that is 100 years old, built before the big house. That building needs to be torn down and the land it is sitting on needs to be cleared. There is so much to do and only me to do it. But I plan to have the old house bulldozed sometime this winter. Most of it was torn down a long time ago, there are just a couple of rooms left and they need to go. I keep blankets and a cot in there just in case we ever hire an extra ranch hand."

"Have you ever thought of selling the ranch?" Madison asked. A dark look crossed Dylan's face and he didn't answer for a minute. He seemed to be wrestling with something in his mind.

"No, neither your father nor I ever considered selling. This is beautiful land. It has been a joy to farm it. I love the cattle, the hogs, and the horses. I even enjoy the squawking of the chickens. This is home to me. No, I would never want to sell, but this will be your legacy and you will have to decide."

Madison thought deeply about the ranch and hoped her father had a lawyer and she could look at the numbers and decide for herself. She wondered if she could live on the ranch. It was beautiful but she would probably miss her students and the bustle of the city. Dylan interrupted her train of thought.

"How would you like to see the horses? How long has it been since you rode?" Dylan asked.

"I would love to see the horses and I used to ride a lot when I was younger." Madison asked eagerly.

"I love to saddle up Moses; it is a relaxing way to look at the ranch. Here we are." Dylan said as he pulled up to the stables, Madison wanted to let Angel out to run. She had surveyed all the fences as they rode around the farm and they all seemed secure. She brought a leash just in case, but Dylan assured her the farm was safe. Angel excitedly jumped out of the truck and took off running. Madison called him after a few minutes and he gladly ran back to her to get some loving. She decided it would be ok to let him run free as long as he came back when she called. Dylan led her into the stables and introduced her to Buttercup, a gorgeous thoroughbred who was a deep chestnut brown with a thick mane.

"Hello Buttercup," Madison said.

Dylan was slicing up an apple he handed her a juicy piece to feed the horse. Buttercup ate readily and whinnied. Dylan introduced her to an attractive Appaloosa named Moses. He handed Madison another apple and a small paring knife and she sliced pieces to feed him. The last horse in the stable was the quarter horse named Sam.

"Old Sam is the senior of the bunch. He doesn't like to be ridden much but I let him loose to get regular exercise. He likes apples and oats and he's a good horse, aren't you boy?"

Dylan was affectionate with all the horses and Madison felt herself growing close to this fellow animal lover. Dylan brushed all three horses and asked Madison if she wanted to ride in the morning.

"Oh yes, I would love it, which horse would be best, Buttercup or Moses? I am a little rusty," Madison asked.

"You will take Buttercup, she is real gentle and I will ride Moses. We will let Sam out to run and follow us and see what he does. The last two times I tried to ride him he bucked me, but he might be gentler with you. I think he is just old and cranky and not in the mood for riders anymore," Dylan said.

Madison lavished attention on each horse, petting their beautiful heads and running her hands across their flanks. Each horse seemed to enjoy the attention and ate their apple slices with vigor. They spent an hour with the horses while Angel took off running several times, surprised and please he could go so far without a leash, but he didn't abuse his freedom and ran back when called each time. Angel liked Dylan and let him pet him and give him a remaining slice of apple before he took off again to explore the meadow next to the stables. Angel was in Heaven.

Madison looked at her watch as it was getting dark and was surprised to find it was 5:30. "We had better get back," she said and called Angel who happily came to her.

"Maggie still fixes dinner every night and with you here she will have a feast," Dylan said.

Madison and Dylan were easy with each other. She sensed his nearness in the truck, while feeding and brushing the horses she found comfort a sense of excitement when his arm brushed hers. She was very attracted to him, she couldn't help it. Dylan had stolen a few glances her way as well and Madison had smiled a few times when she caught him looking. He didn't look away like so many men did when they were caught staring. Dylan just grinned and seemed to appreciate the view. She loved the fact that he liked her dog and spoiled the horses and she found herself smiling all afternoon. She could see why her dad had been so fond of Dylan. He was friendly, easy to be around, and gorgeous, a fact that her father probably overlooked.

After securing Angel in the pickup and buckling up, Dylan drove them back to the dilapidated farmhouse and Maggie met them at the door insisting that dinner was ready. Dylan lived in the carriage house next to the large farmhouse, but washed his hands after Madison in the kitchen sink and said he would change later. They all sat down at the dining room table and Madison asked if she could help. Maggie said everything was ready, but she could help her serve. Madison went into the kitchen and there was roast beef, which smelled heavenly, fresh green beans, garlic mashed potatoes, and homemade bread. Madison found she was ravenous. After all the food was at the table, Maggie said a short blessing and they all dug in. Angel was eager for morsels but he didn't beg. Madison placed some beef and beans in his bowl and he was very happy.

The meal was delicious and Madison and Dylan ate until they were full. After dinner Dylan played with Angel in the front yard with a tennis ball and Madison and Maggie cleaned up. Madison was heartened again that Angel and Dylan were forming such affection for each other and that Dylan seemed to really enjoy her pooch. After Maggie and Madison washed the dishes, all three of them watched the weather channel and the local news. Angel wanted his belly scratched so he put his paw on each person's knee. Dylan had started a roaring fire in the fireplace and the wood and kindling was sparking and burning behind the screen. Finally Angel settled in front of the fire and took a nap. Warmth was emanating throughout the room. There was bad news however; the weather channel reported a big storm was coming to the Durango, Cortez area in two days, which had Dylan very concerned. The weatherman predicted at least two feet of snow would hit the area, the biggest storm the ranch and surrounding area had seen in 20 years. Madison looked at both Dylan and Maggie and asked what needed to be done.

"First, we need to make sure we have supplies for a few days," Maggie said. "If the two of you are going riding in the morning, Madison and I can pick up a few days' worth of groceries after lunch."

"That sounds good," Madison echoed, "do we have enough firewood?"

"I will make sure of that and secure the livestock in the next couple of days," Dylan said.

All three of them continued to watch the storm alerts until 9 PM and Maggie stood up and said she was turning in. Dylan left to do chores and said he would be back by 10. Madison decided to wait up for him. She had not experienced such a big storm since she was a girl and she hoped everything would be ok. She grabbed the mystery from her suitcase and took a few minutes to hang her up clothes and place the foldable in the empty dresser drawers. She went back to the living room, muted the TV and read her book. Around 10:30, Dylan came in from his chores and found Madison deeply engrossed in her book.

"You are big time reader, aren't you?" Dylan asked, smiling.

"Ever since I was very young, I always found a lot of answers in books," Madison answered. "Do you like to read?"

"I do, quite a lot. Right now I am working myself through the William Kent Krueger mysteries, they are about a guy from Minnesota, an off and on sheriff slash PI who solves mysteries and is part Indian," Dylan said.

"I have read all twelve books in the series, I love the main character, Cork O' Connor; that was an excellent series," Madison replied, pleased that Dylan had such good taste. It gave them more to talk about.

"And how is Angel?" Dylan asked and got on his knees to pet her pooch.

"He is enjoying life on the ranch, but I think I will keep him in why we ride in the morning, he might spook the horses or try and chase us and get frustrated," Madison said.

"Good idea, after we ride, we can take him for a long walk," Dylan said. "But after that I need to build the barn for the hogs. However, later in the evening I was wondering if you would go to the Durango Square Dance with me?"

"That sounds fun," Madison smiled, "but it has been ages since I have danced."

"We have a good hoe down band and an excellent caller; I promise you that we will have a good time. The square dance is held in a huge barn with great acoustics. They serve beer and wine, everyone has a good time," Dylan said.

Madison smiled and thought of all the things that had happened to her today. She had left Flagstaff just this morning. Now she had met this man, this gorgeous sweet man who seemed to like her and her dog. She was feeling happy and encouraged for the first time in a long time. She knew there were problems with the farm and decisions she would have to make. But right now, she was looking forward to going riding and later to a dance with the most attractive man she had ever met. Madison went to sleep with a smile on her face and Angel curled contentedly at her feet.

# Chapter Three

At 6am the next morning Maggie was fixing breakfast. Madison asked Maggie if she had enough time to take a shower. "sure" Maggie said, "the grits are boiling and the bacon is frying, I'll hold off on the eggs until you're done."

"Thanks. Where is Dylan?" Madison asked. Maggie smiled knowingly and told her he was out doing chores.

"He will be in for breakfast in the next half hour so you better scoot," Maggie said, still smiling.

Madison took a quick refreshing shower and washed her hair. She dressed in jeans and a warm flannel shirt and dried her hair part of the way. She would finish the job after breakfast. She heard Dylan come and kiss Maggie and she felt the thrill of expectation about seeing him. She walked into the kitchen and Maggie was just finishing the eggs. Madison fed Angel and all three sat down to eat. The food was filling and delicious. Madison asked Dylan how cold it would be for their morning ride.

"It is pretty mild for a winter day, but you best wear your jacket, it can get cold riding on a horse," Dylan said.

They talked more about the bad weather coming, the barn Dylan was building, how much milk the Holsteins had produced that morning, and how everyone had slept. The sun was shining and there was no evidence that a storm was coming. After breakfast, Dylan went out to finish his chores and after Madison helped Maggie clean up, she finished drying her hair and let Angel out, this time on a leash.

"Later, we will go on a long walk, fella," Madison promised Angel, and he seemed to understand. At 9, Dylan came back and asked Madison if she was ready to go riding. She smiled and couldn't take her eyes off Dylan's smile. He was wearing a red flannel shirt, tight Levis and a cowboy hat. His good looks and his positive attitude were intoxicating; Maggie noticed how they smiled at each other. There was an additional cowboy hat on the coat rack by the back door; Dylan put it on Madison's head. It was a perfect fit and Madison wondered who it had belonged to.

"You're beautiful," Dylan said. Madison blushed and smiled.

***

Madison and Dylan hopped in Dylan's pickup and drove to the stables. He had a bag of apples with him and they found the horses in good humor looking like they needed some exercise. After feeding the horses some apples, Madison saddled and led buttercup out of his corral and Dylan did the same with Moses. Dylan let Sam out as well and he took off in a gallop glad to have his freedom. Madison and Dylan set off on their ride across the meadow. Buttercup put up with Madison's early skittishness, and when the couple took off in an easy gallop Madison remembered what it felt like to handle a horse and had no fear.

The two rode the entire length and width of the farm, inspecting the cows, the hogs and looking over the crops. The mountains in the background were breathtaking and once again, Madison wondered if she could live here. She would love to see the mountains every day on the back of a horse. Finally the horses needed a drink, Madison and Dylan stopped to water the horses.

"You are a good horsewoman, I guess it all came back to you," Dylan said while grinning.

Madison was smiling as well and had a hard time looking away from Dylan's handsome face. As the horses drank, they sat down under an old oak tree. He seemed to know what she was thinking.

"Do you think you could live here, and take care of the ranch?" Dylan asked.

"You told me there might not be a ranch to take care of," Madison said.

"Even if that is true, and we don't know yet, do you think you could leave the city, embrace the country life, become one of us again?" Dylan pressed.

"I would miss my students and I guess I would miss the city. I get tired of all the traffic and congestion and sometimes I dream of a spot like this. You know I don't know Dylan. I tried so hard to get away from here, risked the love of my parents to leave my home and I successfully made a home elsewhere. But now I am not sure. There is a beauty here, it transcends the smog of the city and makes me think of possibilities. And I have only been here for a day," Madison said.

"I could never leave this place, even if we lose the ranch, I will settle here, marry here, raise my children here. He looked at Madison directly. I have done some traveling. I took a road trip after college and visited almost all 50 states and then I went to Europe. But all I wanted to do was to come home. I have never found a place with so much peace, so much beauty, so many nice people, as there are right here," Dylan said.

"So you were born in Cortez?" Madison asked.

"Under "Sleeping Ute" Mountain on an Indian Reservation. My mother was Navajo and the hospital in Cortez was on an Indian Reservation although we didn't live on the reservation," Dylan explained.

"What is "Sleeping Ute" mountain?" Madison asked.

"It is a beautiful mountain shaped liked a sleeping Indian with a headdress and full gear. The legend goes that a huge powerful Ute Indian was fighting evil enemies and was victorious after a long battle. The fight exhausted him, however, and he was wounded. He lay down to rest and fell into a sleep he never woke from. His wound was too serious and the legend goes that the blood from his wound ran down the mountain and became the healthy streams and rivers from which we now drink," Dylan explained.

"And the mountain looks like a Ute sleeping?" Madison asked.

"Yes, I will take you there someday. The Ute's were very brave and powerful, in fact, the Ute Indians was where the state of Utah got its name," Dylan said.

"Wow, the mountain sounds beautiful. I would like to see it someday. Do you still have family in Cortez?" Madison asked.

"I have a sister, who like you, is a teacher. She teaches history. My parents are gone, but I visit my sister twice a year and see my nieces and nephews," Dylan replied.

Madison and Dylan remounted their horses and rode back to the stable. As promised, they drove back to the farmhouse and retrieved an anxious Angel and all three took off walking in the meadow nearby. Angel was in Heaven; he kept up his pattern of taking off in a mad dash and running until he was called back. This was better than any walk in the city and Angel wore himself out. Madison looked at her watch and was surprised it was almost noon. Time truly did fly when you were having a good time. And Madison enjoyed every minute she spent with Dylan. They talked easily about a variety of things and she knew she would never get tired of looking at his eager, handsome, dimpled face.

Madison and Dylan enjoyed a lunch made by Maggie of tuna salad on homemade bread with chips and salsa. Dylan left to go and work on the barn he was building.

"Don't forget we have the square dance tonight," Dylan winked. "Right after dinner."

"I won't forget," Madison replied with a sparkle in her eye.

Maggie smiled again and obviously approved of the couple having a date. Before Maggie and Madison left for town, Madison called the funeral home and authorized cremation as per her father's wish made to her long ago. She also set up a memorial service at the funeral home three days after cremation. Then Madison obtained the name of her father's lawyer, one Mr. Dawes, and gave him a call. She got his machine and left a message, requesting a reading of the will and any information about the affairs of the estate he could give her. Afterwards Maggie and Madison left the ranch and drove into Durango to get supplies. They bought enough food to last at least a week and once they returned home, they carried in all the groceries and put them away. By 4 Madison tried to get Maggie to talk about the state of the ranch. After all, Maggie had been there longer than anyone and even if she didn't know the financial information, she could give general information. Madison found Maggie making the beds after washing the sheets and bedspreads earlier in the day.

"Maggie, do you know anything about how the ranch became so run down?" Madison asked.

"It happened a little while after Mr. Dan, your father, took sick. Suddenly there were huge debts and no money. I wish I could tell you why. It seemed like the ranch was running smoothly to me. I kept getting paid. But it was little things. Nothing new could be purchased, then the housekeeper who helped me three days a week had to be let go and I had all the responsibility of getting the meals and cleaning the house. Then the house and the barn needed a coat of paint, but that was too expensive. And then there was the quiet. Before there were financial problems, Dylan and your father used to joke and laugh all the time. But six months ago, they would come to meals and not exchange one word. It was depressing and your dad was obviously not feeling well. I was afraid Dylan might have to leave. He has been doing most of the chores and keeping this ranch afloat, almost by himself, which is a lot of work. He started becoming more moody and quiet. This lasted right up to your father's death. And then you came and Dylan lit up like a firecracker. You have done more good for him than winning the lottery-in fact; he acts like we won the lottery. You are a magical woman Madison," she replied.

"I think he is pretty special too, there is just something about him. I have never met a man like him. He is sensitive, he is an animal lover, and tonight I will see if he is a good square dancer, and I have a feeling he is. He is so easy to talk to, and well, I just really like him and I can't believe I am saying this. I have only known him for a day," Madison enthused.

"Sometimes one day is all it takes," Maggie said slyly.

# Chapter Four

For dinner Maggie served fried chicken, corn on the cob, and a green bean casserole with homemade bread on the side. The food was delicious.

"When do you two leave for the square dance?" Maggie asked.

"It starts at 8, I have to do chores, then I will come home and change and we will go. Does that sound good Madison?" Dylan asked.

"I don't exactly have a frilly dress with petticoats like the professionals, what do you suggest?" Madison asked.

"Do you have a dress? Any old dress will do," Dylan asked. "Only the men wear jeans or pants. I guess it is kind of sexist that way, do you mind?"

"I do have a dress, and no I don't mind," Madison answered. "And the dress has a swirly skirt. I promise not to embarrass you too much or let you down."

"You could never let me down," Dylan said with a big grin.

At 7:45, Dylan met Madison at the front door and he admired her dress. She had donned a form fitting blue dress that flared around her knees.

"You will be the most beautiful woman there, are you ready?" Dylan asked. He was wearing a blue chamois shirt with snaps and a belt engraved with a Texas long horn. His cowboy hat topped off his outfit. On the way out the door Dylan grabbed the extra cowboy hat and placed it on Madison's head. "Now you look perfect," Dylan enthused. They walked to the truck and Dylan opened the door for Madison, then they drove to Durango.

"I have never been square dancing before. I used to go watch my parents when I was a child and I always had fun, can you give me some basic rules of the dance?" Madison asked.

"It is easy, the words you need to remember are do se do, promenade, allemande left or allemande right and a few other calls, but just let me guide you. Four couples stand in a square facing each other, I will be your partner and the man on your left will be your corner. To start off each couple bows to their partner and to their corner and the dancing begins. Don't worry Madison, it will be easy and fun. Do you like country music?"

"I always have, especially the older stuff like Hank Williams, Merle Haggard, and Johnny Cash, this sounds fun. I did some line dancing years ago at Gilly's in Houston, and I had a blast," Madison replied. "But most of my dancing has been to roll and roll."

"Just listen to the caller and follow my lead," Dylan smiled. "That is all there is to it."

After passing through town, Dylan pulled into a huge barn called the "Howdy De Do." Madison enjoyed the closeness of Dylan in the truck without Angel between them and he smelled heavenly, a mixture of musk and fresh air. She started to open her door, but Dylan ran around and opened it for her. They went inside and the "Howdy" as Dylan called it was a revelation. There was bar at the far end of the barn, two stages, and a huge dance floor. Madison felt like she had walked into a country western video. All the men wore cowboy hats and colorful western attire. The women were in mostly full, frilly dresses or skirts. On one stage, a band was already playing country favorites. The mood was festive and the ceiling was strung with tiny white lights. There were pictures all over the walls of dancing teams and bands that had played there. All around the barn were chairs with small tables people were already sitting, sipping their beers.

"What can I get you to drink, beer or wine?" Dylan asked.

"A cold beer, sounds good," Madison answered.

"Have a seat, I'll be right back," Dylan said and walked towards the bar. Madison took a seat and Dylan soon joined her with two beers.

"It never starts until 8:30 or 9, so we have a few minutes to drink our beers and chat for a while," Dylan said. "Did I tell you how pretty you look?"

"You don't look so bad yourself," Madison replied, gazing at his handsome face. She knew other women had noticed him and when they waved, he politely tipped his hat. "Have you been dancing here for a long time?"

"I used to go with my parents and as soon as I turned 16, I had a date and danced until they closed the place down. I love the music and they have an excellent fiddler in the band. He has been here for 20 years," Dylan answered.

"What is the name of the band?" Madison asked, tapping her toes to the music.

"They are called Homer Wagoner and the Sidewinders. They are excellent and have played dances in this area for years," Dylan said appreciatively.

"So I guess you have brought a lot of women here," Madison asked shyly.

"I guess so, but never a woman who was as beautiful and smart as you. I can promise you that. I might have to show you off a little," Dylan smiled. "The caller is old Ed Bradley, he has been calling these dances for 40 years, he is great. At that moment an older man took the stage with a microphone and said real loud. "Let's go folks! Grab your partner and let's get into position."

Dylan took Madison's hand and led her to a group of three couples. They would make the forth couple. They all faced each other and smiled. Ed Bradley introduced himself and the band playing. The next half hour was dictated by Ed calling out instructions to the dancers.

"Bow to your partner," Ed said. "Now bow to your corner." Madison bowed and was ready for the next call.

"Promenade left and come back home," Madison linked arms with the other cowboys and wove in and out until Dylan took her hand.

"Allemande left with the corner maid, meet your own and promenade," Ed said. "Now ladies form a star and catch your corner and do se do." Madison joined the other women in the center and touched hands and then do se doe'd with her corner, a nice older man with a Stetson hat. From there on Ed made calls and Madison caught on quickly.

"Chase the rabbit, chase the squirrel, Chase that pretty girl around the world." Madison wove through the dancers and found Dylan waiting for her.

"Comb your hair and button your shoe, promenade home like you always do," Ed called out.

"First you whistle, then you sing, all form hands and make a ring." The group of eight dancers made a ring until Ed called "Four ladies chain, right and left grand, then grab your corner and do-si-do." Madison complied and was really enjoying herself.

Whenever Ed said "Find your partner and promenade home," Madison knew she would be in Dylan's arms again, something she was enjoying quite a lot. As Madison learned all the calls, Ed had a bunch of homespun sayings he uttered in between instructions. Madison smiled at each one.

"Big foot up, little foot down, grab your partner and swing them around." Madison felt Dylan's arms around her and felt very secure. Even when she had to link arms with other men in the square, she grabbed Dylan's hand and promenaded home.

"Bow to your partner and the corner miss, to the opposite lady just blow a kiss." The calls included lots of circles, going forward and back, switching arms to link with all the men in the square, meeting in the center for a star, and doing a "tidal wave." The latter was when the group formed a line, and did a long wave, which was letting your body swirl up and down, like a wave going through you. Madison couldn't remember when she had had so much fun. Finally the first dance was over with a parting call, Hurray up girls, don't be slow, kiss the caller before you go." Madison didn't kiss Ed, but many women did.

After another beer, the next dance started and the fiddler had the crowd in a frenzy. Madison was getting to know all the calls and before she knew it, it was midnight and the lights in the barn came on. There was a slow dance to send every one home and Madison and Dylan danced with their bodies pressed against each other to Willie Nelson's "Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain." Madison wanted to song to last forever. Dylan held her close and lightly kissed her neck and smoothed her curls. He whispered in her ear how beautiful she was and Madison felt like she was going to faint. No man had ever made her feel so weak kneed and dreamy, and when the dance was over, Dylan took her hand and led her to the door to leave. He knew lots of people and introduced Madison to many friendly people, women and men, and all of them shook Madison's hand heartily. When they reached the truck, Dylan opened the door for Madison and again he took the wheel.

"Well, did you have a good time?" Dylan asked.

"I had a marvelous time, maybe the best time I have ever had," Madison enthused. "Dancing that is."

"Good, that was my plan," Dylan smiled and started up the truck. He turned on the country channel on the radio and they chatted about the dances, the dresses, the band, and the excellent calls all the way back to the ranch. Madison had a strong urge to move close to Dylan and snuggle up, but she fought her desires. After all, she had met this wonderful man just two days ago, if that. She had to show restraint, get a hold of herself. Once they were back at Harrison Ranch, Dylan kissed Madison goodbye. The kiss lingered on her forehead as they walked to the door. Madison wanted more, but this would have to do for now.

"Goodnight cowboy" Madison said.

Dylan tipped his hat and said "Goodnight cowgirl."

Madison went to her room where Angel was waiting for her. She performed her nightly routine that incorporated putting on her nightgown and brushing her hair and teeth. She then snuggled into the bed with Angel at her feet. No man had ever encaptivated her. Madison felt happy and wondered if she was falling in love with Dylan. She fell asleep with the image of Dylan strong arms around her hips.

# Chapter Five

The next morning Madison could hear Maggie in the kitchen. She glanced at the alarm clock and was surprised to see it was almost 9 in the morning. She had really slept late. She jumped out of bed, got dressed, and brushed her teeth and hair. Angel needed to go out and Madison bypassed the kitchen for a moment to take Angel out. He wanted to run free and she was still too sleepy to keep an eye on him. _Later, buddy, I promise,_ she told Angel and he seemed to accept her words. She brought him back in and found Maggie making waffles with the waffle iron.

"I heard you come in last night, so I decided to let you get some sleep," Maggie smiled. She poured more waffle batter into the iron. "Are you hungry? I made some sausage earlier and I have warm waffles in the oven."

"I am famished," Madison said while she bent to filled Angel bowl with food.

To her delight, Dylan walked into the kitchen after finishing his morning tasks. His grin melted Madison, _if I was made of ice I would have been a puddle of water_ she thought. He had a hard time looking away from her face. His eyes only broke there gaze to surveyed her every move. She blushed under his appreciative gaze. Maggie giggled at the sight to give them. To give them a little privacy she retrieved the plates of sausage and fresh waffles, she put them on the table with heated maple syrup.

"Maggie, you always seem to know exactly what I need," Dylan said and hugged Maggie around the shoulders. She smiled and invited them all to breakfast. Madison and Dylan sat down and Maggie said the blessing, taking extra care to ask that they all would be safe from the storm. Madison had not prayed in a long time, but she whispered amen and they all dug in. The sausage and waffles were delicious. Madison poured the warmed syrup over the waffles, it immediately pooled between the crispy squares. After everyone ate, Madison helped Maggie wash the dishes. While Dylan wandered into living room, he immediately turned The Weather Channel on.

"Ah man, said Dylan, the storm has already started in Wyoming and it's due to hit here by lunchtime," Dylan said.

"Oh no, I thought it was going to hit later in the day "replied Maggie.

"I guess not."

The newsman said at least 2-3 feet of snow would fall. Also they said Louise was a blizzard with high winds and poor visibility. Madison was worried. Because, she hadn't been through a storm of this magnitude since she was a little girl. Dylan said he had to do some work as the sun was shining and said he would be back for lunch.

As she was watching the weather warnings, Madison received a call from her dad's lawyer, Mr. Dawes.

"Miss Maringo, this is Lewis Dawes. I executed your father's will, you are the sole beneficiary for ¾ of the estate, and the remaining ¼ was left to one Dylan Morris. I guess you know there is a second and third mortgage on the ranch and you need to come up with some money to keep the bank off your back."

"I have only been here a couple of days, and I haven't had a chance to look at the financial books yet. Can you tell me when all this trouble started happening?" Madison asked.

"The first mortgage was taken out 2 years ago; the third mortgage was only a year ago. I warned Dan to stop accumulating debt, but he refused to sell off any more equipment or livestock. You own the majority share and you will have to decide what to do," Mr. Dawes said. "That young fellow who runs things, Dylan Morris, he should be able to help you figure things out. If you don't plan to stay here, I would advise you to pay up the mortgages, assess your assets, and try to sell. You don't want the bank to get a hold of your father legacy," Mr. Dawes remarked. "Why don't you come by this afternoon, you can look over the will and we can talk."

"How about 2, would that be good?" Madison asked.

"I will be waiting," Mr. Dawes said. "Be careful in the snow."

"I will be, I promise," Madison said and hung up.

The rest of the morning Madison helped Maggie with the laundry and some additional chores before she took Angel for a walk. It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining and it didn't look like a storm was coming. _The calm before the storm_ , Madison thought.

Madison and Angel took off towards the stables, which were about 3 miles from the house. She thought besides walking Angel she would also check on the horses. She packed some apples from the fruit bowl on the dining room table and let Angel run ahead of her without a leash. The mountains surrounding her property were beautiful and Madison breathed in the clean mountain air. She tested Angel a few times by calling him back, and he came back every time. He really loved the ranch and the freedom it gave him. Madison was starting to like it too. When she reached the stables, all three horses seemed moody. They all allowed petting and enjoyed their apples, but Madison could sense that they were wary. She figured that they sensed a storm was coming. She wished she could ride Buttercup, but without Dylan, she didn't think it was wise idea. Plus it was almost lunchtime and Madison needed to get back to the ranch house to help Maggie.

Maggie was busy making a chef salad, she added chicken and ham and then grated some cheese. She also added cucumbers, tomatoes, onions and peppers and boiled some eggs.

"Mmmmm, that looks delicious," Madison said. "What kind of dressing will you use?"

"I make my own honey mustard dressing; I think you will like it. Dylan came and put his arm around Maggie. "What's for lunch dear girl?"

"We are having a chef salad, and don't worry, there is meat in there," Maggie teased.

"Sounds good, let me just clean up." He gave Madison a big grin and asked her how she had spent her morning.

"I took Angel for a walk and I visited the horses," Madison answered. "They seemed moody and distracted; do you think they know a storm is coming?

"Of course they do, the livestock are also anxious, I think it is in the air," Dylan said.

"What are you going to do?" Madison asked. "I mean with all the animals."

I am going to confine the cows within three pastures, I wish I had time to secure the fences, but I have an appointment in town today, some business I have to attend to," Dylan said and didn't elaborate.

"Is there anything I can do?" Madison asked.

"Just work with Maggie and make sure we have all the flashlights and candles we might need in case the power lines come down. I will be back by five and Maggie; I am going to wait out the storm in the house tonight. I think it is safer than the carriage house," Dylan said.

"I agree, I will prepare one of the guest rooms for you," Maggie replied.

"Dylan, I talked to Mr. Dawes this morning, and we have an appointment at 2," Madison stated. "Is there anything I should know?"

"We will have plenty of time to talk; can it wait a few hours?" Dylan asked.

"I guess so," Madison answered, wondering what business could be keeping Dylan away from the farm on a day when possible repairs had to be done.

The snow started about one in the afternoon. Madison looked out the window and so far, it didn't look bad. She donned a jacket and took Angel out for a while. She felt like she should be doing something useful to prepare for the storm. She had helped Maggie gather the flashlights and candles in case the power went out. Angel stayed close to home and seemed to sense Madison's moodiness. Maggie told Madison there had been a 3-foot storm, 20 years ago, and everything had been fine. Madison didn't remember it, but storms were different for children than they were for adults. Snow for children meant a day off from school and playing in the snow. After trying to read for a while and failing, Madison decided to make her trip into Durango and meet with her father's attorney. It was getting colder and Madison donned her down jacket and scarf and went out to clean her Subaru. The snow was coming down harder and her car was already covered with snow. She had borrowed a snow and ice cleaner from Maggie and spent a few minutes after she started the car, cleaning the front windshield as well as the back and all the other windows. She went back inside, hugged Maggie and set off for town. Maggie told her to be careful and Madison promised she would be. It was a five- mile drive and traffic was light. The road was a little slippery, but Madison went slow and didn't attempt to pass.

She reached Mr. Dawes office by 2 and already she couldn't see farther than 2 or 3 feet in front of her. The weather had become colder and her wipers were working hard to keep the snow off her windshield. She debated whether to cancel the appointment and go back to the ranch, but decided to keep the appointment. A cheery secretary named Dot greeted her as she walked in. They chatted for a minute and talked about the storm. Dot said she was leaving early and would hunker down with her husband and three kids for the night. About 2:10 she was buzzed into Mr. Dawes office and a kindly, elderly man in his 70's greeted her. His white hair reminded her of Colonel Sanders; however Mr. Dawes wore a black suite.

"Ah, Miss. Maringo, I am sorry we met under such circumstances. Here's the will right here," Mr. Dawes said. "Please have a seat."

"He gathered a group of papers and read out loud the official granting of three-quarters of the estate to her and the remaining one-fourth to Dylan Morris. The ranch house and all the personal effects of the house were left to Madison. Mr. Dawes said there was a personal note for Madison. It read as follows. "It is my wish that Madison Maringo, my only child, do everything in her power to keep the ranch intact and not sell it or let it fall victim to foreclosure. She will need help from my most trusted partner, Dylan Morris to achieve this. This is why I have given Mr. Morris part of the estate. He has worked hard for his share and I know he will help Madison sort things out. While Madison and I have not been close since her mother died, I want her to know she was deeply loved even if I did not always know how to show it. I was deeply saddened that she chose to move to Los Angeles, but I was proud she chose to be a teacher. But that was her dream, and I'm glad she followed through. It is my wish that after my death, that she take over the running of the ranch. If she chooses to stay she can teach in Durango and run the ranch part time with Mr. Morris' help and even hire and additional hand if needed.

"Why would he split the ranch like that?"

Maybe your father thought if he gave a part of the ranch to Mr. Morris, you would consider staying. Maybe he thought you would have a change of heart. Let me be honest, I was your father's attorney, but he was not a particularly warm man. We were not friends in any close kind of way and I am sorry if he was not the kind of father you needed. Maybe few men are. But I know he loved you, and he loved Harrison Ranch, a ranch he built from scratch. He wanted you to have it, but you are not under any obligation to hold onto it. You are alive and it is your choice, your life," Mr. Dawes said, reaching across the desk and taking Madison's hand. She was crying softly and didn't know what to say. Lewis Dawes was gentle and kind enough to let her cry and handed her a Kleenex. She finally dried her eyes and tried to focus.

"Thank you Mr. Dawes, can you also provide me with the mortgages and any official papers I might need?" Madison asked.

"I have a folder full of all the pertinent papers you will need. We can meet and discuss what you have read in a few days if you need to. Right now I think you had better head home. The snow looks very bad and it is probably time we both went home. Madison stood up to leave. "Thank you Mr. Dawes, you have given me a lot to think about."

"Good luck to you Miss Maringo," Mr. Dawes said kindly, "Drive carefully".

Madison put on her coat and scarf, she opened the law office door to a flurry of wind and blinding snow. She knew her car was in the parking lot a few feet away, but she couldn't see it. All she could see was snow. She had forgotten to wear her boots because she thought the storm would not be bad until later. As she stepped in the snow it came up to her calves, it immediately soaked her tennis shoes and socks. When she finally reached her car, she slipped and fell into the snow, the papers in her folder flying in the wind. She panicked and slid around the blinding snow picking up every paper she could find. Her feet and her legs were freezing and Madison knew she needed to get in her car and turn on the heat. She wiped the snow from her face and looked hard for any remaining papers or documents. But she couldn't see past her nose. She had retrieved six documents and she hoped that would cover it. She had to get warm.

With shaking hands, she grabbed her keys from her purse, brushed the snow and ice away from the lock on her car door and let herself into her car. The windows were all covered heavily with snow and she couldn't see a thing. She started her car and thank goodness it started. She turned the heat on high and started her windshield wipers, which cleared her windshield. The problem was she couldn't see anything but snow. How in the world was she going to get back to the ranch? She tried to think and grabbed her cell phone from her purse. She called the office of the highway patrol after getting information and was put on hold. She knew it might be awhile, so she pressed the speaker function on the phone as she slowly warmed up. How long could she last in her car? Madison started to remember any survival techniques she had ever learned and in the midst of all this snow and how fast it was falling, nothing came to her.

Finally someone answered the phone; Madison touched the speaker option and sound went back to normal. There was a lot of static on the line and she tried to speak clearly.

"I am in Durango, at 568 Post Street and I need to get to Harrison Ranch, can you help me? Madison asked anxiously.

"I am Sarah, just try to calm down. Are you driving now?" Sarah asked.

"No, I am stuck in my car, I need a tow, or guidance, or information about road conditions, anything you can give me," Madison said.

"Ma'am it might be an hour before we can get to you, but we will get you home. Do you have water or something to eat?" Sarah asked.

"I have a half bottle of water and nothing to eat, but I am not hungry, I had a big lunch," Madison answered gratefully. "What are the roads like?"

"They are almost impassable, except for emergency vehicles, we have posted warnings that everyone stay home," Sarah said. "It is snowing 2 inches an hour and has been for several hours. It is not that the snow is abnormally deep yet, it is the visibility. Our big tow trucks can see, barely, but it is extremely difficult for the average driver."

"When can you come and pick me up?" Madison asked.

"Can you sit tight and stay warm in your car for an hour? It might be longer," Sarah said.

"I will be right here, I am on 568 Post Street and I have a blue Subaru Forrester. I am in the front parking lot of the law office of Lewis Dawes. Are you going to tow my car?" Madison asked.

"Yes ma'am, we have been picking people up since 3 PM when visibility went to almost zero. We have been rescuing people in town, stuck on the roads and everywhere in between. It will be 200 dollars, do you have cash?" Sarah asked.

"I have about $150, and I can write a check for the rest, will that work?" Madison asked. "I think we can work something out. We have had to tow a lot of people for free because it has been so bad out, so we will take whatever you can give," Sarah said.

"Thank you, thank you so very much," Madison said, feeling grateful. How in the world had the snow gotten so bad, so quickly? She called the ranch and an anxious Maggie answered.

"Maggie, it is Madison, I ok."

"Thank God," Maggie said, "How are you getting home?"

"The highway patrol is going to help me. They are sending a tow truck to pick me up in an hour or so.

"Where are you?"

"I'm stuck in the Mr. Dawes parking lot. I am sure Mr. Dawes is still in the office. I hope he has food and drink," Madison said.

"You and me both; are you sure your okay?"

"Yes I'm fine; how is Dylan?"

"He got home, but he went right back out again, he said the cows were in trouble. Our ranch is only 100 acres, but that is a lot of ground to cover. He was worried about you," Maggie said. "He was upset that you had gone into town, but I told him none of us thought the snow would fall so hard and fast."

"I have heard the snow isn't terribly deep yet, the problem is that no one can see more than a foot in front of them, and they are sliding off the road or getting stuck. I'm sure some are like me; they went somewhere thinking the storm would not be too bad, and now they are stuck. When I made it to my car, the snow was up to my ankles," Madison said.

"The weather channel reported the snow is falling at least two inches an hour," Maggie reported. "It started five hours ago so that means we are close to a foot already. I am very worried about Dylan."

"Hopefully he will be home by the time the Highway Patrol brings me home," Madison said. She ended the call with Maggie and sat in her car waiting for the tow truck. She should have been more prepared, _Oh god why didn't I have a granola bar or some kind of snack_. Madison could have use a blanket too. It had been 45 minutes since she had called the Highway patrol. She had been running her heat ten minutes on, then ten minutes off to conserve her battery.

She tried hard to see out into her front window however, the only thing that was close to being legible was the law office. And the law office was a formidable shadow in front of her. The tire was now hub deep in powdery white snow. The radio thankfully worked and Madison had tuned the dial to a news station out of Denver. Denver was dry so far, but the blizzard Louise was getting lots of coverage. Many people were stuck in their cars on the side roads and highways and a shelter had been opened in Durango and Cortez for passengers who couldn't get home. Everyone, especially those who lived alone, were worried about pets and elderly relatives.

By six in the evening, a hand knocked on Madison's window. She rolled it down and the snow fell forward into her lap. _Thank God!_

"The tow truck is almost ready, all we need to do is back it up to your car," a nice guy named Ralph told her. "Where do you live?"

"I am staying at Harrison Ranch, it is about 10 miles from here, will that be ok? Can you get me home?" Madison asked anxiously.

"We'll do our best, ma'am, right now we need you to get out of the car. What is your name?" Ralph asked.

"It is Madison Maringo and I am so grateful you are here, thank you so much."

Madison tried to open her car door but it wouldn't budge, the drifts were already too high. Ralph went to cab in the tow truck and retrieved a shovel. He proceeded shoveling all the snow next to the car door, and after ten minutes, Madison was able to get out. The snow was already up to her calves. She chastised herself again for not wearing boots to keep her feet dry. _Why had she taken this appointment with a blizzard coming? Did she really think she was invincible? Ugh focus_ she said to herself as the tow truck back towards Madison's car. She reached in and put the gear into neutral. Ralph maneuvered the car, with safety chains and connectors onto the tow dolly. After he had secured the car, Madison hopped into the cab and Ralph drove Madison home. The truck was huge; it had powerful lights that shown though the snow. Even though they could only see a small portion of road ahead of them, it was enough to keep them moving forward. On either side of the cab, Madison could see abandoned cars; most of them were in ditches. She hoped if they had taken off on foot, that they had found shelter somewhere.

Forty-five minutes later, Ralph pulled into Harrison Ranch and Madison breathed a huge sigh of relief. Ralph got out, and released her car from the tow dolly. Madison gladly paid him and thanked him. He slowly made his way through the white powder to rescue other stranded motorists. Maggie was on the porch bundled in a parka, they hugged each other and went inside to the warm house.

"Is Dylan back yet?" Madison asked.

"Not yet, but he is probably out making sure the cattle are safe, he will be here, try not to worry," Maggie answered. But Madison was worried. He could be anywhere in this storm and she would feel much better when he was home safe.

"First get out of those wet clothes. I have a fire going and I made some warm stew.

All Madison could say was ,"thanks, Maggie."

Maggie saw the concern itched on Madison's face so she tried to reassurance her. "I know Dylan always carries his phone," Maggie observed. However she chose to leave out that she had called him 5 times with no success.

"It worries me that it is dark and we have not heard from him," Madison said.

As she and Maggie sat down to eat some beef stew. After they washed the dishes, both women sat down in front of the weather channel. It was all bad news. A foot and a half of snow had fallen and cars were stuck everywhere. The ploughs were trying to clear streets, but they could not keep up with the speed of the snowfall. At least another foot or more was supposed to fall. And Dylan was still not home. It was 8 in the evening and Madison grew more and more concerned. If he was not home soon, she decided she would go out in the snow and try to find him. She knew Maggie would be against the idea, but she had to know he was ok.

# Chapter Six

As the hours passed, there was still no call from Dylan and he didn't come home. By 11 in the evening, Madison was beside herself with worry. The storm had calmed down a bit and Madison made up her mind to try and find Dylan. If she could get to the old homestead, she would have shelter and she had a feeling if Dylan was holed up anywhere it would be there. She could bring food and supplies and they could wait the storm out. If only she could get there.

"I don't like this," Maggie asserted. We don't need both of you being lost in the storm."

"There is a lull right now," Madison answered peering outside, "If I can get to the old farmhouse I will be ok until the storm wears itself out. The storm is predicted to be winding down by tomorrow afternoon or evening."

"If he were there, wouldn't he have tried to come home by himself?" Maggie asked. And it was a good question.

"It is very probable he could be stuck and is holing up until the storm passes. He also could be hurt and his phone is dead. Maggie, I couldn't sleep anyway. I would just worry about him. And if he is injured in some way, I can help him," Madison asserted. Maggie finally gave in and obtained a backpack for Madison to carry food, drink, and first aid supplies with simple medications like aspirin. She found some long underwear and supervised Madison as she dressed warmly in layers. Madison wore long underwear, flannel lined jeans, her boots, and three layers of shirts, short sleeved, long-sleeved flannel and a sweater over that. On top of that she wore her down parka, a scarf, gloves and an old facemask Maggie found in the coat closet. It had been Dylan's and it would protect her from the wind and snow. After Maggie filled her bag and packed her phone, she gave Madison a large flashlight, similar to what a miner would use to guide the way in the darkness.

"Call me as soon as you can, and if Dylan is hurt, do what you can for him. Stay safe, and if the storm starts again, and it will, come home if you can't find him," Maggie said.

Madison hugged Maggie goodbye before she walked into the cold black abyss.

Maggie figured she had about a three mile to walk to the old farmhouse. Thankfully, the snow was not coming down nearly as strong as it had been earlier. Or the trip would have been 10x as grueling. _The farmhouse is near the stables_ , she thought, _I could check on the horses_. The snow was so deep that Madison was forced to march in thigh high snow drifts. _Ahh thank you Maggie for the warm layers and boots!_ She thought out loud.

It was quiet, a stillness that almost screamed to Madison. She couldn't hear the cows or pick up on any signs of life. The trek was slow and it took an incredible amount of energy. But the unknown status of Dylan made her push through the exhaustion and leg cramps. She knew he could be holed up in any of the barns, but still she thought the most likely place was the old farmstead. Hopefully they think alike, because that is where she would have holed up.

Slowly Madison made progress through the snow. She was lucky the storm has taken a break and her light was strong. The wind picked up and shook the spruce trees making even more snow fall on her. The branches moaned, creaked and groaned against each other. It was very cold despite all of Madison's layers, she was chilled to the bone and her feet were getting wet. She had lost all feeling in her toes. Still she forced herself to keep going, step by tortuous step through the deep snow. After a couple of hours, she reached the stables. All the horses looked cold and the stalls were deep with snow and there was no dry place for Buttercup, Moses and old Sam to stand. There was a shovel nearby and Madison spent precious minutes shoveling out each stall. She also found that Dylan had a pile of blankets in a closet behind the saddles, Madison put a dry blanket on each horse and spent a while rubbing them down until they whinnied in appreciation. The snow, however was starting to come down heavily again. Madison knew she had to walk another half mile to the old farmstead where she hoped to find Dylan. _I have to go before it's too late._

# Chapter Seven

After taking care of the horses, she went back into the now, snow storm. Her legs muscles felt like they were going to snap, and her back ache from the heavy backpack. The snow was falling with a fury now, and though she shone her light where the homestead should be, she saw only white. She knew she was close and perhaps because of the blizzard, she just couldn't make it out. Then she saw a faint light. Was it coming from the homestead? She tried to go faster, but the cramps in her legs and the bitter cold kept her plodding at a slow pace. Yes, it was a light and she saw the shadow of the homestead. It was entirely dark except for a faint light. Her heart jumped with anticipation. Could it be Dylan? Was there a stove in the homestead or a fireplace where he could start a fire? She had never been inside as Dylan had told her it was to be bulldozed. Dylan had told her there was a cot inside. She pushed forwards and saw smoke coming from the chimney. It was a fire! Dylan had to be there. He was probably just waiting out the storm. As Madison trudged closer, she saw Dylan's pickup; it was hub deep in snow. _Well we won't be driving out of here_ , she thought. She called out his name but knew in the high wind her tremulous voice could probably not be heard. The blizzard was getting worse by the minute and by the time Madison reached the old farmhouse; she breathed a sigh of relief. She was sure Dylan was behind these walls and she called his name again. She found the door and there was too much snow to find a doorknob, so she knocked hard. To her surprise and relief, Dylan opened the door and hugged her harder than she had ever been hugged. He let her in and led her to the fire.

"How did you know where to look?" Dylan asked, as Madison removed her facemask and her parka.

"I just had a feeling, did you get stuck, why didn't you call Maggie to tell her where you were?" Madison asked.

"I got stuck chasing down the cattle. The fence I was supposed to fix came loose and the cows escaped out of the pastures I had confined them to. I forgot to charge my phone this morning so I have been without communication. I can't believe you came all this way to find me," Dylan said in amazement.

"Why didn't you try to come home?" Madison asked.

"I have been too busy tending to the animals, there are still a few cows missing but I will have to wait until morning. When the snow started coming down harder again, I hightailed it to the old farmstead and just started a fire. I figured I could last the night out here and get the cattle first thing in the morning. If the ranch had been secure with all the animals in their places, I would have come home," Dylan explained. "Did you really walk three miles in deep snow to find me?"

"Yes, I did, and I brought food and supplies, in case you were hurt. Are you hungry?" Madison asked.

"I am starving, what do you have?" Dylan smiled.

"I have energy bars, granola bars, cookies, a loaf of Maggie's bread and some honey to go with it. I also brought fried chicken courtesy of Maggie and several sandwiches, mostly tuna and egg salad. I'm afraid all the food is very cold now, but it should be edible."

There were two chairs and a small table, which Dylan moved closer to the fire. There was also a cot in the back of the room. Madison opened her backpack and made Dylan a plate of chicken, some homemade bread, and a granola bar for desert. The honey was frozen and Madison placed it near the fire. Dylan was indeed ravenous and ate everything presented to him. After the honey warmed up, he poured it on the bread and finished the meal with a granola bar.

# Chapter Eight

Dylan and Madison lay in the cot, there limbs intertwined. Madison became cold, so he wrapped her in his arms and put a warm blanket over the two of them. The fire was crackling from lack of wood. So Dylan put on his long underwear and fought the wind to get a few pieces of wood. He quickly got inside with the wood and placed the wet wood on two burning logs, with new kindling the fire started up in earnest. Madison slipped on her jeans and a t-shirt and they sat holding hands, watching the fire

"I guess we are stuck here for a day or two," Dylan said.

"I can't think of anyone I would rather be stuck with," Madison said and brought his hand to her lips for a gentle kiss. He grinned .

"Should we try and get some sleep? My guess is that it is about 2 in the morning," Dylan said. Madison grabbed her watch from the backpack and said, "No, it is 3, the sun will be up in about three hours." They cuddled up under the musty sheets and the blanket on top and held each other until they fell asleep, tangled in each other's arms.

***

They both woke cold because the fire had gone out in the night. Dylan braved the snow to get firewood, while Madison got dressed. After Dylan got the fire started, he joined Madison in a breakfast of granola bars and cookies.

"Last night was...magnificent," Dylan said. Madison smiled.

"You're right, it was."

"I still have to get the cows all together and it is still pretty bad out there," Dylan said.

"I will help you," Madison said.

"Why don't you stay here and get warm, I can do it," Dylan said.

"I made it through a blizzard to find you, I think I can help find a few cows," Madison replied.

"Ok, well we have to bundle up," Dylan said. Each of them quickly put on layer after layer and when they were dressed, they came together for a quick kiss. "Stay close to me," Dylan said before he peeked out the door.

The door was pushed open by the rushing wind, knocking Madison back. She took a moment to take in the view. However dangerous, the snow was beautiful and had covered every tree and bush. It was a wonderland of white and it was still snowing. The pickup was covered in snow and Madison had to wonder if it would ever move or even start again. The world seemed immobilized, tranquilized, like everything had stopped except the snowflakes.

"Where are we going?" Madison yelled towards Dylan.

"The pastures for the cows are all about a mile east of here, if we can get them all in just three barns for a couple nights, then they will be safe. Yesterday most of them had found the barn, but I am still missing about 8 cows," Dylan said. "They can't have gone far, we just need to find them and lead them to the barn."

"How do you get cows to do what is in their own best interests?" Madison asked.

"It is finding them that is the hard part," Dylan said. "I'll admit it is hard to get them to go exactly where you want them to go, but I have some ropes in the back of the truck and we can use those."

"You mean tie the ropes around their neck, won't that hurt them?" Madison asked.

"We will use a loose knot; I promise we won't hurt the cows. They will be dead if they don't have any place to feed," Dylan replied.

"Ok then, let's get the ropes," Madison said.

"The back of the truck was filled with snow and Dylan started digging. After about 10 minutes he had the ropes. The walk was long and arduous but after a half hour they found the first Angus cow, all alone in a field. Dylan tied a loose knot around his neck and led him to the barn. The cow went willingly, seeming to know what was in his best interest, and after they got the cow to safety, they searched for the others. They kept the old homestead in sight while they searched. If only the snow would stop, Madison thought. All this white was blinding and Madison had forgotten to take a pair of sunglasses. But then she didn't know she would be searching for cows in a snowstorm.

Visibility was horrible and Madison and Dylan held hands so they wouldn't get separated. After two hours had passed, they had found six cows and there were two more to go. They decided to take a break, go back to the old farmhouse to eat. The snow was still coming down and each waded thigh deep. Madison was started to get very cold and Dylan told her they would also dry out their clothes. They made it to the farmhouse with great effort and Madison found she was exhausted. After a few cookies for dessert, they partially disrobed, placing jeans and socks on the mantle of the fire. A blustery wind was whistling though the window and Madison wondered how Maggie was doing and if she had lost electricity. After an hour had passed, their jeans and socks were mostly dry.

"If we can find the last two cows, then we can come back and wait the storm out. The main house has probably lost electricity and we can't drive until a plough carves us a path, so you are stuck with me for one more day," Dylan said.

"I can't imagine anyone I would rather be stuck with; we still have sandwiches, bread, granola bars, energy bars and cookies left. Do you think Maggie will call for a plough?" Madison asked.

"I'm sure she will, have you called her?" Dylan asked.

"Oh my God, I completely forgot! She must be so worried, let me do that right now," Madison said and grabbed her cell phone, which only had a couple of bars left. She placed the call and Maggie picked up on the first ring.

"We are safe Maggie, I am so sorry I didn't call earlier, we have been busy getting the cows into their barns," Madison said. "We are holed up in the old farmhouse."

"Lordy, I am glad to hear from you, do you have enough to eat?" Maggie asked.

"We are fine, we still have chicken and sandwiches left, along with cookies and granola bars, you did a good job packing the food. How is Angel?" Madison asked.

"Angel is fine, I think he wants to get out and explore, but I shoveled out a patch of ground for him so he could relieve himself. He did his business and came right back in. I think he misses you," Maggie said.

"Give him some extra loving for me. Dylan wants to know if you can call for a plough?" Madison asked.

"I will do that as soon as I get off the phone. Daryl Grimes down the road has a plough and I am sure he would be glad to help us out. The phones are still working thank God, we haven't lost electricity, so hopefully if he can get out, he will be over tomorrow if the storm stops. The weather channel has called for more than 3 feet and there a lot of people stuck. The highways are closed, the school is closed, and everyone has been advised to stay at home until the storm passes," Maggie said.

"Can you give me a call this evening and tell me when the plough can come and Maggie, stay safe." Madison asked. "Do you want to talk to Dylan? Maggie said yes and Dylan and Maggie talked for a couple of minutes. Madison powered down her phone to save the battery. Before they went back out Madison told Dylan she had talked to Mr. Dawes and they had to talk about the farm. A shadow came over Dylan's face.

"Are you planning to keep the ranch?" Dylan asked.

"I am not sure, dad left you one-quarter of the farm so we need to make decisions together. We will have time to talk when we get back," Madison said. Dylan was silent and Madison wondered why he didn't seem to want to talk. She dismissed his mood as worry about the remaining cows and after bundling up, they went back outside to find the remaining cows. Luckily they were relatively nearby having wandered close to the smoke of the fire. It took 3 hours, but Dylan finally roped them both and led them to the barn. The cattle were very moody and seemed anxious. Dylan fed them and told Madison they would have to come back in the evening to check on them. Madison agreed.

Through the deep snow they waded back. Madison could feel her muscles cramping up and her shoulders and back were aching. There was a big drift of snow up against the door and Dylan grabbed the snow covered shovel from the back of the truck and shoveled them a path. Soon they were inside and the fire was dying down again. Dylan fed the fire with more logs and tended to it for a few minutes. It was cold in the small room, but Madison's jeans and socks were wet, she took off and held them up to the fire. Dylan did the same. Both of them were in their long underwear and slowly the room started to warm up. They dressed and ate the rest of the chicken and bread for dinner. They were both ravenous and didn't talk much during the meal. Besides there was a sense of tension Madison couldn't put her finger on. Dylan had been a little cold since she brought up the farm and Dr. Dawes and she didn't know why. Maybe he was worried she would want to sell and he didn't want to give up his share. Maybe he felt sad about her father. Madison didn't know. She looked out the window and the snow was still hurling down like it was alive, and the drifts around the pickup truck reached the windows. Both of them would have to shovel to uncover it. But they had a fire for now and their clothes were relatively dry. It was time to talk about the farm.

# Chapter Nine

"Did you know my father had left you ¼ of the farm?" Madison asked Dylan as they sipped some water she had brought them.

"Yes, your father told me, we were real close. He was like a father to me," Dylan said, a shadow coming over his face again. We talked a lot. My father died when I was real young and when I got the chance to work with him, I was very happy. And for the first few years, the farm ran smoothly," Dylan answered. "Of course the fate of the farm depends on you. You might want to sell it."

"My mother and father both wanted me to take over the farm. From a very early age, they both wanted me to stay here. But I always wanted to be a teacher, I wanted to see Los Angeles, I wanted to live in the city, I wanted to go to college," Madison said.

"So what did you do?" Dylan asked.

"I ran away and defied my parents. I had applied to UCLA and received a full scholarship although I hid the letters from my parents. I worked through the summer while I was secretly arranging for a dorm and signed up for my classes. It was real hard and I felt really guilty. But I didn't want the farm then and I was eighteen, you know, and I was a woman. My mom stopped speaking to me. She was a very cold woman and never gave me much affection when I was growing up. Maybe that is why I went the other way and wanted to help kids without a direction. Maybe that is why I decided to teach in the inner-city," Madison said.

"Where was your dad during all this turmoil?" Dylan asked softly.

"He didn't want me to leave, but he always loved me. I wasn't sure my mother did, she just wanted me to do what she wanted. My dad wasn't great about showing his love, but I always felt it. It was my mother I was battling. Her coldness, her disapproval, I just had to get away. My father bought me a car; I think he knew I was leaving. But he never talked about it and I think the car was just his way of saying he would support me no matter what I wanted to do. He also gave me 3000 dollars behind my mom's back. He saved me and gave me the freedom to leave. So one night after they were both sleeping, I loaded the car with 2 suitcases and I ran away. I drove all night and the next day and reached Los Angeles at 5 the next afternoon. My dorm was open so I moved right in. I put my money my dad had given me into the bank. I tried not to spend any money unless I had to. My meals and my room and board were covered by my scholarship so I just had to buy extras like getting my hair cut, maintaining my car, and what I needed to live. I immediately got a job working as a waitress close to the college and I kept that job all four years of college. I made straight A's and I never went home," Madison said. "My father wrote me a few letters to tell me how things were going at the ranch, and he wrote and told me when my mother got sick."

"Did you go home then?" Dylan asked.

"I did, but it was too late. She had already died. I stayed for the funeral and went right back to Los Angeles. My first teaching job was in Torrance, at the same school I work at now. After two years I went back and got my master's degree, which increased my paycheck, but I am still paying back the loans for grad school. I will be for a while but it was worth it," Madison said. "I feel bad that I never saw my mother again after high school, but I have worked through it."

The snow was still coming down and it was getting late. Madison and Dylan had been talking for 3 hours and they needed to check the cattle.

"I have something to tell you," Dylan said. "You won't like it and I am very ashamed, but after last night, I have to tell you the truth. I never want to be dishonest with you ever again," Dylan said.

"What is it?" Madison asked.

"I sabotaged your father, I undermined him," Dylan said. Two years ago, a corporation approached me and asked me to help the ranch go into foreclosure so they could buy it at a reduced price."

"So you have been working against my father all this time, you have been cheating him?" Madison asked.

"Not the whole time, just for the last year. At first I refused, but they wouldn't relent. I worked to sell the livestock under the market price without telling your father. I did the same thing with the crops. I was the reason that the debt started to stack up. Your father did not tell me he was leaving one-fourth of the ranch to me, until he knew he was dying. Madison was in shock, she had no words to describe the feeling of betrayal.

'I am very sorry Madison; I never meant to mislead you or hurt you. Are relationship went to so fast I did not have the courage to tell you the truth. The corporation offered me a great job as president of their agricultural division. I would make a lucrative salary and I would be in charge of acquiring new property. They wanted me to stay on as the owner and CEO of Harrison Ranch. But it did not feel right so I didn't sign the final contract. Unfortunately, the damage was done and the bank insisted that the entire loan be paid on the ranch," Dylan said.

"So you made love to me like you had really feeling for me, when in reality you were cheating me?" Madison asked. "What kind of a man are you? You undermined a man that treated you like a son; you cheated him, AN OLD SICK MAN! You are a monster; no you're a LIAR AND A THIEF! " Madison declared. When I get to MY ranch I am calling the police to have you arrested for fraud.

"But wait, there is a way to save the ranch, please listen to me. I never spent the money the corporation gave me and we can pay off the bills together and save the ranch. I will give you every cent they gave me. I never signed any papers. I did work against your father for the last year that is true. But I feel horrible about it and I promise I will make it up to you. You just have to trust me. I will pay all the loans, I mean I will give you the money to pay the bank and pay off all the loans and together we will save the farm. Please trust me Madison, I made a mistake," Dylan pleaded.

"I agree I am all that you called me, I'm a liar, a thief, and I committed fraud. However, if you put me in jail your father's ranch will be taken and the corporations will win. Look at me, Dylan gently placed his hands on either side of her face; I promise I will make all of this up to you, if you just trust me," Dylan implored her with tears in his eyes.

"Why should I trust you, why should I believe a word you tell me?" Madison asked, furious with Dylan. "You have been lying to me about loving the ranch and wanting to save it."

"I do want to save the ranch, now. I mess up and I acted very badly. Please give me the chance to make this right," Dylan begged.

"Why should I?" Madison asked.

"Because I love you and I thought you loved me. I will give you every cent I have to pay off the debt of the ranch. I will do anything to obtain your trust and love. I am, sorry. Please let me make it up to you, please let me prove it. Please Madison," Dylan said as he got down on his knees.

"And you have all the money to make the ranch free and clear of all debt, to stop the foreclosure?" Madison was confused. She had strong feelings for Dylan and she didn't know what to believe or what not to believe. Dylan grabbed Madison's hands while he was still on his knees.

"Please let me make this up to you, please Madison, I am begging you. Please give me another chance. I won't let you down or ever give you a reason to mistrust me again, please," Dylan pleaded.

"I will have to think about it. Don't we have to check the cows?" Madison said, angrily.

"Yes, we do. Bundle up," Dylan said. Both of them put on their parkas and boots. The snow was showing no sign of letting up. Dylan tried the door, but once again the snow had drifted against the door and he had to shovel them out. Once they got outside, they started their trek to the barns. Madison had taken her miner's flashlight and they had a strong beam to guide them. They were no longer holding hands. The snow was swirling all around them and their movement was stopped several times by small snow flurries.

Madison spotted a small plane, it passed over them. It was flying very low and the planes movement caused debris to fly through the air. W _hy anyone would be flying in this weather_ , Madison wondered. Just as the thought crossed her mind she saw an object fly through the air. Dylan! Madison cried, but it was too late. Dylan was hit with the flying piece of debris. Dylan's head was bleeding and he staggered back and blacked out. Madison wondered if something had fallen from the plane, but for now she just concentrated on Dylan.

"Dylan, are you ok? Dylan wake up," Madison said, shaking him lightly, but Dylan was still motionless. She had nothing to stop the bleeding and hoped there was something in the barn. Thankfully they were just a few yards away from the barn. Madison ran to the barn, she found a large sharp rock, which had likely been the offender, but Madison still had no idea why it was flying through the air. She figured it must have fallen out of the plane or it had been stirred up by the whirlwind. No time to worry, she had to get Dylan into the barn and find a cloth to stop the bleeding. She grabbed his arms, but he was heavy and through the heavy snow, she was only able to pull him a little ways. She decided to move him sideways by taking his feet and moving him a little and then grabbing his arms and moving him a little more, kind of like moving a heavy box with arms and legs. The barn was close but deep snow was drifted against the side of the barn door and Madison didn't have a shovel. When she moved Dylan to the barn entrance, she dug with her gloves and worked on removing the snow. Finally she had enough snow removed to open the barn door. The snow was still falling and the winds were high.

Using her sidewinder technique, she managed to get Dylan into the barn and shut the door. The cows seemed anxious and there was a lot of mooing and moving around. Madison found a clearing as the cows moved back and she desperately looked for a rag of some kind to stop the bleeding. But there was nothing. She took off her parka and quickly undressed and removed her t-shirt to use as a rag. She was freezing and quickly put on her flannel shirt, sweater, and parka. She applied her t-shirt to the bleeding wound and finally, the blood stated clotting and stopped. It was a deep cut and would need a few stitches. She wrapped the t-shirt around Dylan's head. What worried Madison more than the blue tinge on Dylan's face. Was the thought of him freezing and losing consciousness. She got on top of his body and massaged his arms and legs until he started to stir. He opened his eyes and stared at Madison, obviously not sure where he was or how he had become injured.

"Dylan, thank God you are awake?" Madison asked.

"Madison, what happened, where are we?" Dylan asked, trying to sit up but failing.

"NO! Lay flat you may have a concussion. We are in the barn with the cows, you were hit by a rock, but I stopped the bleeding. I think you are going to be ok," Madison said. Dylan complied but he still tried to look around.

"Are the cows ok?" Dylan asked.

"They are restless, but I think they are ok." Madison replied. Dylan tried to get to his feet, but he fell back down.

"Easy," Madison said, let's just lay here a while." Madison tried to get comfortable in the hay on the ground and put her arms around Dylan.

"You might be injured, and it might be my job to keep you warm, but I am still very angry with you," Madison said.

"You have a right to be, just stay close ok? Can you sleep?" Dylan he said with a shiver.

"You took quite a fall. We need to get your circulation going," Madison said rubbing down the length of Dylan's arms.

You told me to lie down.

"Forget what I said, we will have to chance the concussion or you're going to get frost bite." Madison helped him up and they both walked to the one small window. The snow was still coming down. Madison thought it should have stopped by now, but no such luck.

"Why don't we try to make it to the cabin?" Dylan said.

"Do you think you are strong enough? It is dark and it will be a long trek," Madison said.

"I think I can make it, just stay close by," Dylan said. They pushed the barn door through the snow and secured it on the other side. Madison put Dylan's arm around her shoulder and they slowly walked towards the old farmhouse. Dylan was staggering he could not go on any longer they had already been walking for 2 hours. _Where is the farmhouse?_ Madison thought. If they got lost the short trek to the old farm house could turn into a trek of life or death.

Though she was not positive is she was headed in the right direction, she decided to keep walking. She squinted and shined the light of what looked like the outline of the old farmhouse. _Thank God!_ The door was blocked so Madison had to dig through the snow to gain entrance to the farmhouse. Dylan lay down on the cot and Madison ordered him to stay still. First she started a fire. Luckily there were still some old newspapers left and a box of matches. Before long, she had a fire started and the small room was warmed up. Then she looked through her backpack and retrieved bandages and tape. She went to Dylan and dressed his wounds.

"We just have to last another night before the plough comes," Madison said.

She called Maggie with the one remaining bar on her phone and it took a few rings because it was the middle of the night. When Maggie picked up Madison told her that Dylan had taken a blow to the head, was knocked out and had come to. She told them they had made it back to the farmhouse and that Dylan was resting. She told Maggie they needed some help and Maggie told her the storm was supposed to stop sometime tonight. She said she would try to get a plough out there in the morning or sometime in the afternoon.

"Can you two hold on tight until I can get Daryl over there? It might be afternoon or early evening," Maggie said.

"The sooner the better," Madison said, glancing over at Dylan.

He was sleeping. It was warming up in the cabin and she took off her parka and sat down. She knew she should try to sleep. She was thirsty and had a little water wanting to save the rest for Dylan. She also had a power bar and a cookie as well. She felt herself relaxing a little in front of the fire. When the first light came, she snuggled around a sleeping Dylan. She still had not forgiven him, but there was no place else to lie down and she needed a couple hours of sleep. They both woke and the sun was shining. Madison went to the window and the snow had finally stopped. There were no bars on her phone so they were reliant on Maggie and her friend, Daryl to arrive with the plough. Madison had never felt so helpless in her entire life. No car, not much food left and even less to drink and they were walled in by three feet of icy wet snow. She felt like she was trapped in a frozen meat locker. At least the snow had stopped and the sun was out. Maybe things were finally looking up. Madison was tired, and the man she was with turned out to be a con, but she was sure that she had falling hard for him. Dylan looked weak and he had lost some blood. There was one sandwich left for each of them, two half bottles of water, and a few cookies left.

"How about we have some breakfast?" Dylan asked.

"Sounds good to me," Madison said. She retrieved the sandwiches, cookies and bottles of water. They both sat down in front of the fire and ate. Madison took a look at her watch, _it's noon_.

"I called Maggie last night, she said the plough should be here this afternoon or this evening," should we try and clean up the snow around the truck?" Madison asked.

"First we talk," Dylan said. "Have you forgiven me?"

"I am not sure, I think I am still mad at you," Madison replied.

"I am sorry Madison. With the money from the corporation, we can make this ranch prosper and we can be together."

"How do I know you will not cheat me again?" Madison asked.

"I guess you will just have to trust me, but I promise you, with all my heart, every cent I have is yours and we will restore this ranch," Dylan promised.

"I have a whole life in Los Angeles," Madison reminded him.

"I know, and I have a lot of respect for the life you have built, and I always will. I am asking you to consider a new life, with me," Dylan said tenderly.

"My kids will miss me, for some of them, I am all they have," Madison offered. "How can I just abandon them?"

"I don't know," Dylan said soberly, "but I love you, and I want to be with you."

"I am still mad at you," Madison said.

"I know and I don't blame you. It probably won't be the first time or the last time." Dylan got on one knee and took Madison's hand, gazed into her eyes and took her hand. "Madison, all I want is you, and if that is in Los Angeles with you and Angel, so be it, I will happily move. I want to give the best life, the best of everything. We can rescue as many Cocker Spaniels as you want to keep Angel company. Heck, we could breed Cocker Spaniels if you like. If we go to LA, we will find other ways to make a life together. It is your call. Either way, it will be magical, Madison, I promise." Madison looked in his brilliant blue eyes and she knew he was right. She was in love with him. As mad as he made her, she could not see a future that did not include him.

"I think I would like to stay here and restore the ranch," Madison said softly, "Plus how could you leave Maggie, the horses, and the mountains." Dylan said jokingly.

Dylan's head started bleeding again and Madison made him lay down while she changed the dressing. After they cleaned the snow off the truck and shoveled the walkway from the truck to the front door of the old farmhouse, they sat down in front of the fire to wait for the plough.

# Chapter Ten

Maggie and Daryl arrived with the plough at 4 in the afternoon. Daryl had already ploughed the dirt road from the house to the old farmstead. Maggie hugged both Madison and Dylan and brought them both a cold Snapple and peanut butter and honey sandwiches. Madison climbed in beside Dylan and they drove home. Heavy snow draped the trees in layers of glistening white and the drifts were 4 or 5 feet against buildings. The aspen trees and the beautiful spruces held the snow like an offering but Madison found the glare blinding and vowed never to leave the house again without sunglasses. When they arrived home, Maggie took a look at the gash on Dylan's forehead and insisted they call Doc Peterson who made house calls to put a few stitches in. They called the doctor and he promised to be there in the morning. Angel was ecstatic to see Madison and she gushed over her much-missed pooch for few moments. Madison and Dylan each took a long shower and Maggie had beef stew waiting for them, the first hot meal either of them had eaten in two days. They ate with gusto. After dinner they all decided to head to bed. Maggie noticed the long kiss Madison and Dylan shared before retiring to their respective rooms.

The next morning Doc Peterson came at 10 after the group had a late breakfast and placed 5 stitches to close up Dylan's gash. He told Dylan to take it easy for a couple of days and gave him an antibiotic to take for ten days. It was 40 degrees the day after the blizzard ended so the snow was beginning to melt. Dylan spent the afternoon on the farm, even though Madison and Maggie chastised him. He had to let the cattle out of the barn and check on the hogs and the horses. He picked up Madison to check on the horses and they took Angel so he could play on the long path, which had been plowed. Angel was very grateful to be out of the house, he ran back and forth and around in circles in the snow until he was tired. That evening, after eating a delicious casserole Maggie had prepared, Madison and Dylan spread out the financial ledgers for the ranch and figured out together what they owed. Dylan wrote checks using every cent of his corporate money. He showed Madison all the money he had had made from the corporation and they emptied out the account. If all went well, the ranch would once again be solvent in a very short time. They worked until midnight paying off all the bills and slept together on Madison's bed tangled in each other's arms, grateful to be warm and together.

After the snow melted, Madison and Dylan started riding the horses every day. They decided that in a couple of weeks Dylan would accompany her to Los Angeles to say goodbye to her friends, and resign from her job to help run the ranch. She wanted to make sure a new teacher had been hired or a suitable sub had been found.

However, the memorial service was first on the to-do list. It would be held at Holmes funeral home and the urn of Dan Maringo's ashes and a picture of him smiling with a young Madison had been placed on a small table. The ceremony was short and sweet and Madison was touched that so many people had come. She had always considered her father to be without many friends, but she was wrong. He had grown up in Durango and many people approached her after the service and told her of small favors her father had done for them over the years. He had apparently been very sympathetic to neighbors in need and painted houses, fixed plumbing, raked leaves and been a good neighbor and friend. Dylan was beside Madison the whole time and several times she had tears in her eyes. As the mourners drifted out, Madison took his urn and together she and Dylan took it home to spread his ashes into Battle Creek.

"Tell me a story about my father, just one that showed his personality," Madison asked.

"One time we had a sick calf, he had scours which meant he couldn't process his mother's milk without getting sick. His mother's milk went straight through him and he wasn't getting nutrition he vitally needed. The calf needed a special milk and electrolytes. Your dad made up two solutions: one of colostrum rich milk and another with electrolytes. He stayed up all day and night for two days bottle-feeding this small calf alternating the milk with the electrolyte solution until the calf was well. I stayed up with him. He used a bottle he had kept from when you were a baby. That is what he told me anyway. He said it reminded him of rocking you to sleep. Anyway, he didn't sleep for two days feeding this calf who couldn't nurse because he was sick. That is what I will always remember about your father. He was a good man, a kind man." Madison and Dylan sat quietly for another half hour and then spread the ashes into the babbling brook.

"This brook reminds me of our love," Dylan said.

"How do you mean?" Madison asked.

"Love is the only current I know which moves both ways," Dylan said and gathered Madison in his arms and kissed her.

"That is beautiful," Madison said, and she kissed him. They remained in each other's arms and slowly walked back to the house. Once at the house Dylan's phone buzzed and he picked it up off the kitchen table and answered it. His face was very troubled and he didn't say a word. The conversation, one-sided, lasted five minutes until the other party ended the call.

"Bad news," Dylan said. "The corporation is very angry because I didn't fulfill my side of the bargain and instead we paid off the mortgages and the loans with the money they gave me. Now, they are threatening me."

"Threatening you with what?" Madison asked, concerned.

"They have said they will publicize information about my past and make me sorry I ever crossed them," Dylan said, a worried look on his face.

"What information do they mean? Madison asked.

"I am not sure, but whatever it is, they mean business," Dylan answered.

"Whatever it is, we will face it together," Madison said and kissed Dylan full on the lips. They hugged each other for a long time until Dylan looked like he was feeling better. They walked into the kitchen and asked Maggie what was for dinner. Angel was happily following them, eager for an evening walk. Madison was still uneasy, but she trusted Dylan now and knew they would be ok. They would find that magical life Dylan had promised her as long as they stayed together.

### Thank you for reading!

## Please visit your favorite eBook retailer to view the next books in the "The Cowgirl's Love Series"
Craved By The Cowboy

by

Annie Holmes
Copyright © 2017 by Annie Holmes

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Craved By The Cowboy

All rights reserved.

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. No part of this work may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording and faxing, or by any information storage and retrieval system by anyone but the purchaser for their own personal use.

This book may not be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of Annie Holmes, except in the case of a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages for the sake of a review written for inclusions in a magazine, newspaper, or journal—and these cases require written approval from Annie Holmes prior to publication. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.

# Chapter One

Charlotte squirmed in her seat as the truck driver pulled into the nearly empty truck stop parking lot. A few trucks sat rumbling, their drivers preparing to set off for the night. Merle had picked her up not far outside of the reservation and she was grateful for that, but couldn't wait to hop from the cab for some fresh air. The air conditioning in the truck gave out about fifty miles back and Charlotte's long, tan legs stuck to the seat in the uncomfortable humidity of the cab.

"This is as far as I go tonight. You got some place to stay?"

Charlotte shook her head. The truck driver cocked an eyebrow and worked a toothpick against his teeth using only his lips. The man had gone through a half dozen toothpicks during their short journey on the interstate.

"Well, wouldn't bother me to have the company. You aren't very chatty and I mean that as a compliment." His eyes ran from her lips all the way down to her ankles and back again, like they had a few times that evening. Now, without the distraction of the road commanding his full attention, he was free stare at her in a way that made her shudder. Charlotte gripped the door handle and her fingers fumbled in the darkness as she unlocked her door.

"I'll be fine, thanks." She pulled at the handle and felt a surge of relief as it released and the door opened into the thick summer night air.

"Suit yourself. I'd make it worth your—"

Charlotte hopped down from the cab and slammed the door before he could finish his rude proposal. The drive had dulled her senses, but the moment her feet hit the pavement she remembered that the situation required her to be alert. She needed to wash her face and get some food in her stomach. There was no telling how long she would be on the road and if she was going to be on foot she needed something to sustain herself.

She walked briskly to the entrance of the truck stop, simultaneously grateful that it was well-lit and cursing the fact that anyone paying attention would notice a young woman on her own in the middle of the night. She hurried through the doors as a tiny bell tinkled, announcing her arrival. The place reeked of bleach and she carefully maneuvered past a sign cautioning people about a wet floor. She paused to observe her surroundings. She was out in the open now and she had no idea who might be looking for her. Correction, she knew exactly who was looking for her. The question was if they had any clue where to start looking.

A man in a cowboy hat glanced her way as he filled a styrofoam cup to the brim with soda. There was only one other patron in the store and he was sitting with his back to her in the restaurant area. A red-haired waitress in her fifties poured the man a cup of coffee and looked up at Charlotte standing near the door.

"We're serving dinner and breakfast. Come on over and grab a table. I'll get you a menu." Her voice had a chirpiness that Charlotte found almost unbearable at this time of night.

"Thanks. I'm just going to run in here a minute." Charlotte dashed toward the restroom, her heart racing. She hadn't intended to speak to anyone she didn't have to and the waitress had a clear view of her standing there at the door.

"Shit," Charlotte said under her breath as the restroom door closed behind her. She peed quickly, pausing a moment to think about necessities on the road and grabbed a roll of toilet paper, stuffing it in her bag as she flushed and went to the sink. She washed her hands and splashed water on her tired face. Her eyes were starting to look bloodshot and she realized it was the first time in days she had caught a glimpse of herself.

Her dark brown hair was pulled back in a loose bun. Clean, thankfully, since the truck stop she caught a ride at earlier in the day was one of the massive ones with showers for truckers. She pulled the hair tie out and shook out her long, wavy locks. The shower had done a lot of good, both for her appearance and her attitude. The shorts were too short, but they were the first thing she grabbed when she left and she didn't pack enough to be choosy. Her backside was round, like her mom's, and she examined her figure in the mirror. Her breasts were too noticeable in the royal blue scoop neck t-shirt and she wished she had thought to pack a sports bra. She figured there might be some running in her future. She ran her fingers through her hair to comb out a few tangles. Wearing it down, she looked like her sister. That's what everyone always commented on and the thought made her eyes well up with tears.

"Cinda, I'm doing this for you."

How many days had it been? Less than a week. She imagined her sister's funeral must have already happened. Without realizing it, she balled up her fists in anger and gritted her teeth. She couldn't let it happen to anyone else. The reign of terror on the reservation had to be stopped and she was the only one who could do it. No one else had any evidence to prove what everyone knew was going on in their small community. Charlotte was an eye witness with a story to tell and now she was a murderer on the run.

_Murderer_. She wondered if her photo was plastered all over the news. Sheriff Macklin had a lot of pull around the state, especially in this area, and she knew his reach could spread like tentacles. She didn't care what happened to her. She was only sorry it had been too late to save her sister.

Stories floated around about what the sheriff and his deputies were up to on the reservation. They weren't tribal police, but they still managed to throw their weight around the cluster of homes and businesses that made up Charlotte's hometown of Wilton. They had taken to inviting themselves into homes on the Cherokee reservation, claiming that there were calls of something suspicious going on and that they were only there to make sure the citizens of Wilton were safe. Sometimes it was a shake down. It depended on which deputy was making a visit. Some of them wanted cash, others wanted drugs. Deputy Smith wanted something different and he had been trying to get it for some time.

It was a Tuesday night and her parents were at the community center for the weekly bingo game. They were religious about it and everyone knew it. The detail hadn't escaped the notice of Deputy Smith and Charlotte was sure he planned it that way. The police SUV was parked around the back side of their trailer house when she pulled in from work that evening. She tried phoning her dad from her car but there was no answer. Maybe if she hadn't waited that extra minute she could have saved Cinda. The thought had kept her awake every night since.

When she opened the door to the mobile home she didn't hear anything at first. She didn't call out; worried that she would alert the deputy to her presence. Then she heard it. A rhythmic thumping coming from down the hall.

Thump-thump-thump.

She ran down the hall and opened the door to the room she shared with her younger sister. She wished she could scrub the memory from her mind with steel wool, but it was burned there and it made the bile surge in her stomach as she relived those brief seconds that felt like an eternity.

The deputy's pants were down around his ankles and his white buttocks were clenched tightly as he tore at her sister. One of his hands circled her throat as the other kept her legs forced apart. Charlotte had turned on her heels and ran to grab the shotgun her dad kept under his side of the bed. It was loaded and ready to go. He always said a gun was useless unless it was ready to fire the second you grabbed it.

The deputy never knew what happened. In all likelihood, he never even realized that Charlotte had entered the room. That thought made her blood boil. She wished she could go back and make him suffer for what he had done to her sister. A shotgun blast to the back of his head had ended it all. Cinda lay motionless under the weight of him. Charlotte rushed to her sister, but she knew. The eyes were wide, the same deep dark brown as Charlotte's, but glassy and lifeless. His hand was now slack around her throat, but it was clear what he had done. For a moment, Charlotte thought about staying. She wanted that filthy animal off of her sister's small body. It wasn't fair that this was how her parents would find Cinda, but there was no time. Charlotte knew that staying meant jail and most likely the death penalty for killing a member of law enforcement. She didn't have time to think about the details or cry over Cinda's broken body. She grabbed a bag and stuffed a few items of clothing inside it. As she ran down the hall she remembered her sister's coffee can stash that she'd been saving to buy her own beauty shop. There wasn't much, just a few hundred bucks, but it would get Charlotte on the road and out of town, hopefully before anyone realized what happened.

Now, standing at the sink, Charlotte splashed her face again, fighting back the tears. She hadn't dared to let them flow when she was in the truck. The driver seemed like a nice enough guy when he wasn't undressing her with his eyes, but she knew she couldn't risk a moment of weakness. If he sensed it in her she didn't know what might happen. She dried her face and blew her nose, composing herself as she got ready to face the red-haired waitress.

Someone was very enthusiastic about cleaning the floor and managed to mop every square inch of the restaurant side of the establishment, leaving a trail of puddles and several more caution signs in their wake.

"Sorry about that," called the red-haired waitress from behind the counter. "Do the two of you mind sharing a booth?" The waitress was gesturing toward the man she poured coffee for earlier.

Charlotte bristled. She had no intention of making eye contact with anyone she didn't have to, much less sharing a table and a meal with someone. The waitress was right though, access to all the other booths was blocked. It was this guy or a bag of chips and a soda and the pavement outside. He glanced over his shoulder.

"Come on then." He nodded toward the other side of the booth.

Charlotte reluctantly joined him, sliding sideways into the booth. The waitress appeared with a mug and poured coffee without being asked.

"What do you fancy at this hour? We've got breakfast or dinner, your choice. There'll be biscuits in a little while, but that'll probably be another twenty minutes."

Charlotte shook her head. "Just some toast and scrambled eggs, please." The waitress nodded and headed back toward the kitchen.

"No time for a biscuit?" He let out a low whistle. "Someone is in a hurry."

Charlotte looked up at the face sitting across from her. He wore a baseball cap, a new one from the look of it. His hair was dark and he had a few days' worth of stubble covering his face. The black t-shirt he wore was tight across his chest and biceps and she could tell he'd seen his fair share of work. His eyes looked weary, but they were a deep blue that she couldn't help but find captivating. She kicked herself mentally and looked away.

"I just...don't want to waste a lot of time here waiting on biscuits. Besides, I'm sure they aren't half as good as my mom's."

He finished a strip of bacon and grinned. "I'm sure they aren't." He wiped his hands on a napkin and reached across the table. "I'm Nick."

Charlotte tentatively offered him her hand. "I'm...Sarah." As soon as she said it she knew it was a mistake. She paused too long to think of a name. That was stupid, especially since she decided on the name hours ago when she hopped into the cab of that truck.

"Sarah?" He repeated the name, a question.

"Yes." Her jaw was firm and she met his eyes again, daring him to challenge her.

"Okay, Sarah. Want some bacon?" He pushed his plate her direction and she only hesitated a moment before grabbing a slice. Her last meal was hours before and she hadn't eaten meat in days. It was crispy and delicious, the salty fat meeting some primal need she didn't realize she had.

"It's good bacon. Probably not as good as your mom's though. Where is your mom, by the way?"

She gave him a perplexed look. "What?"

"Well, I think a mama who knows how to make a good biscuit is a good mama, the kind that might wonder why her daughter was sitting at a truck stop alone in the middle of the night."

Charlotte frowned for a second and then her expression softened. "You're right."

Nick finished his coffee and motioned the waitress for a refill. He waited until she was gone before he spoke again. "You okay?"

Charlotte blinked and looked toward the kitchen, wishing her eggs and toast would appear.

"It's just that I saw you get out of that truck. By the way, it's still parked out there, so wherever you go when you leave here, I'm walking you myself. What I'm saying is... you don't look like the type to crawl out of the cab of a semi."

She crossed her arms in front of her chest. "That could be my dad out there for all you know."

"Is that your dad?"

The waitress interrupted to place a plate heaped high with eggs and four pieces of toast. "You need any jelly, hon?"

"Nope, dry is fine."

"Okie dokie. What about you, mister? Can I get you anything else?" The waitress gave Nick's shoulder a flirtatious massage and Charlotte rolled her eyes before taking a bite of toast.

Nick smiled at her. "Nah, I think I'm ready to settle up. I'm going to go ahead and take care of hers as well."

The waitress raised an eyebrow and sashayed back to the counter.

"You didn't have to do that," Charlotte mumbled between bites.

Nick leaned back into the booth, clasping his palms behind his head. Charlotte noticed a tattoo on the inside of his right bicep, but tried hard not to look like she was staring. "Be honest with me, _Sarah_. Are you okay? Are you safe?" He glanced toward the counter. "Hold that thought." He stepped out of the booth and strode up to the cash register. Stretched to his full height, Charlotte saw what a specimen of a man he was. He stood somewhere around six feet tall and looked like nothing but toned muscle. In a different set of circumstances, he was exactly the type of guy who might turn her head. She scooped another forkful of eggs into her mouth and tried to push that thought out of her mind. She was on the run, for goodness sake.

He returned a moment later to find her working on the second piece of toast. "Don't say anything. Don't react to what I'm saying. Just keep on chewing." He paused to look toward the counter, then leaned in closer. "Up at the cash register, there's a piece of thick glass that runs the length of the counter and under it there are all kinds of notices. She was bird-dogging you pretty hard and I thought something might be up. Your picture is up there under that glass, on a poster, saying you're wanted for the murder of a deputy. The waitress is trying to figure out if you are who she thinks you are and I think she's about five minutes from calling the cops. The only thing stopping her right now is the fact that you look fifteen in that photo. Must be your driver's license."

Charlotte gulped her coffee and kept her eyes glued to Nick. "It's probably from my learner's permit. That was a few years ago."

"You're not getting out of here on the interstate. They'll have it blocked in both directions. I don't even know how you managed to make it here with that guy in the truck."

Charlotte bit her bottom lip to keep herself from wailing.

"Did you kill that deputy?" His eyes searched her face.

She watched him watching her. There was something in his face, something behind that weariness she first noticed. His eyes were kind. She could hardly stomach the thought of trusting someone she didn't know with information about who she was and what she had done, but if she didn't, this looked like it could be the end of the road for her.

"Yes, I did."

Nick nodded and rubbed the stubble on his chin. "Well, then. I guess we better get out of here, Charlotte."

# Chapter Two

Charlotte followed Nick out to his truck, her pace increasing as soon as they stepped out into the humid summer night. Her heart raced and she fumbled with the door handle. He opened the passenger door from the inside to let her in, clearing some maps and a backpack from the seat.

"Get on in. If we're lucky maybe she'll think you're here doing what women do at these places in the middle of the night, but I doubt it."

Charlotte climbed in and hesitated before reaching for the seatbelt. "You'll help me?" She didn't want to sound like she was pleading, but she heard the desperation in her voice.

He pushed his cap back and rubbed his face with both hands. "God help me, I guess I will." He started the pickup and shifted into reverse, showing some restraint on the gas pedal in an attempt to keep from alerting the waitress inside. "Don't want to look like we're in a hurry to get out of there."

They pulled onto the interstate and drove a few miles before Charlotte spoke up. "Where are we going?" It was stupid to get in a vehicle with someone she didn't know and this was the second time she had done it in twelve hours.

Nick gripped the steering wheel tight with one hand and felt around for one of the maps with the other. "Here, look through these. Find the one for Oklahoma and see how far we are from the state line."

Charlotte leafed through the maps, most of which were folded incorrectly, making it difficult to find the right one. "Fifty miles," she said. She knew without looking how far they were from the Arkansas line. It was the sort of thing her dad made sure she knew. She had traveled straight south from the tribal lands, not veering much to the east or west, which meant they were about fifty miles from Arkansas.

He drummed the wheel with his thumbs, a hard grimace etched into his face. "The interstate just isn't an option. We've got to turn south pretty quick. Find me a good highway."

"There's not enough light," Charlotte said. "Can I use your phone? I can find a good route on there."

He shot her a quick glance. "Don't have one."

"You don't? How can you not—"

"Do _you_ have a phone on you?" He took his eyes off the road with an alarmed look on his face.

"N-no." Her lips skittered across the word. "I'm not stupid. I threw it out."

"Good." He drove on in silence for a few minutes.

Charlotte could not help but feel a little worried about this comment. He didn't have a phone and he wanted to make sure she didn't either. It made sense for her, given what she had done, but why wouldn't he have a phone on him?

"Why don't you have a phone?"

"Don't believe in them."

"Well, I don't believe you."

He glanced at her again and shook his head. "It's not something I want to talk about."

Charlotte looked out the window and folded her arms across her chest. They were away from any lights now, but the moon shone bright above them. It would be full in a few days. Tonight it was halfway there, casting just enough light on their surroundings that she was able to make out the thick wall of trees to the south that stood in contrast to the rolling plains north of them. They were approaching another highway and the exit sign reflected green and white against the headlights.

"Turn here," she blurted.

He let off the gas a little. "Why?"

"I know where this goes. It'll get us off the interstate. We can take it for a little while and it will give us some time to decide what to do."

Nick nodded and slowed the truck as they approached the off-ramp. When they came up on the stop sign for the north-south highway he barely paused before taking the southern route.

Charlotte hugged her bag against her lap and let out a sigh. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to decide how to address the situation.

"You can rest if you want."

Her eyes flew open. "What? No. I'm not sleeping. I was thinking."

"Well, what do you think?" Nick implored.

Charlotte shifted in her seat, turning to face him. "You don't have to do this. You know that. I know that. You can put me out on the side of the road right now and if you don't want to get mixed up in some pretty serious shit, I understand. I'll get out. I can walk back to the interstate and find another ride." She knew the chances of that being true were unlikely and it was beginning to sprinkle fat drops against the windshield.

Nick flipped on the wipers. "I know. I'm not putting you out on the side of the road in the dark."

"Okay, well, I'm glad we've got that cleared up. I know I'm asking a lot of you. You've already gotten me out of a tight spot. But I need you to trust me and I need to know I can trust you."

He gnawed on his bottom lip for a second. "Okay."

"What's with you having no phone and all these maps?"

He chuckled. "Well, I haven't killed anyone."

Charlotte put her face into her hands and tried not to scream.

"Hey, hey. I'm sorry. That wasn't fair. Truth is, I have killed someone. Lots of someone's." He saw her look up in alarm and shook his head. "No, not like that. I'm no serial killer. I was in the army."

"Oh." Suddenly his build and the backpack made sense. Of course he was in the army.

"But I'm not anymore and that's where things get a little...slippery. I know your secret; I guess it's only fair you know mine. I was home on leave, my mom was sick... dying, actually. I was allowed the time to spend with her there at the end. A few days after the funeral I received orders to return and I just couldn't bring myself to do it."

"You're AWOL?"

Nick sighed. "A real life deserter that could be tried in a military court. I won't make excuses for myself. I know it makes me sound like some kind of coward. I'm not even one of those guys who thought the whole thing was a lost cause. Not many people realize how many of those guys are out here, just living their lives. They got tired of what they were seeing over there and called it quits. That's now how it was for me."

Charlotte leaned back against the seat, trying to get comfortable. Something about him confiding this information to her made her feel a little more secure.

"How was it for you?"

He reached in his pocket, pulled out his wallet, and tossed it her direction. "Her picture is in there."

It was easy for Charlotte to find. Across from his driver's license there was a photo of a woman with shoulder length black hair, fine features, and large blue eyes. He had his mother's eyes. It was a candid shot and instead of a posed, fake smile, it looked like she was laughing.

"She's beautiful." Charlotte held the wallet in her palms like an open book. The warmth of his body radiated from the leather.

"She never wanted me to go, but she didn't try to stop me. Five deployments. They found the cancer in the middle of my third one and I thought about checking out then. She didn't want me to put my life on hold for her. Truth is, there was a lot more going on at the time, stuff I probably shouldn't talk about much. I mean, the less you know, the better off you are. I bet you've seen some of it on the news though. Not my unit, specifically. As far as I know, none of them have been caught yet. I'm not really as plugged in as I once was. Maybe they have."

Charlotte frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, guys get out there and think they can get away with stuff. Not most of them. Most of the guys are great. They're out there to do something they believe in. Some of them though...it's like a bad small town cop, you know? You give them a little power and it goes right to their head. Soon enough they're extorting people, beating folks up for no good reason, raping, pillaging, the whole bit."

Charlotte gulped. "I know what you mean."

"Well, some of the guys in my unit were like that. We were in this little town in Afghanistan, just taking care of folks. Basically acting as local police. Making sure they were safe. For a while that was cool, but then some of the old guard came in, I don't know if they were ex-Taliban or what, but they had money and they paid some of our guys to look the other way on things. In return, some of the leaders in this town looked the other way and allowed things to happen. Even some of the guys I would call 'good' got swept up in this. It was too easy. When you're out there in the desert for months on end...guys get crazy." He let out a long sigh. "That last time when I came home to be with my mom and I watched her slip away, I knew I couldn't go back. I would never have burdened her with this information. She would have told me to go higher up to get something done about it. Maybe I should have, but I didn't. I made my choice and I've just been out here living, laying low, ever since."

"Wow." It was all Charlotte could manage for a second. "I guess we're both on the run then."

He laughed with a little snort. "Regular ol' Bonnie and Clyde."

They were several miles down the road now and coming up on a small town. They passed a post office, city hall, a police station, and the lone gas station in town which appeared to be open for pay-at-the-pump purchases only. But what caught Charlotte's eye was the cop car parked in front of the station, pointed straight at the road, on the lookout for late night joy riders. She slumped down into the seat.

"Well, crap." Nick muttered under his breath.

"What?"

"Five over."

"Are you kidding me? I don't think he'll stop you for that. Surely not. Oh, please tell me he's not stopping you for going five over." Charlotte glance in one of the side mirrors to see if the officer was following them, but the car was just out of her line of sight.

"I am sorry to say; it appears there is so little going on in this town tonight that a warning for going five over the speed limit sounds like a very exciting prospect to this guy."

Charlotte couldn't miss the blue lights as they began pulsing through the cab.

"Stay calm. Lay your head over against the door. I'll say you're sick." Charlotte did as she was told and let her hair fall down around her face. The less this cop could see of her, the better. "Quick though, he's going to ask us where we're going. What's the next good sized town?"

"McAlester. It's big enough that he couldn't know everyone there." Charlotte closed her eyes as the truck slowed to a stop near the edge of the tiny bump in the road.

Nick grabbed his wallet from where she left it on the seat and cranked the window down. Rain drops were falling a little faster now and he hoped that would work in their favor.

"Evening, officer." The young officer came around to Nick's side of the truck, shining a flashlight into the cab.

"How you folks doing?" He smacked on a stick of spearmint gum that Charlotte could smell where she sat playing possum. He must have just stuck it in his mouth.

"Oh, I'm all right. She could be better. Trying to get her back home." Nick flipped open his wallet and handed over his license without being asked.

"Thanks." The officer took the license, gave it a look and glanced back at Nick. "She okay?" He handed the license back to Nick.

"Yeah, I think she'll be fine. Just had a little too much. Couple of our friends got together to celebrate a new job. I'm the DD tonight."

"Good man." The officer pointed the flashlight at Charlotte's half-hidden face. "Where y'all headed?"

"McAlester. Back to her folks' place."

The officer nodded. "Well, she looks pretty out of it. Normally this time of night I'd require a field sobriety test from you, but I don't have any reason to believe you're under the influence. She looks like she'd appreciate getting home sooner rather than later. Who is she to you?"

"Girlfriend. Going on a year now." Nick leaned a little closer to the window and spoke softly. "Think I might ask her to marry me soon."

"Well, good luck with that." The officer chuckled. "Y'all be careful on your way home. Oh, and I better tell you, in case you see more checkpoints along the road. A girl up in the north part of the state killed a deputy, shot him dead in cold blood, and they've got reason to believe she headed south. I don't think she's of any particular danger to anyone else, but you never know. We've been advised to keep on the lookout around here, so be careful."

"Wow. Okay. I sure will. You have a card or a number I can call if I see anything?"

The cop fumbled around in his shirt pocket. "Sure thing. Of course, if you see anything that looks like it requires immediate attention, just dial 911. Otherwise, here's a good number for our dispatch and there are numbers for state police on the back."

Nick nodded and took the card. "Thanks, sir. Appreciate it."

"No problem. Drive safe and take care of that young lady."

"Will do." Nick fired up the truck again and waited for the cop to make a u-turn in the middle of the street, returning his patrol vehicle to its place in front of the gas station. Nick pulled onto the road and continued driving south. "Here's the problem as I see it. There's no way out to the east. The interstate is it and that's going to be crawling with highway patrols. South of us is a major highway and you know they're all over that. Back to the north and west is out of the question because that's just straight back to the city and I think we've got to get you out of this state. And yeah, I'm pretty sure I'll be committing a felony if I do that."

Charlotte straightened up and stared ahead at the road. "I need you to know that it wasn't in cold blood."

Nick glanced at her and back at the road. "I never thought it was." He paused and pulled off his cap, running his hands back through his black hair. She could tell he usually kept it cut short, but it had been a while since his last haircut. "You want to tell me what actually happened? Since I'm committing a crime for you and all?"

She nodded and blurted out the first thing that came to her mind—the last thing she had seen. "He raped my sister. He was raping her when I walked into the house. I found them back there, in our bedroom. It was horrible..." She surprised herself when a sob surfaced from somewhere deep inside her.

"Hey, now." Nick reached across the seat and grabbed her hand, giving it a tender squeeze.

Charlotte was taken aback by his gentleness and even more surprised that she squeezed his hand even harder. She had been on the road almost a week, alone, certain she would be caught at any moment. Not once had she dared to hope for the kindness of a stranger.

"I guess it probably wasn't so different from what you experienced with those guys in your unit. Bottom line, there's a corrupt police force in our town. We've known about it for a long time, but hadn't really experienced any of the horror that others did. I guess our turn came. And I'm sure; whatever happened after, the sheriff is going to try to cover up what his deputy did. Have you seen anything about my sister in the news?"

Nick rubbed the pad of his thumb against the back of her hand. "Honestly, I don't pay close attention to the news, but I'm guessing that officer back there wouldn't have said 'in cold blood' if the fact that the guy raped your sister had made it into the news."

Charlotte took a deep breath. "He killed her. She was already dead when I got there." She thought he might swerve off the road then, but he composed himself and held her hand tighter.

He shook his head. "You aren't going to prison for this. We're getting you out of here, out of this part of the state and to some authorities we can trust."

"Who do you think we can trust?"

Nick exhaled slowly. "Sure as heck no one around here, my next best guess is over the state line."

"Arkansas? That's got to be like fifty miles from here." Charlotte was incredulous. "And if we can't take the highways, how on earth are we going to get there?"

"I know there's a range of mountains that spreads all the way from southern Oklahoma into Arkansas. It'll be tricky, but I think we can do it. We're going to have to cross the mountains." He pointed into the distance as he turned onto a smaller road and headed southeast. "And we're going to have to do it on foot. Are you up for it?"

Charlotte gulped. "I've done some camping, but I'm not some experienced survivalist. Do you know what you're doing?"

Nick shrugged. "I know a little and I'll do my very best to get you there. You trust me?"

She tried to force a smile. "Guess it doesn't look like I have much choice."

# Chapter Three

It was almost dawn by the time they reached the secluded campsite on the edge of the foothills that led to the mountains. They would need to make their way into them as soon as they could, but first they needed to rest. Charlotte had not slept at all during the drive, in spite of feeling safe for the first time in days. Nick had held onto her hand until she let go and even then he let it rest between them like a vow. He wasn't going anywhere.

There was no fee at the campsite and that was reflected in the upkeep of the grounds, but it seemed like a safe bet for two people who did not want to be recognized. Nick pulled into a parking spot opposite the campground's restrooms and showers and switched off the ignition.

"We need to sleep. I think it's safe here. No one knows you're with me and there's no reason for them to be looking for my truck."

Charlotte nodded and rubbed her eyes. "I'm just going to run to the restroom first." She opened the pickup door and swung her legs out, her muscles aching with tension from the ride. She took a moment to stretch before heading to the run down facilities. She heard Nick's door shut and he wasn't far behind her.

"I don't want you going too far on your own. Yeah, I said it was safe, but you never know." Nick was beside her now. She swung a playful fist at him, hitting his bicep. "Hey! What was that for?"

"You're a worry wart."

"I think we're in a situation that warrants it. Besides, I don't want anything to happen to you."

Charlotte smiled at him as she opened the door to the women's restroom. "I know. You have to take care of your girlfriend. That's what the officer told you." She slipped through the door and he remained on the other side.

"You heard that?" Nick called after her.

"Of course I did," she shouted back. "I was playing possum." Charlotte found the cleanest looking stall in the place and was grateful for the relief. The prospects of days or, God help them, weeks in the mountains did not appeal to her, no matter how well-prepared she was for it. Most of the kids from her tribe had fallen away from any of the older ways and ties to the land that their ancestors had, but Charlotte's father insisted she know the basics. She had an appreciation and understanding about living off the land that the majority of young people did not know. She could build a fire and a lean-to. She knew a lot about edible plants and berries in the area she was from and hoped that plenty of the same species thrived in this area of the state. Her father had taught her about snares and how to skin a rabbit, but she really hated doing that. It was the cry they let out when they were killed. That was what she hated.

"You almost done in there?" She heard Nick call from outside the restroom.

"Almost!" She flushed and went to the sink to scrub her hands. There was no telling the last time this place had been cleaned. To her dismay, the water that ran from the tap was a disconcerting red brown that mellowed to a pale yellow and there was no soap to be found. She dried her hands on her shorts and opened the door to find Nick's back turned to her, his hands clasped behind his head.

"Come on." She pulled at the edge of his t-shirt as she walked past him. "Let's go get some sleep."

"Yes, ma'am."

They slipped back into the truck and Nick felt around behind the seat for a visor. He propped that up against the windshield and it shielded them from the early morning sunlight. Charlotte pulled a couple of t-shirts out of her bag and threw one to Nick.

"Roll it up in the window, like this." She demonstrated how to turn the t-shirt into a makeshift curtain.

"Yeah, I've seen it done before, but where I'm from it was only when you parked with your girlfriend on this hill overlooking the quarry." He chuckled.

"Don't you get any ideas, mister." She flashed him a half smile as she rolled up a pair of jeans to make a pillow. "Sorry I don't have one for you. You can use my bag though." She handed him the backpack that still held a few items.

"What's in here?" He asked as he propped it under his head and leaned against the door.

"Oh. Toilet paper. I took it from the truck stop."

He grinned. "I knew you were up to no good." He looked over and saw how she was leaning against her door the same way he was. "Hey, you can have the seat. There's no need for both of us to be so uncomfortable. When was the last time you slept?"

Charlotte yawned and moved her pillow to the middle of the seat, laying the top half of her body on the well-worn fabric. "It's been a while."

"You rest easy then." He folded her bag over once more and leaned against it, settling in for a nap. He was almost asleep when he heard her voice.

"Nick? Thank you."

He felt her hand reach for his and he held onto her as they fell asleep.

Charlotte felt secure and was able to get her first good sleep in days. There were no dreams, only the feeling of being wrapped in a warm blanket. She slept deeply and soundly and when she started to stir, she was so comfortable that she did not move from where she lay. She could hear birds in the trees outside and the cab of the truck had grown much warmer. She thought it was probably late afternoon. If Nick wasn't waking her, maybe that meant she could sleep a little longer. The idea was tempting and she let out a contented sigh as she squeezed her pillow. It was warm and firmer than she remembered. And it had a heartbeat.

She opened her eyes, but did not move. She listened for Nick's breath to determine if he was awake and, if so, how long had she been lying against his chest, curled into the crook of his arm.

"Nick?" Her voice was a whisper.

"Yeah?" His was not.

She looked up at his face. "Umm...how long have we been like this?"

He looked at the watch on his left wrist while his right arm remained curled around her back, his hand resting on her waist. "Oh, I don't know. About an hour after we went to sleep you started pawing at me. I think you wanted a softer pillow. I swear, it was all your doing. I just slid down in the seat." He smiled and let out a chuckle.

"My doing?" She gave his arm a pinch. "Well, I hope I didn't make things uncomfortable for you. I am a wild sleeper." She leaned up on one elbow and tried to move herself back over to her side of the truck.

"At first you were, but once you really got to sleep it was just like having a nice, warm blanket over me. Plus, you smell nice."

Charlotte finally laughed, a blush creeping into her face. "I don't generally nap on someone within hours of meeting them."

"No, I don't imagine so." Nick said as he started to sit up. "But these are pretty unusual circumstances. Unless I'm not the first guy to help you run from the law?"

"Oh no, you're the first."

He had a pleased look on his face. "I'm the first."

Charlotte rolled her eyes. "You...just hush."

Nick stretched his long body out as much as he could in the cramped cab and rubbed his face. "I'll hush. We need to think about our next move anyway."

"What are you thinking?" Charlotte began gathering up the articles of clothing they had used as pillows and curtains and packing them back in her bag.

"I'm decently prepared for this. In my toolbox in the bed back there, I've got a good hiking backpack, sleeping bag, first aid kit. The sorts of things you need if you're going to be roughing it for a little while. Some energy bars and a water bottle with a built-in purification system."

Charlotte blinked at him. "You _are_ prepared. What's that about?"

Nick shook his head and reached for the Oklahoma map. "When I knew I couldn't stick around home any longer and that I might be on my own for a while, without a real home base, I thought it was best to prepare for whatever might come."

"So, like Rambo?"

"Your observation is pretty good. Situation isn't much different, is it?" He folded the map so that the southeastern third of the state was all that showed. "We're here. We need to get here. I was thinking about it and you said you were from a reservation, right?"

"Well, it's not technically a reservation. Tribal lands and whatnot. The closest thing we've got to one around here though. Just a bunch of native people who still live in the same spot. We're governed by the tribe."

He nodded and scratched his chin. Charlotte noticed he did this when he was thinking.

"I think it might be worth our while to seek out tribal authorities in Arkansas if we can find them. Definitely state police. If we didn't have the issues with roadblocks, we'd turn around right now and I would take you straight to Oklahoma City. We aren't making it past any troopers though. They are going to arrest you and haul you in and I'm not sure if they'll ever hear your story if it goes down that way. The way it looked on that poster at the truck stop...I'm not sure anyone even knows your sister was raped. There may be a cover-up."

Charlotte's jaw dropped. It would make sense. She had not seen a lot of news since she ran, but what she had seen made no mention of her sister, the attack, the fact that a young woman was dead before the officer was ever shot. No wonder the authorities were looking so hard. She had no way of knowing what the sheriff might have made the scene look like before her parents got home.

"This can't be real." Her hand flew to her mouth and she willed herself to keep from retching up her middle of the night breakfast.

"We've got to focus and we need to get out of here. There are a few hours of daylight left. If we get started now, we can at least get into the woods a little way and make camp by dark." Nick started gathering up things from the cab of the truck and got out to grab his pack and supplies from the toolbox.

Charlotte's mind raced and she did the first thing she knew needed doing. When Nick came back around he found her undressed from the waist down, pulling on a pair of jeans.

"Hey! Give a guy a warning." He turned and went back to working in the toolbox.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to offend you."

"You didn't offend me. My mom just raised me to make sure a girl was decent before I walked into the room."

"Decent," Charlotte said with a smile as she hopped out of the truck and joined him at the toolbox. "Are you sure about all this?"

"Yeah, camping shouldn't be a problem. I think we'll make good time."

"No, I mean..." her voice trailed off and she waved her hand toward the truck. "Helping me."

Nick put his large pack down and turned to face her. When she failed to look him in the eye, he reached out his hand and gently lifted her chin with his forefinger until her eyes met his.

"You don't have to ask again. I'm sure." He thought he saw her lip quiver slightly, but couldn't be sure as she immediately put her arms around his neck.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Nick pulled her arms from around his neck. "Enough of that." He dug in his pocket. "Here's some change. Why don't you see if there's anything worth eating from that vending machine. We can pack it and ration it out."

Charlotte took the change and walked over to the vending machine, one of the few things at that campground that seemed to be maintained, probably because it was an outside vendor. She thought the best use of the money were the three sticks of beef jerky and the four bags of cheese crackers that the change would buy. She walked back to the truck, arms laden with high calorie junk food and dumped the items into her backpack.

"I really hope we won't have to be out there that long. It'll all depend on how long the weather holds. This is storm season around here, right?" Nick asked as he began tying up his pack.

"Yeah, we're out of the height of it, but they last throughout the early part of the summer." The air was heavy with moisture and strangely warm. Charlotte worried a storm might be in their future.

"We'll do the best we can then and find a place to camp before nightfall. You ready?"

She gathered up her bag and grabbed four bottles of water from the bed of his truck. They would weigh the bag down, but she knew they would be grateful for any water that didn't have to go through Nick's water purifier. Streams were plentiful in this part of the state, but she knew very little about the actual topography of the land they were going to cross. It could be days before they saw fresh water.

"Ready," she said, as she closed her bag and threw it over her shoulders. "Let's go."

# Chapter Four

They made good time during the remaining hours of daylight. The ascent had been difficult, but once they hiked higher into the hills they were able to stay on relatively easy terrain. Charlotte was surprised at how talkative Nick became as they walked. She chalked it up to him finally having someone he could talk to about anything in his life, even the parts he was so desperate to hide from most of the world.

"How long has it been since you made a friend out here?" She asked, walking beside him in a clearing through the hills.

Nick stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Oh, you know. You meet people at truck stops and diners along the way. Folks who, for one reason or another, are just as interested in telling their entire life story as I am. Which is not at all. It's not often that you find someone you can really talk to on a deep level." He glanced over at her. "As much trouble as you have turned out to be, I'm glad you got stuck sitting at my table."

Charlotte laughed, then her face crumpled. "If I hadn't, I would probably be sitting in jail right now."

Nick reached for her and gave her hand a squeeze. "Come on. I want us to make it another mile or two before we stop for the night."

A little over an hour later, the sun was beginning its descent in the west, casting long shadows on the sweet gum trees.

"How do you like the look of this place?" Nick turned to get Charlotte's assessment of the area.

The ground was littered with some decaying leaves from the previous autumn, but there was a nice patch of soft grass in an area that was not shaded by the tall trees. It looked dry and there were no signs of any animals making a home there. Charlotte dropped her backpack on the ground and stretched out her aching arms.

"Looks good enough to me."

"All right then, this is the spot. I've got a pretty basic tent that I can start setting up. It's really only intended for one person, but you aren't very big." Nick grinned as he pulled what looked like a tarp out of his pack and began looking for a level spot to set up the tent.

"I may not be, but you are." Charlotte jabbed at him as she walked toward the edge of the clearing. "I think I should probably go relieve myself. You've got that tent covered on your own?"

"Yes, ma'am. Don't wander too far. I don't want a bear to get you."

"Shows what you know," she called back as she walked away. "Not many bears around here. What you really have to watch out for are mountain lions."

When Charlotte returned a few minutes later the tent was up and Nick stood in the clearing, looking contemplative.

"What's on your mind?" She asked, stepping through the grass to stand beside him.

He scratched his chin. "I was just wondering if we should build a fire or not. We're at a higher elevation and there's no doubt that it'll be cool tonight. We probably only made it about seven miles though and until we're on the other side of this hill, I'm afraid we'll be visible to anyone who might be back where we started. Might get the attention of a park ranger as well."

Charlotte knew they had entered a national forest, but the thought of a park ranger hadn't crossed her mind until now. "You're right. Let's wait. We'll manage okay tonight. And if we do run into a park ranger, I guess we can continue with the little ruse you put on for the police officer back in that town."

"So, you're saying you'll be my girlfriend?" Nick winked.

"You wish."

Nick grabbed a blanket from his pack and spread it out on the grass so they could sit facing the west. "Come on, have a seat. We'll eat some cheese crackers or whatever you grabbed back there. The sunset will be nice from here."

Charlotte kicked off her shoes and pulled off her socks, wiggling her toes in the lush green carpet. "Gosh, this feels nice." She rummaged through her bag and pulled out a bottle of water and a bag of chips for them to share. She remembered the beef jerky then and grabbed one of the sticks, tossing it to Nick.

"You aren't afraid of some bugs biting your toes?" He asked, tearing into the beef jerky and ripping it in half, handing her one half as she sat beside him.

"Do I look like the sort of woman who's afraid of some little ol' bugs?" She took the beef jerky and had a bite, savoring the salty taste. Eating things like this would be good for replenishing any salts they lost while hiking, but they would need to make sure and stay hydrated.

"I guess that was a stupid question." Nick leaned back on the blanket and looked up at the sky. "Looks like a clear night. Earlier I thought it might storm, but it seems to have cleared out in the west."

Charlotte laid back beside him. "I can't remember the last time I was out in the open like this. It's so peaceful." They were both quiet for a moment, then Nick opened his mouth like he was going to speak before closing it again.

"Have something to say?" She propped herself up on her elbow to face him. He mirrored her movement.

"I just want you to know, I promise, I am going to keep you safe out here." Nick started to reach out for her face, then stopped.

Charlotte snorted. "I can keep myself safe." She wasn't sure why she was suddenly so defensive, but she hated having to rely on another person for her basic needs and safety. She didn't _need_ him. If he was here, that was by his own choice.

Then, Nick reached out and brushed her hair away from her face. She felt her lip quiver as his strong hand grazed her cheek down to her jaw. He cupped her cheek and looked into her eyes in the waning light of the evening.

"I know you can, but I am here because I want to help you. That's my promise to you." He brushed a tentative finger across her lips and Charlotte could swear his hand was shaking as he returned it to where it rested between them. She swallowed hard and nodded slowly.

"You don't have to be here." Even she realized she was starting to sound like a broken record.

"I'm not going anywhere." He took her hand in his and laced his fingers through hers, turning over on his back once again to look up at the sky. All traces of the sun were gone now, leaving nothing but a deep purple haze overhead and the first star of the evening. Charlotte rolled onto her back and in spite of the circumstances, knew she felt happier and safer than she had in a long time.

***

She woke up to the sound of cicadas buzzing their shrill evening song, a lone cricket chirping in the middle of their chorus. It was dark and the sky was thick with stars. For a moment, she felt like she was falling through space. Then she felt Nick's hand holding hers. One thing she already knew — he never let go, always waiting on her to release him first. She turned to look at him and found him awake, staring up at the sky. In the moonlight she noticed a glint of silver around his neck and she reached out to touch the ID tags. Leaning up to get a closer look, while simultaneously hovering over his face, she read his name.

"Welch. Nicholas A. Oh, look! We're the same blood type."

"Good, because when this is over, you'll owe me a kidney."

She let go of the tags and sat up, laughing. "What does the 'A' stand for? I have a few guesses."

"I bet you do." Nick sat up and rose to stand, stretching his arms and legs. "It's Alan. That's my dad's name." He crossed his arms over his chest and from where she sat, Charlotte thought he looked much bigger and cut a powerful silhouette in the moonlit night.

But there was something else she saw. What had been there all along, from the moment he helped her out of the truck stop and away from danger. A certain tenderness that seemed like such a contrast when superimposed over his commanding form. He wasn't going anywhere, just like he said. What he didn't say, what Charlotte already knew, was that he would not come to her until she called.

_And then, he might not let go,_ she thought.

"Nick, I..."

"Let me just go take a look around. I want to make sure we're safe up here." He grabbed a flashlight and she watched him walk away into the dark. Charlotte watched until she could not see the light, then she crawled back into the tent.

Nick had situated a tiny lantern near the top of the tent and she turned it on the lowest setting so she could see. There was one sleeping bag that took up almost the entire width of the tent. It was larger than average, big enough for the both of them, but she knew he was too much of a gentleman to presume anything. Charlotte didn't have to think long about what she wanted to do. She knew she couldn't sleep in jeans. She unbuttoned the pants and slid them down over her hips, removing them and rolling them up to serve as a pillow once more. There was rustling moving toward the campsite and she caught a glimpse of the beam from Nick's flashlight before she slipped inside the oversized sleeping bag. She heard him stop, but he didn't enter the tent. She waited and...nothing.

"Nick."

His head appeared at the other end of the tent. "Yeah?"

"What are you doing out there?"

"I don't know. Keeping watch, I guess."

"Nick." She kept her eyes on his. "Come to bed."

He paused a moment before turning off his flashlight and fumbling his way into the tent, kicking off his shoes as he did. He had left his baseball cap outside and his black hair was a mess. Charlotte thought it gave him an innocent, quizzical look.

"Well, I guess now is a good time to tell you it's a sleeping bag for two. In my defense, I've had this thing for a while now and I—"

"I figured you had it on hand for when you help out young women who are on the run from the law." Charlotte smirked in the soft glow of the lantern.

Nick chuckled as he crawled, fully clothed, into the sleeping bag.

"No, actually. You're my first."

# Chapter Five

They woke early the next morning, packed up their camp—making sure to leave no trace—and headed further into the mountains. Nick continued to check the compass on his watch every hour or so, to make sure they were still heading due east. They knew that soon they would have to change course and bear more to the northeast because of the way the ridge was positioned. For now though, their travel was as smooth as they could hope, with no major setbacks.

Along the way, Charlotte discovered several patches of wild blackberries. She braved the briars and chiggers to gather some of the dark, sweet fruit. They were a nice change from the vending machine fare. They hadn't attempting hunting yet and they both hoped it wouldn't come to that. If all went according to plan, they could be in Arkansas in three or four days.

It was around midday when they heard the sound. A low, distant rumble. Not like a train, not quite that deep. It was almost light, like a long, soft _shhhh_. It was another hundred yards before they saw it.

"A waterfall!" Charlotte exclaimed. "I knew there were some out here, but I didn't know if we'd run into one. This might be a good place to rest and have something to eat."

Nick followed her lead and dropped his pack near the edge of the water. He dipped a hand in to test the temperature in the clear pool.

"Don't get any ideas about swimming. The water is cold." He shook the water from his hand and onto Charlotte's arm.

"Hey! You be nice. I might push you in."

Nick took a step back. "Nope, not me. I like my water with lots of sun and a beach."

Charlotte looked at him and narrowed her eyes. "I didn't have you pegged as someone who lived near an ocean."

He sat on the ground, pulling out a few of their food items and opened the bags to share. "Nah, I'm not from near the ocean. I guess we haven't talked about this."

Charlotte realized that in the several hours of conversation they had shared, not once had she asked Nick where he was from originally. "I guess...well, if you were on the run I didn't want to ask you any questions you felt uncomfortable answering."

"I don't know why. We've talked about some pretty uncomfortable stuff along the way." The truth was, Nick wanted to tell her. There wasn't anything he didn't want to tell her at this point. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. There had never been anyone who had made him feel so open. There was something in the way she acted toward him. It made him less afraid to be himself; it had been ages since he had been free to talk honestly about who he was and what he was trying to escape. There was nowhere to escape to with Charlotte. It was as if he had already reached their destination.

"I'm from New Mexico. I was raised on a horse ranch." Simply saying the words aloud brought back a flood of memories. "Back home, you'd be more likely to see me in a cowboy hat and a good pair of boots than this." He tugged at his baseball cap. "My mom's folks owned it, going back a hundred years or so. Dad was a hand and he was working his way up. Story goes, he caught sight of mom and that was it. He was done. But he was older than her by a few years and she was his boss's daughter. He knew he needed to bide his time. Now, my mom would tell you a different story—that she and some of her friends would sit on the roof of the big house and watch the hands out at their bunkhouse. She first saw him when she was about sixteen and her parents had strict rules about fraternizing with the ranch hands. There was a smile and a wave here and there, but that was it."

By now Charlotte was seated across from Nick, leaning forward, eager to hear more of the story as she chewed on a cheese cracker. "Well, go on. How did they finally get together?"

Nick grinned. "They both had the same idea running through their heads. The way my mom told it, she made the first move. Dad claims it was him. Grandpa could never remember which thing happened first, so there was no settling the matter. Mom turned eighteen and first thing that morning, she walked over to where my dad was saddling a horse and asked him if he would take her to a movie. Of course, he said yes, but Dad says he had already asked Grandpa's permission that morning. We'll never know."

Charlotte smiled. "That's awfully sweet. And then there was you."

"Yeah, they didn't date very long before getting married. First they had my brother, then my sister, and finally me. We grew up working around the ranch. The skills might not seem like they would translate very well, but it was pretty natural to go from that to the army."

"So, you're the baby."

Nick stole the bag of crackers away from her. "I am. But I think I was always pretty responsible as far as all that birth order stuff goes. You know, I got into my share of trouble as a kid, but I wasn't the bad one. It was my sister they had to watch out for."

Charlotte smiled and stared off into the distance. The smile faded after a bit and Nick looked at her curiously. She shook her head.

"It was just me and my sister. I'm the oldest. She's a couple years younger. I was only at home this summer because I was still looking for a job. Graduated from college about a month ago. She is..." Charlotte stopped herself. "She would have started her student teaching this fall and finished school next year. She was always way ahead of me, even though I was older."

Nick watched her eyes well up and he reached over to put an arm around her. "I'm so sorry." Charlotte leaned her head against his shoulder and he felt the hot tears soak into his shirt. He softly stroked her hair and held her close, pressing a gently kiss against the top of her head.

Charlotte shook as she cried and found herself wrapping her arms around his neck. There had been plenty of time to think on the trail as they hiked toward the state line, but there wasn't much time to sit and cry. She wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, but when she looked up at Nick's face his eyes were closed and his jaw was set with determination. She considered it the night before, but now she was doing it. She leaned in and kissed his lips.

Nick hardly had time to realize what was happening, but once he did, he let it. When she pulled back he opened his eyes.

"Thank you," she said, wiping her eyes and forcing a smile.

"You don't have to thank me for anything."

Charlotte released him from her embrace and scooted a little further away, grabbing her water bottle.

Nick stood and walked toward the waterfall. "I noticed something I want to check out." The closer he got to the water, the more difficult it was for Charlotte to hear him. She stood and followed him along the edge of the pool, near the stone wall behind the falls.

"Look." He pointed behind the falling water. Charlotte squinted to see into the darkness. "I don't think you could call it a cave. It's barely a divot in the wall." He turned his flashlight into the crevice and Charlotte could see what he was talking about. It wasn't a cave, not really, just a hollowed out spot behind the falls that was far enough away from the spray to remain completely dry.

"It's too bad we're not ready to stop for the evening." She noticed it looked clear of any signs of animals taking shelter there and thought it would make a comfortable, dry spot for a pair of humans.

Nick nodded. "Yeah. Speaking of that." He looked toward the sky. "I think we need to make tracks and get out of here. Not literally, try not to make tracks. I think we may get some rain soon."

Charlotte thought so too. The sky was an ominous gray and toward the west it was even darker. "Let's go then."

***

They had only been walking for half an hour when the rain started. Slow at first, then building to a steady pour. They were soaked within a few minutes and Charlotte could feel the water squishing through her toes. She knew a little about hiking and wet shoes were bad news.

The stream that flowed from the waterfall and pool above was filled to the brim thanks to early spring rains and this heavy downpour wasn't helping—the stream was already rising over its banks. Suddenly, Charlotte slipped on some saturated, uneven ground and landed on her backside, barely missing the stream.

Nick rushed to her side. "Are you okay?"

"The only thing hurt here is my pride." Nick reached out a hand and helped her back to her feet. The rain became a sheet of water and they exchanged dispirited looks.

Nick spoke loudly over the rain. "I'm afraid of flash flooding. Neither of us know enough about where we are to stay safe in a situation like that. We need to get to high ground and get dry. We can't keep walking like this."

Charlotte nodded. "The cave?"

Nick grabbed her hand. "The cave."

They started back up the hill and it was a much different experience going up than it had been descending the dry slope. They fought for traction with every step, slowly making their way back to the area where they had stopped to rest. The rain nearly blinded them as it cut through the air like sharp, cold knives, assaulting their faces. It was an hour before they made it back to the flat ground and then they ran toward the cave opening. It was only set back a dozen yards or so from the falls, but they were both happy to find the place remained dry even in the torrential rain.

"Thank God." Charlotte shivered as she dropped her pack and kicked off her shoes. They were a soggy mess and would require some drying before she could put them on again. Nick did the same and pulled off his cap, running his hands through his wet hair. She noticed how curly it became when it was wet and laughed as he started to shake like some oversized, wet dog.

"Sorry," Nick began, "you must be freezing. Let me get you a blanket."

"I don't know what good that will do. I'm soaked to the gills. There's no need to get the blanket all wet."

Nick turned back around from his pack; blanket in hand, to find her struggling to pull off the soaking wet jeans. He thrust the blanket her direction and turned back around. Charlotte removed everything except her underclothes and tossed it all into a saturated heap, away from their dry corner.

"All better. Thanks for the blanket." She was wrapped up tightly and he smiled at the image of her standing there barefooted with her long, thick braid hanging over her shoulder.

"You're beautiful." He said it before he gave the words much thought. They were the only words he could think.

Charlotte grinned and sat on the ground. "Come on, cowboy. Your turn."

He gave her a sideways glance, but obeyed. He wanted to be out of the wet clothes as much as she did.

Charlotte watched him peel off the black t-shirt and throw it onto her pile of clothing. From the back she saw a tattoo etched on his shoulder. It looked like a date, but she couldn't be sure. As he turned sideways to fumble with the button on his jeans, her breath caught in her throat. He was well-built and muscular, not like a body builder, but like a man who worked hard all day. She wondered what he did to maintain that kind of physique now that he was no longer active military. It was comical to watch him extricate himself from the sodden denim and she barely stifled at giggle with her hand.

"Yeah, yeah. Laugh all you want. I'm just glad I opted for boxers. I'm not sure I'd be able to live down tighty-whiteys in this situation." He threw the jeans against the wall and they fell on top of the heap.

She laughed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. It's just...the situation. Come over here and get warm."

Nick raised an eyebrow. "I'm in boxers."

"So? I'm in my underwear."

"You're in a blanket."

"You could be too, see?" She opened the blanket to show how much room there was. Instead of joining her immediately, Nick pulled the sleeping bag out of his pack and rolled it out.

"It'll be more comfortable to sit on this." He sat down and patted the spot beside him.

Charlotte rose, the blanket trailing behind her as she moved to sit next to Nick, unwrapping herself as she did. They huddled together and wrapped the blanket around themselves, their sides pressed against each other and sticking in the dampness.

"I guess it's good we didn't make it too far from here. We can't chance it out there while it's raining like this. I don't want to risk us getting caught in a mudslide."

Charlotte agreed. "I guess the situation is bad enough already. No need to throw in a natural disaster."

"We may be here a while."

Silence fell between them and the tension was palpable. Charlotte had kissed him earlier and he knew it might only have been out of gratitude, but Nick's mind was racing. He wondered what was going through her head.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" Nick asked, failing to look at her face.

Charlotte shook her head. "No, but I think I'm making you uncomfortable." She reached for his hand under the blanket and squeezed it tightly. The rain continued to pour outside of their tiny cave, so hard that it was difficult to tell where the rain stopped and the waterfall began.

Nick pulled the blanket tighter around the two of them and Charlotte leaned against him, happy for the warmth and contact with another person, even if they were both still very wet. She felt his heartbeat throb against her ear and it picked up while she listening. Nick's hand remained intertwined with hers, but she detected a slight tremor.

"Nick?"

"Yeah?"

"You're trembling." Charlotte was already as close as she could get to him and still he shivered in the cool cave.

He sighed. "Yeah, I am."

"We need to get you warm then." She turned to face him and used a corner of the blanket to rub his shoulders and arms, drying him and generating some heat. In the process, most of the blanket that had been covering her slipped from her shoulders and pooled behind her. Charlotte sat opposite him wearing her bra and panties and wet as they were, nothing was left to the imagination.

"Charlotte," Nick placed a hand on her arm. "I'm not cold."

She stopped her ministrations and looked at him. His eyes landed on hers and stayed there. Charlotte reached out her hand to brush back a lock of hair that had fallen onto his forehead. Nick took her hand in both of his, the blanket falling away from him as he felt the soft skin on the top of her hand. He brought it to his mouth and grazed the knuckles with his lips.

Charlotte let a sigh escape her lips before she inclined her head to kiss him the way she wanted to earlier, both of her hands on either side of his face. The kiss was fervent and professed the urgency she felt pulsing through her veins. Nick responded to her, returning the kiss, but he hesitated and his hands held her elbows. When she finally pulled away she was out of breath and Nick spoke, his voice low and husky.

"I'm trembling because of you." He pulled her in to kiss her forehead and held her against his chest. "It's been a long time and...I know the situation we're in together is extreme. I don't want you to do something you're going to regret." His blue eyes held hers as he looked down at her face.

"What about you? Aren't you afraid of doing something you'll regret?"

He shook his head and pulled back, putting some space between them. "That went away a long time ago. I know I won't regret anything with you."

# Chapter Six

Nick heard Charlotte say, "This is what I want." After that, she was kissing him again, pressing him down onto the sleeping bag and straddling him. If things went the way she was taking them, none of this would last very long and he didn't want that. Not with her. Not the first time.

He forced himself to respond to her kisses, slowly running his hand up and down the length of her back, attempting to bring the tempo down to a steadier pace.

Charlotte was sitting on his lap and there was no doubt she knew what she was doing to him. She unhooked her bra from behind and watched it slide down her arms, revealing full, heavy breasts and their pebbled tips. She bent over to kiss him once more, but he rose up, holding her there on his lap as he moved into a seated position. She started to grind atop him before his hands rested on her hips and stilled her.

"Charlotte, look at me." He placed her hands on either side of her face, turning her gaze toward him. "I want you and it's incredibly difficult for me to hold back, but I want you to enjoy this and I don't want it to be over to soon. And I feel like I should tell you that I don't have anything on me because—"

She breathed in deeply. "Because neither of us expected this to happen when we started up these mountains."

"If you don't want to, that's fine, I promise. I didn't have any sort of expectations."

They sat in an awkward, very intimate position with her still on his lap with her legs wrapped around his waist while she thought. Nick willed himself to remain as still as he could.

"I want this," Charlotte affirmed.

Nick didn't have to be told twice. He raised her up and laid her back on the sleeping bag, the warm fabric providing some insulation between her body and the cave floor. Outside the storm still raged and Nick pressed his lips onto hers. The kiss was softer this time and Charlotte was welcoming as Nick dipped his tongue inside to taste her mouth. One of his hands was splayed across her belly and moving up to trace an outline around her breasts. He leaned back to admire them before sweeping his fingertips across her peaked nipples. Charlotte gasped and arched her back to him, offering up her breasts and letting out a moan that invited him to move down and capture one between his lips. His tongue flicked at the tip and he began to suckle at one breast while his other hand moved to knead her other breast. He rubbed the pad of his thumb against the nipple, alternating that with a gentle pinch and pull as his mouth continued its act of worship at her other full mound.

Charlotte squirmed underneath him, hips surging involuntarily, her body begging for him. He moved to the other breast, giving them each the same amount of thorough attention and she thought she would come undone.

"Nick," his name came out like a whispered plea. He then began kissing his way down her stomach, pulling her panties down as he descended. She was ready to beg for his touch when she felt his fingers part her folds and rub at the entrance of her sex. She was soaking wet—and not from the rain. Her cleft was slippery and his finger traced a line between her opening and the tender pink bud at the apex of her thighs. A few more passes of his thumb and she would be there, at the peak of her desire, ready to explode, but he pulled back.

"Don't stop!" She cried, reaching out for him. He surprised her by taking her hand in his and holding on as he pressed one finger from his other hand inside her and began lapping at her clitoris. Jolts of electricity shot from her core and up her spine and her hips bucked against his face. She wanted to watch him, wanted to see him as he kissed her most sensitive spot; but her body went limp as the orgasm washed over her and the warmth of it spread through her veins.

Slowly, Nick moved back up her body. He brushed a few loose strands of hair away from her face and nuzzled her neck. "You're beautiful." His hands rested on her hips and she cradled his body with her own. Charlotte felt his erection, hard and throbbing against her belly. With one hand she brought his face close to her own for a kiss, tasting herself on his tongue. Her other hand drifted between the two of them, past the elastic waistband of his boxers. She rubbed the pad of her thumb gently across the head and Nick gasped in her mouth, deepening the kiss. Charlotte's hand moved down and she began stroking his velvety length.

Nick drew back with a quick intake of air. "I can't take much more of this."

Charlotte removed her hand from his shorts and started tugging at the waistband. Nick made quick work of it and soon he was resting against her entrance.

"Please," she pleaded, "I need to feel you inside me."

Gradually, Nick drove himself inside her warmth. Charlotte shuddered under him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pushing her hips up to meet him. When he sank to the hilt, he kissed her slowly, savoring the feeling of being completely surrounded by her. The silken walls of her sex quivered around him and he pulled out, almost completely, before thrusting back inside.

Charlotte spread her legs wide and put them around his waist. His pubic bone rubbed against her already sensitive clit and she found herself gasping, on the edge of another orgasm. Her body quaked and shivered, Nick could no longer hold back. Increasing his rhythm he drove into her again, moaning as he spilled himself inside her. Charlotte reached for his butt and pulled him tight against her body.

"Oh my God, Nick." She rolled her hips under him, continuing to ride out a long wave of pleasure as it crashed over her. He collapsed on top of her, his elbows holding up his weight so as not to crush her.

"Charlotte..." He could barely speak. He felt her body squeezing him still and he leaned down to kiss at her breasts once more before looking into her dark brown eyes. She smiled at him and touched his face and that was all he needed to know.

They stayed there together, lying close and listening to the steady flow of the waterfall as the rain slowed. Neither of them spoke for some time, but when Nick pulled the blanket up to shield them from the rain-cooled, late afternoon air that flowed into the cave, he broke the silence.

"Are you okay?"

Charlotte turned on her side to face him, nodding. "Yeah, are you?"

Nick chuckled. There was something reassuring to Charlotte in the sound of his laughter. "I'm great."

"No regrets then?" Charlotte queried.

Nick pulled her close and kissed her forehand. "Not a single one."

The two of them dozed off and on throughout the afternoon, staying there in each other's arms. It was as if the rest of the world had disappeared and they were living in their own, away from all the troubles they had tried hard to escape.

When Charlotte woke some time later, Nick was pulling on a dry pair of jeans from his pack and walking to the entrance of the cave to check things out. She rolled onto her stomach and watched him as he investigated the smooth stone floor that extended out a few feet beyond the entrance. When he turned back and saw her awake, he smiled.

"Have a nice nap?"

"Blissful." Charlotte grinned and stood, wrapping the blanket around her body and going to dig through her bag for dry clothes. She pulled out shorts and a fresh t-shirt and let the blanket fall to the ground. She turned and there was Nick, taking in her naked form as she stood there, bared to him. Charlotte grabbed for the blanket to cover herself, then stopped. "I guess there's no point. You've seen it all now."

Nick padded toward her, his bare feet making no sound on the solid stone floor. Clothes forgotten for the moment, Charlotte dropped the items and once again her arms were around him, lifting her lower body to wrap her legs around his waist. She felt him and he was ready again.

"Are you sure?" Her voice wavered, breathless as she kissed him.

"I've been sure for a while."

***

About an hour before sunset, Nick left the cave in search of wood. They both knew it would be wet, but Charlotte knew a little about making a fire and thought they might be able to peel away some of the outer layers to find dry wood suitable for burning underneath. He returned some time later with two armloads full of candidates. By then Charlotte was dressed, this time without any distractions getting in the way. Nick handed her a knife and she showed him how to peel the firewood down to the dry layers, laying out the wet pieces to dry for kindling, and cutting off tiny strips to start the fire.

It took them an hour to complete the work, but when it was done they had a small fire and a pile of wood big enough to keep the fire going longer than they intended on staying. The warmth was welcome now that the rain had cooled things down and the evening brought its own chill. They sat just inside the cave, on top of the sleeping bag, close enough to the fire to stay warm, but not so far out that the mist from the waterfall could catch them. Nick had built the fire in the perfect spot just outside of the cave. The smoke rose up and floating away from them instead of back inside their temporary dwelling, and the fire remained alive, thanks to a small overhang that protected it from the rain.

"We learned a few survival skills in bootcamp," Nick explained. "All we can hope is that no one has picked up our scent yet. I'd hate for this fire to give us away, but I think we'll be fine."

Charlotte held onto his arm, leaning against his muscular shoulder. "I learned all this from my dad. He wanted me to be able to make it if I ever needed to. Guess it was a good thing he taught me." She smiled wistfully as she stared at the flames. "And they never had a boy. I was the oldest, so I was the one who got to learn. If they'd ever had a boy, it would have been different."

Nick put his arm around her. "Your dad sounds like a really good guy."

She nodded. "I hope I get to see him again. Soon."

"You will. I promise. I'll get you there."

Charlotte was quiet for a moment, then laughed. "You'll have to meet him."

"So what? I'm looking forward to it."

She sat up abruptly. "You're looking forward to it?"

"Well, yeah." Nick shrugged. "Why shouldn't I? He sounds like a nice guy, he's your dad and you're a great person. And look at me. What's not to like about me? Well, other than the obvious desertion thing."

"He's my _dad_. I'm his _daughter_. You know all the pressure that comes along with that."

"Nah." Nick threw a dried twig at the fire. "I think things will be a little different here. I'm helping you over these mountains, remember? That's got to earn me points or count as an ice breaker of some type, don't you think?"

"I think a guy meeting a girl's dad is always the same. You're just lucky mine is a nice guy."

Nick smiled. "So, I do get to meet him."

"You help me get over these mountains and I'll introduce you to my entire family."

"Deal."

The fire started to die down and Charlotte yawned. They hadn't made much progress today as far as distance was concerned, but they were in an entirely new place than they had been twenty-four hours ago—in so many ways. It looked like Nick could hardly keep his eyes open and she grabbed his hand, leading him back inside the cave, dragging the sleeping bag behind them. She unzipped it and stripped down to her t-shirt and underwear. Nick followed her lead and crawled into their shared bed, zipping them up inside it. Things were different now, there was no mistake about that, but Charlotte felt like it was a good sort of different. Things were freer and she felt even safer than she had before. Nick pulled her to his chest and nuzzled her with his several day's worth of beard growth.

"I like it."

"The beard? It's not bad. A little itchy."

She ran her hand over his face, barely making out his features in the dying embers of the fire. "Twenty-five, even fifty years from now, this is how I will remember you."

Nick smiled at her once more and kissed her lips. When they parted, her eyes were closed and her face was still. The day had been long, exhausting, and maybe the best one of his life. He watched her face as her breathing became regular and she fell asleep.

Twenty-five or fifty years from now, he hoped he wouldn't have to rely on his memory just to see her face.

# Chapter Seven

Charlotte and Nick both knew they needed to press on, but for the next two days the rain conspired to keep them inside the cave.

"I don't want us to get too comfortable," Nick declared over another of their junk food breakfasts.

That was easy to say, but the truth was they had both become very comfortable inside their tiny shelter. Every morning they woke inside the sleeping bag, intertwined instead of back-to-back. They sat watching the rain and the falls, telling each other about their lives. Each evening, they built another fire and sat close, keeping warm in the pale orange glow.

"I certainly never thought I'd end up here." Charlotte sighed and tossed a rock into the falls.

"Life is full of surprises."

"Has anyone ever told you how disgustingly positive you are?"

Nick grinned. "It's part of my charm. Besides, if I've got to be stuck in a cave, in the middle of some record-breaking rain storm, on the run from the law, I'm glad it's with you."

"Well aren't you just a sweetheart." Charlotte attempted to elbow him in the side, but he stopped her.

"I'm serious." He was staring into her eyes now and she found it disarming.

"I know you are." That was why it freaked her out. She knew he liked her. She liked him, too, but she was still trying to figure out what those feelings meant. What they had shared over the past few days wasn't just a product of the circumstances in which they found themselves. Charlotte knew it was much more than that, but she was having a hard time putting a name on it. It was her who had made the first move. Heck, she had almost jumped him that first afternoon during the rainstorm. He had to slow her down. But it wasn't only raging lust and desperation for human touch that led them down that path. It was there the first night when they made camp. There was a magnetic pull between them and her thoughts had been correct—once she reached for him, he wouldn't let go. She asked herself over and over if these feelings were only coming about because he was rescuing her. Charlotte didn't want to be that woman who felt beholden to a man because of something he had done for her. But that wasn't it. If the situation had been different and they met like normal people, this was the sort of guy she would date.

"Is it crazy that I've known you for four days and I'm falling for you?" She asked.

Nick smiled and wrapped his arm around her. "No crazier than me falling for you in half that time."

Charlotte laughed. "Really?"

"Are you kidding? By the time we made our first camp, well, I just knew something was different. I was terrified to crawl in that tent with you. It was hell to share that sleeping bag and not to be able to reach for you and hold you when you were crying in your sleep. I knew it was over your sister and all I wanted was to make everything better. Knowing I couldn't do anything was torture."

Charlotte stood and reached for his hand. They moved back inside the cave, away from the flickering light of the fire. She let go of his hand and slowly pulled her shirt over her head. Every other article of clothing followed, until she stood naked in front of him, a striking silhouette in the firelight. While Nick gazed at her, she moved closer and began removing his clothing. When he was naked, she kissed him long and soft, her fingertips lightly grazing his torso. Nick's hands rested on her hips, kneading the soft flesh. She leaned in and her hardening nipples ached when they touched his skin. Breaking the kiss, she led him to their bed. They entered it like they had every night, only this time there were no barriers.

Tucked safely inside the warm layers, Charlotte wasted no time. She found his rigid member and slowly sank down, taking him in inch by inch.

"God, you feel incredible." Nick groaned as he entered her.

She loved watching his face. His eyes were closed and his mouth gaped open slightly, his breathing erratic as she took in his full length. She gave him a squeeze as she pulled up, stroking him with her walls.

Nick opened his eyes and leaned up to flick his tongue at one of her nipples, catching it and sucking as she began to ride him in a slow, deep rhythm. Her hips rolled and she ground her clitoris against him, moaning as each pulse brought her closer to the edge. He sucked harder on the hard tip of her breast, taking the other in his fingers to pinch lightly. Charlotte felt herself let go as a ripple of pleasure crested and made her cry out.

"Oh God!" Nick reached down to grab her hips, making the rhythm continue. He soon joined her as he thrust up into her one last time. They clung to each other as the night grew darker and it wasn't long before they were asleep in each other's arms, lust sated and heavy panting replaced with the soft, rhythmic breathing of two people tucked safe inside a cocoon.

***

"Nick? Did you hear that?" Charlotte whispered. It must have been early, but Nick felt like he had only been asleep a few minutes.

"What?" He sat up like a shot. "What did you hear?" There were no birds making a fuss yet and there was hardly a hint of light coming from outside the cave. The waterfall made it difficult to hear anything else going on in the world outside of this tiny grotto, but Nick listened intently. The rain had stopped.

"Voices," Charlotte said, almost inaudibly. "Mens' voices. I thought I heard shouting in the distance."

Nick rose from the sleeping bag and pulled on his pants as he moved toward the opening of their shelter. He turned to her again. "I'm going to check things out."

Worried they might need to make a run for it; Charlotte crawled out of the sleeping bag and put on her clothes, hurriedly throwing everything else in their packs. She rolled up the sleeping bag and crammed it inside the compartment in Nick's pack that kept it dry.

Charlotte waited and heard the sound again. And again. It was getting closer now and she hoped it was only Nick letting her know there was nothing to be worried about, no authorities who had caught up with them, only an owl or something out looking for its breakfast. But she knew better. That wasn't Nick's voice. She couldn't make out the words, but she heard the voices rising.

There was another sound, closer outside the cave and she grabbed her pack, thanking God that he was back and that they would be rushing down the mountain soon. But when Nick appeared there was a shotgun pointed at his head and the man holding it was Sheriff Macklin.

"Put your hands up. Now!" The sheriff barked at Charlotte.

"She doesn't have any weapons." Nick's comment was unwelcome and the sheriff kicked at the back of his legs, almost sending him sprawling across the cave floor. Nick rushed to Charlotte's side.

"We've been looking all over for you, little missy. Up and down half the state."

"Well, you found me." Charlotte crossed her arms, putting up a steely facade that attempted to hide her heavy breathing and increased heart rate.

"Looks like the two of you got real cozy in here. Sorry to break up the party, but you've got a court date."

Nick grabbed Charlotte's hand. "She's not going anywhere with you. Everything she did was in defense of her sister. What do you think the state authorities will have to say about your deputy raping a young woman in her home?"

Sheriff Macklin pointed the gun at the ground and grinned. "Do you think I was born yesterday, boy? I've been around a while, long enough to know how to clean up a scene. Long enough to make it look the way it needs to look so no one is answering questions."

Charlotte took a step toward the sheriff. Two of his deputies appeared at the mouth of the cave and flanked him. "How do you explain my sister being raped and murdered in her bed?"

"Sweetheart, no one even knows where your sister is."

Charlotte inhaled sharply and reached for Nick. It couldn't be. If no one knew what happened to Cinda, Charlotte looked as guilty of murder as the sheriff claimed.

"What it looks like is you lured him into your house with promises of some kind of entertainment. After that was over, you shot him from behind while he was pulling his britches up. There are enough folks who had seen him frequenting the area around your house lately. And we put a few little birds out there, talking about how you'd been chatting him up. It didn't take much to get the story going."

Her blood was boiling and she squeezed Nick's hand, doing everything in her might not to rush at the sheriff.

"You're not taking her." Nick spat the words at the sheriff and the two deputies. The other men were smaller than him, he noted, but three on one didn't seem like good odds. Not when they were armed.

"Listen up, I don't know who you are or how this little bitch got you caught in her web, but it's clear you know what she's accused of. Are you just stupid? Or maybe she's like her sister and spread her legs for the first guy she saw on the road. That how it went down?"

Now it was Charlotte holding Nick back.

"Tell you what," Sheriff Macklin began, "you hand her over to me and I let you leave. No mention of you and aiding and abetting a felon. Nothing. Hell, if I wanted to I could charge you with accessory after the fact. I'm sure there's a way to work that in to the charges. So you just decide what you want. A dozen or so years in prison or to walk out of here a free man."

Charlotte swallowed hard. The sheriff was right. Nick had put himself on the line for her and now he could pay a terrible price for that decision.

"Nick, you need to go." Charlotte's voice did not waver.

He clasped her hand tighter, turning to her. "I'm not leaving you here. We're leaving here together."

"Now, now," Sheriff Macklin smiled and almost laughed. "Don't turn this into some Bonnie and Clyde, ride or die business. There's only two ways this goes down. You walk out and leave her with us, or you fight this and this cave is your grave. It's your decision, fella. I'm not making it for you. But you sure as hell need to think about it before you let whatever spell she's put on you decide your fate."

Charlotte put her arms around Nick's neck and whispered, "I want you to go. I want you to get out of here. You can find my parents and tell them what you know. Something can be done. There's just no way for us to get out of here alive, not with three of them. Do you hear me?"

Nick nodded and clutched her close to his chest.

"Ain't that a pretty picture?" The sheriff wiped his face with a handkerchief. "I want you fellas to look at that. This dirty, piece of trash Indian girl has got this boy wrapped plumb around her finger. What do you boys think she's been up to?"

The two deputies laughed at their superior officer, but remained silent for the most part.

"I'll be fine," Charlotte said to Nick. "Don't worry about me. You did what you could and I'll be grateful for that forever. Just get back to my folks. They need to know what's happening." She leaned in to whisper again. "They need to know the truth."

The sheriff kicked at a rock on the cave floor. "You telling him not to worry about you? Shoot, at least tell the boy the truth, he got you this far." He looked at Nick, his eyes narrowing. "In this state, we take out women same as we do the men. A Jezebel seductress such as herself usually gets the worst sort of punishment. I wouldn't be surprised to see her sitting pretty there on death row for God knows how many years before they decide to do away with her. She'll rot there on that cell. And sure, she may be nice to look at right now, but give her five years in prison. Ages you like ten years out amongst the living. Her natural life is only a quarter over, but you're looking at a half dead woman. Her time on earth is coming to an end. This is the last sky she'll see."

Charlotte kissed Nick's cheek, her voice remaining low. "Do not listen to him. He doesn't know what he's talking about. I can beat this."

Nick nodded, holding her tight against his body. He wished it was the night before, when they were together for the last time. He wished he had held her longer, worshipped her like she deserved. Here stood the woman he would give his life for, and instead she was offering herself up to prevent his capture or worse yet, his death.

"I love you, Charlotte." The words came out in a hoarse, choked whisper. A tear streamed down Nick's face and caught in her hair.

She touched his cheek. "I love you, too." Her voice was loud and echoed in the small cavern. She turned to the sheriff. "Go ahead, take me."

# Chapter Eight

Charlotte wrenched free from Nick's grip on her hand and stepped toward the officers. She wouldn't risk a fight. She could not live with the thought of Nick being harmed.

"Forrest, cuff her." Sheriff Macklin's stern voice rang out in the cave. The deputy on the right stepped forward and Charlotte walked toward him, hands extended and palms up.

Nick's mind raced and he felt like a coward. There she was, giving herself up for him. He knew the sheriff was right. If they took her now she would sit in prison for years after a jury found her guilty of a crime she didn't commit. They had made the scene appear the way they needed it to and now Charlotte was the one who would pay for the corruption of an entire police department. He couldn't live with himself if he didn't try to stop them.

Charlotte saw movement out of the corner of her eye, but before she could figure out what was happening a shotgun blast rang out and singed her eardrums. Deputy Forrest paused in shock and watched as the other deputy crumpled into a heap on the ground, a gaping hole in his chest bleeding profusely. Nick was on top of the sheriff, wrestling him with a shotgun held between their two bodies.

"Nick!" She screamed. It was no use. The two men tumbled across the cave floor and toward the edge, where the waterfall emptied itself into the pool below. Nick pushed the older man's face under the gushing water. Macklin gurgled and spat, trying desperately to breath, but he was drowning. Deputy Forrest forgot about Charlotte and ran to help the sheriff. Charlotte cried out for Nick again and he rolled the sheriff into the water before swinging around to bash the deputy in the face with the butt of the shotgun. His aim was good and the gun hit the man square on the temple. Blood spurted from the wound in his head as he fell into the water, unconscious.

"We've got to go!" Nick shouted, grabbing his pack and Charlotte, leading her out of the cave. Behind them the sheriff coughed and sputtered, trying to reach his injured deputy. "Go, Charlotte. We have to get out of here!"

They ran for what seemed like hours. Slipping and sliding down the face of the mountain until they reached the trees below. Fighting through brush and brambles, they made their way through the rain soaked low ground and walked until they couldn't anymore.

Charlotte gasped for air. Her heart raced and she fanned herself with her hand. The humidity was high after the rain and the air around them felt thick and hard to breathe. It was then that she noticed Nick's leg. He was reaching down to roll up his jeans and examine the flesh, but she could see he was bleeding.

"What happened?" Charlotte croaked.

Nick shook his head. "It's nothing. When I tackled the sheriff and the gun went off, some of the shot from the blast must have ricocheted. It just grazed me."

She got on her knees to look at the wound. It wasn't just a graze. Three open holes in his flesh told her that there was shot in his leg. "Nick, it's still in there."

"Don't worry about it." He rolled his pants leg back down, wincing. "We've got to get further away. That's only going to slow them down a little. With another dead deputy, they'll send out the big guns. This area will be crawling with cops in no time."

Nick started walking but Charlotte stayed where she was.

"I have to go back." She turned slowly and started walking in the opposite direction. Nick wasn't far behind her.

"What the hell are you doing? We didn't go through all that just to have you turn yourself in. No, we are going. We're getting out of here even if I have to drag you." He took her by the hand and forcibly moved her through the wooded area. They didn't speak for some time and it was noon before they stopped again. The sun was out for the first time in days and it stood high overhead, blazing in the sky.

"Nick, we need to get you some help. We can't keep pressing forward at this pace." She hadn't said anything about it, but it was clear they were slowing down and it wasn't because they were tired. He had at least three pellets in his leg and they needed to come out.

"What are you suggesting?" He shot her a sideways glance that said he would listen, but he likely wouldn't take any advice she was offering.

"If I turn myself in, they'll haul both of us out of here and you can get the medical attention you need."

Nick turned abruptly and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Charlotte, do you think there's still any room for a deal here? That dead deputy back there makes me think otherwise. No matter what the sheriff might have said, there's another dead man now. It doesn't just get swept under the rug like that. They're going to be looking for me just as much as you."

They continued walking, their pace nothing more than a crawl now. There were miles between them and the cave, possibly more between them and the sheriff, who would have to find help for the injured deputy and report what happened in the cave. Charlotte tried to calculate how long that gave them. Getting out of the mountains with an injured deputy and a dead man would take a day, at least, if they were on foot. Catching up with them again would take at least that long, but the thought occurred to her that they probably had a radio or some form of communication on them. For all she knew, there could be a helicopter hovering over the top of them in no time.

The sun was starting to set when they met up with a stream cutting through the valley that ran between two of the ridges. A thick stand of trees congregated next to the bubbling water and looked like it would offer some protection and cover.

"Let's stop here," she said, taking his hand and walking toward the edge of the water. "You got that water bottle handy?"

Nick fumbled around and pulled it from one of the side pockets in his pack. Charlotte bent down to fill the bottle and then replaced the cap.

"The filter makes it safe?"

He nodded. "There's a long straw and the water passes through several filters. I'm not sure about how it works exactly, but they hand these out in third world countries where good drinking water is almost impossible to come by. We should be fine."

She handed the bottle back and he took a couple of long swallows before sitting down in the long, still damp grass near the water's edge. She dropped her pack and sat beside him, reaching for the bottle. The water was cool, fresh from the stream. It had a somewhat metallic, dirty taste, probably from the rain stirring up sediment on the bottom of the stream, but it was clean. She said a silent prayer that there were no bacteria that could kill them. Nick was leaning back against a tree, eyes closed. She couldn't tell if he was asleep, but she knew he was exhausted from walking all day on that leg. When she leaned closer, he put his arm around her and pulled her against his chest. The soft thud of his heartbeat was reassuring and she let out a sigh as she rested her head. There had been plenty of time to think on the trail, but with such focus on getting out of sight and as far from the authorities as they could, it had been difficult for Charlotte's mind to land on any one thought for more than a few seconds. Now that they had stopped for the night, a flood of thoughts and emotions washed over her and before she knew what was happening she heaved a powerful sob.

"Shh." Nick rubbed her back. "We're going to be okay."

Charlotte shook her head. "You don't know that."

He rocked her and she felt like a child. "I may not know how, or what it's going to look like on the other side, but I promise you, we're leaving this place together."

She cried against his chest, her body shaking, lungs gasping for air. "My sister..."

He knew what she was thinking, but he didn't know what to say. It hadn't been enough to rape and murder her, they had to do who knows what to make her body disappear. He didn't want to think about it, but he could only imagine the thoughts that were running through Charlotte's mind as she pondered her sister's fate.

"They're evil bastards, Charlotte. They'll get what's coming to them."

After some time, her breathing calmed down and she put her arms around him. "Talk to me. Give me something else to think about."

"What do you want to hear about?"

She ran a tear dampened hand across his chest. "You. When we found each other, what were you doing? Where were you going?"

Nick kissed her forehead. "I was on my way west."

"West? But that's back toward—"

"Home. I know. I decided I was going home."

Charlotte looked up at his face. "You were going to turn yourself in?"

"I was going to let whatever was meant to happen, happen."

Charlotte stared at him, her eyes full of questions.

"Maybe I should tell you a little more to help this make some sense. In the early spring, I was driving through the south. Stayed in mostly coastal areas around the gulf. It was a part of the country I hadn't seen before and I knew a lot of those people get their houses repainted before the start of the summer season. Beach house after beach house lined the ocean. House painting is a good job for a guy who is trying to fly under the radar. Only I ended up spending a significant amount of time, for me anyway, in a little town down in Mississippi. Usually if I stopped to stay anywhere it was only for a night or two. One of the people I painted for told me about a boarding house. I don't know, something about it sounded kind of nice."

"You couldn't tell them who you were though?"

"Nope, I couldn't. I gave the lady a different name and paid in cash. She had every right to be wary of me, but I clean up all right and I guess I didn't worry her too much. The thing is she was a minister's wife. They had this boarding house as a sort of outreach for people in need of a place to stay. She had me sniffed out from day one. I wanted to pretend like it was otherwise and for a week or so I told myself it was all in my imagination. It wasn't though."

"Did she figure out who you were?"

"Nah, at least if she did, she never let on. Breakfast and dinner turned into counseling sessions. Her husband let her do most of the talking. I guess he got his fill of it on Sundays." Nick chuckled. "She would poke and prod until I bristled and then she would back down again."

"What did she say that convinced you to head back home?"

Nick sighed and pulled Charlotte closer. "She said that whatever I did wasn't so big that I couldn't face it. That with some time and perspective it was easier to look back and deal with things. 'Look in your rearview,' she said. 'It got awful small while you weren't looking, didn't it?' I think she probably watched a lot of cheesy Sunday night movies, but there was some truth in what she said. I had been running so hard in one direction, away from my problems, that I didn't realize the good I was leaving behind as well. That would be my dad, my brother, and my sister. I hate to think of the pain they're going through, not knowing whether I'm alive or dead." He grimaced as he looked at his leg. "Closer to dead now than I ever was overseas."

"We're going to get you taken care of. It's the first thing we're going to do once we get out of here."

Nick nodded. "She told me to keep looking in the mirror and to remember that even as my problem got smaller, it was closer than it appeared. No matter how hard I ran, it's still there. But it's not too late to turn around and face it. I finished up my last house the next day and started back home. A few days later, I ran into you."

Goose bumps rose up on Charlotte's arms. "That seems almost like..."

"Fate or something, right? I got to thinking how much I missed my family. I don't even know how my dad handled things after I left. The army came looking for me, no doubt. I know they aren't hot on my trail. There are too many guys out there just like me, doing the same thing I am, albeit for different reasons, for them to spend much time looking for one guy. I wasn't a big shot, wasn't ever going to be anything in the ranks, but I was there to serve and I didn't return when I was called. That's not me."

"But you knew they were doing something wrong." Charlotte's voice was choked with emotion.

"I did and that was reason enough to stop and say something, to try and get something done about what they were involved in. It wasn't a reason to run.... I can see that now. All I was running from were my feelings about my mom's death." He paused to compose himself. "I don't know how my dad is doing it. He is probably trying to keep it together with her not there. I can see how it would be the hardest thing to deal with, letting the one person you care most about slip away."

Nick kissed Charlotte's forehead again and stroked the top of her silky smooth hair.

"Back in the cave, when they were about to take me, you said you..."

He nodded. "I did. I do." Then his mouth was on hers and they both cried a different kind of tears. Later, they pulled out the sleeping bag and crawled inside. Charlotte was careful not to bump his leg and wished she had light, the tools, and the knowledge to take care of it. He cleaned it before getting into bed, but she knew it needed more attention than that. Once they were inside together, she felt the gentle touch of sleep pulling at her consciousness, but all she wanted was to be near him and remember this moment forever.

Nick pulled her tight against his hard body. They both wanted more, but exhaustion won out and together they fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

# Chapter Nine

The next morning, Charlotte woke before Nick and crept out of the bed, trying to be as quiet as possible and allow him the rest he desperately needed. She pulled one of the maps out and began searching the terrain, hoping to find a marker that might help her figure out where they were in the massive green blob of the mountain range. One peaked ridge stood out to the northeast. She stood and walked to the edge of the water, looking directly east at the rising sun. Making a quarter turn to the north, she looked northeast and thought she could identify that strip of mountains as the one marked on the map. If that was the case, they were probably fifteen miles from the state line and almost to the northernmost boundary of the mountains. Getting out of the protected area might mean running into roads or even people. She wasn't sure about the rules for people living in a national forest area, but she knew it happened. To be safe, they might need to avoid veering too far to the north.

She was startled by Nick walking up behind her.

"Sorry. What are you looking at?"

She waved the map at him. "Trying to figure out the best way going forward."

"Good idea." He took a long swallow from the water bottle and passed it to Charlotte.

"How does your leg feel this morning?"

He pulled up his pant leg to show her. It didn't look any worse than the night before. The swelling was about the same, but the redness hadn't increased and that gave her some hope. She was terrified of infection out here with no medicine. Fresh blood was starting to ooze out from him walking just a few feet.

"We should get you bandaged up."

"Back right pocket," he said, gesturing to his pack. Charlotte found the first aid kit and cursed herself for not taking care of this the day before. The emotional toll of the day had hit both of them very hard and even Nick was somewhat blind to the pain he felt in his leg. She pulled out a roll of gauze, some bandages, and antibiotic ointment. There were small alcohol pads for cleaning and she took two of those before returning to his side.

"This might sting a little." She wiped the area down with alcohol and looked up to see if Nick was reacting.

"See? I'm a tough guy." He laughed as she rolled her eyes at him.

"I can make it hurt." Charlotte applied the ointment and secured the bandage with gauze.

"I think I'll pass."

"There. All better."

Nick stood, a little stiff from a long night on the ground, but able to move around. "I'll roll up the sleeping bag. We need to get going. You lead the way."

With their camp packed up and no sign of them left behind, other than the matted grass where they lay last night, they headed out. They kept a north-northeast bearing and soon they were working their way up the northern side of the ridge Charlotte spotted on the map.

"I think if we stay on course we will avoid any areas where people might live. We can't risk exposing ourselves now. They know I'm around here, they know you are with me. People will be looking."

It was a large swath of land, but in this part of the state it seemed like everyone knew everyone else. Even in an area where hikers were commonly seen, two young people matching their description would make anyone curious. Being spotted by just one person could mean the end of their quest to make it to the state line.

"Speaking of looking, has anyone ever told you how good you look from behind?"

She shot a glance over her shoulder at him. "Seriously, Nick. Are you even listening to me?"

"Yeah, I was listening. But I was looking, too."

"I'm glad to see that leg isn't bothering you too much."

He reached up to tug at her braid as they continued up the hill. "Oh, I don't know about that. It feels like it'll need some doctoring later."

They reached the top of the ridge line an hour later, just as the skies began to darken with pregnant clouds. A crash of lightning in the distance took them both off guard.

"We can't get ahead, can we?" Fat drops began falling.

"One good thing about this, if it's slowing us down, it's slowing them down. They won't send a search team out in the middle of a forest or on top of a mountain if there's a thunderstorm moving in."

"I guess you're right." She looked up at the sky. "Maybe it'll keep any search helicopters grounded as well."

"Either way, it's not safe out here. We've got to keep moving and find some place tucked up against the ground to wait this out. What are the chances there's another cave around here?"

"Pretty good, given the terrain, but I think the chances of us actually finding one are pretty slim. We were lucky the last one didn't have something living in it."

"True. We've got to find something though. The last thing we need is to be struck by lightning."

The tip of the ridge jutted out in the open and afforded them a view of the surrounding hills.

"Nick, look!" Charlotte was pointing in the distance, no more than half a mile down the other side of the ridge. They couldn't make out what it was exactly, but a small building with a brown roof and a stone chimney was sticking out of the tops of some trees that covered the mountainside.

"We'd better be careful. Someone might live there."

Charlotte stared hard at the structure, squinting at it. No matter how hard she focused, she couldn't make out any windows. They were all covered by trees. "It's really small. Maybe someone's vacation cabin. I think it's worth taking a look."

Slowly, they made their way down the side of the mountain, careful not to slip on the rain slick earth. Twisted blackjack oaks covered the area and made it seem even darker under the thick canopy of leaves. It took them half an hour to reach the cabin and by then the rain was bearing down hard on them and they were being pelted by pea-sized hail. They didn't have time to practice the caution they would have liked, opting instead to escape the barrage of frozen precipitation that hammered down from the sky.

On the front door hung a carved wooden sign. It was a bear holding up a sign that read, "Gone Huntin'."

"Do you think it's a hunter's cabin?" Charlotte asked.

A heavy padlock secured the building from any intruders. Nick looked into one of the windows. "No one has been here for a while. Probably deer hunters. Season doesn't start again for months. Unless they come out to camp in the summer, my guess is they won't be around for a while. Surely they won't mind us taking shelter from a thunderstorm."

Nick still had the sheriff's shotgun sticking out of his pack. He grabbed for it and instructed Charlotte to step back. He slammed the butt of the gun against the lock a half dozen times before it started to give, then he used his good leg to kick at the door until it flew open.

"Well done, tough guy." She followed him inside and was happy to see drop cloths covering a couch and chair in the living area in front of the fireplace, as well as a small table next to a kitchenette. "Oh, this isn't bad at all."

Nick prowled around the small cabin like a cat, checking for any signs of someone living there, but the drop cloths told it all. A few trophy fish and antlers hung on the walls, covered with dust.

"We'll be safe here for a while. Just pray the storm keeps raging out there and washes away any tracks we left behind."

"There's a bed back here in the corner." Charlotte sat on the squeaky mattress.

"Way ahead of you. That was the first thing I noticed."

"You're such a man." The bed squeaked again as she got up and crossed the room to pull back a curtain in front of a toilet and bathtub. "Oh my gosh. Please please please..." The words came out as a whisper when she turned the faucet. There was a sputter and then water began filling the tub. "Hallelujah! I can take a bath!"

"Is it hot?" Nick came over to check out the situation with the tub. "Nope, didn't think so. It's probably coming from a well. I'll check for a breaker to turn on the water heater." He left her in the cabin alone and she explored the kitchenette. It wasn't well-stocked, but in a way she was relieved. It definitely meant no one planned to be around any time soon. There were a few non-perishable items in the cupboard. Cans of soup, vegetables, and dried pasta. She turned on the stove and was happy to see the gas burners light up immediately.

"Got that taken care of," Nick called as he stepped back inside and secured the door behind him. "I'll need to pay this guy for the door and the use of the cabin later."

Charlotte crossed her arms and grinned. "You're such a good guy."

"Don't I know it." He winked and pulled the drop cloth off the couch, falling down with a sigh. "Come over here. Sit down. Watch some TV with me."

"TV?" Then Charlotte noticed it. A small television in the corner.

"I don't know if the satellite is turned on, but they've got one out there. Saw it on the roof. Either way, there are bunny ears so we should be able to get some signal and at least check out the weather." Nick found the remote and flipped the TV on to find a snowy weather broadcast. He got up and turned the antenna until the signal cleared enough to make out the picture and the sound. One of the local meteorologists waved his hand over the area of the state where they were located. Heavy rains and severe thunderstorms with the possibility of tornados were moving into the area and outlook for the next two or three days didn't look much better.

"We're in for it."

"Looks like it," Nick agreed. He turned up the volume as the camera switched back to the news anchors and they began reading the lead stories for the evening news. Charlotte's photo splash across the screen. "It's the same one from the poster in the truck stop."

The truck stop seemed a thousand miles away from where they were now. "All I can think is that my parents aren't handing over any newer photos of me. That's one from the DMV."

"At least they're looking for the sixteen year old version of you. You don't look anything like that."

"Hey!" She scowled at him.

"I mean, you're grown up now. A mature young woman." He flashed her a grin. "That doesn't look like you."

The news anchor went on to say that the search was now encompassing the entire state, focusing on the interstate routes since Charlotte was believed to have hitched a ride with a trucker.

"They got that part right."

"Right, but what it means is they haven't heard from Sheriff Macklin yet. You think there's a chance they got into trouble and didn't make it down the mountain?"

Nick rubbed his chin. "I think it means they may be withholding information they don't want the public to know yet. If the sheriff made it as far as the cave, they have a lot more intel than what they just shared on the news."

Charlotte shivered. Nick was right. They probably knew a lot more than what they were releasing to the general public.

"They aren't labeling you as armed and dangerous. That's good because it's generally code for them being willing to shoot on sight."

"Turn it off; I don't want to hear any more."

Nick switched off the set and stretched out on the couch, pulling up his pant leg to check out the wound on his leg. Charlotte moved closer to take a look. He peeled off the gauze and bandage, the latter of which was heavy with blood. Charlotte found a paper bag and Nick tossed it inside.

"We'll burn all of this later," she said, thinking about how to best go about leaving no trace behind them. "Once the water heats up, you should soak in the tub. It'll be good for you to soak it. Let it air out for a little while. I'm going to see what I can whip up for dinner."

She rummaged around the kitchen and found two cans of beef stew that she poured into a pot and began heating on the stove. Bowls and spoons were easy enough to find and in ten minutes they had a dinner in front of them that was better than anything they'd had in days.

"I never thought I'd be so happy to eat canned soup." The meal was hot and filling and Charlotte started to feel full very quickly. "I think my stomach is shrinking."

"Probably," Nick nodded. "We haven't been consuming as many calories as we are using every day. Irregular meal times and small ones at that." He pushed his empty bowl away. "I'm stuffed."

Charlotte stood to start clearing the dishes, but Nick stopped her. "Nope, you go have the first bath. I'll clean up and start getting this place fit to be inhabited for a few nights."

She smiled and moved to the corner of the cabin that housed the tub and toilet. Pulling the curtain around, she turned on the water to let it start filling the tub and then used the facilities, thankful for access to indoor plumbing once again. Stripping her clothes off and throwing them on the floor, she stepped into the large old tub and sank down into the water. It was almost unbearably hot, but it felt heavenly to Charlotte as it enveloped her body. She let herself relax in the water for a few minutes before she started giving herself a good scrub. Soon the water had taken on a gray hue, but her skin felt clean for the first time in a week. Rinsing off the soap and stepping out of the tub, she grabbed a clean towel from the shelf and wrapped it around her body. There were a few toiletries on one of the shelves and she was delighted to find a small bottle of perfume. She gave it a sniff before spraying and found that it smelled of gardenias and honeysuckle. Charlotte dabbed a little on her pulse points before stepping out from behind the curtain, still wrapped in the large towel.

Nick had washed the supper dishes and cleared the rest of the drop cloths away. The floor was swept, some of the flat surfaces had been dusted, and an assortment of candles lit the cabin in a soft white glow. The bed was made up with clean, white linens and Nick was stretched out on the couch again, eyes closed. Charlotte saw that he'd laid out his last clean t-shirt for her to wear and that made her smile. She walked over to the bed and finished drying off, her hair still damp, but no longer dripping. She pulled the t-shirt over her head and it fit her like a short nightgown.

"You look good," he called, half asleep on the couch. A smile was plastered across his face.

"Thanks for letting me borrow it," she chirped. "I'll run your bath. We're cleaning that leg."

"Yes, ma'am."

# Chapter Ten

Charlotte cleaned the ring of dirt from the tub and ran the water for Nick's bath. She checked, but there were no epsom salts or anything that might actually help the situation. Still, a nice soak in the tub never hurt anyone and it would help to get the wound cleaner than it had been up to this point.

The curtain was pulled open and Nick stood beside her, watching the tub fill with water. Charlotte bent over to turn off the water.

"Clothes off, soldier."

Nick, never one to question an order, pulled off his shirt, pants, and boxers and stepped into the hot water. He flinched as his wounded flesh came into contact with the steaming water, but gritted his teeth and sat down in the tub. His arms hung over the sides and he slid further into the water, letting his head rest on the back of the tub.

"I don't think I've ever been so happy to take a bath."

Charlotte grabbed a washcloth and stuck it under the water, gently washing the area where the ricocheted shot penetrated his leg. "How does it feel?"

Nick's eyes were closed. "Better now."

She rubbed the area with a fresh bar of soap and gave it a gentle, but vigorous washing.

"Wet your hair. I'm going to wash it for you."

He did as he was told, sinking down into the water and submerging his head. He came up with a gasped and she was thankful he didn't shake like a dog this time. She rubbed a dollop of shampoo into a lather and applied it to his dark hair, scrubbing down to his scalp. He closed his eyes again, relishing the feeling of her hands on him.

"You're really good at that."

"I know," she answered. "I considered going to beauty school for a while and worked summers at a beauty shop in town. Mostly washed hair and set rollers for elderly ladies. Rinse."

He dunked his head again and together they worked the suds out of his hair. He rose again, smiling. "This is fun. No one has bathed me in a long time."

Charlotte tossed the washcloth at him. "I think you can handle the rest yourself."

"Oh sure, I can, but I'd rather have you help me."

She grinned and walked toward the kitchenette. "I'm going to make some tea and get ready for bed. You finish your bath." She thought she heard a small growl escape his lips and she stifled a laugh. There was lots of splashing and vigorous scrubbing going on in the background, but she kept her attention on the boiling water and the mug of peppermint tea she intended to drink. When the kettle started to whistle she turned off the burner and poured the water into the mug, luxuriating in the steam that wafted toward her face. She left it there on the counter to cool and turned to find Nick out of the tub, draining the water and wrapping himself in a towel.

"Don't you feel better now that you're clean?" She grinned and winked at him. He made no move to get dressed and instead continued drying every nook and cranny of his body while she stood watching. "That's very attractive."

"I know." He wrapped himself up again, and sat on the couch to turn on the nightly news. Charlotte was the lead story once again. "Just need to watch to see if there's any new information floating around out there."

Charlotte stood in the kitchenette, blowing on her steaming tea, attempting to cool it and trying to remain calm as the anchor read the details

"The suspect is believed to be traveling with a white male, approximately thirty years old. He is around six feet, two inches tall, two-hundred pounds, athletic build."

"Well, great. They know I'm with you. And I'm six-three, thanks."

The story went on to say that checkpoints were set up on the interstate and any people matching the description would be brought in for questioning. However, the search was focusing on a mountain range in the southeastern portion of the state as it is believed to be the last place they were seen.

Charlotte gasped. "They're going to find us." She was shaking and had to put her tea back on the counter so she wouldn't spill it. She grabbed the back of a chair to steady herself and started to cry.

"No, listen." Nick pointed at the screen. The anchor read new information that said the search was being called off until the weather cleared, due to unsafe conditions. There was still no information in the story about her sister.

"What are we going to do, Nick?" He thought she sounded close to hyperventilation and he crossed the room, holding on to his towel to calm her.

"Charlotte, look at me." Her pupils were small and her face frightened.

"Nick, we're just sitting here! They're going to find us!"

"Look at me!" His hands were large, but they were tender when they cupped her face. "They can't even look for us right now. Hear that rain out there? It's keeping them inside the same way it's driven us in here. You want to know the truth of the matter? They're going to be dragging ponds and lakes looking for our bodies washed away by a rushing creek. People get lost in this kind of wilderness and it doesn't take much bad weather to kill someone. They don't expect us to make it out of here alive, one way or the other."

"What if we don't?"

"But we will! Don't you see? We've already made it so much further than they ever expected us to. We're going to wait out this weather and then we'll get back out there and we'll make it across the border, find a town, and they will listen to your story. I promise you. I will find someone to listen to what you have to say. What happened to your sister will not go unpunished."

Charlotte nodded, drying her eyes and taking a deep breath. "I can't stand it that no one is talking about her. I can't stand the thought of her being out there...in the cold rain...my parents don't even know."

"They won't get away with this." He realized then that the towel had fallen to his feet and he was standing naked in front of her. "Sorry." He grabbed a pair of clean boxers from his pack and pulled them on, carefully avoiding the injured part of his leg.

"Come on. We need to bandage that thing before bed." She pulled out the first aid supplies and sat beside him on the bed, straightening his leg so she could apply the bandages. "It's looking better." When she tied the last piece of gauze, Charlotte reached for his hand. "I'm sorry I keep freaking out."

He shook his head. "There's nothing to be sorry about." The truth was that she had been through an horrific experience and so far, he was the only person who knew the truth about it and believed what she had to say. "You've been through a lot this week."

Her eyelids were heavy when she looked into his eyes, pleading. "You really think we'll be safe here?"

Nick brushed her cheek with his knuckles. "I think, for the time being, there is no safer place for us. Why don't you get some rest. I'll turn off the TV."

Charlotte climbed into the bed and under the crisp, clean sheets. A contented sigh slipped out of her mouth and she rested her head on the soft pillow. Nick switched off the TV and blew out the candles around the room. She heard him rifling through his pack and turned to see him making a bed for himself on the couch.

"What are you doing?" Charlotte asked.

"Going to bed."

"Yes, I can see that, but why are you going to bed over there?"

"Well, I don't know. I guess I just thought since we weren't in a situation where we had to share; you might appreciate having the bed to yourself. Thought you might enjoy having a break from me."

Charlotte sat up straight in bed. "What made you think I would want that?"

"I just don't want you to think you have to put up with me, no matter what this situation is that we're in. I'm here because I want to be. I want to help you. I don't want to force myself on you."

Charlotte's mouth gaped open. "You haven't ever forced yourself on me."

"Still, it doesn't mean you have to share your bed."

"Nick." Her arms were crossed in front of her chest.

He looked at her sheepishly, trying to find a comfortable position on the couch. His long legs hung over the edge and Charlotte knew that wouldn't be good for his injury.

"Come to bed."

"Are you sure?"

"Nick." This time his name came out sounding like a warning and she slipped back down between the sheets, turning to face away from him. A few seconds later she heard his footsteps moving closer and the bed squeaked as he slipped in beside her.

"This is much better. I mean, it's a pretty crappy bed, but I've slept in worse, haven't you?"

Charlotte smiled and then laughed, turning over to face him. "I sort of liked the sleeping bag."

"Oh, it's got some perks. I didn't expect to enjoy it so much when I bought it. Never thought the thing would see that much action."

She poked him in the ribs and he pulled her close.

"You smell like flowers," he said. "Like a garden after the rain."

"You're a tough guy poet, aren't you."

"There are a lot of things you've got left to learn about me."

"Like what?" Charlotte flicked the end of his nose.

"I'm a lefty."

"Well, I hate to break it to you, but we've been in a few...situations that clued me in to that already."

Nick squinted his eyes at her and then his face broke out in a grin. "Oh yeah. Right."

"What else?"

"I hoped you would sit in that booth with me. The place was basically deserted and you ended up being forced into it, but as soon as I saw you, I wanted to know you."

Charlotte gave him a half smile. "Now you do."

He reached out to touch her face. "I think there's still a lot more I don't know behind those brown eyes. Like where were you born; what your favorite book is; how would you describe a beautiful sunrise? I want to know all those things."

She placed a soft kiss on his lips and a smile spread across her face as she pulled back. "Tulsa. _The Outsiders_. Do I have a word limit?"

"There's no limit. We've got a lot of time."

They talked late into the night and laughed like neither of them had in ages. After they had asked all the questions they could think of, she pulled him closer told him again about the moment she knew she loved him and how it had grown every minute since.

When she reached for him, he didn't let go and before they were swallowed by the exhaustion of the day, the rough palms of his hands felt for the soft valleys and rigid peaks of her body, memorizing every inch of her with the touch of his hands. His fingers searched and discovered the part of her that waited for him, open and acquiescent. One finger slipped inside her and he pressed until he found the place that brought her to the edge of ecstasy. He felt her fall and caught her in his arms. She reached for him and found him ready, tasting him and bringing him to the edge of his own pleasure. Finally, he slipped inside her and they found each other again in a place where only the two of them had been.

"There's a reason we were thrown together." Charlotte whispered after, as he softened inside her.

"I think so."

"I needed you to save my life. If you hadn't come along, they would have found me long before now. And you saw how things went back at the cave. I would have gone with them."

Nick shook his head. "I don't know if you would have. I think when you're on your own and you have to be strong for yourself, you step up to the plate."

"Maybe."

"Besides, I think I needed you to save me."

"You? You didn't need saving."

"I was running straight home, right back into the arms of the law, but home was what I was looking for. Home is what I found."

They held each other tight. "We'll stay here until it's safe.. even if it's a few days. And I promise I'm not going to freak out and try to throw myself at the authorities again. There's more than just myself to think about. There are my parents and Cinda...and you. But when the day comes and the skies are clear, we can't hesitate. We have to pack up our bags and we need to..." Charlotte's voice was shaky.

"We need to be ready to run."

### Thank you for reading!

## Please visit your favorite eBook retailer to view the next books in the "Craved By The Cowboy Series"
Last Chance Cowboy

by

Kelly Warren

# Chapter One

Carmen held his wrist checking his pulse as the dust stirred in the air. All around them people gaped wondering whether the bull would charge at the medic and cowboy again. One of the bullfighters sprinted between the bull and the fallen rider while Carmen put her hand on Tad's shoulder. Her black hair touched his forehead briefly. Although he lay on his back in the middle of the arena, he at least felt hair on his forehead. He checked what else he could still feel. He didn't know the extent of how badly he was injured. When he reached to his waist, it hit him like he'd been pierced by the horns of a bull. He couldn't feel anything from the neck down.

Only moments passed since the announcer hollered, "This kid is tough. Determination, sheer will!" Moments later, the announcer panicked, "Folks, Tad can't get his body working right. Sure is a testament to how tough these guys are that he's face down in the dust, and took the daddy of them all tumbles and is STILL rising up on one arm. Looks like they got a first responder right there ready to get him up and back on soon."

Tad's face rested an inch from Carmen's and his alert eyes darted at Carmen as he struggled to understand why he couldn't ratchet his body forward like he'd done hundreds of times before. He'd made it almost the full eight seconds. He wondered what all the other cowboys thought of him lying there like a wasted piece of bacon.

His father's coming down on him all those years sank into his jaw and he bit down hard to suppress a yell, only because Carmen was inches from his face. Carmen could see him withhold that type of yell you figured riders released up on the bull that escaped the ears of the crowd, drowned out by the roar of the crowd.

"Carmen how's he," asked Andy Hess, the chute boss, as the crew carried him back behind the chute out of the ring. "Nothing has ever notch that kid down so hard."

"He's disoriented of course and he can't move his neck or back. The hooves of the bull landed around his shoulders. Hopefully the swelling is what's causing the lack of movement."

***

Before the rodeo...

Tad rode steers since he was twelve. By the time he was 22, he'd wanted to win a major rodeo. His parents raised him true to the western heritage all of his life. He loved the ritual of getting his bag out and rope ready. The feeling of slipping into his pants, riding boots and spurs was his favorite part of the day.

Early on, he rode on a bull named Showcasing. The bull had a head of steam; he was always wound up and ready to buck. Tad learned right away to spur and dig into the thick of his hide and hang on. Tad learned quickly he needed to get good with his legs so he could go on the offensive with any of the 2,000-pound mass of bucking beef. He didn't want to just hang on for mercy; he wanted to ride one.

Tad lived in Gainesville about 30 miles from Mountain Top Rodeo. Sixty rodeos a year banged up his body pretty well, but he knew the risk he was taking. That's why he taped his ankles before he ever entered the arena. He loved making this kind of a living. He learned a long time ago that roping was like football practice. You get beat up but you still need to make the touchdown, there is no room for crying.

***

Laying on the stretcher, Tad played the hour before he came out the chute over and over again in his mind. Every time, there was some familiarity to the feeling. However, something about that hour set his whole body on fire.

He cleaned the old rosin off his rope with a wire brush to remove the dirt, because it kept the rosin from getting sticky. Then, he broke up fresh rosin powder and burned it on the rope with his thick wedge bull riding glove on his rope. When it got hot, it got sticky to the consistency he liked and needed to make sure he felt that rope was going to stick in his hand. He knew he would have a good grip on the bull strap.

He held the rope around the girth of the animal like he'd done many times before. He squeezed it tight and wrapped the rope around one hand. He breathed in and heard the snorting sound of the bull. The clatter of metal clang all around filled his mind. A cowbell blew. Someone dropped some tools.

Most of the time he got so focused, he could block all of the sound out of his head as if nothing was going on around him except for him and the bull. He knew he had the right rosin stickiness on the rope. He collected pine forest resin in the forest when he was a kid, but after several go-arounds, and cooking the soap together in a pot, he started to buy premium glycerine in bar form or pounds of black rosin and carried it in his bag.

He punched the bull strap hard to make sure it stuck in his palm. Even though Nickeled and Dimed didn't give off like he was restless, Tad felt this animal's restlessness in every aching joint of his body. The flank strap already annoyed Nickeled and Dimed. It would certainly get Nickeled and Dimed bucking high, especially since he'd been bare for at least a year and would try to get this rope off as quickly as the chute would let him. A simple head nod. He was ready.

Two men that answered to Andy Hess opened the gate and the bull burst into the ring ready to buck that flank strap off. Streams of bull snot flew in every direction covering Tad's square-toed boots. Then he was off on the snot-snorting bull. He didn't feel ripped off until he found himself flying in the air, bouncing on his neck and spine wishing it was a soft mattress a few seconds later. The bull had locked on him and it had taken two wranglers to steer Nickeled and Dimed back toward a chute and away from Tad as Carmen approached. A bull can powerfully use his neck muscles to lift four refrigerators.

***

Present...

Carmen's snakeskin boots had streaks of orange and yellow on the goat leather length of the boot rubbing against her calves and beige and brown python skin around her feet. She noticed that they were dusty, then she looked up just as Nickeled and Dimed threw Tad into the air.

As he landed, the announcers anxiously said, "Oh my Lord. That is a bad hit!" Carmen jumped up. Tad fell to the ground. The look on his face showed excruciating pain. "Ladies and gentlemen Tad Micks!" His hat hung off his neck. Rodeo riding was Tad's drug and he dreamed about it ever since he was a little kid. Carmen saw it in his eyes. Although he was hurt, it was the kind of hurt that made him feel most alive. She held onto his shoulder.

Carmen and the sports medics quickly evaluated his injuries, they were bad enough to have to take him to the nearby hospital. Tad joked, "Guess it's gonna be something outside of the trailer. I guess I'll need a little more than tape."

Carmen knew that Tad would say something funny at a time like this. In all her life, she'd never been without the rodeo, except for summer camp, but that's about it. Otherwise, since a very early age she'd seen a number of rodeo falls.

Tad looked a lot like her brother Fernando. Of course, not in features or skin color, but the look in his eyes, and the expression he held onto spoke volumes about how badly he couldn't wait for the next turn on the back of a bull. Carmen wanted to cry as they took Tad to the hospital. Fernando never made it to the hospital. Carmen told the other medics she needed to go get a brief snack and walk around a bit. The thought of Fernando crawled into her mind and would not let go.

She learned what had happened when she was eighteen. It was too late before anyone could help him out. Bull riding rode through his blood like a crow attacking a nest, persistently, undeterred and ruthlessly. No holding back, Fernando took to bull riding at a very young age while Carmen was more of a bookworm. She usually tried desperately to keep up with her competitors in classes. She graduated early from high school at the age of 16.

Two years later, her brother was dead. He died at the age of 22, the same age as Tad. Fernando's bull was named Moody off the Chain. Throughout his career, Fernando won several titles and practiced all of the time. He'd left a few younger kids so in awe of his riding that they'd line up asking him how'd he do it. He was proud of his reputation and his skills. He wasn't interested in hanging out with his friends. He preferred to try to improve all of the time, single-mindedly. He grabbed Moody off the Chain that day in the chute. When they opened it, Carmen heard from the chute boss Fred Gaunder that there wasn't a single thing that Fernando could have done differently that morning.

In fact, Fred still sometimes reminded Carmen that earlier that morning he'd had a wonderful personal moment with him looking at the hills and talking about their future. Fernando even said that there was something so special about calling Georgia home. Every morning, he couldn't wait to get outside and see it unfold in all its beauty. Not a day went by that Fernando didn't want to be on a bull though.

Carmen was always a bit more of the intellectual. She tried to always extricate herself from taking Fernando to the rodeo, because she juggled a schedule that included MENSA meetings and study sessions. She was fast-tracking her success in high school. She'd gotten her high school diploma at the age of sixteen and then went straight to college and finished medical school at twenty-four. Once she got to college, Fernando sent her photos of himself at various rodeos. Then, the letters and the photos stopped.

Fernando never recuperated from his injuries when he fell off Moody off the Chain. He rode at a time when the rodeos didn't have a full time sports medicine team on site. He could have avoided his death had there been a qualified doctor present. He fractured his neck and spine after Moody off the Chain trampled him under his hooves. He lay there motionless, like a discarded doll.

Carmen ordered a pretzel and a root beer. She sat down and tore at the pretzel remembering how many times she had shared a pretzel with her brother. Before the fractures in his neck and spine killed him, he'd always called her a little moody. Carmen could be moody at times, but she loved hearing it from her brother, only because it was ironic coming from him since he could flare up or taper off at any time himself. He'd never felt completely at ease in his own body and his emotions always got the best of him, except for when he was preparing for rodeo. Then, he looked calm.

He made his own rosin. He spent hours looking for the perfect braided rope. He'd gaze at bulls at rodeos studying their every move to see how he might try to anticipate the bucking motions and every one of their reactions to the flank strap. He'd close his eyes and enjoy the vision of containing the rage of the bull. On the contrary, Carmen would sooner hurl herself down a track head-first on a bobsled than test how she might destroy the wildness of a bull.

However the day her brother Fernando died set her on a course to make sure that no other rodeo rider with a passion for the sport would die just because there were no qualified doctors around. She wondered at times about whether it was a thrill to tempt the animal to test human capability or if there was a real spiritual enjoyment for a rodeo rider. Riding collected all the random thoughts of the day and forced you to deal with life and death on an animal's terms using all your skills and senses.

It took the focus of a rock climber, which Carmen could relate to since she had tried rock climbing and realized how quickly it emptied your mind. You were always planning, trying a new move, balancing, and using everything you had to cling to the rock.

She looked down at her pretzel. It looked so unappetizing. She wanted desperately to share it with Fernando again. She broke off a piece and set it to the side then took a quick bite. Tears filled her brown eyes. She hoped that he was riding all the best bulls that had reached their eventual end up in the sky.

An hour away from the rodeo ringside felt more like a lifetime. She grabbed her root beer. Fernando would have loved the flavor and the label. He would have slowly pealed it off and asked her if she wondered if there was an ounce of happiness in every drop like they said in the commercials. She would have told him, like she did when they were growing up, that there were very few ways that anyone could bottle up happiness. If only he wouldn't have found his happiness for the last time.

She approached the chute boss Andy Hess. He told her that as they put Tad into the ambulance, he'd said, "I'd guess then that somebody better cancel my entry in the rodeo tomorrow."

# Chapter Two

The tractor rolled through the field next door and kicked up loads of dust. Carmen blinked a few times to see clearly. She opened the door to her cherry red Ford F-150 and got in. She checked to see if there was anywhere in the car that wasn't dusty. Looked like her dash and seats escaped the mess, but she'd tracked some in already onto the rubber mat in the driver's seats. Her cell phone rang.

"Hello," she asked, since she couldn't identify the number. She wouldn't have answered it normally, but she wanted to make sure that it didn't have anything to do with Tad.

"Hey Carmen, got a second?" She heard.

"Yeah sure," she recognized Andy Hess' voice. "How's it going Andy? Everything alright?"

Andy responded, "Yes, no problems we can't handle. How's Tad?"

Carmen said, "He's recuperating. Tough you know at this stage. He's got a great supportive network of people though that I've met a few times. I'm heading over there right now."

She headed to visit Tad at the hospital in Gainesville for the third time this week. The drive from her hometown of Dahlonega to Gainesville took about half an hour. Just like Fernando, Tad sustained a series of fractures in his neck and spine after the bull had his way with his body. Carmen grabbed only a few things to take with her for the visit, but she forgot to comb her hair as she looked in the mirror. Her hair poked out everywhere.

Andy hurried, "Then, I don't want to keep you. I just wanted to let you know that in a few weeks we're going to give you a little breathing room and have another doctor sub in here at the rodeo. That way you can really help out with Tad and his family and the rehab process. They're counting on you and then we'll get you back over here at the rodeo. In the meantime, see you tomorrow this side of the chute."

"Sounds good to me. See you tomorrow," Carmen agreed.

Carmen slept heavily the night before. She blamed the emotions surrounding Tad on the death of her brother Fernando. Her plans to keep her emotions out of it didn't turn out.

Desperate to figure out how she was going to look at Tad and see Tad, not Fernando; therefore she tried to get to know his family. During one of the first visits to the hospital, she introduced herself to his parents Greg and Sally. They seemed nice enough. Greg sported a white wide-brimmed cowboy hat with a black sash. His grey hair was short on the top and long on the sides with a clean part a few inches above his left ear. His smile lines stretched on his face and his eyebrows crested like bird formations over a pair of knowing eyes.

He towered over Sally by at least a foot. Sally was a few inches shorter than Carmen, and wore a white long sleeve shirt and a fuzzy black vest. Her eyebrows were long and thin and she wore the slightest amount of make-up around her eyes. Carmen spotted a hint of blush in her apple shaped cheeks

Sally looked so proud. She managed to appear composed despite Carmen's skeptical expression that she barely hid. She tried to act professionally. She was a doctor. She'd seen many falls. However, Sally had no idea that what started Carmen's career in the first place was the death of her own brother with the exact same injuries that Tad suffered.

Carmen didn't want to reveal that side of herself, she didn't want to take away from their own way of handling Tad's condition. She always hated when someone jumped in with their own story, when she was doing everything she could to not breaking down. Sometimes, it was just alright to nod and let the silence itself make up for biting your tongue.

Greg placed his arm around Sally's shoulder and greeted Carmen, "You must be the doctor Tad mentioned helped him at the rodeo."

Carmen replied, "Yes, he's a very good rider."

Greg and Sally smiled. Greg boasted, "Wait till you see all the trophies!" Greg closed his eyes, but only briefly, then regained his look at Carmen. "You've probably met some of the greatest in this sport. I know the sports doctors play a big role in helping these guys stare danger in the eye time and time again despite the prospect of punishment and injury. I tell you that bull Tad was taming, well; we're a bit taken back, but not surprised since he enjoys a physical challenge. He's been drawn to the sport since other kids were grabbing their bicycles."

Sally added, "He even trained high school kids at their rodeos."

Carmen said, "He's been mostly injury free. Wild, scary rides suit many of the cowboys. How's he doing?"

Greg went on, "Tad always said it's all adrenaline. There's no time to think."

Carmen said, "Every bull rider knows it's coming. They are just asking themselves when and how bad."

"I think he wants his muscle memory back. He can't believe he can't squeeze his legs. His legs." Sally tapered off.

As the visits progressed, Carmen noticed that she got along great with the family. Tad didn't know anything else besides bulls and lassoing calves. He'd tried other jobs, really odds jobs; he'd always quit to go to the next rodeo. Carmen spent hours a week helping after Tad was stabilized and out of the ICU. He had surgery a little less than two weeks after to fuse some of the fractured vertebrae in his neck and spine. He was able to move his arms successfully again. That inspired him.

She helped with the impatient rehabilitation program to help him regain as much independent function of his body as possible to get him ready to return home. Every day he worked his butt off to put all of his effort into getting better. For tad it became about effort, attitude and resilience, which replaced determination and sheer will.

Carmen told all of them a few weeks after the surgeons had placed pins in Tad's spine that Tad would have to rely on hardware and an external brace, but that the broken vertebrae in his back should heal in about six months. That might mean he could compete again in the arena in roughly a year.

Tad smiled, he would have jumped up right then and there if he was allowed too. Tad's girlfriend Sheila walked in. She was the spitting image of a motor chick.

Sheila introduced herself to Carmen, "Hi I'm Sheila. You must be the doctor Tad told me all about."

Carmen said, "Pleasure to meet you. You must be Tad's right-hand man."

Sheila smiled and said, "Something like that." From the looks of it, Sheila couldn't decide if she was grateful that Carmen was there or jealous that she took such an interest in Tad's recovery.

Carmen could see that there was something rubbed Sheila the wrong way, because she left the room right away and only looked at Tad briefly.

Under normal circumstances, Tad might have come up with an excuse for her, but given the pain he was enduring, it only seemed right that he just overlooked Sheila's rude behavior. Carmen shook it off. She'd been around cowboys and their passion ran deep in their personal relationships. She got used to setting her feelings aside.

The hard part for her was going to be all the memories that came up about Fernando. A jealous girlfriend was easy to handle. This had been life changing and in many cases like in horrific rodeo falls the loved ones, especially fiancées or girlfriends didn't stick around. The switch from being involved with a cowboy who traveled state to state every night to make some big bucks and rode raging bulls to one that had to be hoisted up onto a transfer lift to get him to a chair harmed many relationships.

Additionally, they often lost an emotional connection since the cowboy had to undergo so much himself, not just in sustaining the injury, but also in contradiction to all the glory he felt riding that might never be felt again. They lived for riding.

# Chapter Three

Carmen was used to the rodeo ways. It was the life of a gypsy. She loved the time working at the rodeos and the time in between. Besides, she had Tad's care to consider. He was recovering well. His spirits were higher.

Inside the hospital, there was a flurry of activity as usual and she passed the reception area and headed straight for Tad's room. She figured she would work on several stretches, and get him educated on some of the equipment they would have sent to his house. Also, she wanted to address how to deal with all the changes.

She walked in quickly and greeted Tad. "Tad, you are looking great. It's amazing to see how far you've come. I have a ton of good news for you today." Then she stopped. He wasn't alone. He had a visitor, someone she hadn't met before. Maybe it was someone from the rodeo. He looked like a fellow cowboy.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt your conversation. Please, I can come back, continue." She gestured that she was going to leave and Tad stopped her.

Tad exclaimed, "No wait! Carmen, meet my brother Cavanaugh. He's my older brother. Cavanaugh, meet Carmen. She's the woman who saved my life."

Cavanaugh tipped his hat and bowed his head. He slowly looked up at Carmen and offered her one of his best sheepish grins, steeling himself because he wanted to give her a big cowboy hug, but figured it was pretty inappropriate as a first impression. Instead he put that hug into his words, "Ma'am... Carmen, I mean, I can't tell you how grateful I am for everything, I mean everything you've ever done for my brother. He's here breathing because of you."

Carmen lost her breath. She was looking at one of the most attractive men she'd ever met. He wore a soft brown suede cowboy hat with x's like kisses stitched all the way around the base of the crown. His brown hair curled a bit at the ends. He wore a tight grey plain t-shirt over bulging muscles. Carmen couldn't get enough of his dark features. His brown eyes, red lips and enough peach fuzz on his face to make kissing a dangerous sport wowed her, but she figured he would lick the rough spots later in that case. Carmen wasn't sure whether she needed to rip herself away or faint. Instead, she braced herself, and undoubtedly blushing a tad bit in the process. She saw she was going to have a restless night.

"Things get extreme. Everything is still attached. So Tad's golden. His degree of toughness saved him. All he needs is a bag of ice."

"Voice of reason, Doc," said Cavanaugh. "Not your job to please them. It's your job to sort it out. Thanks!"

Carmen said, "I better take off and give you boys some time to chat. I'll come back tomorrow, Tad. It was nice to meet you Cavanaugh."

"Likewise," Cavanaugh said.

Carmen left without a complaint despite wishing she could stand there for a lot longer just taking in Cavanaugh.

***

It felt like she lived in her dusty car. She called ahead to the hospital to ask Tad if it was a good time to visit. It was at the time she called. However, the minute she walked into the hall where his room was, she saw things being wheeled around his room and lots of business. She asked the nurse where he had been transferred.

Her phone rang. She answered. It was Sally, Tad's mother. "I meant to call you this morning as soon as Tad told me that he spoke to you and you were on your way, but please forgive me. I apologize. I meant to tell you; anyway they told us real early this morning that he could go home and we got so excited we hopped in the car. Just in case they changed their minds! We would love it if you would continue your care of Tad at the house and make sure the nurse does their job right. Could you visit sometime soon? Maybe today? We're already at home."

Carmen accepted the invitation. She told Sally she'd be there tomorrow.

The nurse said, "Well, I guess you don't need me to tell you then. By the way, he left this little book, if you don't mind bringing it to him. Have a good day!" The nurse handed her a small book "The Power of Positive Thinking and left the room.

Carmen decided to grab a quick bite to eat since she hadn't had much time to sit down and catch her breath. She had to head to the rodeo and work for a while. She loved eating alone sometimes. It gave her a chance to look around and not deal with people's aches and pains.

# Chapter Four

Visiting him a few times every week for the past month at the hospital made a big difference for Tad. The next day, Carmen arrived at his house to show him how to use the new equipment. The equipment was for his legs and some slow physical therapy. He'd be wearing a protective brace so that his neck didn't have to do any of the heavy lifting until it was strong enough.

The first time Carmen walked into Tad's parents' house, they welcomed her. They knew all rodeo workers could never discourage a cowboy from what he loved. Even so part of her wanted to lash out at anyone who came through the door that mention the rodeo or remind them of it after an accident.

On the wall in the foyer, Carmen saw a row of rodeo buckles, plates and hats with Tad's name on them and dates for each of the rodeos. The apple of their eyes lay upstairs temporarily paralyzed. Greg and Sally saw Carmen notice the wall of trophies.

Sally said, "We were especially proud of Tad when he got that hat, the one to your right after he'd landed straight up on his feet on a bull named Empty. He ran on Empty and that bull looked tired afterwards."

She continued, "He's upstairs. Anything I can get you to drink or eat? He's about to have his favorite, grilled cheese."

"Sure, sounds wonderful whatever Tad is having," Carmen said. She looked restless.

Sally offered gratefully, "I'll take you up to see him. He's upstairs. He's real glad that you're taking the time. I know he's told us a few times that without the traveling sports medicine team, they couldn't strive to keep at the top of their game since you know the history of each of these cowboys."

Carmen nodded and stated, "That's true, you can't tell someone who loves the sport not to do it. It doesn't work that way. From the looks of it he's got a lot to show for it."

Carmen and Sally walked up the stairs quietly, although she felt she could wager to guess what Sally was really feeling inside. The rodeo was in his blood. Carmen smiled to herself thinking about how he would have found any excuse to compete, just like Fernando.

Family photos and mostly photos of Tad with his ropes and saddles lined the walls before they reached his bedroom one photo stood out to Carmen. Tad lassoed a calf and he threw his hat up in celebration. The photo was a bit blurry, but the feeling made up for the lack of defining lines in the picture.

Right before Sally opened the door, she thanked Carmen for all of the information she sent to her on home care. "I didn't even know where to start Carmen. You've really been a great help despite Tad's condition. He's still in shock."

Carmen said, "It's very possible he will be able to walk again."

Sally opened the door to Tad's room and they both entered. Tad lay still until he noticed opened his eyes and saw Carmen. "Hello. Nice to see you again," Carmen said.

He looked down for a moment and smiled sheepishly.

Sally left to go make the grilled cheese sandwiches.

Carmen grinned, "I brought you something."

Tad said, "A new pair of legs?"

Carmen flashed, "Something like it."

Tad quizzed, "Okay, where is it?"

"You left this at the hospital," Carmen revealed. She handed him the book.

The nurse walked in. Jessica and Carmen discussed a few things about his care after introductions. Carmen's help with Tad's care relieved Jessica since Tad had already told Jessica of Carmen's care since the rodeo accident.

Carmen went downstairs to grab the grilled cheese sandwiches and help Sally. On her way downstairs, she noticed Sally already coming up the stairs with the sandwiches. Sally indicated that she'd take the sandwiches up to Tad's room. Carmen said she would be right there. She stopped and gazed at two pictures side by side for a moment. It was a picture of Tad and Cavanaugh as kid's calf roping.

In one of the pictures, one of the boys sat on a horse holding a long rope and the photographer caught the rope lassoing in the air as a calf ran ahead of the horse. Then, in the next photo the lasso was wound around the calf's neck. Another little boy grabbed the lassoed calf and pushed him down to the ground, while the boy on the horse crouched alongside of him, tying up the calf's legs.

She wondered who was who and then a smooth as silk voice said, "the one on the horse is me and that's my little brother roping the calf. We named him Great on the Ranch, but they still didn't let us keep him."

Carmen jumped slightly and composed herself quickly. She said, "Hi Cavanaugh. I didn't hear you walk up."

Cavanaugh said appreciatively, "You were so lost in the picture. I know. I get lost in there sometimes too. We've been around this rodeo life all our lives and it still casts a spell on me. I can't imagine anything better."

"I've lived in Georgia all my life also," Carmen admitted wistfully.

Cavanaugh pointed, "Now, that picture _was_ in Georgia. You know the spot?"

"Yes, actually, I roped there as a kid too. It looks like the Blue Ridge Kiwanis Rodeo in the summer time," Carmen recognized it.

Cavanaugh confirmed, "It is. I didn't know you carried ropes too. I bet you got teased a bit if you were around any of the kids I hung out with."

Carmen laughed, "Thin skins didn't really work out from the beginning."

Cavanaugh snickered, "I know. I got pretty toughened up early. Got pretty banged up. Me and Tad always had ourselves a ball roping. Every time you threw that lasso and you missed the calf in front of all those parents and people from around the area, you got humble pretty quick. There were a few times we wanted to run and hide, but that feeling went away after a few times."

"People generally know that it's not generally perfect like it is in the big leagues," Carmen asserted.

Cavanaugh bragged, "We vied for the big leagues ever since I can remember."

Carmen found herself tongue-tied. All she could imagine was how stirred up she felt; given any more time she might say something very inappropriate. Cavanaugh couldn't have been caught up in the moment any less. A mutual attraction kept both of them staring at the photo to avoid making any quick motions, despite feeling an overwhelming desire to act on their urges. Lightheadedness transmitted itself between her and Cavanaugh that made standing there any longer impossible and from the looks of it neither of them really wanted the feeling to go away.

Carmen broke the silence first given it seemed the right thing to do in the moment. "I remember that festival arena like I was just there." She turned toward Cavanaugh and looked into his chocolate eyes. He didn't step away. They fed each other's souls.

Cavanaugh abruptly thanked her, "Thanks again, for saving my brother's life. He'd wanted to ride a bull like Nickeled and Dimed since roping Great on the Ranch. I wouldn't know what to do without that kid."

Carmen choked up a bit remembering Fernando. She turned away so that she could avoid giving Cavanaugh any clue about her emotional reasons for helping Tad. She looked back at the picture and said, "I don't need any thanks. He deserved good care, that's all."

She walked back towards Tad room. Sally said, "You're grilled cheese is cold by now."

Carmen said circumspectly, "It's the way I like it."

# Chapter Five

Given the kind of guy Cavanaugh was, it wasn't surprising that he wondered how he might conquer every steer and every bull in his dreams nightly. These weren't just temporary fads. Cavanaugh was competing again and he prepared himself. He woke up determined to win, just like every time he woke up ready for the rodeo.

He was set to ride Welcome Wagon. He didn't think about all the boys he would compete with to psych himself out. Early morning sounds in Georgia gave him a time to appreciate the quiet and the animals that hid and darted around when you couldn't even see them.

It was round one and he planned to advance to round two and hoped to make it to the shoot out.

"Frontiers Championship brings us more champions. Remember today's rodeo we have champions from 6 prestigious rodeos competing for the prize money with a $20,000 pay out. The interesting factor is that you fans vote with a text message to choose which cowboy and what order your favorite cowboys will ride in the championship round." The fans loved this particular announcer, because he always made it fun and interactive.

"It's a good bull. A ranch bull. He spins real fast. Cavanaugh hasn't been on this bull ever, but he's sliding forward. Getting set to go. Welcome Wagon and Cavanaugh. There it is. Look at THIS! Come ONNN Georgia."

Cavanaugh rode out the chute on Welcome Wagon. The bull rounded left, really bucking and gave Cavanaugh the thrill of his life. He had a run of over 8 seconds.

"I smell a leader board change boys! How about 87.75. He's heading to round two folks no if, and, or buts. Give it up for Cavanaugh..."

Carmen stood a distance away from the chute. She didn't want to let Cavanaugh know she had watched or was even there. He had no idea of when or where he might see her at the rodeo, but Carmen strongly suspected that he figured that there might be a time he'd see her at one of them. She knew Cavanaugh was still taking in the crowd, and the energy in the arena was amazing. She knew how neat it was for Cavanaugh to walk around seeing all the other cowboys, known and lesser known, younger riders who've never ridden against a man they counted among their heroes.

Carmen saw a little boy dream in the bull riders of being the world champion. There wasn't a single one of them that thought they'd be beat by the bull. Grabbing life by the horns, the cowboys that ran around those arenas left a mark on the soul of every one who watched. Their pride, their charisma, their desire to win crackled like a fireplace in their eyes.

This was the American dream. No one could take away the spirit that drove every one of them. Even when they fell to the rough dirt, not one of them figured it was forever. They brushed right off and that made every one of them a champion no matter the size of the buckle or the length of the rope. For trying, each cowboy grabbed a piece of the fans' heart and never let it go. This made the rodeo the center of the universe without a doubt, the greatest place on earth. Not a circus, but something spectacular.

It resembled the feeling one got for wanting to be a champion and knowing full well that the risk was so great. The support however made the sport possible and without the crowd the arena would never roar. It would be silent like a dark dismal night, but the crowd made every single play, every single jump, every single fall, every single Hail Mary, every single win a memory of a lifetime.

Despite each person in that arena having very different limits to their capabilities, a cowboy made them think that they have it in them. Because it wasn't always in the win, more often than not it was just whether they could get back up again. If not, then what was the point of trying. The risk was too great to sit it out.

Carmen was there as a medic and she brought her best game, just like every cowboy who breathed fury, who breathed give me another, who breathed don't try to change me, and get out of my way. That's what filled the rodeo; the rodeo spirit was passed along to each soul that entered the arena.

Cavanaugh worked up to Round Two. This time he would ride Life-Long Dream. Cavanaugh got on Life-Long Dream. He was willing to bet that this bull wasn't going to get the best of him. His gleaming calves pressed alongside the tensed bull waiting to buck the flank strap off and if it meant Cavanaugh too, so be it.

Carmen stood watching with nothing but total and complete attention on Cavanaugh. It was like the first moment that they met each other. Nothing could stop that electricity between them. She wanted him badly. His cowboy smirks didn't help matters at all. She grabbed onto the fence post to steady herself. Moments later she wished she had jumped out in front of that chute and stopped Life-Long Dream.

The music started. "Is Cavanaugh going to be ten feet tall folks? Round Two Cavanaugh wants to make it to the shoot out where the top 4 compete for twenty grand. Life-Long Dream and Cavanaugh. Looks like he's trying to make that dream his own, not a single day goes by that Cavanaugh doesn't test that talent. Georgia, HAAAVE mercy! That boy has been doing this for years. Not just a SMALLLL town kid. Make some NOIIIISSEE right now as Cavanaugh gets ready to ride his Life-Long Dream."

The playful announcer continued, "This bull has bucked off Ross Hammons, Tony Grams, and George Tahlop. Cavanaugh knew never sit on the rear end of Life-Long Dream like Ross did when he got knocked out in the chute. Blood trickled down the veteran Ross face; his face was an example of what happens in the chute when he seat on the rear end, rather than sliding forward. I have one question for you folks, are you enjoying yourself tonight on this hot Georgia night and please thank our sponsors."

Cavanaugh rode out the chute on Life-Long Dream. The bull didn't buck left or right, just straight up over and over again, like a wailing see-saw attached to a live wire. Cavanaugh held on, seemed like for more than mercy. It looked like the bull was going to give Cavanaugh a run for the money. Three seconds. Four seconds. Carmen couldn't breath. She thought about Tad laying back at the house and how she needed to go see him tomorrow. The use of his arms was making Jessica's job easier for him. Suddenly, the crowd was hollering and brought Carmen right back into the moment.

"Come on cowboy. Look out he's trying to twist a buckin' bull and here's the man that might be able to do it right there. Cavanaugh. That is something we haven't seen from that bull. Oh folks!"

Suddenly, the crowd got deadly quiet with a few gasps piercing through.

"That cowboy just made himself a nightmare. That bull wasn't going to bring Peter Pan or Tinkerbelle to Cavanaugh. Someone get him a better night's sleep. Give that Georgia man some good Georgian love."

Cavanaugh thought he'd had a great straight ten days after earning about $16,500 for a few finishes at riding competitions. With the total score possible for a bull ride being 100 points, and having finished 3-for-3 with a combined score of 250.25 at a 400 point event a couple of days ago, Cavanaugh had been facing a great winning streak.

Just like with Tad, Carmen ran out first to respond. Cavanaugh didn't fall as badly as Tad did. This looked less serious. Except, every fall deserved full attention and luckily this time the bull didn't lock on Cavanaugh, although Carmen did. She ran out with a few other medics to assess his injuries. Cavanaugh could feel everything, but the pressure on his chest made him wonder whether he'd broken his ribs. Working in the dirt, the emergency professionals didn't let him wonder too long.

Cavanaugh said, "It doesn't feel broken."

Carmen assessed, "It's probably bruised ribs. You're lip needs a little TLC."

They pulled out a yellow plastic stretcher and carried Cavanaugh off the arena to the mobile sports medicine center that was set up during every outdoor rodeo. The emergency physicians alongside Carmen determined he had bruised ribs.

"Without you I'd be in a bind, Carmen. I'm not going to whine about it but sneezing is going to feel like being stabbed. None of this is fun," he confessed.

"We're always staying busy in here," she fought off blushing.

"Goes with the territory. If I'm not sore, well, I haven't gotten on enough bulls. Now, listen to me, I've sustained enough pain today. You want to go out and have dinner with me tonight when you're free," Cavanaugh asked.

Carmen looked at Cavanaugh for a moment like she was on brand new territory. She hadn't gone out on a date with a cowboy in a long time, and Cavanaugh held her spellbound. It was going to take everything she had to even finish the day.

She smiled at him considering his offer. "Sure thing, I'd love dinner with you."

Cavanaugh decided to take her to The Bourbon Street Grille. They always had some live music and an exciting lively atmosphere. They sat down at one of the tables looking out over the balcony. Cavanaugh didn't get shy all that much. In fact, one of the things that he really loved about hanging out with a doctor was that there couldn't be anything in the world that would make her squeamish. Plus, she knew what it took to get any of these cowboys riled up and laughing. They ordered some food and a few cocktails.

"I can already feel the healing happening Carmen. I think just being around the good feeling of the doctor on the day of an injury makes up for getting all banged up," he flirted.

She joked back, "Every healing has a story just like every scar. You should start feeling like the word 'Om' is going to slip out of your mouth any second and you'll find your pointing finger and thumb start wanting to make the okay sign."

Cavanaugh laughed, "Here I thought you were going to tell me you were going to ask the bartender to switch to a healing service on the television and start evangelizing. You will be healed! Your ribs cling together and are no longer the breaking kind!"

She got serious, "I was. I will anoint you but you must first believe." She laughed. Cavanaugh had an amazing smirk that just dazzled her. If he could smirk that way all the time, it would heal her. "It's about oneness. It's about being a conduit for the flow of healing energy."

Cavanaugh flowed, "The pain meds really help too."

Carmen changed the subject and said "Living fearlessly, abundantly, and wearing a dusty hat. Now that's charming. Who needs a hat that doesn't show some wear and tear," she casually considered.

Cavanaugh swanked proudly, "Dubbed the greatest hat wearer in four rodeos."

She matched his bravado with some flattery, "You've got to drive some girls wild and some city slickers running for the hills."

"Now, you're going to give me a big head," Cavanaugh sat like he was taken aback.

"Then you're hat won't fit anymore," she faked worry.

Cavanaugh suspected, "I know some people in the hat business."

She continued, "Tell me, I always wondered how you manage to never lose your hat?"

The food arrived. They played with their food, eating occasionally.

Cavanaugh answered, "It's molded to my head. Although right when I need to, I tip it to a fine lady such as yourself. I noticed your beautiful snake skin boots while you were helping carry the stretcher."

"Oh, yeah, I've even made a YouTube video showing them off. I've got one of my scuffed snakeskin boots and then my muddy ones. You've only seen my muddy ones in the arena." she shared.

Cavanaugh asked, "Breaking them in, well were they vintage or did you buy them?"

"I had them custom made. A shop in this square.... can't recall the name. However, I went on Yelp and rip them a new one for being closed when I came to pick up the boots," she said. She pulled them from out beneath her to show them off a bit. "However, they fit me like a glove."

Cavanaugh pleaded, "Who wants a glove on their feet darling?"

She justified, "obviously I do."

"Not your first rodeo? I figured that's what I'd get dispersing unsolicited advice to you," Cavanaugh sighed.

She retorted, "Don't squat with your spurs on."

"That's an arm jerker!"

"Listen Carmen, I like your style." Cavanaugh complimented her.

They sat facing each other with their hands often so close to touching but enjoying the feeling of the space between them. She percolated, "What am I getting myself into."

Cavanaugh insisted, "Keep it. I want you to watch me ride tomorrow."

She resisted, "I don't know."

Cavanaugh asked, "Gate's closing?"

She said, "Yeah. I don't want to see another ride." They ate quietly. Cavanaugh tried to change the subject. He didn't intend to shut her down, but the wall she built must have been twenty feet high and he'd have an easier time wrestling a steer at the moment than getting as close as they were a few minutes ago. Memories of her brother flooded her mind. She couldn't let it break her down to tears. She also couldn't lie to him and say she would be ready to watch him on the bull again the next day. She was falling for him and he know it, but wasn't going to say a thing about it, because he thought it might take some time.

He hadn't ever stopped to think what the doctors on the rodeo circuit went through day in and day out. More often than not, the cowboys were too busy getting themselves ready to get up on a bull. He wasn't really that ready to scare her off right now. He figured there was a lot of time to get to know what made her tick. She definitely knew what made bull riders mad. He decided he needed to take it slow and easy and see if some of the wounds he felt wouldn't find the ones she felt.

She needed to feel happy not just get caught up in his pursuit of happiness. Cavanaugh wondered if being a sports medical doctor made her happy. While they ate quietly, he remembered the number of times he'd seen the team of medics and how they tried to keep everyone's spirits up. No one pays attention to the doctors until they are needed.

Through all of this, the doctors kept them healthy for the next ride. They knew the knee tears, cracked pelvises, broken backs and all kinds of injuries weren't something that the doctors could look away from.

Cavanaugh concluded, "The way you guys care for us, well, I just have to say you're an angel. Thanks for the doctor release."

That warmed her heart a bit. Carmen looked up. She didn't want to share her reasons for not coming. If she constructed a lame excuse, she could imagine that it wouldn't come across as true and he'd wonder why she was pulling back from him. He might even walk away right after lunch and reduce his interaction with her to 'being nice' when she visited Tad. She observed that he wasn't going to dig anymore. He could deal with a no.

Carmen commented, "It's hard to get your bearings after a big fall. You'll ride the three bulls tomorrow and not get sore after the first one."

"I know bulls don't play by the rules. I just hope it doesn't ride away from my hand," Cavanaugh considered.

Carmen anticipated, "You're right-handed right? You're really in tune with your body. You've lasted on the circuit for years. You'll tough it out."

He said, "You know I noticed how absolutely beautiful you are, and I bet you'll even look more beautiful wearing my hat."

He slugged his beer.

Carmen said, "Lucky for you, you're my ride."

Cavanaugh hummed with understanding of the feeling they were exploring together. Still, he wasn't sure if she would get more restless tomorrow and start giving him the cold shoulder. There were lots of choices in her dating pool, and he wasn't exactly sure if she was just exploring the feeling between them.

Cavanaugh laughed, "And it's a much smoother ride for a pretty lady such as yourself."

Carmen inferred, "Than in the arena. Well, I should hope so." She laughed. He got her to laugh. That felt great.

"I've got a good draw," Cavanaugh shared.

Carmen asked, "You mean tomorrow?"

Cavanaugh smiled, "Yeah, I mean tomorrow."

Her head started to spin a little the minute she put on his cowboy hat. She felt, like the rodeo saying went, a little down in the well, except the feeling she was getting from Cavanaugh wasn't bull.

Carmen hoped that a kiss would come on a second date. Right now, she just wanted tomorrow to be done and to go help Tad. She looked down bashfully. He was looking forward to getting on a bull, except, the only way she wanted to see him was when they could get dirty.

He drove her home. Cavanaugh said, "I don't want to have to be in intensive care for you to drop by next time."

She didn't reply.

# Chapter Six

Carmen stood beside Tad while she propped him in the bed. He was showing his arm and leg movement.

Carmen said, "Many times a fracture at the T-12 through L-1 only means you'll spend 11 to 18 months away from bulls Tad."

Tad said dejectedly, but he was also torn, since he liked to see the positive side, "I'll put this behind me. It's cool. Like I've been rebuilt like some sort of robot."

"Learning to walk again and all the demanding physiotherapy is about as hard as riding those bulls Tad. But, you've looked fear in the eyes and didn't blink," Carmen reinforced.

Tad worried, "Lying down for weeks isn't going to help how it feels when I stand up."

"You're legs are not going to cooperate for a while, but we'll get you to where you can walk again. It's like bull riding 90% mental 10% physical. You get your head right and you'll start walking. Then, you can start riding again," Carmen asserted.

Carmen got Tad to sit sideways on the bed and brought a walker over to him.

Carmen reassured, "If it hurts too much we'll have you sit back down. Our goal is just for you to get walk around the bed and sit back down."

Tad stood up pressing his weight down on the walker. He grunted and then looked to see if Carmen heard it. Tad pushed the walker slowly around the bed. He felt intense pain.

Carmen said excitedly, "You're doing great."

Tad grimaced. He couldn't stand this. He got around to the other side of the bed and sat down with his hands on the walker. He wouldn't let go.

Tad announced, "This'll get easier by tomorrow."

"You walk around the bed on the walker tonight and a few times tomorrow and you'll start building those muscles up again," Carmen suggested.

Tad gushed, "I'm not a rookie at walking."

"Buck up and you'll be bucking in no time," Carmen encouraged him.

Tad couldn't help but smile, he walked around the bed.

Sally walked in and wanted to have a word in private with Carmen. "Tad sweetie, I'm going to go fix you something in the kitchen, alright?" Carmen wanted to tell her that Tad walked around the bed, but the look on Sally's face didn't invite much conversation. She looked like she wanted to scold someone.

They walked into the hallway out of Tad's earshot and down to the kitchen. Carmen thought about breaking the silence, then reconsidered since Carmen didn't want to set her off in the wrong direction.

Instead, when they got to the kitchen, Carmen asked carefully, "Is everything alright Sally? I know these are some hard times and Tad just hit a new milestone."

Sally whipped around and looked at Carmen and said, "I know that Cavanaugh took you out last night on a date."

Carmen blushed and felt slightly humiliated. She didn't really know how to respond. Sally was so proud of both of her sons. She knew that Sally would do anything for them. They were blessed to have her as their mother. While Tad's recovery played significantly in Sally's daily life, Carmen's wasn't really sure about how close Cavanaugh and Sally were and what boundary she just crossed. Carmen could tell that she had crossed a large she wished that she would have been warned, to avoid this confrontation.

Carmen exposed, "We had a nice dinner and talked about the rodeos we've been to."

Sally smiled. She studied Carmen for a minute. Cavanaugh had a bad track record with the girls and this date struck a nerve. Sally didn't know what to say, then realized she was thinking too hard. She knew exactly what she wanted to say, but first she needed to ask Carmen a few questions.

She'd had a few women to women talks with other women that Cavanaugh brought around. This was a little different though. Sally figured she needed to speak up and she still hadn't found the right words exactly.

"So, did he invite you?"

"Yes, actually, he did. He invited me when he saw me at the rodeo. He'd taken a minor fall. Maybe you could blame it on that!" She laughed. The questioning was setting her on edge, but it was to be expected. Carmen's own mother put her dates through the ringer, and often without her full knowledge until after the fact. She felt sometimes that it was over the top, but who wouldn't expect that from a doting parent.

Cavanaugh often found some pretty wild cowgirls at the rodeo. They didn't last that long and Sally had a pretty good handle on telling which ones really captured his heart and which ones he found suited him as eye candy. Dating Carmen really seemed the most complicated of all the recent ones, given all of the attention she was giving Cavanaugh's younger brother and that she was intimately involved already with the family's well being.

"Have you ever dated bull riders? I once thought about it a long time ago, but then I met Greg and he loved attending, but he didn't have a fire in him like our boys do. Greg always helped get sponsors for the rodeo in the area."

"I don't particularly make it a habit to date actually, Sally, to be perfectly honest. I work so hard, and I'm on the rodeo circuit so often, that I know dating a gypsy isn't the kind of life a lot of men want. Although, I've thought about it."

Carmen's insides were churning. Although, she didn't really feel that great last night about Cavanaugh asking her to come see him compete today, she suddenly wished she had taken him up on the invitation. There aren't that many reasons to run and hide from someone's mother, but she definitely felt the urge to fly out of there

"I can imagine. It must be difficult for a doctor to find a decent date, given how few men want to be checked out in that way all of the time." Sally laughed. "They like to consider themselves whole and only show their wounds when necessary, well at least of the rodeo kind. I've found that they aren't cultivated to get that much sympathy at the rodeo. You would be surprised however how much love and sympathy they get at home. I never let my boys feel like I was going to baby them, but they certainly didn't have to linger too long before I'd make sure they got whatever they needed to soothe their restless spirits. They don't sit long."

"I bet raising them must have taught you a thing or two about how to handle your own worries and nerves. Lots of parents don't feel all that comfortable and might have to apply some numbing cream to avoid feeling everything their sons put them through."

"Well, there have been some heartbreaking moments when I thought I wish I didn't feel any of the side effects of playing a supportive mom to my boys. Still, I'd never want to insulate them from their nature. They wouldn't be happy doing anything else. Now, as far as women, well, I've got more fear about that with Cavanaugh than you might think."

"Well, I'm sure he's turned a few heads."

"What I mean Carmen, doctor, is that Cavanaugh deserves a good woman in his life after the last one," Sally blurted.

Carmen decided to wait; because she had a feeling that Sally was used to letting thoughts like this linger in the air when it came to matters near and dear to her heart.

Carmen's heart rate increased. She felt like she was in front of a panel of judges who were deciding her fate and were wary of asking her to chime in at any time, for fear that she might actually influence her own luck.

Sally continued, "Now I know I can't protect Cavanaugh's heart. He just needs a good woman."

Carmen wasn't sure if Sally meant that she reminded her of the last one that wasn't so good, which explained why she had to sit Carmen down, or whether she was hopeful that Carmen knew how to be a good woman for Cavanaugh. Too many possibilities stirred in Carmen's mind and Sally didn't attempt to explain.

Carmen finally inquired, "Well, do you mean that it's just superficial? Do you mean that he hasn't been able to find his match because he always picks women who can't or don't understand him and they leave? It's so hard to put a finger on it. I suppose I should speak about myself, but we've only been on one date. I'm sure it'll take a little time for us to see if we're good for each other."

Sally didn't say another word. It appeared to Carmen that Sally wasn't even sure what she meant about a good woman. The only thing that crossed Sally's face was that she wanted something to say about Cavanaugh's romantic life, but also to bring attention to some terrible scars from someone who was definitely the opposite of a good woman in Sally's mind. Sally may have crossed a boundary by telling Carmen something so personal and painful.

Carmen picked up the pieces and said, "You know, I know it's hard to talk about. I don't expect that we can just automatically know a person's past with one discussion. I know I've made a few errors and wondered a few times what I was looking for in a man. It's a tough call. You don't have to say anything."

Sometimes, however, no matter how much time you took to work on yourself or on being the best partner, the other person's wounds were still too fresh to make it a good relationship, no matter how good the woman. Maybe Sally had forgotten what it was like to date strangers and how they have to unravel pains and sorrows to find new potential and let their own chemistry flow. Unfortunately, Carmen would need to broach the subject with Cavanaugh before she even fell more head over heels.

# Chapter Seven

After Cavanaugh finished riding the three bulls at the rodeo, he'd finished with a two-ride score of 177 with a final round score of 87.75 on a bull named Impulse Buy. He checked his phone seeing a text from Carmen asking to meet. He welcomed seeing her and couldn't wait to talk her about the Rodeo. Not a bad payout either with $1,426 coming to him. He got into his truck to meet Carmen. _I wonder if she will be wearing her cowboy hat._

He wondered for a minute if she'd recently been in a relationship. Maybe, it had something to do with why she couldn't watch him at the rodeo again. Or was it her job? He figured that she saw so many riders take a tumble; maybe she was fine just taking a day away and tending to Tad. It wasn't something he could relate to, because there wasn't a morning that he didn't want to rush over and practice and prepare. Still, she wasn't a circuit rider. As part of the support staff, they didn't get any of the attention, but had to deal with all the problems. It could actually be pretty thankless work. He loved the guts, glory and attention. Now, he was hoping he might give Carmen a bit of that attention.

He walked into the Grille and saw her sitting at the same table they sat at last night.

He walked up and smirked, "Did we just establish that we have an 'our table'?"

She answered, "That's right."

There she was. In all of her glory, Carmen gave him the type of thrill that he couldn't get from bull riding. It was that peaceful easy feeling that made his palette wet.

Bull riders rarely avoided a single moment of their lives. Here was one of those unavoidable moments that Cavanaugh wasn't going to let slip past him.

Cavanaugh suggested, "Well, we could carve in our initials."

"I'd rather we wait for a beautiful tree out in the countryside," she recommended.

Cavanaugh said, "Well, you just read my mind. I was hoping you'd take a backwoods trip with me. After I order some food, I was going to talk to you about some beautiful spots. Help you get your mind off Tad and maybe off my riding."

She exclaimed, "Well, you walked in in one piece, so it must have been successful rodeo!"

Cavanaugh notified, "I did alright." He ordered some drinks and some food.

Carmen looked concerned and Cavanaugh didn't want to miss an opportunity to get to know her, and the source of the worry on her face.

Cavanaugh double-checked, "Why the frown? Didn't like that I remembered the drink you ordered?"

Carmen said, "I appreciate that you remember what I ordered. That's very sweet of you." She seemed very hesitant to let him in. Carmen weighed her options. If she told him what his mother brought up and why she called him to have drinks with him, he might wonder why his mother was meddling when they'd only been on one date. It was also possible that Cavanaugh might change the subject and talk about the hike tomorrow and dismiss his mom as overbearing. She often didn't try to get a feel for the mom with someone she just wanted to get to know first, but this was an unusual situation.

It was possible that she wasn't going to do the right thing and she had a pretty strong feeling that Cavanaugh was well on his way to considering anything his mother said. Carmen figured that Cavanaugh's love life might have been a distraction for Sally.

Carmen might be helping Tad in ways his mother couldn't and maybe Sally felt she had to make sure that Carmen didn't also overpower Cavanaugh.

Cavanaugh pressed, "Well, what's the fuss. Something is bothering you. I haven't known you that long, but I do know that you have a wonderful smile. You look distant and my ego can't stand the thought of you sitting there without a smile on your face."

Carmen smiled and said, "I don't even know where to start."

Cavanaugh sat quietly as the food arrived. Not a single person would complain about having a date with Cavanaugh, so Carmen really did need to speak up so that Cavanaugh didn't think it was something he said or did.

She took a bite of her burger. "Cavanaugh, your mom told me yesterday that you had a bad relationship with a woman recently and, well, she's just making sure you find yourself a good woman. I was a little uncomfortable when she approached me after I helped Tad, but I slept on it and I think I understand. She knows that healing takes time. I certainly don't want to walk into this situation blindly, and maybe hurt you when you're still mending. I like you, but..."

Cavanaugh interrupted, "Oh stop right there. I figured my mom might say something. I just didn't think it would be so sudden and soon. She's been so worried about Tad and she didn't know that I, well, wanted to date again. She always likes to think that she'd be the first person I go to if I were to strike up an interest in a woman. Sometimes I have, so she wouldn't be that out of line."

Carmen smiled and said, "You think she's out of line?"

Cavanaugh said, "It's very possible. Changes the mood a bit don't you think? It's one of the many reasons I sometimes don't tell her personal things. I came home last night and dropped your name and she knew right away that we'd spent a little time alone. I didn't think she would make anything of it, since she saw you helping Tad. Now, I'm thinking she might think your trying to mend up both her sons." He paused, "Carmen, I did have a rocky relationship, but that's in the past. I can tell you a little about Sam, my ex. She gets my blood boiling. She's basically a princess. I don't know what I was thinking at the time."

Carmen said, "That's often how relationships are. Look, I don't really want to hear everything about her. I think you're mom's concern is fair, you and I will get to know if we're good for each other. Nothing we can do about the past. I just worry..."

He interrupted and said, "I'm not still seeing Sam and she is not invited back into my life. If I saw her anywhere around the rodeo, I'd pretty much avoid her. She's got nothing but bad intentions."

Carmen said, "I'm only concerned about jealous exes and pissing off moms. I think your mom will get to know me in due time and I don't want to rush things. I don't want to give her the wrong idea that I'm somehow supposed to make up for your ex's failures."

Cavanaugh determined indulgently, "Leave it to my mom to make things difficult."

Carmen carefully said, "She's just worried about her heart and yours."

Cavanaugh laughed and agonized, "You do heart surgery also?"

"Not a chance. But I'm thinking your melting my heart the way you look tonight," Carmen mentioned.

Cavanaugh smiled distressingly, "There are at least twenty stitches you might just need to remove Carmen, as you're breaking my heart and I need a doctor. Doctor, doctor!"

Carmen volunteered, "I've got a few remedies. Although I can't just apply them in the middle of a bar. You might think I just administer care anywhere. If the situation were an emergency, I might, but I think this might be something that demands a little TLC."

"I'm not sure about you, but this place is starting to feel a little cramped," Cavanaugh steered.

Cavanaugh left money on the table and they walked out. They stood out on the balcony overlooking the square. Cavanaugh put his hand in the small of Carmen's back. Carmen felt like she'd never been touched near her waist before. He pulled her firmly towards him like she imagined he pulled himself out of the chute, firmly and decisively. The gentleness of his fingers evoked in her a deep longing that transported her out of the little town in Georgia, and into the dark pools of his eyes. They looked at each other up close for a long time feeling the pulse between them. The heat of their gaze developed a yearning that they both enjoyed; Carmen hoped the feeling never passed. Her reaction was proportionate to the look he gave her.

The kiss wasn't to be felt rapidly, rather they sizzled in the parted lips, the racing, the rich withheld moans, and the hint of burning that seared them in place. Her breath grew shallower and she couldn't come to her senses. There was no time to inhale and exhaling might cool the heat and remove their mutual desire to be bound by confusion. The eruption might be too much for two pairs of lips as her cheeks and his fought with their minds' desires to reveal to each other what stirred underneath. There were rarely any reasons to stay so patient.

Most feelings like the one that ran through them would overtake, but they loved the built up pressure. It felt a lot like walking near a cliff's edge and dangling one foot over the valley below then loosing your balance for a moment, only to get so steady the next moment that all that was left was the feeling, but you knew the ground was firm.

The point of no return happened just as Carmen grabbed his strong forearm and slowly traced with her nail a line between a few of his gorgeous freckles. His skin couldn't stand it anymore. He pulled her firmly towards himself as their parted lips rubbed gently against each other with only minimal contact. Their breath pushed their lips further away from each other and only when they stopped breathing could they seal the kiss.

They kissed as if they had stood on two different train platforms all of their lives missing their connections. Here they were on the same platform standing on a balcony overlooking one of the quaintest beautiful squares in the world in Dahlonega, Georgia. It was the same feeling they had the first time they met on the day that Tad and Cavanaugh were visiting and she'd barged in. Except now, Carmen's medical profession mattered very little and all that mattered was that she felt like the best woman in the whole world wearing a cowboy hat and dusty snakeskin boots that she'd worn into Sally's house a couple of times. She should have known better, but she'd have to buy that new pair coming up sometime next week.

# Chapter Eight

White pines and sugar maples dotted the northern Georgia Mountains. Neither of them cared about tics, bugs, spiders, although both of them packed bug spray just in case the other might have forgotten. Off Route 19, there was a sweet hiker hostel that Cavanaugh figured Carmen never tried out. If she did, it wouldn't have been that great without him in tow anyway. It wasn't much to look at, but it was a one room hideaway for a bull rider and a rodeo medic that both needed some TLC.

He wondered what kind of trees fascinated her and what smells got her excited in the great outdoors. He loved the familiar scents of dogwoods, rhododendrons and mountain laurel. He even brought a trail guide that pointed out special things about the hike.

She got in his truck. The tree next to his truck produced beautiful magnolia blooms and the citrusy smell puffed out like Cavanaugh's chest as he closed the passenger door. She felt like the combination of both of them made for an incredibly intoxicating moment, although when he got back in the truck, she unintentionally stared at him. Her tunnel vision caused of course by feeling sensually overwhelmed.

She didn't often let her emotions get the best of her, but at the moment it felt great to be flooded by the feeling that maybe someday he'd nibble a raspberry from her clavicle. Or dip her back on a late evening when the sun felt unbearable and instead of falling down from heat exhaustion, they both savored the heat and laid on a field of cool grass until the grass no longer felt comforting. She certainly wasn't a lawn expert, but she knew intuitively that on a hot day you could develop heat stroke while sitting still on a couch, but you felt amazing walking barefoot in the grass, dirt or sand.

Mesmerized, she imagined cooling down with him on these nights. His voice broke the hypnotic gaze.

"I hope you don't mind, I'd love to stop at the Chattahoochee River first and have lunch. Have you ever grabbed some sweetgum leaves and rubbed it between your fingers?" He asked like he was a nature tour guide.

She answered amused, "No, I haven't."

He glistened, "It's got such a sweet smell."

She added, "We might even see a cardinal flower since it blooms in July. The red flowers look like hundreds of lips to me."

He said, "I..." Then paused, and looked at her lips. He pulled his truck over. Gave her a slow luxurious kiss and said, "There ought to be a cardinal rule about what sort of lips make the most beautiful flowers. I vote for yours."

She blushed. Then said, "Well, let's compare when we see the cardinal flower. I wouldn't mind setting you side by side."

When they arrived at the river, Cavanaugh opened up the back of his truck and pulled out the cooler. He grabbed a beer and asked if she wanted one. They lay in the back of the truck bed chatting about the sky and the way they used to come here as kids. They shared their ridiculous antics and some of the hazing both of them had endured in groups of friends.

Cavanaugh and Carmen didn't even try to conceal from each other how good they felt together laying there sharing their dreams, hopes and memories. The air was hot, thick and stifling, but they weren't picking peaches or sitting at the rodeo.

"Who was the first rodeo star," he asked her while playing with some grass.

"Before or after standardized rules," she asked back.

"That was in 1936. Cowboy's Turtle Association, which was formed because of the nasty treatment of cowboys in previous rodeos. That made bull riding popular. It's now the PRCA."

"Good one. Who was the medicine man who introduced sports medicine to the world of rodeo in the early 80s when all they would offer was two six-packs?"

He beamed, "Doctor, I'm about to not only fail that question but also pull one out that's going to stump you right back."

She said proudly, "Dr. Pat Evans. Thank you very much."

He held her feet to the fire, "Hey, but you didn't tell me who the first rodeo star was."

She maintained, "You stumped me." She grabbed a hold of her knee and crossed it over her other leg.

He thought out loud, "Well supposedly the first recorded rodeo was in Arizona, Wyoming or Colorado in 1864, depending on who you ask. It was bull fighting before that. They didn't earn money in the early days of the rodeos. It wasn't until Cody made it famous and added money as an incentive. There are a few names floating around from then, but Johnie Schneider was the first official world champion bull rider in the 1920s."

She asked, "And if you were around then, would you have ridden?"

He answered, "I dare say I would. You know he wrote cowboy poems too?"

She delighted, "I wouldn't be surprised. The Wild West has many fine poets and I've always appreciated the way they see the world around them."

He charmed, "Okay, here's one of my poems, I'll just make it up right now.

The rise of the hill and my hard working hands,

Made the long road a practice of solitude.

As I smelled the dry grass I wasn't fooled

Around every corner of the prairie,

I couldn't help but feel the day soak through but I wasn't wary

I listened to every word the sky had to say,

I heard every word that hill explained through my horse's play,

And the creak of my saddle and the thunder of hooves

Set the thought of the campfire and coffee and comfort like grooves,

Into my mind like the beauty of a beautiful lady.

And if I wasn't so ornery I might have missed the steady

Sound of the next bend, the hill is a great friend."

Carmen was enchanted. She tucked in her chin then looked up at Cavanaugh and said, "Maybe we should get out of the back of this truck and find that sweet gum?"

If she hadn't said something, it was possible they might not even make it to see anything but the back of that truck. Cavanaugh took the hint. He'd seduced her and now they needed to save that for later. He leaned over to get a quick kiss and jumped out of the back of the truck. He helped her out of the back of the truck and tossed the cooler, and latched the truck door.

They walked along the river quietly taking in the feeling of their hike and the enjoyment that they felt in each other's company. A comfort whirred between them. She wanted to jump out of her skin a few times. Her steady walk felt balmy although really she felt like she was skipping and swaying. She moistened her lips and bit down. She didn't want to throw caution to the wind, but there was no turning back and her desire for him built as Cavanaugh shared this beautiful path with her on this hot Georgia day. The pace of their hiking was inconsistent with the pace throbbing in her heart. She wanted to move fast, and then realized these were the first heaves of wanting know everything about Cavanaugh.

She studied how he walked, when he turned toward her to tell her something about the area, and how he carried himself. He wasn't a very rigid walker. He swayed a bit. He made the outdoors his home. His strength and sincerity oozed in every one of his glances and there seemed to be a wounding shyness that she wanted to sample. Her kind of shyness stayed hidden underneath, layer upon layer of staying in control. She usually was one of the guys dealing with the realities of the sport.

Cavanaugh didn't become so decent by getting caught up on hype. He knew cowboys were well liked and loved but he didn't for a second mistake awe and wonder for something real, like he was hoping for in Carmen. Carmen also knew what it was like to look at the cowboys and gawk, but to truly understand the internal terrain outside of the medic's mobile center, like the personal side, not what they put on for show, was a new journey. She knew her brother a little bit, but he'd kept everything close to his chest.

Each time they were taking a chance, just like the one she was taking by taking this hike with an established competitor who might not have healed his heart, but was certainly willing to give it a real try. She didn't feel like a rebound. He seemed to have considered every one of his moves, and was very smooth. She was a little lame at being smooth, but she let the feeling that they were discovering, guide her. Sometimes, she realized when she let her head do all the thinking she got clumsy.

She felt lightheaded, because he was so close; she felt her feet were firmly on the ground while her soul was floating above them whispering _way to go_. Every time the wind blew, she felt it was helping them along on their personal exploration. The sound of the flowing river encapsulated her thoughts and she understood how the small rapids invited so many rafters. The excitement at this time of year by nature lovers wasn't a small endeavor. People came from all over the country to enjoy the Chattahoochee.

Water sports lovers floated by and they had no idea that Carmen and Cavanaugh were on their third official date. She wondered if they gave off that new couple glow. The river rippled around ducks and logs and occasionally you'd see a duck stand on a log and ride a bit further down the river. _Maybe I'm wrong but I wonder if there's anything about walking that gets us out and looking at nature,_ she thought

She heard the sound of kids laughing and splashing and hollering for their parents. There wasn't a day that she didn't appreciate living so close to the river.

This river held lots of memories and here they were living, without a care in the world. They were dreaming about how they could live without a plan. If Sally wasn't willing to welcome another love further into her son's life, Carmen and Cavanaugh weren't on the same page with her. It was a lot about living, and if there were tons of mistakes in the process, then it meant they hadn't stopped learning.

Despite thinking she knew every curve of this river it still held many mysteries. One of the mysteries was what being there with Cavanaugh felt different from the other times she was there. Motorboats made their way along the river and stopped right before the rapids.

Sometimes those motors got her wondering about whether the river could be seen as having its own motor. Did it ride fiercely at times accelerating, enjoying the thrill of it all, then slow down when an obstacle was seen. Revved and uncertain, she grabbed sight of a motorboat spreading out fishing lines. She wondered what they might catch.

Cavanaugh said, "Hey, looks like you caught one."

The fisher yelled, "Key to this is a gold blade.

Cavanaugh asked, "What'd you catch. "

He answered, "A brown trout caught with a blue back herring. Two pounder."

Carmen and Cavanaugh waved and kept walking.

"If you want to dip your toes in, I don't mind." He said.

She took off her shoes. He pulled out a small radio, but didn't turn it on. They put their toes in the water

"Sit down next to me." She said. So he got a little closer.

Cavanaugh told her to close her eyes and then he hopped up. Cavanaugh came back and said, "Isn't it the sweetest smell?" He held a few rubbed leaves of sweetgum between his fingers.

She said, "I would have thought the sweetest smell would have been my fabric softener after a wash."

He said, "Well you would have been wrong."

Overpowered, they sat on the shore and kissed passionately, secluded by a small grove of wisteria. Her reaction to the sweetgum made Cavanaugh enjoy the hold he had on her.

"Easy now. We might end up back at the truck instead of making it to the special spot I picked for us."

She said, "Well, the image of someone wearing spandex might bring us back down to earth."

He laughed, "No thanks. I don't want this feeling to ever pass."

The rich feeling of their embrace lingered as they stepped up from the shoreline. A little ways away, Carmen spotted a cardinal flower. Cavanaugh grabbed his camera. Carmen made him sit down next to the flower so she could compare his lips to the flower to gauge which ones were more alluring. Cavanaugh went ahead with the charade. He was thrilled that his lips won despite the beauty of the bright red cardinal flower.

# Chapter Nine

Carmen and Cavanaugh decided to drive up to the hiker hostel. The day's events had them reeling a bit and they craved a little more seclusion. They pulled up and it didn't take long before the cooler and their bags were inside.

Cavanaugh looked at her like he wanted to love her. Carmen looked him squarely in the face and wanted to be greeted with a warm wet kiss. She gave him a look that made conveyed her desire. Both of them felt like it was going to be a couple of rounds tonight.

Carmen said, "We've got the whole night. No interruptions."

Cavanaugh crooned, "You're not wasting our alone time."

Carmen teased, "What if I were to say that you got me slowing down, got it real bad, got that smile of yours to speed me up and that I have never tasted your lips, before. What if I said I don't know where you walked in from, but I can't seem to manage to do anything but want to drink you up like I do when I have my hand outreached in a jar calling out for more. What if I said I have a crush on you?" _Oh my, did I just say that?_

Cavanaugh quivered, "You're not very good at this are you?"

Her nerves split open as she replied, "No".

Carmen withdrew, "I want to crush us some ice for those glasses."

Cavanaugh nodded then grabbed a piece of ice and pressed it against Carmen's hot neck bringing her right back towards him.

He whispered, "I should have been a piece of ice."

Carmen restlessly laughed and felt heat shoot between her thighs straight up to the spot that was getting all the icy attention, "I should have written a number one hit, because one of them would be about this very moment."

At this very moment are relationship was about to deepen. No one would have to write it off, like their past mistakes. Holding another piece of ice kept Carmen reminded that the one Cavanaugh held now spilled down her neck, where his lips were drinking it up.

Cavanaugh licked off a second and third ice cube. The fourth ice cube was somewhere in the small of her back and she couldn't see his eyes, but his strong hands held her waist and hips and she couldn't come to grips. She spilled forward and arched her back. Magnolias and sweetgum lingered in her thoughts and the way he moved when they were in their eyesight.

She fell apart in his arms, although she couldn't be sure if really he was putting her back together. His haunting eyes captured hers and they both knew that they weren't going to get over this for a while. As her fingers traced his arms, she spun around and removed his shirt one button at a time. He let the shirt fall off his shoulders and he pressed her hips against his groin. She almost opened her mouth and decided there was very little she could add to this moment with words. She ached for every part of him.

She held onto his neck cupping her palm in one spot. She didn't move, just looked him in his eyes and fell in. She blinked and tossed around inside of herself like she had swallowed a vortex. She kissed his cheeks and let the gypsy in her take over and fly solo all over his body. Cavanaugh went wild. He fell back on the bed with her all over him falling free. He couldn't breathe, then all he could do was breathe to catch his breath and keep up with all the feelings weaving themselves through their bodies. She told him more in the silence about how to call and respond to their body talk than he'd ever learned about a woman. She lingered on his nipples and he lingered on her shoulder as her blouse fell off.

Inside, he wondered if he should stop himself from moving any further. Would he wake up learning anything if he didn't know when to draw a red line? Right now she was a pussycat walking up right into his hand for a good rubbing. Any advice that his head was giving him right now was part of the same part of the brain that later would yell at him for not being young and crazy. This wasn't about banishing their exploration. This was them seeing each other in a small cabin in the woods, alone and unwilling to catch their breath. Nothing needed to get between their skin and that they were better off that they had left the rest of the world behind.

She lightly scratched his chest that set his eyes on fire. He arched his back and put her hips between his thighs and squeezed his knees and calves around her. Her hands started to shake then all she needed to do was forget that maybe tomorrow or the next day he'd be riding a bull again. They swayed their hips to the music that they were feeling despite forgetting the radio in the truck.

They tossed around on the bed sheets and she spread her legs over his thighs. He was so used to being on top. Now she was turning him into that nitty-gritty that could catch a silver bullet between his teeth if it happened to be necessary ever.

Round one was feeling like he wasn't just some guy with a rope. He hadn't lost his direction, but he had lost whatever he had to weather before this moment. Couldn't think of any of those moments that made his heart a mess. She knew that the ground shook every day at the rodeo and she watched those riders push their limits on their way up to their highest and next pinnacle. Here she was living and letting herself risk what it took to feel completely on fire.

At his touch of her hips, she bit at his neck and smelled the musk that must have penetrated into her every bone. There was nothing frantic about their motions. This was a cross between a soul station and a George Jones album. This was what terms between wandering souls came to scrawled on the backs and thighs and hips of two interlocked drifters whose life's callings led them to life on the circuit. No ink, no signatures, and so the whole deal could come undone and that was part of living dangerously. It was just a feeling of being held again. It wasn't going to be easy under the gun and out of each other's sight after tonight.

She wondered what walking around all those weeks dead inside keeping her heart and love in check was all about. Cavanaugh shook up every step she had taken cautiously. What if she ended up lonely again? She was learning how to climb outside of her tended fenced-in soul. It had screeched to a stop and Cavanaugh was releasing it back into the slow lane. They might have a second wind or a third. Round one was feeling like she wasn't just some chick who could stitch scars. She wasn't losing her composure. She was leaving poise for something a lot less picture perfect, something messy. They weren't fighting feelings like so many do walking in their ordered life showing how in control they really are.

This was the backwoods and there wasn't any dust, rust, ropes and seconds to count. All they heard was the sound of trees swaying occasionally, and tonight they would hear the night creatures taking over the air and letting anything nearby know there were tons of them and they would be hard to find.

Still on top of him, Carmen besieged him with momentary blazing clenches, true grit, and driving fits that unfastened burdensome inhibitions. Heat rushed through their imprisoned minds. Wetness and the smell of sex and sweat dominated the Georgia night. Carmen was shackled a few times by her understanding that she was about to sleep with a bull rider, the very type of man that set her life spinning and caused her to try to live past life's tragedies. It was as if by falling in love, as she was finding herself to be falling, with the very type of man who would remind her of her terrible losses, she could turn life's misfortunes into a way to conquer them and lead to her escape from powerlessness. He was a doorway into a second and third chance.

He tugged Carmen's nipples and she leaned back, barely sensible, and mostly convulsed. He could see she was ready for him to send her quivering. He looked in her eyes and enveloped her between her legs. The muscles in her legs rippled as he traced her folds over her underwear. She grinded feverishly against his palm as his fingers moved like little tongues circling her clitoris all together. She couldn't concentrate ever since they started this hot July night, but now she couldn't even beg for mercy. She buckled and spread her legs to his slow thick fingers sketching circles around her folds. He parted her folds and as he stroked her clitoris, he pressed inside of her with a few of his fingers and slowly guzzled her squeezing around his fingers. She shook down to her toes as he brought to the edge gradually.

Then he laid her on the sheets and took one lick up her inner thigh over her sex, before her hand released the bulge of his jeans. He found her g-spot and she called out his name. He hadn't heard his name in that tone and it brought out a wild in him that had him surge. With his finger on her g-spot, there was nothing for her to grasp onto. He had her oozing and imprisoned. He looked at her lustfully and he tilted her hips back before he guided his wild oat gradually inside of her. Her folds tugged his cock in fiercely one inch at a time until he was fully inside of her.

They ravenously swallowed and plunged as they lapped the tips of their shuddering inner thrusts against moist thighs and greedy hands. He wriggled out of her and slowly watched as he moved his fingers over her slick clit and then pinched lightly, leisurely and frequently. She was enticed and inflamed as he meandered the pinch and right before she convulsed uncontrollably he grabbed one of her thighs with his hand and he slipped his cock inside of her and applied slight gyrations. Carmen spiraled and swallowed him. Heat stabbed through her back and thighs and supple clitoris as they climaxed and surged in their trance.

# Chapter Ten

Carmen and Cavanaugh continued to date, relieving Carmen of the idea that Sally might have been warning her that Cavanaugh might not be ready for a woman in his life. Cavanaugh's brown hair fell into his eyes as she watched him walk towards her at the rodeo. Her thoughts went to Sally saying that Cavanaugh was still not sure what was heads and tails when it came to women. It seemed like Sally just planted that seed for Carmen, but Cavanaugh might not be interested in what Sally and Greg had built for themselves.

All Carmen knew about Sally was that she was the perfect mother at the hospital and at their house whenever Carmen came around. However, there was always more than one side to a person. Moms also have a tendency to want to overdo their version of the story. Sally was not as much of a risk-taker as her sons. She could be thinking that is what got them into all of these terrible situations, and she'd be right, sort of, Carmen thought.

***

They had incredible times together. It started with a good afternoon kiss on a balcony above a square she'd walked many times as a single woman and with friends. There had been a lot of late nights walking around wondering if anyone had ever had a successful relationship with someone drawn to the rodeo. She wondered if other women kept a bull rider in their life given that they were rarely around to help with any home improvements or on those nights when things got unbearable and they wanted to put their hand across the bed and make sure everything was okay. A little bit of home town feel is what many people were looking for, because reaching for the stars might feel hollow after a while.

Cavanaugh lived for the spotlight and riding that bull each time to stare danger in the eyes and test his fortitude. He was a self-made man, despite past heartbreaks. That's what made up for uncertainties. Carmen didn't have a great track record with men either. Somehow she managed to find guys who liked to treat her well for a little while, and then start chewing on her like a chew toy. She started feeling like they didn't really see her for who she was. She kept pictures sometimes of the good times she'd had on a date, and it dawned on her that her and Cavanaugh hadn't taken any photos yet on their dates.

After a few dates, she thought it would be a good idea to ask Cavanaugh to meet her family. They didn't live that far from her place. She'd been raised in Dahlonega all of her life. She'd come and gone a few times, but always ended up there. Cavanaugh agreed. He didn't see any harm in meeting them, he told her. She'd met his, although for different reasons, but still it was a matter of respect. Her parents, Claudia and Alfredo Delfino lived about 10 miles away from her near Highway 60. They looked forward to meeting Cavanaugh.

"Hon, you know me, I love meeting anyone you start dating. I know you have such a hectic schedule so when you find someone who can handle that, I'm all ears," said Claudia. "I'll make sure your dad is here."

Carmen was a little nervous about the meeting. She had requested that her mom tell her father not to ask a million questions and make it feel more like a lovely evening and less like a firing squad. Her father wasn't very good at relaxing around men, especially ones that were younger and had caught Carmen's eye. Claudia promised she would put in the request with her father. She said she'd ask Alfredo to save the questions for another time, although she was still unsure.

They pulled up to the cream colored house a few yards away from the barn covered in purple wisteria. Cavanaugh gave off a nervous laugh and looked at Carmen then looked down at his jeans. He hoped that he'd picked the right shirt to wear. Carmen looked at him right then and figured, and reassured him, "There's likely very little you own that doesn't look good on you."

He thanked her. Carmen told him that if her dad started to irritate him, that he could give her a quick sign to help bail him out. He asked, "Like what?"

Carmen said, "Just move your plate a little toward the center of the table. Not much, just enough to make it clear to me."

He said, "Okay I'll try and remember."

They knocked and Claudia answered the door. She looked so nice, dressed in a button down yellow blouse and a pair of white summer pants. "Carmen! What a pleasure!" She hugged her daughter.

Carmen turned toward Cavanaugh who stood just behind her. He tipped his hat and said, "Ma'am, it's a pleasure to meet you."

Carmen looked charmed, but very surprised. She quickly hid her surprise and put her hand out stiffly in front of her toward Cavanaugh. Cavanaugh felt the change. He acted as if he did not see her mild surprise. He figured it was something to do with him being a cowboy. He seriously hoped that it wasn't because he looked exactly like an ex of Carmen's. It was possible that he might never find out. It certainly wasn't going to be easy to get an explanation anytime soon. It wasn't the warmest of receptions.

He shook her hand. "Ma'am, I'm delighted to get this chance to meet you. I know Carmen has gotten her beauty from you."

Carmen said, "My mom won a few rodeo queen contests. I bet you she'd love to tell you a story or two. Come in and meet my dad." Alfredo stood a few feet away from the staircase. He looked a little unsettled and some might say masking a very strong desire to look Cavanaugh up and down.

Alfredo caught himself and said, "Oh, hello, I was just finishing up something I was working on in the garage, thought I'd forgotten to turn off the light back there. " That was how Alfredo always explained any look on his face that might appear like he was judging someone. Claudia closed the front door. Alfredo continued, "It's a real pleasure to meet you." He extended his hand after he wiped his hands in case there was still some grease on there.

Carmen didn't miss a beat. "Dad this is Cavanaugh. Cavanaugh this is my dad Alfredo. As you may have noticed he loves his cars." Cavanaugh felt a little uncomfortable, but he reminded himself that Carmen had to deal with his parents every day when she came over to take care of Tad.

Daily, Carmen remembered what it was like living under her parent's roof. That look her father gave every one of her friends, as if she had a knack of picking up all the vermin in town. There wasn't a single one of her friends that had passed his test. After a while, she figured out her dad's shenanigan. It was just a way for him to feel like he had the upper hand in a situation. She stopped rehashing the past, to focus on how these four people were going to enjoy each other's companies.

She suggested, "Cavanaugh I'd love to show you the backyard. Dad, Cavanaugh and I spend a lot of time outdoors and I told him you and mom grow some beautiful flowers in back."

Alfredo laughed, "Sure, but that's more your mom's hobby lately. I've set aside my clippers for the oily rags in the garage."

They walked to the backyard to take a look at the flowers. Carmen said, "I know you're uncomfortable. I hope you can forgive them. They're not the easiest sometimes when it comes to meeting new people. It's funny they're easy to get along with once you get to know them. But I think they must have hung out with a tough crowd throughout their lives. I went through that in college. No one seemed like they knew how to relate to one another other without running everyone through the mill."

Cavanaugh asked, "If I can handle the rodeo, right?"

Carmen alleged, "Well, it's a little more of a roller coaster in this arena." She laughed.

They smelled some of the flowers just in case her parents were looking out the sliding glass doors. They walked back inside and asked if they could help in any way.

Claudia said, "I wouldn't dream of it. Sit down in the living room and make yourself at home. You know Carmen grew up here. There are some photos up there on the wall that might make you giggle."

Carmen laughed and said, "And a few of my mom as rodeo queen."

Claudia testified, "I sure was! Showed off on that horse a few times."

They looked at the photos liked they had at Sally's and Greg's house. The feeling was a little different here because both her and Claudia were walking on their legs without any problem. The thought crossed her mind, and she pushed it out of her mind. Cavanaugh loved the beautiful picture of Claudia riding her horse. He smiled and realized their family had been involved in the rodeo life for a while also.

He saw a picture of Carmen playing with a little boy. Then, he saw a picture of Carmen watching the same little boy roping a calf. Then, there was a picture of that same boy holding up a rodeo buckle he'd won. Carmen noticed out of the corner of her eye that Cavanaugh saw those photos. She didn't have the guts yet to talk about that with him. She wasn't ready. He would respect that without much of a fuss. He didn't broach the subject. She pointed to a picture of herself with a rope lassoed over her head.

Carmen said, "I remember that day. I was in a groove. Shorty was one of my favorite horses. I can't believe how long it took me to get over that day. Years went by and I remembered that moment. Not sure if it was the photo that always reminded me or actually if it was just how good I felt that day. I've always considered it was how good I felt that day. It made me feel like a million dollars. I felt like I had just given myself the best chance of my life and I'd given it all I had."

He said, "I bet you did. You look like you never shy away from what it takes to win."

She confirmed, "That's true." She saw her mother scrambling in the kitchen and excused herself. "Grab a drink and I'll be right back. I should help my mom get some of the food on the table."

He said, "I'm alright."

She walked into the kitchen and started to help her mother. She stirred a pot. Claudia looked over and said, "Oh thanks dear. That's awful nice of you." She grabbed at her apron a little, tugging at the strings, a bit too long Carmen thought. Maybe there was something about the nerves running through Claudia's hands. Often, that's where she stored her nervousness. It would come out in all of the activities that she suddenly immersed herself into unless you caught her at a bad moment and she might start wringing her hands.

Claudia said, "You've been wandering around this town for years. You're so beautiful, so talented and such a remarkable doctor. I bet you some of those rodeo men didn't know what hit them when you walked up to be their angel, sweetheart."

Carmen was caught by surprise, "Wow, mom you just almost made me cry. That's one of the nicest things you've ever said." Then, Carmen realized it was a lead up to the something that was weighing on her mind. She was a little worried that she had just scratched the surface that would call for some whiskey.

Claudia said, "You know there's so many regrets that hit us, like we might have worked it all out before we started walking around town and thinking we're ready to get into a relationship with someone. And sometimes we do, and other times, we realize in the middle of it, we walked right into a mess of our own because we still have baggage. Suddenly it hits us! Hand me the spatula Carmen." Carmen handed her the spatula.

She continued, "It hits us that standing in front of us is the very thing that we were trying to escape and instead of feeling like we healed, we realized we're still healing and now, we've got an innocent person wondering why the phone's not ringing."

Carmen felt a little confused. She gave Claudia a little time to explain herself, but looked back to where Cavanaugh was when she'd walked into the kitchen to see if he was still looking at the photos. It looked like he'd made it to the couch and had switched the tv on. She wondered where her father was. She realized he was staying away from Cavanaugh afraid he'd ask too many questions.

Claudia continued, "Doesn't he remind you of Fernando?"

"Cavanaugh? Just that he's in the rodeo, but that's it," Carmen laughed. Carmen figured that the reason her dad hadn't given him the warmest of receptions had to do with how he always acted with anyone she'd brought home. Then, it dawned on her, the moment of surprise and her father's hesitation added up. They knew he was from the rodeo. No question. It became real clear to her.

She argued, "You think that I have a hang up on Fernando and Cavanaugh is some sort of spitting image? I'm not trying to work things out about Fernando with Cavanaugh. I would have done that by now considering I became a doctor mom! Why do you want to get into this right now?"

"Sometimes you can't really put your finger on it Carmen. He's a lot like Fernando. In more ways than one. Take this out to the table," Claudia insisted. She handed Carmen a dish of ribs and potato salad.

Carmen took the plates to the patio table. She came back to the kitchen. She said, "Can't you just see him for who he is?"

"You're going to lose him in the same way and it's going to be very hard for me to see this happen without having said that this romance might be worth thinking about before you get in too deep. You've always been good about thinking, but when it comes to your emotions, well, I feel like you might be ignoring what you might be setting yourself up for," Claudia claimed.

Carmen blurted, "Why would I set myself up for another loss, mom? Can we just have a nice evening? I thought it was dad who was going to be difficult tonight. It turns out that you're the one who is giving _me_ a hard time. Mom, I can't believe you!"

"I'm just bringing it up because it's what it looks like."

"I want to get past this. Let's have a nice time with Cavanaugh tonight. He and I are enjoying each other. I want you to be happy for us. I need you to respect this man. He's a loving man. He doesn't know anything about Fernando and I don't want you to bring anything up about him. That's for me to decide when it's a good time to bring him up."

"Sure. I'm sorry Carmen. I didn't mean to suggest that I would say anything."

They walked onto the patio and put the rest of the food on the table and called Alfredo and Cavanaugh outside. The men joined them. Everyone loaded up their plates from the buffet.

A few minutes went by and they settled in. Alfredo looked up at Cavanaugh and said, "I bet I've seen you at the rodeo. I don't make it around there that often."

Cavanaugh proposed, "Any time you're there, come and say hello. I run the circuit, but I always participate in the local events. I see your lovely wife made a splash as a rodeo queen. Are you also affiliated with the rodeo?"

"Me? No, no I'm just a supporter, of course, head over there occasionally. I just have a love for cars. We've owned a few horses. Carmen used to ride them when she lived here, but then over the years, we just wanted to simplify a bit. I wanted Claudia to be happy and I would be lost if I didn't see a smile on her face every day. So much work goes into taking care of all of those animals," Alfredo contended.

"Not to say that we might not own them again, but right now we're happy the way things are. It's funny at times to walk out there to the barn and forget that I didn't need to bring hay," Claudia giggled.

Alfredo recalled, "I do miss them sometimes. Tell me Cavanaugh, do you own animals?"

Cavanaugh replied, "I don't. I'm not around enough given the rodeo. I'm around them all of the time though, so I get a chance to make friends with some of the horses."

"My plants get a lot of my attention," Carmen intervened. Everyone laughed.

Everyone enjoyed the meal and the company. Claudia asked Cavanaugh if he'd seen the recent new restaurant down the street, because some of their friends had opened it and were excited about attracting some younger folks there. He hadn't, but he thought it might not be a bad idea to check it out with Carmen.

They chatted during the rest of the dinner, but Carmen felt unsettled because of her mother's conversation with her in the kitchen. She didn't give any clues to Cavanaugh. She just made him shine and laughed at every one of her dad's bad jokes.

# Chapter Eleven

A few days went by since the patio lunch. Cavanaugh called every day a couple of times and continued to get Carmen's voicemail. He figured she must have been busy at the rodeo. Even when she came to visit Tad, she made the visits very brief. He couldn't catch site of her at his parent's house. He never even saw her at the rodeo. He didn't know if her schedule had changed. However he started to feel like it might be personal. He was so used to people switching sides and piling on lies about what they were up to or what they were going through.

He knew they had been getting along so well. It's possible that she got scared and didn't realize what to do next. Carmen stopped answering calls from Cavanaugh and although Cavanaugh was trying to figure out whether it was personal or if she just got caught up in life, it would have broken his heart if he knew why she was staying away from him.

By staying away, maybe Cavanaugh would be better off, and maybe she wasn't so sure about how her Brother Fernando's death affected her. Maybe it was influencing the type of man she attracted. She could walk around town and find someone who had nothing to do with the rodeo. Why would she put herself through all of this instead of stepping away from the rodeo and helping contestants and just leave it at that. She knew in her heart of hearts why she was in the rodeo business. She didn't want to have to explain that to Cavanaugh.

They hadn't gotten too far in the relationship. She figured he probably felt pretty uncomfortable over at her parent's house. The same kind of uncomfortable that Sally made her feel when she told Carmen that Cavanaugh needed a good woman. Maybe that also meant that his mom wanted someone who didn't live the rodeo lifestyle. There might be some truth to one person needing to be the one who keeps everything all right at home and the other one can live the life of the rodeo. If they both lived the life of the rodeo, then how were they going to live a balanced life?

Looking up at the sky, as she walked up to her house, she thought, sometimes, mistakes happen and both of them knew they could walk away at any time. He'd get caught back up in the rodeo and get a look in the eyes of another beautiful woman, maybe not at the rodeo this time. Maybe he'd find himself a sweet beauty that loved her home town, and didn't have a constant itch to get on the road. That would make her a good woman. She was sure of it, for the moment at least. She'd fallen really hard for him, though.

***

A week went by without a word from Carmen. Cavanaugh returned to see Tad as often as possible hoping he might run into Carmen. She knew she would never be able to convince him to give up the rodeo. It was his life, even though it would keep bruising him. He'd pick the rodeo over anything. She'd always be wishing he'd come back home and he'd be worrying about his bruised pride. He'd get lost on every one of those bulls, waiting for the next thrill ride.

Late one night, Carmen received a call from an unknown number. It was close to 2 am. She'd spent the night crying about her strong feelings for Cavanaugh. She had been impressed at Tad's recovery process. He had been practicing walking with the walker a few times a day. His spirits were high. That's what mattered a lot more than her own crush on Tad's brother. The feeling might pass, even if it felt like the biggest mistake of her life to stop talking to him, but that was her rationalizing her choice.

Maybe, seeing Cavanaugh at that moment just at the time was all about the emotions that were wrapped up in helping Tad. It could be residual. Cavanaugh did look at her that day in the hospital as someone who saved his brother's life. Sometimes, she had a one-track mind. All they were doing was playing with each other's minds. They appreciated each other, but it looked like their families were going to be another story. It might be time to put away this little love story. Love wasn't the only thing she needed.

***

"Hello," she answered.

She heard Cavanaugh's voice on the other end. She almost hung up. He'd called from an unknown number just to hear her voice. Actually, he was sobbing. Carmen sat bolt upright. She didn't have time to think suddenly. His pain resonated with her and she would have leapt out the window and ran to help him out. Suddenly, she wanted to curse herself out. He needed her; she could barely hear him over the lump in her throat. She threw on her jeans and shirt, dragged herself into her boots, grabbed her keys and ran out the door. She started the car and realized she'd forgotten her purse. She ran back inside and got her purse.

Tad had fallen out of bed earlier that night and was rushed to the hospital. They had induced a coma in hopes that his newly fractured spine would heal itself.

She drove quickly to the hospital. His entire family sat in the waiting room. Sally jumped up without a thought to hug Carmen. Carmen's eyes looked like she cared more than a doctor, despite the curve ball Sally had thrown her. At the root of it, she knew two people cared for each other in a time of need. Sally sobbed in Carmen's arms. Carmen fought back her own tears. She attempted to comfort Sally. As she opened her eyes, fighting back her tears, Carmen saw Cavanaugh stand up and walk towards them. It almost broke the only hold she had on herself from falling apart.

He stared at her with a hurt in his eyes. She felt ashamed of her childish games. She wanted to say I'll never leave you but the words got stuck in her lips, the ones that he had kissed so gently in the cabin. Maybe he wasn't the red door, maybe he was the one who needed her to help him walk away from his own pain. Maybe it was all about helping each other; and not judging how someone might bring them more pain.

She walked into the hospital room to sit with Tad and Cavanaugh followed her in. The sight of Tad broke her heart. She could hardly stand wondering why the nurse hadn't made sure that he couldn't fall out of his bed. Didn't they put barriers? How could this happen?

Cavanaugh broke the silence. "What did I do wrong?"

She cried, "Cavanaugh, oh no, it's not like that. You've done everything right."

Cavanaugh pressed, "Then why haven't you answered any of my calls?"

She apologized, "Sorry, sometimes life feels like a maze. I'm just afraid of what is happening to your brother and if that happened to you, well, I don't know if I have it in me to be the one who you come home to."

Cavanaugh sighed, "I was a little afraid of that."

She insisted, "I wasn't thinking clearly. I know you understand. There's more to it."

Cavanaugh pried, "Does it have anything to do with those pictures of you and the little boy roping calves?"

She quietly muttered, "Yes." She got quiet. She had tried to avoid this conversation with him. However, it became unavoidable. Sometimes pain was the only hand me down you got.

Cavanaugh set the tone, "I'm listening."

She opened up, "My brother Fernando." She paused, to hold back tears. Tears that had resided in the depths of her soul like an endless hose that no one could turn off. She would have walked through fire to save him. How could she say that to Cavanaugh? He already knew it. "He died from the same injuries your brother suffered because they didn't have a doctor present."

Cavanaugh wanted to reach out to hold her. But she continued, "He inspired me to get into sports medicine."

Cavanaugh tucked his chin to a clenched fist held a little bit higher than his lap to hold back a flood of emotions. Feeling emotionally stretched wasn't the best feeling when you needed to be the rock in a situation. He looked up at his brother lying there in a coma and realized that the woman sitting beside him was the best woman he'd ever met and she'd almost given him the slip. He wasn't even in the clear yet, but he was going to play it cool to stop her from resisting him.

He reached over to her shoulder and grabbed her to his chest. There were so many reasons why the simple things in life should never be ignored. He'd never forget that she didn't pull away at that very moment. He couldn't say anything to touch that spot on her soul, because that same spot on his soul was laying in a coma in front of him.

She finally spoke, "I can't ask you to give up something that you love; but I can't handle you falling off a bull like my brother did." She looked over at Tad. A tear fell down her cheek.

Cavanaugh said, "I love you. In that good man sort of way." He sent her reeling. She imagined a promise ring that she used to wear or a sports jacket when a guy wanted everyone to know you were his girl. She needed the real thing.

"Doesn't this make for a different kind of summer? No beach, but I'd rather be here with you." She paused, holding back tears. "I know that I didn't make the rules and there ain't nobody there to bend them for us." There are days when it hurts to swallow what this life brings.

Cavanaugh said, "I'd give up bull riding if it meant you'd stay in my life." Cavanaugh had one of his aha moments thinking about his ex Sam and the reason why she said she'd taken off.

She looked up at him. Although there was a part of her wondering about how important it was to always know that you can build a life after making mistakes. She wanted to believe him and so she did, even though in the back of her mind, she knew she was taking another chance. They needed to be there for each other right now, and that's what mattered.

"Just say yes, yes you'll still keep being my girl," he said. She didn't feel like he was telling her how to feel. She nodded and looked up at him.

"There is something about us and there's something about that first kiss." She remembered what it felt like in his truck and walking near the creek. He held her hand and she felt like this wasn't quite done and they'd have to weather whatever came their way.

***

Tad made it out of the coma and when his parents brought him home, Carmen and the nurse were back to square one in helping him walk again...if he could walk again. This last fall set him back. Six months into his care, Carmen went back and forth between the rodeo and tending to Tad. Carmen knew if she needed to prowl again, she had it in her, but her relationship with Cavanaugh was fulfilling a need they both felt at the moment. She felt he was part of her future, but dating a rodeo man, you never really quite knew what was around the bend. They were going to know everything about each other slowly. It was perfect. Hikes, times in their restaurant; and he helped her pick out a nice pair of snake skin boots that wouldn't track dust. He always asked her to put another layer on when he thought the wind blew a little too hard.

It was just a matter of time that Murphy's Law would set in. Carmen left her house to head over to Sally and Greg's home. She pulled up like she had several times a week over the past eight or nine months. She saw a car that she didn't recognize in the driveway. It gave her a chill up her spine. It felt wrong. She parked. Cautiously she grabbed her stuff and closed the door, staring at the car. Her intuition was telling her to turn back.

Sally sat in the front yard with her head in her hands. She looked over and saw Carmen. She hesitated with a look of dread crossing her face. She was trying to come up with the words to see what she could say to Carmen. She knew that Carmen was smart enough to know something was wrong. Sally just needed to figure out how best to tell her. It wasn't really a blow anyway. It was just a minor complication. Cavanaugh might shrug it off, but if Carmen's ex came around, Cavanaugh might have the same look on his face that Carmen was about to have. The BS in the air was getting quite thick.

"What's happening?" she asked Sally.

"Well, um, you'd be surprised, but, well, we have a visitor." Sally said. She didn't act as warmly as she had last time that Carmen saw her. Maybe if someone else had asked, Carmen might have gotten a straight answer. Carmen hesitated. Sally was protecting somebody, but she wasn't sure if it was from her or from herself. Sally looked as torn up as Carmen felt. She thought about getting back in her car unless Sally changed her tune. Then, she realized that Sally's eyes were pleading for Carmen's understanding.

Carmen once again had to rise above the occasion. She started to think about what visitor might cause this feeling. Just when she was about to say it was probably Cavanaugh's ex, Sam, she saw Sally whirl her neck around as Cavanaugh ran to his truck and Sam chased after him. It was his ex. Sally desperately wanted to run back inside, but she looked over at Carmen instead to see if it was all registering. Cavanaugh drove off and seconds before he reached the end of the driveway, he turned his head and saw Carmen watching him take off with Sam screeching behind him kicking up dust like only an ex who didn't care anymore would do.

Like a black cat crossing Cavanaugh's path, Sam was going to turn back the clock, make up for her own ignorance. To Carmen, Sam felt like a criminal asking good folks if they were legit.

If Sam knew how to act around people, she wouldn't be playing mercy every day of her life. Cavanaugh wasn't playing mercy. Neither was Sally. Carmen was just fresh on the scene and relieved that as she locked eyes with Cavanaugh, he put his hands to his ear, like a good lover would to tell her to expect his call at the right time. She knew he wouldn't leave her hanging but she also had to figure out how he was going to lose Sam. He sent Carmen away with the words of their love song. She had to rely on her patience and briefly act like a good woman.

### Thank you for reading!

## Please visit your favorite eBook retailer to view the next books in the "Last Chance Cowboy Series"
Finding Love Out West

by

Deborah Taylor
Copyright © 2017 by Deborah Taylor

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Finding Love Out West

All rights reserved.

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. No part of this work may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording and faxing, or by any information storage and retrieval system by anyone but the purchaser for their own personal use.

This book may not be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of Deborah Taylor, except in the case of a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages for the sake of a review written for inclusions in a magazine, newspaper, or journal—and these cases require written approval from Deborah Taylor prior to publication. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.

# Chapter One

As I drove, with my lead foot all but grinding on the county road, I laughed to myself. I drove past green, dewy pastures and animals that I had only seen at farms growing up, now just hanging out on other people's property like they owned the place, while the bright, clear sky welcomed me to a land that seemed not only backwards but set apart.

While I wouldn't consider myself a city girl, exactly, I knew, right from the moment that I learned this was a ranch that this property and I were just not going to get along. It was no secret, to myself or anyone who knew me that corn stalks and hay bales were not exactly my thing.

First of all, I was not a fan of mud and considering that I have not seen a business that I recognized for the last fifty miles, I assumed that before I left, no matter how long I stayed, someone around here would swear that it was the absolute best for exfoliation, simply because they have never heard of anything else.

I had a good occupation and made good money at it, but it was certainly devoid of dirt.

Secondly, my red sports car looked carelessly out of place among the scenery that never changed and the few trucks that I saw, furnishing plows, dirt and even spots of rust that were large enough to be clearly spotted from the road.

This area was definitely a place that time forgot and I refused to be forgotten right along with it.

Still, as I began to grow at least somewhat used to the mass of green (and the plumes of dust that formed on the sides of the narrow roads, acting as the only lines the asphalt had to mark itself, before the road slid into the grass) I felt that maybe I wasn't being fair to this region of the United States, because deep down, I was kind of excited to explore the ranch. If nothing else, I was pleased to be getting out of the office.

I enjoyed my job, but the idea that this ranch could possibly be my new home didn't exactly make me spin the car around and speed back in the other direction, so I took that feeling of positively.

I was always a firm believer that there was something for everyone and even though I teased and could not help but laughing out loud at the idea of me milking a cow, I knew that I needed a break and I was ready for an adventure.

Therefore, the idea of at least seeing the ranch and assessing how much it would be worth was something that I just couldn't pass up.

_Who knows?_ I thought, breathing in the country air and holding it in my lungs for an exaggerated moment before letting it lose in a slow, calculated manner, _I might surprise myself. I might even like it here._

Just as the thought crossed my mind, however, my next breath sucked in a hint of freshly laid manure that was so potent I almost choked.

_Then again...maybe not._ I thought and refrained from breathing until I felt my head begin to pound and had no other choice but to chance the chosen scent of the current atmosphere.

Thankfully, the air was once again fresh, but I knew that the smells of a ranch were going to be consistent and probably far worse than the small whiff I received while zooming by the area at seventy-five miles an hour.

Even with all of the new and _not exactly pleasantries_ that consumed the area that I was headed to, good or bad, the experience would be one that I was sure I would never forget.

Already, there were a few events that I knew there would be no forgetting. In fact, the entirety of the situation was fairly unique.

A few weeks before I made this crazy trip, I was willed the property by my grandfather, whom I have never met. I received a letter in the mail from a law firm who represented him. The letter informed me that my Grandfather had perished and that I was the named and sole heir to his estate.

When I read the word estate, I was pleased, thinking that the connotation of the word would reveal a beautiful plantation or other elderly relic, with gardeners and pool-boys; or at the very least, a maid. Sadly, it did not.

At this point, I was convinced that with the death of my Grandfather, the property, which I soon discovered was a large ranch in the Midwest, was abandoned.

Regardless of whether it was an abandoned ranch or a dream mansion though, it was still mine to take care of. Whether that meant moving in or selling it, I knew that I had to do something with it soon, so that the value of it would not begin to decay.

Plus, there was a part of me that was interested in knowing what it was like. Even though the hay bells and cow pies were obviously abundant and so far from being up my alley, it was almost sickening, I could not deny that there was something calming and refreshing about his area.

Even though I had grown up south of a major city, this was the first time that I had ever traveled on a significant stretch of land and was unable to find any form of real civilization. Sure, there were patches of trees in various spots around where I grew up but I had never experienced so much landscape devoid of homes.

Continuing down the barely paved road, I looked at my GPS, which was perpetually losing signal, but in the quick blip of information that it was able to provide, I saw that the ranch was supposedly just ten more miles away. Yet, considering the track record of the machine in this area, I was fairly curious about its accuracy.

Still, at this point, I felt as though I had been driving for a lifetime, so even if this wasn't my ranch that it was pointing me towards, I might try to stay there for a little while, just so I could trade the abundance of winding roads and grassy hills for the presence of indoor plumbing and an internet connection.

_Oh God..._ I thought with a slight degree of panic beginning to creep into my head. _I hope they have access to an internet connection._

It wasn't that I was particularly attached to my internet, phone or television, but I did want the assurance that there was a link to the modern world, amongst the idea of getting up before dawn to milk a cow, bail hay-whatever that entails- and collect chicken eggs. Yet, at the immediate moment, I really had no earthly idea.

I felt silly for not having any true indication of what I was getting into and because of that, I fell into thought, contemplating what it was, exactly that led me to this point.

Of course, there was the letter, but even before that, I had a strange notion that my life had worked its way up to me driving to this ranch.

I hadn't had a bad life, but the entirety of it was bogged with the inevitable sense of discomfort. For, every time that I felt my life was winding into something that I could be proud of, with a future that I could begin to visualize, something would happen which would destroy it all in an instant.

That became a kind of mantra for my life.

The first time that I realized this, I was eighteen years old and my parents passed away, suddenly.

They were older when I was born and so I always knew that there was a good possibility that they would not be around for grandchildren, but I never dreamed that they would both be gone not only so soon, but also within a week of one another.

Before this though, I had just entered college and knew exactly what I wanted to do. I was going to be a lawyer and for the first semester of pre-law, I was doing great.

Then, my whole life came tumbling down around me.

My mother had been battling cancer for years, but the whole family, including my parents thought it was in remission. However, after a routine checkup, they found out that the cancer had not only returned, but strengthened.

The doctors told my mother it was only a matter of time, but she was willing to fight. She hung on for another couple of months, trying her best to beat the disease just as she had before, but eventually, it got the best of her.

Not a week later, my father and I were sitting quietly watching television when he keeled over. I called the ambulance and he was rushed to the emergency room, but even in that short span of time, there was nothing that anyone could do. He passed away shortly after being admitted.

After an investigation, the doctors decided that the cause was stress cardiomyopathy, which in terms that the rest of us could understand it essentially meant that my father died of a broken heart. My mother's death, after the two of them were inseparable for so many years ended up being far too much for my father's heart to bear.

Low and behold, my entire life was jilted violently off course. I felt lost and in many ways abandoned. I understood that my mother had no choice, but I was angry and guilty because I went through a time where I thought that the reason my father died was because my love for him was just not enough to keep him alive.

Due to this thinking, I dropped out of school and eventually landed a fairly good job, for a college dropout.

Eventually, the company even sent me back to school for business. I was pleased with this and even though it wasn't a passion of mine, it was a profession where I figured my life would advance without me having to move away from the town I grew up in.

While in school again, in addition to working full time, I felt that I was finally getting back on my feet. Due to the job, I was able to afford an apartment and so I wasn't stuck in one of those smelly college dorms. I could go home every night and enjoy my own bed, without having to see anyone or share anything.

Once again, despite the setbacks, life was shaping up to be good.

However, when I was almost finished with my degree, the company had an emergency downsizing faze, through which my job and the need to help me go through school was no longer necessary for them.

The truth of not being good enough stung; but not as much as the realization that once again, I would be unable to fulfill the requirements of my education in order to obtain the degree that I had worked so diligently for.

Yet, instead of having this setback completely ruin my life, I searched high and low for another job, while still going to school. There was a lot of red tape that I needed to surpass and a lot of hardship, now working three jobs and going to school, while downsizing my apartment and trying to juggle my shattering life, but in the end, I received the degree with only a minimal amount of education costs, which landed me the job that I have currently.

I have worked there for a year now and I enjoy it quite a bit. Then, just as I was beginning to get comfortable, I received the letter and the course of my life led me literally down this road, towards a ranch that I have never seen, previously owned by a man that I had never met.

Granted, I had learned of him when my parents died, but despite efforts to reach out in order to feel like there was at least one person left in the world who I could consider family, all attempts to reach him were to no avail.

The knowledge that he existed though, was what ultimately propelled me to take this journey. If I had not known that this was a real possibility, considering I believed that I was his only living relative, as he was also mine, then I would have never made the decision to come out here. However, since I knew that there was a good chance that this was a legitimate claim, instead of an elaborate hoax, I figured I should give it a shot.

Honestly, what have I really got to lose? I thought, _I've got no husband, no children and no house._ If by some strange chance I decided that this really was the life for me, besides a job, what would I really be giving up? That's right. Nothing!

Although, there was another thought that crossed my mind which helped me to choose the idea to come out here. Since nothing ever changed in the south, or so I was under the impression, if I did choose to stay, I was hoping that I would be able to find some grounding in this quiet little town; or at least, have the opportunity to choose whether I want my life to change or remain the same.

Either way, I knew that I would be putting myself in a far better position than I was before receiving the letter.

There was nothing wrong with my apartment in the suburbs, but the money from the sold ranch, if that was my final decision, would certainly help me build the life I wanted for myself.

I didn't quite know what that life was yet, but I did know that wherever my journey took me, having money was a tangible way to secure a future.

Opportunities, I had learned over the years were futile, since they are really just words, relationships usually end and jobs disappear, but money earned can only be given, spent or stolen and I came to the conclusion that if I am safe about where I place my funds, it is truly the only sure thing.

As I began to drive up beside a long driveway I saw an extremely vast clearing, a large house was placed directly in the middle of it. My GPS came to life and told me that I had arrived.

I made preparations to turn into the area and as I did, I smiled and thought; _Is this really what is going to me my next home sweet home?_

It looked large, encompassing and breathtaking, but still, I had some serious doubts about whether this ranch really was for me, or if I was just fooling myself, blinded by the gorgeous appearance.

Chances were, I truly was blinded and I would be smacked with the harsh reality soon enough. Yet, I thought; until the truth is revealed, there is no harm in having a little fun. After all, that is the main reason that I am here.

# Chapter Two

The house that sat at the end of the large, overbearing yard was blocked by a rod-iron gate, bearing my Grandfather's name across the top of it that met my car about a quarter of the way down the long, dusty driveway.

The gate stretched out broadly on either side. I could not see the other side of it, but I wondered if it surrounded the entire property or was basically just a ruse to keep people away.

Regardless of the integrity it held in performing its basic function, I was well aware that I would have no trouble getting in, because the lawyer that I was working with to obtain the deed to this ranch had promised me that the gate would be left opened.

So, I caused the car to stop and got out. As I did so, my movements kicked around the scorched dirt that was the color of the blazing sun which shone down mercilessly from above.

Even though the bright and cheery sight was welcoming, I preferred to watch the blazes devoid of the dust and grime, while within the safety of air conditioning. But if I ever wanted to get inside the property, I knew that I had to get out of the car.

I paused for a moment as I stared through the hazy dust and shielded my eyes with my hand, before I made my way around the car towards the large monstrosity.

Once I was within only a foot of the gate, I looked it up and down critically. I didn't see any handles, which was strange. As I peered closer, I notice that there was just a thick and tightly fitting rim that made up each individual portion of the gate.

At first, I pushed on the two sides, before trying them individually. When none of those ideas worked, I stuck my hands between the bars and clasped around the other side.

Even in the heat of the day, the bars still remained fairly cool. I had not thought about the temperature of them when I first moved to touch them, but now that I had, I was very thankful that the heat had not ingrained itself into the iron enough to make it as sweltering as the rest of my surroundings felt.

With a slight jolt and a quick push, the two doors began to open before me, but not without squeaking and squealing an intense amount.

The sound radiated off of the emptiness, making it dissipate almost as quickly as it started, but nonetheless, the sound made me jump and immediately stop what I was doing, before laughing at myself and pressing on it again.

I probably looked silly, trying my best to pry the gates open, but truthfully, I felt a sense of fear that was increasingly overwhelming. It was almost as though I felt I was doing something that I was not allowed to do.

I felt as though I was trespassing, but that was ridiculous, because I now owned it. Yet, that knowledge somehow could not actually manage to supersede the idea that I wasn't supposed to be here.

However, when I finally got the gate, which seemed to be slightly neglected, to let loose and swing the rest of the way opened, I gazed down at the colossal home that sat, now completely visible at the end of the long, dusty dirt road. Even in my mind, which was proactively anti-country living, if it had to be this way, this is the way I would prefer it.

The large home had the shape and allure of a cabin, but instead of being made out of logs (the only cabin I thought existed), it was reinforced with a tight stone craftsmanship that was outlined by sleek wooden beams. The wraparound porch spilled into large glass doors, while the backdrop of the house appeared to stay true to the wood that trimmed its decadent face.

I stared at it for a long time, thinking that perhaps I did have the wrong house after all. I had never looked the house up, because I did not want to be disappointed, but if I had known that this was what awaited me, I would have been far more eager to see it. A flush of excitement came over me as I returned to my car and happily drove through the opened gate.

As I passed the large, iron structure, I briefly pulled myself away from the gorgeous home to glance at the rear view mirror. When I did that, the opened gate filled my line of vision and I wondered if I should close the gate behind me, but I also did not think that was necessary, considering if for some reason I did feel the need to get away from the house as fast as possible, I didn't want to have to go through the trouble of opening that gate again.

Therefore, for now, I decided to leave it and continued down the long driveway.

For some reason, I had expected the ranch to be empty and so, when I saw a man, whom I had never met, or ever even seen before step out onto the driveway and block my path, I panicked. Immediately, I slammed on the breaks, even though I knew that I was still very far away from him, causing the car to jut to a stop and rock back and forth in one violent motion, before finally coming to a true stop.

The man cocked his head to the side and put his hands on his hips, as though he was trying to figure out why exactly my little red sports car was zooming towards this particular house as though I owned it.

_Little does he know, I do._ I thought, feeling the corners of my lips curl up into a smile, even though I knew that I was slightly frightened of him. I knew that it was a long way back towards civilization and even though western people are supposed to be nice, that didn't mean I was going to trust my life to them.

Still, I figured instead of either running him over or backing up and speeding away, I should try to be polite. So, after my heart began to palpate at a normal rhythm again, after being spooked into racing, I put the car in park and got out.

"Hello..." I said, trying to ignore the fact that this man was sinfully good looking. With a body chiseled like a God and the confidence to show it off through a cut-off shirt and jeans that made his leg muscles bulge out of them invitingly, I immediately felt a sense of warmth being stoked between my legs and my breath began to speed up, "I'm Layla...My Grandfather previously owned this ranch..."

It was all that I could do to even get the words out of my mouth, but even before the torture of having to speak normally had ended; the man smiled and held out his hand, "Oh, Layla! It's great to meet you! I'm Zeb. I have worked on the ranch for about ten years...I knew your Grandfather well." As our hands grasped and shook firmly, he added, "I am very sorry for your loss."

The man's voice was tough, but at the same time, held a certain gentle demeanor about him that I could not help but be attracted to. It wasn't overly noticeable, but his gravely, sexy voice also held a slight twinge of a drawl that made him sound mysterious.

It was a strange voice, like one that you would hear on television, but would never actually guess that someone really had a voice like that in real life. I was very drawn to it and wanted to hear him speak again. Yet, I wasn't sure what else to say. Obviously the guy knew that I never met my Grandfather, but since he seemed to be trying, I answered a simple, "Thank you. I wish I would have gotten to know him before he passed."

Zeb nodded as they broke away, "He was a great man. Honest, kind and a hard worker." He then smiled fondly and genuinely as his eyes rose up to the sky and he added, "There wasn't a soul on earth who knew him and didn't like him."

"So you worked for him a while, did you knew him well?" I asked him, staring into his deep brown eyes. Zeb had very strict facial features, which consorted well with his tight body, but his eyes were playful and soft. Everything about him seemed genuine and I immediately liked that about him. I could tell right away that he was a little bit older than me and normally that was something I tried to stay away from, but even though I tried to ignore the instant attraction I had for him, I could not help but notice the sense of adventure and excitement that he gave off.

"Yes," he answered in a simplistic manner. "Even though I worked with him, your Grandfather was one of the best friends that I ever had the pleasure of knowing." He smiled in a sad way, as though he was overcome with a wave of sadness.

"In that case, I am sorry for your loss as well..." I answered, knowing that it probably sounded better in my head, but it was one of those moments where I was sure that I had to say something and that's just what came rolling out of my mouth. I supposed, after I said it, that it could have been worse, but there probably was something better that could have been said too. I was never good at consoling, or being consoled for that matter.

Yet, whether the comment sounded as I had meant it or oddly out of place, it didn't seem to make much of a difference to Zeb. He flashed those deep brown eyes at me and answered, "Thanks," in a sincere nature that was just as it sounded to be. It was simple and in a strange way, it made me feel better.

We shared a smile before Zeb answered, "I don't know what you want to do...I know you've had a long trip and it's a pretty big ranch, but I would be happy to show you around the property if you want..." He shrugged, "Or I can just help you with your bags and you can explore it yourself."

I could not help the enamored smile that crossed my lips then. Zeb had a sexy, but yet simplistic way of being charming, even when he was just having a normal conversation. It was refreshing when compared to the pickup lines and half-cocked attempts at meaningful conversation that I was used to at home.

Zeb was sweet and he seemed to be genuinely interested in what I had to say. This was certainly new for me, since most of the people I had dated were really only interested in one thing and they had no qualms about showing it.

Fortunately, I could give them what they wanted. I wasn't proud of it, but there was never any real relationship there and that I was proud of. I generally based my love life around a certain lack of love, so that I could never be disappointed and a certain degree of stipulations. He knows what I'm after and I know what he's after and so, there is a standard that we do not deviate from. That way, feelings aren't hurt and when the passion stops, everything else doesn't weigh us down.

However, with Zeb, I had the feeling that if he was going to enter into a relationship, it would be for real. With my track record of royally messing up my life in one form or another, though, it is difficult to say whether I should actually be vying for a real relationship right now. Still, the idea that one might still be possible is tempting. I had not felt that kind of hope in a long time.

"Yes, please," I answered finally, "I would like for you to show me around."

Giving a slight nod and returning my smile, Zeb moves towards the back of my car and began to take the bags out of my trunk. I was certainly not expecting to have this kind of welcome and the sense of chivalry that before I met this man, would have wagered was long dead and hastily buried, only helped to enhance the feeling of warmth that continued to weave its way down my stomach and throughout my womanliness.

"You can park the car down in the garage..." Zeb answered, pointing to an area that looked like a large carport.

I nodded as he took off towards the house and I moved back over to the opened door in order to follow his direction.

As I started the car, I thought about what was going on. I wasn't sure if I could trust Zeb yet. Throughout my life, I had learned the hard way that if something seemed too good to be true, it normally is, and since virtually everything he said and did was exactly as it should be, I wondered if there was another angle that I was too naive to see.

Still, the way he acted made me happy to be around him.

At least I'll have someone around for company and to show me...literally everything. I thought to myself as I easily rolled the car down, towards the car port. If nothing else, I can deal with a little bit of distrust.

When I eased my way into the car port, I peered around. There were many different cars that were all covered up. "Apparently my Grandfather was a collector," I muttered to myself as the thought of _cha-ching_ crossed my mind. I wondered if the cars were really what they appeared to be, or if the reason they were covered was so that they did not fall apart.

I hoped, though, that my Grandfather had a serious hobby instead of a pet-project, because the last thing I wanted to deal with was a whole parking lot of useless scrap metal.

In addition to the manure and the various other unappealing aspects of the ranch which I imagined would be lurking, ready to jump out at me when I least expected it, having to dispose of a heap of useless cars was right in there with my excitement over milking a cow.

Still, when I stopped the car and got out, I could not resist the urge to sneak a peek at what was really under one of those tarps.

The scent of musk and hay filled the air and tiny particles of innumerable ranch excrement filled the air, but I had a strange feeling that there was something far different hidden under the mass of car covers.

I moved over to the first car that my eyes caught sight of. In the sunlit room, it was this particular vehicle which shone brightly out from the rest.

Once I reached the car, I bent my knees ever so slightly, so that I could grasp the corner of the tarp and begin to pull it up, over the corner of the hood.

After grasping a piece of it, I drew the tarp completely back and gazed upon the beautiful baby blue, 1965 Shelby Daytona Cobra Coupe. Even though cars weren't exactly my thing, I knew a nice, expensive classic car when I saw one.

I looked up at the rows of cars that were covered in this garage and the amount of infinite possibilities that this garage held was stunning.

"That right there was your Grandfather's legacy," I heard a voice behind me. I turned around quickly and found that it was Zeb.

I smiled at him as I began to wonder what he must think of me.

# Chapter Three

"Is that so?" I asked, "He certainly had an interesting, expensive hobby..."

"That right there was his baby. The others are nothing compared to that one, but it is still a very nice collection, isn't it?" Zeb asked, moving closer and placing his hands on his hips, admiring the car alongside of her,

"It sure looks like it..." I answered.

"Yep..." he pushed out a sigh and said, "It's yours now, to do what you want with it..."

I pivoted around on my heels to face him and I demanded, "What is that supposed to mean...exactly?"

He snickered, as though he truly hadn't meant for me to take any kind of offense to his comment, "I mean what I said. It's yours. All of it." Zeb shrugged innocently, "That was the will, right? You are to receive the ranch and everything on it?"

I nodded, "That was my understanding, but do people know what he has?"

He shrugged, "Like I said, the other cars are nowhere near this...some of them are probably worthless," he then thought a moment before shaking his head in a slight, quick motion, causing his cowboy hat to shift as he moved, "No. Probably not." Then, he stared back at me and added, "Your Grandfather might have been well-liked, but he was also fairly secretive. There was a lot that I was entrusted with that nobody knew..." He chuckled, "That's how I knew he liked me so much."

At this, I caught Zeb's eye and held it in my gaze for a little while. He stared back at me with purpose, as though he knew I was sizing him up, but although he was not ignorant to what I was doing, he didn't seem to mind it either. He just allowed me to look deeply into his eyes and while I tried not to get lost in the gravity of them, he just stared back at me, trying to disprove my apparently obvious distrust.

Everything about him told me that I was being silly, but my general distrust of people in general made me truly fear that there was a veiled threat lying on his tongue somewhere, just waiting for the moment to strike, when he knew I would be feeling the most vulnerable.

I kept his gaze for a long, drawn out moment and Zeb never broke it. Throughout this time, I thought a lot about what my next move was going to be.

Clearly he was waiting for me to say something; in this strange game that we have begun to play, it was my turn to move.

So finally, when I could not look at him any longer without going absolutely insane with insecurity, I said, "I believe you were just about to show me the rest of the property?"

Without missing a beat, he bore his teeth in a broad, genuine smile while he offered me his arm and said, "Indeed I was. Let's go."

We then walked out of the garage, arm and arm, so that he could not only show me the ranch, but I hoped that he would also begin to teach me what it meant to own a ranch.

First, Zeb took me across the field behind the garage, where he told me that the cows would frequently graze, into the large horse stables. Even I was impressed by the enormity of the animals that were housed there. They were so graceful and beautiful that when I eyed the saddles hanging up on the wall, along with what I imagined to be other types of horse-care products, I almost considered asking Zeb to show me how to ride one.

However, I stopped short of asking, because I knew that while I might usually be up for anything and willing to have an adventure I would never forget, the idea of getting up on a horse and allowing it to have that much power over me was something that I couldn't quite allow just yet.

Yet, their magnificence was still astounding to me. I had never seen horses so large, or adorned with such healthy, silky coats.

"They miss him quite a bit..." Zeb said as he stared at one of the horses before reaching out and petting it gingerly.

His firm, virile hands looked almost out of place, stroking the horse as he did, with such care and grace. It was an odd, but intriguing sight, one which I yearned to see more of from him.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

Zeb shrugged, "I have noticed that in the past week or so, they have begun to realize that your Grandfather isn't coming back and I have noticed a change in them." As he stroked the horse, he looked it in the eyes and added sympathetically, "Poor thing."

Zeb then released the horse and went over to the wall. "They've become stressed and when they are stressed, they need extra care."

"Are they sick?" I inquired as a pang of hurt for them rose up in my chest.

Zeb quickly shook his head before he turned to grab something that resembled a brush off of the wall. "No, they're not sick. It's almost like they are in mourning. They were used to him seeing them every day, caring for them, riding them..."

As he turned back and started again towards the horse, I laughed out loud at the thought of an old man riding a horse. "Riding? Seriously?"

Zeb, having seen it with his own eyes did not find the humor in my statement. He answered with full sincerity, "Yeah, he rode horses right up until the day he died." With that, Zeb began to brush the horse that he was previously petting in a mild, skillful manner.

Not sure what to do with my hands after feeling slightly flushed from embarrassment after he did not share in the thought of being entertained by the sight, I stuffed my arms across the front of my body and leaned heavily against a wooden post, hoping that there was no excrement around it.

I didn't want to get too personal, but it did seem like the two of them were all alone out here and so I was curious about how he fit into the equation. He wasn't related, because if he were, he would have gotten a really raw end of the deal, since I was supposed to be the sole heir, but he was stuck with taking care of everything.

Yet, he did seem to not only know a lot about my late Grandfather, but he also truly seemed to care about the ranch, so I wanted to know where all of his passion was grounded. Therefore, I asked him, "So, how did you end up here? Are you the only one who works here...Do you _work_ here?"

Zeb nodded and began to answer, "First of all, yes, I work here. I was your Grandfather's ranch hand and I am the only one who works here. As I told you earlier, your Grandfather likes his privacy."

"Did he realize that he was too old to run the ranch himself one day and decide to hire you?" I asked, trying not to make it sound as condescending as I supposed it sounded.

He chucked, showing that perfect toothy grin again and answered, "Kind of," while he focused on stroking the horse with the brush. "I wasn't some renowned ranch hand or anything like that. I actually just got the job purely by luck. I had just turned eighteen and I wanted to strike out on my own. Soon, I realized what a cold place the world could be and that was when your Grandfather took me in and showed me how to run the ranch." He shrugged, as though becoming consumed in the memory before saying, "He really took a chance on me. I came upon the ranch, asked for help and said I was willing to work, so Jack made sure I was taken care of." Zeb's voice trailed off into the memory after that for a moment, but came back when he assured, "Your Grandfather was a good man..." He then looked behind him at me and said, "He had always wished he could meet you."

I felt myself begin to blush slightly as Zeb's eyes rested easily on my own and a soft smile crossed his lips.

"Thanks," I whispered, ducking my eyes out of his grasp.

Zeb didn't seem to mind though, he just continued with his story, "It was because of your Grandfather's feelings, the amount which he wanted to meet you, that it is an even greater pleasure to be meeting you now and showing you around the place that was his sanctuary."

I would like to believe him, but as he spoke, I thought of all the attempts I had made to find and contact him and I just couldn't see how we could be talking about the same man. Granted, I never felt as though I was being ignored by my Grandfather, per say. I just always came to the same conclusion that he didn't want to be found, because as hard as I tried, I never seemed to make any headway in the right direction. So, I stiffened my posture and cocked my head, giving him a slight, but present attitude as I countered, "Then why, if he wanted to meet me so badly, didn't he reach out to me? You make it sound like he knew everything about me, so he should have known about all the strange and completely terrible things that happened to me throughout my life..."

As I spoke, Zeb nodded and when I paused he answered, "He did...and I know that he was so sorry for that; your parents, your job...I'm sorry also. It is terrible."

"Then why didn't he at least try to reach out to me?" I demanded, harsher than I meant for it to come out.

Zeb shrugged and blatantly explained, "It was mostly fear that kept him away."

I could not help the look of confusion that crossed my face as I peered back at him. _Fear?_ I thought. _Fear of what?_

For once, it seemed as though Zeb felt as though he was under attack. He backed up a little and pulled his shoulders up by his ears before he replied, "Honestly, he didn't want to impose on your life in any way. He told me once that he felt if he reached out to you and tried to force his way into your life that he would be a major imposition and that would never be able to recover if you rejected him."

Once again, I laughed out loud, "Seriously?" I demanded, "I searched for him and the only conclusion that I ever came up with was that he didn't want to be found."

I tried my best not to, but at the memory, I felt myself begin to tear up. Talking about my parents, with someone who apparently knows what happened and the whole terrible subject of death and failure, specifically my failure to make anything of myself that I could really be proud of was just so overwhelming that I couldn't stand it.

Zeb's shoulders lowered slightly and he stepped towards me. He carefully placed the brush that was still strapped over his hand on the wooden table that was next to him and he continued to move towards me. "I'm sorry..." He said as he lightly pressed his cupped hands over my shoulders. "I really don't think that Jack ever knew, because I know if he had, he would have been eager to meet you in return." He sighed, staring deliberately back into my eyes, "In fact, the last few years of his life, if he spoke of anyone, he was usually speaking of you."

The warmth from the touch and knowledge that his hands were on me made a tingly sensation arise as a mixture of being choked up and slightly aroused by the electricity I experienced. The sensation flowed freely through the place where he was touching me and I felt my heart begin to patter excitedly.

I turned my gaze over to his hand and noticed that my shoulder looked so little inside his manly hands; however the feeling didn't come across as wrong, even though we had just met. In fact, with the amount that Zeb knew about me, I would wager that he knew more about me before I had even officially met him than all of the men I had dated knew about me.

I liked it that way, because like with most things in my life, I tried to limit disappointment, since I had experienced so much of it in my life already. Therefore, I wasn't about to open up to every man who I went out with; it was a stipulation of mine that I held to with almost a religious conviction. None of my relationships were personal. However, this, felt increasingly personal and I wasn't sure if I liked it or if I wanted to bring up the option to get in my car and bolt out of this place.

Truth be told, I had only known this man a few hours and I knew next to nothing about him, but he seemed to know a lot about me and I wasn't sure I was comfortable with that. Even if his reasoning for knowing so much about me was completely legitimate and as genuine as it seemed, the emotions that I was beginning to feel with him close to me were ones that I was fairly certain I shouldn't be having...

Still, I wanted them. I wanted them so badly and I knew that if I stayed like this much longer, I wouldn't be able to resist him.

Being that I was caught at this crossroad, between wanting him and wanting to run the other way, at first, I simply stared back into his eyes and was unable to say a word. I didn't know what to think or how to react so, I just stood, frozen and still, wishing that he would stop touching me, but also wanting to encourage him to touch me more.

I felt so absolutely fickle that I was beginning to feel short of breath, like the world around me, although actually, perfectly quiet was blaring and screaming at me.

There seemed to be just too much going on around me. I needed to make it stop. Then, with the passing of time, which I now suppose was a fairly long, awkward moment for Zeb I watched his stare turn from that of concern into one of confusion.

I then heard his voice in my ears, "Layla? Are you okay?" I felt his hands then squeeze my shoulders as he carefully rocked me back and forth, while he tried to get my attention.

When he did this, I felt a sense of pure panic rush over me and I felt like everything was coming in at once. I just couldn't handle the pressure anymore. "Yeah..." I answered blankly and then shook my entire body, "I mean no..."

I then broke out of his grasp and turned around. Before I really knew what I was doing, I was heading for the door, "I'm sorry...I'm not okay." I called back to him, "I can't do this..." I explained as I felt the sun hit my face, "It's just too much!"

# Chapter Four

I ran out to another one of the countless fields and began to feel sick with the overabundance of green. When I stopped running, I sucked in some fresh breaths of air and closed my eyes, tilting my head up, so that I could try to calm myself quicker. I turned my neck from side to side very slowly, until I began to see swirling circles beginning to cloud my vision.

When this happened, I bent back over and concentrated on my breathing, but I didn't dare to open my eyes.

I knew that if I saw one more blade of grass or smelt one more whiff of hay or manure, I would become violently ill and since I would rather die than throw up, I was resolved to keep my eyes closed for as long as I needed to.

Soon though, I heard Zeb running up behind me. Hearing him running, there was a large part of me that wanted to chance vomiting to get a glimpse of his robust, tightly wound rope of muscle that encased his body, but at the last minute, I decided that the glorious view was not quite worth the risk of embarrassing myself any further.

When he grew close to me, I realized that he did not touch me again. He simply stopped and sighed, "What's the matter?"

"I can't do this," I exclaimed, trying my best to continue breathing deeply, "I have to go home." At this, my eyes popped opened and I realized that I should have gone with the view of him. Even though my crazed brain thought I would be sick at the sight of the farm, I really wasn't and that knowledge helped me to relax a little bit.

"What do you mean you can't do this, Layla? Can't do what?" Zeb cocked his head to the side and he stared at me with those deep, dark eyes penetrating my soul. I could not help being drawn to those eyes inherently and wanting to know more about the secrets that those inviting windows held.

Zeb seemed like a very nice man, but that was precisely why I was fairly certain things would not work out well for either of us.

"I'm sorry," I exclaimed, "I can't do this whole ranch thing. I mean, the cars are nice and the house is gorgeous, but I'm not that kind of person, Zeb." As the truth spilled out of me, my heart began to speed up and my breath grew slightly choppy while my stomach began to churn, "Instead of feeling like I was given a house and property, out here, I feel like I had a house and property dropped on me and it's all I can do to wriggle out from underneath it's weight."

Zeb listened intently and when I was finished, he nodded patiently and asked, "Well, then what kind of person are you, Layla?"

At this, my words became caught in my throat and I stammered to find a reasonable answer that he would accept, which would explain the kind of person I was, but the only answers that I could come up with, was that of the person I aspired to be, not the person I was.

I wanted to be successful and I wanted to have a man that loved me. I wanted to have a family that was happy and close, just like the one that was taken away from me at eighteen. I wanted to have a sense of purpose and real, attainable goals that I could not only work towards, but also accomplish. I wanted to be my own person, not this shell of an individual, trying to vie for approval in any form I could get it.

Ultimately, I wanted to feel like I belonged somewhere and being out here, among a man who I sensed was nothing like anyone I had ever met before, in a place where I would have thought a month ago I would not be caught dead, made me realize that.

However, I wasn't at a place in my life to want to change or have a better life dangled in front of me, because I knew from experience that it wouldn't work out. Nothing seemed to work out for me and therefore, this all seemed to be just too convenient.

I didn't say any of this to Zeb though. I just sighed and looked away from those pools of truth he seemed to like to use as a weapon against me. In his eyes and through our conversations I not only began to reevaluate my choices in life, but I also had to reevaluate the essence of the forces that made me that way.

It wasn't that I felt the world owed me anything, but rather it was just a never-ending pattern that has haunted me since the moment I became an adult.

I would land myself in a good situation, where I begin to be comfortable, happy and positive about the future and then, something will happen to tear that all away from me. It was just how life seemed to work for me and I was really sick of it. So now that the seemingly impossible happened, with Zeb as the cherry on top, I thought that if I turned my back on it, before fate had a chance to turn its back on me, kicking me to the ground in the process, I would save myself some heartache.

Right now, I still had my job back east and my apartment, as small and unassuming as it was. I had my goals, as minor as they were and I had my life, as meaningless as it was beginning to seem.

I knew from experience if I gave all of that up and ended up being happy, I would certainly crash and burn. That was just the reality of my existence. It wasn't fun, but that's just the way I learned to survive.

Zeb waited a long time for my response, but when he finally learned that it was not going to come, he tilted his head in the direction of my dismissive glance and added, "Forgive me if I seem like I am overstepping my boundaries, but do you want to know what I see?"

I tried to avoid his line of sight, but soon enough, my eyes betrayed me and I found myself glancing back at him and once again getting trapped within his stare. I didn't respond verbally, but my treasonous curiosity told Zeb all that he needed to know.

"I see a woman who is afraid to be herself, for fear that the world is going to come crashing down around her again," he answered.

I glared at him and opened my mouth to tell him how wrong he was, but his soft, inviting voice continued, catching me even more off guard.

"I see a lot of potential in you, Layla. I see a bright, shining spirit, just waiting to find the right situation, or the right outlet through which to shine," He paused to smile at me and I felt like blushing. I never was all that good at compliments. I tried to break the connection we had, but he shifted just as quickly as I did.

"You are absolutely beautiful Layla and...I don't think you allow yourself to accept that...I think that your Grandfather would have loved you."

"Thanks," I answered.

My voice came across as flat and stiff in response to such a kind and, from what I could tell, sincere observation. I could not argue with him, but I still could not express to him how right he truly was about me and therefore, I just stopped short with my comment, while trying to remain as polite as I could.

He laughed out loud and answered, "It's just my thoughts, Layla. You can take from it what you will, but can I ask just one thing of you?"

I shrugged.

"For whatever the reason may be, it took a death to get you here," His eyes bared heavily into my own as he continued, "Please...give the ranch a shot. Stay a week. If you don't like it, then you can do whatever you want and I won't stop you, but this place has been my home for so long, I just want a chance to show you what I see when I look at it, because I think that will make a big difference when you make your ultimate decision."

I sighed and looked around the ranch. I could see the parts of the ranch that he probably really enjoyed, but the one thing that Zeb obviously didn't understands is that despite my protest, I had already surprised myself by coming to the realization that I probably could really like it here; especially if Zeb turned out to really be the kind of man he was good at portraying.

While Zeb thought that I was being scared away, the real reason that I wanted to hit that country road and speed out of here was so that I would not get attached, only to have it all fall apart.

Still, with the way he was looking at me and the extent to which, deep down, I actually wanted to stay, I could not help but want to give his bargain a chance. I glared at him with a careful, meticulous look as I replied, "So, let me get this straight, after a week, if I walk off of this ranch and sell every bit of property and relic on it, you won't fight me?"

He shook his head, "I will even make sure that everything is up to par and ready to be shown, but that also means that you have to be willing to learn and give life here a chance. Just because it's different doesn't mean that it isn't for you. All I ask is that you try your best."

"Well, that's very middle-school teacher of you," I answered with a smirk, "But you have yourself a deal!"

At this, his smile brightened and he reached out his hand.

"Really?" I asked, gazing down at it in a teasingly condescending way. "Should I call up a lawyer and draw up the agreement too?"

"You're in the country now, ma'am," He answered, his slow drawl thickening as he spoke, I supposed to illustrate his point, "If you look a man in the eye and shake his hand, that is just as ironclad as having any lawyer."

"Is that right?"

"It's a matter of pride and integrity," He answered, "Something that is severely missing throughout the world right now and we here in the country are inclined to keep it alive as best as we can."

I giggled at him and tried to match his voice in my best southern drawl as I grasped his hand and also attempted to mimic his solid handshake, "Alright then, Sir. You've got yourself a deal!"

As he shook my hand firmly, he also shook his head.

"No..." He answered.

"No, what?" I asked with a smile crossing my lips as our hands broke apart.

"Just...Don't do that...Ever again...You're voice is fine. Wonderful in fact...your accent is hard enough to understand."

At this I outright laughed, "Wow, you sure know how to give a left-handed compliment...And what do you mean, my accent? I don't have an accent."

"Just...trust me," He assured dryly, "You do and everyone will ask you about it, no matter how thick their own accent is, so go with it, okay?"

I rolled my eyes at him, "Yeah, I'm gonna be asked by all three people that we meet within the scope of a day's drive. I assure you, that won't bother me. I'll survive."

He shrugged, "I don't know, there's a country fair coming up...you might see the six out-of-towners that come to the area for that." He sneered.

I made a large motion with my head, as though acknowledging the severity of _so many_ people, before I made a face and tried to be serious as I said, "Well, in that case, you better just lock me up in the attic right now, because that is just too much."

He snickered before he grasped my hand and said, "Come on! I want to show you my favorite part of the ranch!"

"Oh, yeah?" I asked as he began to pull me back towards the ranch, "What part is that?"

"Hurry up and you'll see!" He answered as he began to move quicker.

The two of us moved quickly towards the rapidly dipping sunset. As we approached the back of the ranch, I watched colors shoot across the sky as though the cloudless horizon was putting on a show just for us.

I had not paid attention to the sky as I made my way here, never imagining that it could be so different than what I was used to at home. However, the exotic azure now captivated my vision as Zeb pulled me deeper into the wide mouth of grassy fields that made up the ranch.

We passed by cows who were still grazing in the fields as though this was normal and chickens that were going into their pen without a care for the beauty that surrounded.

We reached a high hill towards the back of the ranch. Zeb stopped there and beamed, his dark eyes now hidden by the shadow of the impending night.

We watched as the large sun made its way down, behind the silhouette of the mountainside in the distance, streaming the rays of purples, pinks and oranges across the horizon like fireworks, until finally, the darkness of night began to seep through the colors and dribble downwards and across our scope of vision.

I could not take my eyes off of the scene until the colors had made their way past us as the daylight quickly gave way to what appeared to be countless stars glimmering against the colorful canvas of the western sunset.

Neither one of us spoke until after the darkness had consumed the light completely.

"There's nothing like it," Zeb mused, sighing and shrugging his shoulders, without taking his eyes off of the horizon.

I turned to face him when he spoke, taking in the fortitude of his appearance. With his cowboy hat, ripped shirt, faded jeans and weathered boots, made up a profile that fit this scene perfectly. The only thing that seemed to be missing was a noble steed, but that could easily be remedied, since that horse back at the barn seemed to be extremely taken with him.

Once I looked at him, I could not take my eyes off of him. He had a certain stature about him that I just could not get enough of. Everything about him, the way he looked at me, the way he spoke to me and even the way he knew me, which made everything a lot less awkward, albeit a lot more complicated, helped to propel my attraction to him. I then realized with a slight simper that even his shadow was attractive!

The tightness and the stark pronunciation of his facial features and well-developed body were readily apparent, even in the darkness.

After a moment though, he felt my eyes on him and he turned to me with a boyish grin before asking, "What is it? Something wrong?"

"No..." I answered quickly, which made it come out sounding far more seductive than I intended it to. Trying to save myself, I added, "It's just..." My mind then drew a blank and all I could think about was probably far worse than if I had not said anything at all. Still, by the time my brain caught up with my crazed emotions, it was too late, "You..."

Although his face was shadowed and he made no real noise to prove this, I could tell that he was laughing as he said, "Just me, huh?"

So, I decided to go with it and for once, see where it would lead, "Yeah..." I answered, allowing the heavy connotation that drizzled through my voice to remain unbridled, "Just you..."

# Chapter Five

At first, I thought that Zeb was going to make a move, but to my disappointment, he just sighed and answered, "Well, I guess it's time for us to get heading in...We have an early morning." He turned and began to walk towards the house calling back to me, "I have to show you to your room. I think you're really going to like it."

"Wait!" I answered him as I came up on his heels, "How early are we talking?"

He snickered and answered, "This is a ranch, not the Best Western, every morning from here on out is going to be early for you."

"How early?" I asked, not bothering to curb the testiness in my voice.

He shook his head, "Well, don't worry about setting an alarm or anything. The rooster will wake you up..."

"Funny..." I answered, but noted with a bit of disappointment that Zeb didn't laugh.

He just led me back to the house and I followed him, careful not to lose him. It looked like a big house and I certainly did not want to make a fool of myself by getting lost.

When we walked in, the house was dark, but Zeb seemed to be able to go through the house as though it was his own; I supposed that even though I held the deed, for as long as he has been here, it technically was more his home than mine at this point.

We walked down the hall and made our way to the first door on the right. Zeb opened it for me and lead the way. I followed eager to see what the room looked like.

The first look certainly did not disappoint. The room was both elegant and simplistic at the same time. The rustic look, overarching a very comfortable bed gave the room a homey sense of completeness.

"This is your room," Zeb said, before pointing over to the corner of the room, which exposed a doorway that was lined with the same color wood that ran around the outside of the home, "And there's your bathroom. I'll be just down the hall if you need me."

I nodded and smiled at him. He turned to leave, but I couldn't resist grasping his hand and pulling him back, towards me. When Zeb returned to face me, I said, "Thank you. I really appreciate you showing me around and I am sorry if I seem a little spastic. This is just a lot for me to take in." As he nodded, understandingly, I added, "And thank you for making me stay. There is no one alive today who has ever put up a fight when I wanted to leave and it felt...good."

After I said it, I immediately felt my cheeks redden.

"I'm sorry..." I answered, "I swear, I'm usually not this crazy. I just...that came out wrong..."

Zeb chuckled and caught my gaze in his eyes before he answered, "It's okay. I get it. It is a lot to take in and you probably don't trust me..."

"No," I assured, but then felt as though if I wanted him to trust me, I couldn't very well lie and so, I answered, "Okay, yes. I don't, but I'm sorry. It's...complicated."

"It's okay..." He said again and started to walk out, "There should be fresh towels in there, but I don't know what else you need. After all, I'm a ranch hand, not a housemaid, so just let me know what you need and I'll get it for you."

"Thanks!" I exclaimed as he walked out.

When I was left alone in the room, I closed the door behind me and took a look around. I eyed my bags set neatly in the corner opposite the bathroom and then my gaze passed to the bed.

_I wonder if it's as comfy as it looks..._ I thought as I traveled over to it. With the thought of sleep, the drowsiness of the trip finally came upon me in a rampant wave and instantly, it seemed to be all I could do to make it to the bed. When I flopped down on it, I sank just enough and almost fell asleep right there.

However, I really wanted to get up so that I could change my clothes and get out of the clothes that now felt scuzzy after wearing them all day.

A few days on the road can make you feel like a dirty old rag. It took all of my remaining effort to roll out of the large, elevated bed. When my feet hit the floor I instantly felt a cramp shoot through my leg. Still, I focused on getting to my clothes, because that was literally the most important thing to me at that immediate moment.

After getting dressed and moving my leg around, the pain had dulled to a minor throb, which I was able to easily ignore. Almost instantly, I fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

***

Zeb was serious about that rooster. At 5:03AM, the rooster crowed outside my window so loudly that I thought he was going to burst my eardrum. I jumped up, out of the bed with surprise and landed quite roughly on the floor. I grumbled and swore under my breath before getting back up and shaking myself off. I huffed angrily, just as I heard a knock at the door.

Zeb tried to hide his chuckles as he asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine!" I grumbled.

"That's Carlton...He takes some major getting used to," Zeb answered and then added, "Breakfast in ten minutes, okay?"

At the mention of breakfast much like the mention of sleep had aroused my senses the night before, my stomach started to growl. "Sure," I answered, "Thanks!"

Within moments of Zeb walking past my door I began to smell the coffee.

When I came out, fully dressed, but without much else going for my appearance, I sat down at the table and Zeb put a steaming hot plate in front of me.

I recognized three out of the four items that were in front of me. There were eggs, bacon and coffee, but when I looked at the last steaming bowl of what looked like mushy rice and butter, I could not quite place it, but I wasn't sure I wanted to.

"What is that?" I asked, trying not to sound as grossed out as I felt.

"Grits?" He answered as though he wasn't sure how I possibly didn't know that; while he placed his own plate on the table and sat down to eat. Poking a fork at my plate, he added in a condescending tone, "And those are eggs, they come from a chicken...that is bacon, from the magical beast, the pig, and..."

I laughed as I swatted his fork away and answered, "I know what that is! Give me a break..." Then, I stopped short of my own accord before saying, "The magical beast? Really? Magical?"

He laughed, "Why not? It makes like...everything for every meal imaginable and tastes amazing. I don't know about you, but I think that's a pretty magical beast to me."

I just continued to giggle, not really wanting to think about the link between the bacon on my plate and the large animal that was currently rolling in mud outside of the door.

Instead, I just poked the eggs with my fork until they began to bleed through. As the yellow yoke seeped onto the plate, surrounding half of it, I began to eat it with earnest. I knew that it was loaded with seasoning, but it was so delicious that I could not help but take delight in every single bite.

After eyeing me and watching as I took a few more bites, he asked, "How does it taste?"

I nodded and answered, "It's great! Best I have ever had."

He snickered, "Awe, I bet you say that to all of the ranch hands who make you breakfast."

I shrugged and replied with probably a little bit too much honesty, "Actually, you are one of the few men that have ever made me breakfast. I usually make it or we go out..."

"You can cook?" He asked, glancing up at me with almost a hopeful expression.

"Yes?" I answered him, not sure where this was going.

"Do you like to cook?"

"Yes..." I replied, "Would you like me to make dinner?"

He shrugged, "If you want to."

I nodded, "I think I can do that."

"Nice..." He replied and then the two of us finished our breakfast in silence.

I gathered the dishes and as I did so, I asked with as much excitement as I could muster, "What are we going to do today?"

He took a deep breath and smiled knowingly as he released it inside of a laugh, "Oh, today is going to be quite interesting." He answered.

"Is that so?" I asked.

"Oh yes," he replied as he pushed himself away from the table and made his way over to the door, while I walked to the sink and began to load the dishwasher.

"I think today will be a day that you will not soon forget.

I smiled at him and answered, "I really like those kind of days."

"Then you are going to have a blast!" He moved quickly over to me and grabbed my hand, "Come on!"

Zeb lead me through the field, back to the barn, insisting that he promised to start me off slowly with teaching me so that I could not only have fun, but gain some confidence in my ranching ability.

While we walked back towards the horse farm, I watched him move, swiftly and stoically. With this hand grasped in mine, I could feel the tingling sensation of attraction return. I wondered if he felt it too, because the guys that I had known would have already made a move if they were so inclined, but Zeb seemed to be content with his mentor role.

In a way, it was nice, since the last thing I needed was unwanted attention. It would be really annoying to have to juggle a relationship in addition to trying to figure everything else in my life out. I couldn't have him pawing at me while I was trying to learn the ropes of the ranch, or exhausted from a hard day's work, so in a way, I was pleased that he had not come on to me.

It wasn't like I thought of myself as overly desirable or anything, but from the prickling sensation that I felt every time we touched and the knot that formed in my stomach every time his eyes rested on mine with that intense, pragmatic, yet insanely sexy look, that deep down, I hoped that he reserved just for me, I wondered if he felt the same intense heated emotion that was coursing through my veins.

Almost everything he did, I was attracted to. However, reversely, perhaps he was really trying to make me feel attracted to him through everything he did and I just wasn't getting the hint? However, in my mind, he was being helpful and perhaps a little overly hospitable, but in the cope of keeping my head on straight throughout this ordeal, I realized that he did want me to end up liking the ranch instead of selling it.

Even though I hadn't actually said the words, the connotation was heavy in the air between us at all times and when he practically begged me to stay the night before that proved what his ultimate intentions were.

It wasn't like I didn't understand. If that was his reason for being such a gentleman, than there would be no hard feelings, but it would prove that he was just like every other man I had ever met.

Zeb seemed so different than the people that I knew back home and I could really see us quickly becoming close. He definitely seemed genuine. Therefore, to find out he wasn't was going to take a lot of getting used to and since he put himself so far above any standard I had ever dreamed of setting, I would probably never forgive him if everything he was doing was just to get his way, because that would go against the fundamental essence of who he portrayed himself to be and that was unforgivable to me.

Granted, I knew that was probably on me and I recognized that, but because he made me get my hopes up, that there were really good, decent men left in this world, only to personally destroy that hope would be a blow that would knock me further back than I have ever been.

Still, I wasn't like I haven't hit rock bottom before, but opening my heart to someone who seems to good to be true was not usually something I was willing to do; but the more time I spent with Zeb, the more I realized that I was willing to do that for him.

When we reached the horse barn, he brought out the horse from yesterday.

The horse seemed pleased to be getting to go outside and she didn't seem to mind the saddle and reins.

"This is Sally," Zeb answered, petting the horse gently, "She is the calmest horse on the ranch, great for beginners."

"Beginners of what?" I asked, even though I knew what he was talking about and tried to stop myself from saying it, but I couldn't help it.

The words just slipped out, from between my lips, but I was sure it was fueled by my fear and angst about what I was about to do. Yesterday, when I had almost asked Zeb if we could ride a horse, there was a reason that I stopped. In theory, that seemed like a great idea, but now that I was actually faced with the answer and encouragement of him wanting me to get on that horse, I felt my stomach begin to churn and not in the fun way that it did when I was close to him. This was pure and honest fear that encased my thought process, freezing it and disallowing my brain to filter stupid questions before they were asked.

He quipped in the form of a short chortle before he answered, "Riding a horse is one of the fundamental parts of ranching. If you can't do that, you can't do anything."

I nodded and took a deep breath, but I wasn't sure that I was actually going to go through with this. I began to seriously doubt my abilities to do any of this and while I had tried to convince myself that there was a way that I could find my sense of self, looming within the gates of this ranch, I now returned to the idea that this whole situation was laughable.

_Me...Ride a horse....On a ranch?_ I thought, knowing that it was probably something that people back home would pay money to see and I was seriously contemplating doing this for Zeb just to prove I could.

# Chapter Six

I stayed silent for a long time. I didn't mean to, but it just happened. Inside my head was so full of thoughts, fears and worries that I had no concept of how quiet I was being on the outside.

The smell of the horse barn was not helping the sour stomach I was developing, although the full-grown horse I was supposed to ride and the best, probably greasiest breakfast I have ever had the pleasure of consuming was also sitting in the pit of my stomach, stopping up my insides like a cork likely wasn't helping either.

I must have looked fairly pale, because after a time, the span of which, I haven't the faintest clue, Zeb spoke up again. I heard his voice faintly, through all of the thoughts and the fears and the grease, "Are you alright, Layla? I promise it won't be as bad as you think."

With a quick surge of electricity shooting through my shoulder, I peered over with eyes that were probably wide and protruding and glanced at his hand now residing on my shoulder. I smiled at him. Well, really it wasn't so much of a smile, as it was more of my lips parting while looking in his direction while my face tried not to fall apart from the gap that was now spread across the front of it. Not wanting to make him think that I was a total coward, I tried my best to look as though I was really doing okay, but the fact of the matter was that I was freaking out inside. I would not have been surprised if I was outwardly shaking, but the tremors inside of my body were so violent at the moment, that I couldn't tell.

"I'm okay," I answered in an attempt to be reassuring, but instead, the words came out dead and decayed, as though I had already met my fate and was speaking to him from beyond the grave.

In truth, I wasn't sure if I feared death from that horse or not, but I really didn't know what to expect, which made me all the more leery.

Zeb tilted his head and looked at me with a sense of encouragement and understanding, "Okay, well, if you're not ready for this, just let me know. I mean, we can do something different, but I know once you start, you're going to have fun." He thought for a moment before he asked, "Do you want to get on the horse with me, maybe, so you can see how it feels?"

I nodded, but my head was so out of control that I honestly felt as though I wasn't completely sure if I had just thought about nodding, or if I had actually completed the task outside of my mind until Zeb took my hand and pulled me closer to the horse.

He then released my hand and said, "Watch me," before instructing me to hold onto the horse, put my foot in the strange pedal looking thing, apparently referred to a stirrup and then, lifting my alternate leg up, over the horse and around to the other side.

Even through stopping to give me directions, Zeb's movements were fluid and hasty, as the muscles tensed and rippled through him as he moved, making me feel yet another dangerous pang of attraction for him.

Once he was up on the horse, Zeb slid forward so that I could have room to get on the horse with him before he reached down and stretched out his hand invitingly.

I laughed nervously and curled my hand back in an awkward way as my fear caused me to coil away from him.

He chuckled and answered, "It's okay. I promise." Then, after a moment, he asked, "Do you trust me?"

Hmm... I thought. I don't know. Do I?

Trust was such a difficult concept for me at that time and I realized it, but at the same time, there wasn't much I felt that I could do about it. My issues with trust had harbored and festered in my mind for years, but this man just seemed to take trust for granted. I knew that he trusted me, to some degree and I also knew that part of the reason he asked for my trust, was because he knew that I did not have any for him.

That wasn't my fault, I didn't think, but it definitely wasn't helping me any.

Still, seeing his hand, stretched out before me, like a lifeline that I never knew actually existed was something that I was sure, if I clung onto it, I would be taking a major risk. Asking me to trust him went far beyond the scope of trusting him not to kill me on this horse; it was everything. If I trusted him now, I would be assuming trust of him for the ranch, my capabilities, or lack thereof concerning my ranching duties and possibly, my own heart.

I was assured of this, even though I had no real proof that he felt the same way, when I felt my heart flutter at the thought of grasping his outstretched hand.

After a moment of contemplation though, I grasped his hand firmly and allowed him to help me climb up, onto the horse.

The massive animal remained perfectly still as I scrambled to get on it with absolutely none of the ease and agility that Zeb had expressed.

Once I finally had my body over the horse and was ready to sit up, or at least I thought I was, I moved to curb my arms around Zeb, but stopped short.

He looked back at me and shot me a look that I wasn't even sure he knew that he had and nodded at my arms, which were formed as though I was about to give him a bear hug.

"It's okay..." He urged, "You're right. Hold onto me...However you're comfortable."

Given the permission, I wrapped my arms around him tightly and clung to his body with a sense of urgency.

As my body pressed against his, I felt the muscles of his back that had teased me every time I looked at him ripple under my breasts as he shifted into a comfortable riding position and I felt a sense of arousal encase me. For a moment, feeling his warmth against my body as my womanliness cozied up to the back of him, so that I could be close to him in order to feel more secure and I felt a now familiar flutter in my stomach, I actually forgot I was on a horse.

I squeezed firmly, not because I was scared, but because I was overcome with the urge to be close to him. As I hugged him, a scent of pure virility seeped out of him and surrounded me. As I inhaled his musk, I noted that despite his occupation, he had a weathered, but fresh aroma. I wasn't sure what I was expecting exactly, but whatever it was, it certainly was not what entered into my nostrils now.

"Are you alright?" He asked me, glancing back.

"Yes..." I answered, but then wished that I hadn't, because his voice had brought me back to reality, which reminded me that instead of on a picnic out in the grassy field, about to kiss that inviting mouth, I was on top of a horse, God knows how high off of the ground, clinging to the man for fear of falling off and breaking my neck.

This realization made me want to scream.

Still, I managed to remain calm. I took a deep breath and released it slowly and then assured once again, "I'm good. Let's get this over with."

"Okay..." Zeb answered, "I'll start off slow." He then clicked his tongue against his teeth in order to make a commanding sound, before quickly jabbing his feet into the horse, so that it knew to go forward.

As the horse took off, I asked, "Doesn't that hurt?"

He shook his head, "Not if you do it right. Horses are strong animals. They are also very smart and if taken care of properly, they can be some of the best companions."

I had spoken to focus on something other than the moving horse underneath me, but now that I was devoid of any other distractions, I could not help but feel a sense of intense fear. I tried not to let the idea of being up so high while moving so fast make me nervous, but it was little use. I felt my heart speed up and my eyes grow wide as I tightened my grip on Zeb.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"Why are we going so fast?"

At this, he laughed aloud, "If we were going any slower, Layla, we would be stopped."

I laughed too, but it was far more out of nervousness than virtually any actual humor. "Of course we would..." I droned and rolled my eyes.

However, I managed to make it out of the horse stables while it was walking. Then, Zeb gave another command to the horse, so that it sped up to a trot.

I groaned and bit my lip, but otherwise managed to keep from freaking out.

After a moment, Zeb said, "Are you ready to go faster?"

"No..." I answered, but he apparently ignored me, because I felt the wind change as the horse sped up. "I said no!" I screamed.

"Sorry..." He answered, but did not make any effort to slow down the horse, "Are you okay?"

After gauging my sense of fear, I managed to nod, even though I knew he couldn't see me and I replied, "Well, I'm still hanging on, aren't I?"

"Well, then make sure to keep your grip," He said.

"Why?"

However, no sooner did I say that, I felt him kick the horse and give the command for the horse to increase its speed from a cantor to a gallop.

I knew I shouldn't have asked, I probably should have kept my mouth shut, but feeling the now dramatic change in speed, I screamed.

"Shhh!" Zeb said, "You're going to scare the horse..."

"Well, she's scaring me!" I declared angrily, "Slow down please..."

"Just enjoy it, she wants to run," He answered.

"I don't..." I insisted. Yet again though, I was ignored. The horse continued to make her way around the field and I continued to hang on to Zeb, fearing for my life.

I tried closing my eyes, but the quick motion, without the benefit of knowing where we were going did not help my anxiety, so I allowed my eyes to pop back opened and when they did, I started to get used to the continual beat of the horse. Even though we were going fast, there was a specific sense of grace that the horse maintained which only increased its beauty.

My heart was still pounding and my stomach felt like it was in my throat, as though I was going to throw up, but for a moment, I was able to take in the wonder of where I was and what I was doing, without wanting to be anywhere else on the planet.

However, then he turned and I clasped onto both Zeb and the horse like I was about to be thrown, even though I didn't move.

"How are you doing?" Zeb called.

"What do you care?" I grumbled.

He laughed.

After the turn, though, once we began to go straight again, I felt my muscles loosen as I focused on the scenery.

The sun had already risen and it was sending warm, golden rays of sunshine all around us, consuming us in it as well.

Well, if I die on this horse, at least I'll have a last sight that is pretty... I thought, ironically as I felt myself relax a little.

As we continued around the ranch galloping quickly, but fluidly, a different kind of tickle began to form in the pit of my stomach. I didn't quite know what it was at first, since I was so deep within the clutches of my fear. At first, I even thought it was going to end up being that sick feeling that people get right before they have no other choice but to throw up, but when the sensation finally came to fruition, instead of vomiting, or having any other adverse reaction, I actually laughed.

At that moment, I felt a stream of strange sensations. As I hugged tighter to Zeb, now with more affection than clinging on with my life, I felt a mix of the experience being freeing and exciting, but also having the knowledge, whether it was warranted or not, I didn't really want to know, that I could die at any moment.

I guess I half expected something to happen when I least expected that would tear me off of the horse and cause my demise, but nothing like that happened. The longer the horse ran, the more freed and rejuvenated I felt.

By the end of it, I had to admit that instead of feeling a deathly serious bout of terror, I had actually enjoyed the experience.

When the horse finally stopped, back at the barn, I continued to hear the thumping of its hooves against the ground and feel the vibration of the motion that we had experienced. Even though the horse remained completely still, I continued to cling to Zeb. His scent continued to help keep me calm, which was greatly appreciated at the moment.

Zeb allowed me to recover for a long moment before he turned partially around to face me, although I still held on tightly to his waist. "Well, how was that."

"Amazing..." I said, surprised at exactly how much I meant it, "And absolutely horrifying."

I saw a small smile curl up in the corners of his lips, before be moved to get off of the horse.

Seeing this, a span of anger then washed over me as I no longer thought I had to fear for my life. Rather, it was possible that Zeb had to fear for his, doing something so mean to me. _How could he do that?_ I thought. _And I'm supposed to trust him?_

However, I allowed him to help me get off the horse, before I said anything else.

Once my feet were placed solidly on the ground however, I said to him, "What is wrong with you?"

He chuckled again, but this time, it was somewhat nervous, "What do you mean? I thought you said it was amazing?"

"And terrifying!" I answered, "You probably just scarred me for life...I wanted you to stop!" I crossed my arms and glared at him awaiting an answer.

I did not know him well, but nonetheless, I expected him to give a short quip about the fact that we wouldn't have actually gone anywhere if he had listened to me, but instead, he just stared at me with an earnest look in his eye.

He peered at me deeply and I felt a connection growing, where right now, I didn't want it to. However, no matter how hard I tried, I was unable to sever that link and I soon realized that the reason was because, despite the fact that I was trying to be angry with him, I didn't want to destroy any bond we made. I liked him and even though he had scared me, he had never once really put me in any danger.

We had made it back to the barn without any damage being done, besides of course my mental state, or so I thought at the time and no matter what I felt now, when we were out there, I had fun.

Plus, more importantly, I also could not deny that when this was all over and I was done being angry, I would want to do it again.

Still, I focused on being angry and when he didn't say anything, I demanded, "Well, don't you have any excuse, or are you just going to laugh at me again?"

He shrugged and answered simply, "Sometimes the best things in life, the memories that you treasure the closest can be described as awesome, but completely terrifying." He smiled, but it was genuine, lacking any humor. "I'm proud of you."

"What?" I asked, trying and failing to give him an attitude.

"I wanted to see what you would do under pressure. To work here, there has to be trust and I wasn't sure you had any for me, but now that I know you do, we are ready to continue." With that, he began to walk the horse back to the barn. Then, when I didn't move right away, he commanded, "Come on! You have got a lot to learn and we are just getting started!

# Chapter Seven

Throughout the next couple of days, Zeb continued to show me around the ranch. Zeb did get me on the horse again with him twice more, but on the third day, I asked to try to learn how to ride her myself.

Zeb looked surprised, considering he claimed to have bruises from me holding him so tightly all three times, but neither he nor his bruises were as surprised as I was that I actually went through with it.

It was the first true accomplishment of many that I worked my way into while Zeb taught me about the ranch.

To my surprise, much like the experience I had with riding the horse, the more I learned about how everything worked the more eager I was to try to challenge myself and see what I could do.

I didn't think I was all that terrible of a learner, but I certainly wasn't the best. Still, Zeb no matter what I did or how many times I had to try a specific task before I got it right, Zeb kept telling me that I was a natural. Of course he also took absolutely every opportunity to tease me, so I tended to believe the teasing far more than the encouragement.

I didn't think I was a natural at anything that I was doing. If I even began to get the particular task right after the third time, I was considering that as a win.

Still, the more time I spent with Zeb, on the farm, the more I felt as though we were making a connection and the more fun I had exploring the ranch. By the time the week was up Zeb and I had left no stone unturned. I learned about the ranch and truly how it functioned from the soil under the ground to the large windmills powering the well.

I learned how to care for the different animals that the ranch housed, as well as how to utilize them to make the ranch run as efficiently as possible. It was really kind of fun, trying to figure out the best course of action for the different situations and as it turned out, Zeb was a great teacher. He seemed to have everything under control at all times and no matter how badly I thought I messed something up, there was always a solution to be found.

***

The night before the week ended, I walked out onto the grassy mound where Zeb and I had watched the sunset to think.

I watched the beautiful colors dance across the azure sky once again, just as Zeb and I had done less than a week earlier, but the transformation I felt between then and now was exceeding. I felt like a whole new person.

In addition to having far less of an aversion to the different smells and sights of the ranch, now actually growing to appreciate how even the still disgusting cow pies have a purpose that helps the ranch to run smoothly.

Throughout the time I spent on the ranch with Zeb, throughout that first week, I began to scratch the surface of what life on the ranch really meant. Sure, it was a lot of hard work, but it was also rewarding in a way that I had never been able to understand or experience before. There were plenty of times where I worked hard and was finally rewarded for my efforts, but on the ranch, the feeling was somewhat different. It wasn't just a sense of pride; it was more of a responsibility and duty. A hard day's work not only made money to put food on the table, but often times it literally put that food on the table. It was nice to not just get a piece of paper or a handshake in return for my hard work. At the ranch, I received more than that, because I was able to see what I created, or at least helped create.

One day, a cow gave birth to a baby calf. It was gross and scary, but Zeb knew just what to do. He helped me be of assistance to him and eventually, the healthy baby was born without complication. Now, I was able to see the baby grow stronger every day and that was pretty amazing; the idea that I assisted in bringing a life into the world.

It might not have been a human life, but it was a life nonetheless and because I had visited the calf every day, she was beginning to know my voice. When I would come into the barn where she was with her mother, she would perk her head up and watch me until I came over to say hello to her. I felt that we had a connection and besides childhood pets, I had never been in a position to have an adult pet.

It was experiences like these that made me understand how much I truly enjoyed the ranch and a big part of that had to do with Zeb and what he was willing to teach me in order to help me understand his commitment to the ranch.

***

Zeb poured his heart and soul into making the place look and function nice, which showed me a lot. At first, I had my doubts. I even distrusted him, but seeing the patience he had with the ranch and the experience that he brought to helping me learn caused the trust I had in him to strengthen significantly.

When I first arrived, it was no secret that I thought the ranch was just going to be a field full of cow-pies with a run-down shack in the middle. That opinion changed when I saw the ascetics of the house but through Zeb, I began to understand how beautiful the ranch was, besides the house and the classic cars.

After I began to get the basics of the ranch down and he was growing sure of me that I was not going to just hit the road and never look back, it seemed that Zeb opened up a little bit more to me too.

One day, instead of teaching me something new, he took me around to each and every section of the property and explained that everything on the ranch had its own personality. I had started to gather that on my own from finding things out myself as well as overhearing small murmurs that Zeb said under his breath.

Yet, now, he went into detail, explaining that the horses and the livestock all act a certain way.

Zeb laughed aloud as he exemplified that even that old, stubborn picket fence that seemed to work only at its own will added a character to the ranch that told an old, yet novel, beautiful story.

The more he explained his rational, the more I began to not only understand, but also experience for myself exactly what he was talking about.

However, there was still a sense that something was missing. Even though I had fun throughout the entirety of my experience on the ranch, I still felt strange staying here.

After all was said and done, with only a day left in their arrangement, Zeb hadn't said anything to me that would confirm, even in the slightest that he was interested in me the same way I couldn't help being interested in him.

I had thought about it a lot, but right now, while I sat contemplating everything I possibly could, I also knew that I couldn't continue to justify living with him in the manner of our current arrangement. I knew that the better option, instead of dumping a possible chance at complete happiness and running away from it as fast as I possibly could would be to at least fight for it, I knew that I was too afraid to talk to him about my feelings, for the fear that I would be rejected.

I had waited all week for him to do something that would definitively suggest that he was interested in anything other than a working, mentor-student relationship, but either my fear was not allowing me to see it, or it simply wasn't there.

By the end of the week, I was practically begging him to make the first move, so that my fears would be absolved and I could make the decision to stay with him and enjoy my life on the ranch, but if he was content with having the same type of relationship with me that he had with my Grandfather, than I knew I couldn't accept that.

I even thought that I would give him a good portion of the money from the sale of the estate, so that we would both be taken care of, but I knew that if we could not be together, than I could not maintain a working relationship with him.

Eventually, I would long for something more than the platonic, completely unspoken agreement we seemed to be leaning towards and I knew that I just couldn't take the heartbreak if he didn't feel the same way.

Sure, he had told me that I was beautiful a couple of times and when I was around him, no matter where we were or what we were doing, I felt as though I was burning up inside, just hoping for an outlet; a release for the intense amount of emotion I felt when I was around him. Alas, no salvation from the moist, scorching, exciting and yet ultimately disappointing sensation ever presented itself in a form that I recognized.

Therefore, in the interest of saving us both a lot of aggravation and myself the annoyance of rebuilding my life without him in it, I contemplated selling the farm, despite the memories that were made and moving back home.

Still, the thought of returning to my old job, with my old boss, in my own, small apartment, with no one, not even a really close friend, who knew my life like Zeb did was hard to think about as well.

I knew that I would not only miss him terribly, but I would also probably regret not having the guts to take a chance on Zeb.

After all, isn't this week is supposed to be an adventure?

Then, I thought, to counter my own brain, it was supposed to be an adventure to find myself, not to find love.

After that, a thought came that I wasn't completely prepared to consider, but could not deny it all the same. _Are you in love?_

I physically shrugged as an answer to the question in my head, "No..." I muttered to myself, "That makes you sound even crazier. How can you be in love? You've only known the man a week?"

I shook my head and gazed up at the gorgeous azure sky, thinking about the first time I realized how magnificent it was. _Forget love, how am I going to give this up?_ I thought.

"Can I just have an answer?" I said aloud to the endless mass of stars and the full-moon that accompanied it. "Tell me what is best...I need direction." I wasn't sure who or what I was speaking to; God, my parents, a manifestation of Zeb in my head, or simply, the sky, but to my disappointment, regardless my subconscious intent for speaking the plea aloud, I didn't receive an answer and so, I just went back inside, without having gained any more insight as to which decision would be the best for my current perplexing situation.

***

Once inside, I looked for Zeb, but couldn't find him. I looked throughout the large living room, which held an array of different taxidermy, apparently another one of my Grandfather's hobbies and in the kitchen, which was riddled with shining, state of the art stainless-steel, which ironically fit the rest of the rustic home well, but Zeb was nowhere to be found.

Eventually though, I found him in his room, with his door ajar and the light next to his bed still on, although it seemed as though he had fallen right to sleep the second he had laid down.

We had worked hard that day, so I understood why he had gone to sleep so early. In fact, my next stop was going to be my room to call it a night as well, but for some strange, probably completely unjustified reason, I felt a deep sense of pain welling up in my heart.

I watched Zeb sleep for a moment, while tears filled my eyes. I breathed out deeply to try to fend them off, but a few still managed to roll down my cheeks. As I watched his chest rise and fall, I slid myself against the door-jam, while I listened to his heavy breathing.

Even though I knew it was strange at the time, since I had no idea what his feelings were towards me, I still had the sensation that we were growing very close and so, all I wanted to do was crawl in that bed next to him and cuddle up for the night.

I felt an intense need to be close to him, especially now that in sleep, his rough and tumble, do anything and laugh about everything demeanor had faded leaving him looking cute, as well as endearingly handsome.

The thought of being close to his bare skin, enjoying the scent of him and the warmth of him throughout the night and then finally, waking up to those enticing brown eyes made me feel a stab of arousal that eventually flowed freely throughout my body, making me feel heated to the point where a chill ran down my spine.

I wanted to see the way he looked at me, right before the moment that his lips met mine and then, I wanted to taste him on my tongue, while I felt the hands and overall strength that I had admired since the moment I set eyes on him ravishing my body. I needed to hear him say, during the troughs of passion, that I was not only beautiful, but the perfect woman for him, just as I had become fully aware that he was shaping up to be the perfect man for me.

However, I knew that if that hadn't happened yet and I made my decision tomorrow that probably wasn't going to happen at all, which lead to the sense of deep-seeded disappointment. The only thing that would have felt worse would be if he had rejected me himself. Then, the opportunity that the two of us could one day be the couple that I longed for would be completely doused, making it impossible to be rekindled.

Still, instead of taking the chance, I opted to simply move next to his bed and turn out his light, which caused him to wriggle around slightly, but he did not awake.

The sight of him, moving in such an innocent fashion made me smile, thankful that I could enjoy this while being able to keep the hope alive, even though I was convinced that it was never going to happen.

# Chapter Eight

The following day, Zeb and I were working in the fields. Despite the thoughts that I had the night before and the wishes that I held deep in my heart, the day was shaping up to be a regular day in the field.

The rooster crowed, Zeb made breakfast and afterwards, the two of us tended to the ranch.

However, as the day progressed, I couldn't be sure, but I had the thought that Zeb was acting a little bit differently.

He teased me, but that was normal. So, it took me a little while to figure out what exactly it was about him that was different. Eventually though, I figured out that it wasn't the fact that he was teasing me, it was his demeanor and the different things that he began teasing me about.

First, it was that I was a girl, working out in the field, than when I got a little bit dirty, he made a comment asking how was it that I could be full of dirt and still remain absolutely stunning.

At this, I couldn't help but chime in with a wicked smile, answering, "Well, you don't dirty up so bad yourself." I winked at him for effect and wished that the sexual tension that I felt building between the two of us would actually amount to something, but I knew that I probably wouldn't get that lucky and so, I just continued to work.

However, a few minutes later, I felt a body behind me, right before I felt Zeb bump into me.

I turned around and smiled.

"Oh...I'm so sorry...It won't happen again," He sneered, but as soon as I turned around, he thrust himself against me again. Each time he did, I felt a shock of attraction plow through me.

I turned around and returned his sneer, "Hey, mister!" I teased, "Watch it!"

"Oh yeah?" He asked, playfully nudging me, this time without waiting for me to turn around.

"Yeah!" I answered, pushing him back.

"Hey!" He answered, smiling brighter, "No pushing! That's not fair..." He shoved my shoulder back lightly, but I almost fell down the hill, even from his slight amount of force. He grasped my hand quickly and when he was sure I was alright, he added, "For you, anyway..."

I narrowed my eyes at him and ran at his shoulder, slamming into it.

Even though he didn't move, he said, "Oh, you don't want to play rough with me..."

"Catch me, cowboy..." I snickered, before taking off running.

Immediately, Zeb began to chase me, as a growl escaped his throat. While he leapt at me, I screamed a shrill laugh and quickly jumped out of the way.

As we ran, it seemed as though Zeb also had pent up emotions that were now starting to explode.

Then, when Zeb finally caught me, he wrapped me in his strong, capable arms, laughing right along with me.

"I got you!" He exclaimed and in the middle of a laugh, I turned around to face him. Before I had a chance to realize what I was doing, I pressed my lips against his mouth, a move which surprised us both.

Losing my nerve, I quickly broke my lips away, after only a brief brush, but in an effort to ensure that he knew I meant it, I opened my eyes and stared at his shocked expression and answered, "No, I really think I got you."

Making eye contact with him, I allowed a suggestive smile to cross my face. I usually was never this forward and even now, I was trying to fend off blushing and keep as serious a face as possible, all while trying to believe that I had actually made the first official move, even though it was small.

I saw his eyes widen with delight and he immediately grasped me tighter. Before I knew it, Zeb had turned me all the way around, so that I was facing him and we were staring into one another's eyes.

As I searched them, I instinctively placed my arms around him, I felt my body begin to heat up. I wasn't quite sure if the flushed feeling that came over me was completely from the arousal or the twinge of embarrassment that I continued to feel even though I knew now that he was going to reciprocate.

Within a moment of staring into his eyes, I felt my breath become ragged and my heart begin to palpitate quickly. I could feel it beating heavily against my chest, as though it wanted to reach out, into the space between us and finally pull us together.

I could feel his breath on my face; the winds changed and I was given a quick sniff of his scent. He smelled vaguely of sweat and dirt, but even that was attractive to me at this point.

I reveled in the fact that he was so close, I could see the rising and falling of his chest as he held me; I felt my body start to become moistened at the feel of his touch.

I thought about this moment and fantasized about it enough that just the thought of it got me riled up, therefore when it actually started happening, it didn't take long for me to be primed and ready to go.

I wondered if he was going to try to kiss me. He certainly was close enough, but for the long moments that I gazed into his eyes, he made no further moves.

I sucked in a deep breath and then let it out, purposefully, yet tactfully heaving my bosom towards him, as though inviting him to come closer.

Even though I had only brushed his lips, the experience made me even more curious than before to see what it felt like for him to take my mouth unto his own.

Instinctively, I felt him turn his head, as though he was going to dip his neck and come in to take control of me, but the motion stopped there, as though there was a little bit of reserve left in him.

I didn't know what was stopping him, but I wanted to entice him further and so, I slowly stuck my tongue out again and saturated my upper lip, so that my mouth became as inviting and suggestive as the rest of my body, which fought to be close to him.

"Are you sure?" He asked, tilting his head once more in my direction.

"I've never been surer about anything," I answered, grasping his warm face between my palms and pulling him the rest of the way into me.

With a heated gasp, I felt his mouth capture my lips with a ravenous sense of pleasure. The taste of him was sweet and intense, from the temperature of the approaching afternoon and the rage of emotion that seized us.

Before I knew it, Zeb's tongue had skillfully wound its way between my lips and engulfed me in intoxicating moment of passion.

His lips were rough from the stubble of his beard, but the slight scratchiness that caused my face to redden only made my lips more sensitive and reactive to his touch.

As his lips moved in sync with my own, I felt my hands fall away from his face and grasp around him, they moved underneath his shirt at the same time that his wandering hands began to rub against my body. It didn't take long for a fire of need to course through my body that burned so vigorously, it overtook us.

Zeb pulled me so close to him that I needed to move up, onto my tiptoes to continue kissing him at this angle, while his hands dipped down into the waistline of my shorts.

The feeling of him being so close to my womanliness made my insides begin to shudder with excitement and need. I groaned a quivering, almost delirious breath and quickly moved to take off his shirt. When we broke for him to help rip the shirt over his head, I stepped back to take in the sight that I had longed to see since the moment I laid eyes on him.

His chest was a rock-hard sinew of contoured glory and manly disposition. His beautifully chiseled face went well with the rest of his powerful form. When I pulled away, I took the moment to pull my own shirt over my head and throw it into the grass next to us.

With both of our top halves exposed, our eyes searched over one another voraciously, before Zeb moved in again, curbing his perfectly shaped masculine form around me and sucking my mouth into his own, as though he could not last another moment without feeling me beneath him.

The kiss was firm and dominant and came with such an overwhelming force that it made me weak in the knees. Once he realized this, he carefully took control of my body and placed it onto the ground.

Once I was there, he backed away and began to remove his pants, so that he was completely naked in front of me, before bending down and easily sliding my shorts and underwear down my own legs, which shuddered impatiently under his touch.

Laying over me, he continued to tease me with the delicious, seductive taste of him. Soon, however, I felt his body begin to move down, pressing suggestively against me, while his mouth began to provocatively make its way off of my mouth, down the corner and around my jawline. He then teased my neck with simple, delicate nibbles, as his hands wandered down my body, searching for the right spot to begin the already torturous foreplay.

Eventually, I felt his fingers draw down the side of me, while his mouth pressed against my soft, supple breast, which tingled and protruded eagerly, waiting to be touched. I moaned and tilted my head back, thrusting my pelvis up, into him as my eyes rolled back in my head. Just the insinuation of him fondling my breasts made my already moist womanliness writhe with excitement.

Quickly, I grasped his hand and placed it on the same breast that his lips were caressing. The warmth of his calloused hand, along with the wetness of his tongue and mouth massaging it made me feel absolutely amazing.

Zeb took his time, giving ample amount of attention to each portion of my bosom. He kissed all around my hardening nipple, while he pressed both of his thumbs into the softest parts of my breast, before taking the aching pink tip into his mouth and flicking it devilishly with his tongue.

Once the one side of me was satisfied, he carefully moved over to the other breast and began the same regiment of arousal.

I grasped at him, not entirely sure what to do with them and so, I just wove my fingers through his hair and closed my eyes, focusing on the desire he was evoking inside of me. I felt my body swell with the need as he treated the other breast with the same agonizingly enjoyable sense of foreplay, before slipping his hand easily down my body.

Then, as his hand grasped at the hot wet sheath between my legs with a sudden movement, I screamed out in pleasure, but the swift kiss that he took from me muted the sound. As he continued to kiss me, while his hand easily kneaded my inner thighs, with a discerning amount of skill, my hands hungrily ran over his taut, rippling chest, before traveling down and grasping onto his staff, before beginning to massage it in the same manner that he was focusing on me.

I felt my breath grow rapid as tiny moans came from every other breath as I squirmed underneath of him. It did not take him long for his hand to find my clitoris and when he did, I screamed in surprise as I felt an enormous amount of arousal was over me, flooding his hand, as his fingers pinched my sweet-spot just enough to make me instantly feel tears come to my eyes.

When Zeb saw this, he carefully moved his lips away from mine and I sucked in such a large breath, that I almost choked on it, but as soon as I recovered from the lack of oxygen, I threw my head back again and moaned his name as I spread my hands easily over his chest and shoulders. Holding onto him tightly and hoping that he would enter me soon, or I was sure that I would implode from all of the tension that needed to be released inside of me.

Zeb took the hint though and pulled his hand back, before repositioning himself on top of me. In order to help him get into a workable position, I arched my back and slowly tucked my legs up, so that he could easily get his body between it. Once he was situated, he leaned over me and began to stroke his enticing, large, thick, hard shaft against me, making my whole body ache with anticipation.

As I moaned and quivered, I could hear his breath begin to quake as well and after a few long, powerful strokes against me, in which time, I felt him continue to harden and grow to full maturity, he eased himself into me and I gasped a long, agonizing moan.

By this point, my entire body felt as though it was on fire. I groaned and moaned with almost every breath as my heart raced wildly in my chest. I felt the tingling sensation that I had come to be accustomed to around Zeb intensify dramatically as he began to pulse into a rhythm.

I tried my best to help him, with my eager body thrusting towards him, trying to get him to plunge into me as deeply as I possibly could as we both began to sweat. What started out as a slow cadence quickly began to pick up speed until the two of us were breathing heavily from exertion and erotic strain. As the two of us began to climb towards an orgasm, I felt Zeb begin to groan in a satisfied manner under his breath, while his strokes of passion grew longer and far more intense.

By the time I felt him finally abandon himself to the intense amount of desire that we were cultivating, I was nearly there as well. Feeling the warm gush of him flood my already slick and receptive womanhood was the final motion that sent me into convulsing spasms of ecstasy as well.

As I slid myself against him for the final time before I surrendered myself completely to my emotions, I was almost blinded by the intense surge of sensation that overcame me. While my body quaked and shuddered, Zeb groaned and juddered against me with fulfillment. After the moment of pure and total bliss began to lessen and I was able to regain my bearings about me, I began to feel myself tremble around him.

I smiled down at him and we both laughed as our bodies continued with our contented tremors. Eventually, the two of us found it fit to break away with a gratified pant. As I lay next to him, I felt an incredible sense of peace. I could not believe with the way that this adventure was turning out.

I had never imagined that I would not only meet someone like Zeb, but that he would end up making me feel so exuberantly blissful. I didn't dare to think too much about it though. After all, at best, I thought that what we had between us was just a fling.

_It will never last...right?_ I thought to myself, as a reminder not to get too comfortable. However, I could not deny that there was still, a part of me, buried deep down, but still undeniably present, that desperately hoped that I was wrong.

# Chapter Nine

While we were having dinner (which I decided to make for the past few nights and I was getting fairly good at preparing, if I don't say so myself) Zeb seemed fairly quiet.

At first, I wondered if it had anything to do with the passion we had shared while out in the field, because I knew that I couldn't get the thought out of my head, but after careful consideration, I thought that perhaps, it was something else entirely.

So, instead of just assuming, which I had recently realized I obviously was not very good at, I asked him, "Is everything okay?"

He shrugged in something of a dismissive way and answered, "Yeah...I'm great, why?"

I answered him with the same dismissive raise of my shoulders as I cut my meat and carefully slid my fork into the tender, slightly pink area of the middle. Bringing the fork up to my mouth, I answered, "You just seem a little quiet tonight," before I consumed the meat I slowly pulled the fork out. I hadn't meant for it to seem expectant, but I was sure it came across that way.

"Oh," he answered, but didn't give much of a response. Not wanting to pry, I remained quiet, but felt the awkwardness creeping in.

When five minutes of silence, Zeb spoke up, somewhat suddenly, but I could tell by the way his voice honed in on each word that he had given a lot of thought as to how to breach this topic, "So, now that you've seen the ranch and fulfilled the end of your bargain, I have been meaning to ask you, what are you going to do with it? Are you going to sell it, or are you going to stay?" Although he seemed hopeful about me staying, there was still a sense of accusation in his voice that I was not expecting.

I would have loved to tell him my decision and I would have loved to tell him that I wanted to be with him forever, but unfortunately, I had no idea what I was going to do.

In a cruel twist of my own, stupid emotions, getting exactly what I had asked for the night before actually made the decision harder. Now that I knew a relationship was possible with Zeb, the fact that I still could not give an answer, or even lean positively in one direction or the other made the conversation turn dark automatically. I sighed and instantly felt sick. I stared up at him and answered with as much honesty as I could muster, "I'm sorry Zeb, but I don't know yet."

For once, his eyes did not return an encouraging light. Instead, they seemed hurt and almost as though he felt used.

Before he could say anything though, I added, "I will tell you first thing tomorrow...I promise." I sighed and let out a shuddering breath, "I just need another night's sleep. It's a big decision, Zeb..."

He nodded with a large movement and answered, "I understand that. I really do, but I also want you to appreciate my position. If you sell the ranch, I can't afford to buy the ranch, even though I would like to and if someone else buys it, they will likely get rid of me." He shrugged. "Then, I will have to start all over." He sighed, "I know that's not really your problem..." he stopped short then and put his hands up in an effort to amend his tone before continuing, "And I mean, don't take that the wrong way, I mean it. What happens to me isn't your concern but I just wanted you to know..."

"Zeb!" I answered quickly, trying to keep him from going too far into despair, "You don't have to worry about that. The ranch is plenty large enough... and with those cars in the garage...I know what you meant to my Grandfather, but honestly, I think it's only a fraction of what you meant to me, so I will give you as much as you need...I will even split the ranch with you so that we can both go after the life we want..."

At this, I watched Zeb grow even angrier, until he finally stood up and yelled, "I don't want your money, Layla." His nose wrinkled up with disgust and he hissed, "I thought you would have already figured that out. About me, but I guess I was wrong." He choked a humorless laugh and answered, "I'm sorry...for giving you that opinion of me, that I was some kind of gold digger, but just so you know, I would die of starvation before I ever took a cent from you..." He shook his head, "Not like that. Not for some payoff..."

This was the first time I had ever seen him angry and instead of making me feel justified enough to be angry right back at him, it only made me feel hurt that I would put him in such a position, but I couldn't see another viable solution for our situation and so, I remained seated and told him, "I really don't know what I want to do! I wish I did, believe me..."

"I do believe you, Layla, but the part that I don't understand, is how this could even be a debate..."

It was getting increasingly difficult to look at his long face of disappointment, so I stood up and glared at him, trying to find my anger as I asked, "Well, if you don't want money, then what is it that you want? Don't be so stupidly noble, Zeb. You're the one who wants me to feel sorry for you because you have nowhere else to go, but when I offer you a solution to create the life you want you throw a hissy fit!"

At this, his shoulders rolled forward and he staggered back slightly, as though he could not believe what he was being told. He breathed out a short aggravated breath as his eyes seemed to search the room for an answer. Eventually, he just jutted out another pant of aggravation and disbelief before he spat, "Stupid? That's your operative word? You know, no matter how you say it, it still has dominance and I may not be the most intelligent person, but stupidity and nobility are not words that I would generally put together."

Automatically, I felt guilty for putting it that way and I tried to make amends, "I'm sorry, Zeb...you're not stupid and I love that you are noble...and kind...and good-hearted..."

"No." Zeb said in a normal tone of voice, but one with enough grounding to make me stop speaking and stare at him strangely. He waited for me to acknowledge the powerful presence that he had asserted, making the room feel even colder, before he continued, "You're right. I am stupid. I thought that I could show you in a week what it has taken me the better part of a decade to appreciate."

His voice was now far more hurt than angry and I didn't know how to ease his pain. Even if I gave in now, I wasn't sure that either of us would be able to get back to the way we felt today in the fields. Looking into his hardened eyes, seemed very different from the ones that were filled with passionate this afternoon. As he continued to speak, I only became surer of the separation, "Then again, I had also thought that we had a connection, but that was obviously wrong too."

"No! It wasn't!" I exclaimed.

However, this only seemed to make him have a more adverse reaction to what was going on, for after he said that, he stopped talking completely. He shook his head and after a long pause he sighed deeply and finally replied, "If that were true, then you wouldn't have dared to ask me what I want. You would have already known without a shadow of a doubt."

Before I could say another word though, he heaved another long sigh, before he pushed lightly off of the table and moved to go into his room.

I followed him, but by the time I got there, his door was shut and locked tightly.

Once again while standing outside of his door, tears began to fill my eyes as I longed for him to hold me.

After a moment of hesitation, I quietly rapped on his door and called, "Zeb? Please talk to me."

"I have left you to make your decision. Whatever it is, I will accept it in the morning. Right now, I just want to get some sleep."

"But Zeb I..."

"Please, Layla. I'm tired," He answered, sincerely sounding as though he was really begging me to leave him alone.

The tone of his voice, which sounded as though he could no longer take the thought of interacting with me, in any capacity, any longer caused the tears I had tried so hard to bridle spring forth, onto my cheeks and roll down my face in large, wet gobs.

Immediately, I began to sniffle and sob, but I didn't want him to hear me in such distress, so I left his door to enter into my own. I locked it behind me, even though I wasn't sure why. It could have been spite, or it could have just been that I wanted to have the illusion that I was completely alone. I wasn't really sure. I just did it and then spilled my form across the bed.

As soon as I felt my body contour against the soft mattress, I pulled my knees into my stomach and roped my arms around my knees. I sighed and focused on releasing all of the air out of my lungs. Then, I made it a point to breathe back in with purpose, but the force of my sobs caused my breaths to enter my lungs in a chopped, almost angry fashion.

Although, I wasn't the least bit angry. I wanted to be angry and before Zeb had said his piece when we were nose to nose, separated by only the kitchen table I was getting there. I wanted to be angry and I wished I could rekindle that sense of fire I felt in my chest when I was starting to be successful, but there was just no way that I would be able to get it there again, because at the root of everything, after our conversation ended, I was left with nothing but guilt.

I didn't want to insult Zeb further by even trying to convince myself that he had done this on purpose, but I really wanted to believe it. Still, after the context of our last conversation, I just couldn't bring myself to convince my mind that he was in the wrong.

Therefore, for the first time, in a very long time, I not only had to face the fact that there were consequences to my decision that affected other people, who cared about me, but that I could have just made a mistake, in the attempt to avoid further hurt, of completely ruining my chances with Zeb in a way that I would have never expected.

I pined over this for a while, but eventually, I was able to dry my eyes for good and try to focus on just one of my issues. Even though I wasn't able to convince myself to be angry with Zeb, I was able to acknowledge the rationale that I needed to come to a decision about whether I want the farm or not, before I try to figure out what to do with Zeb.

I wasn't sure what I would come up with, or whether what I felt the right thing to do with him would even change all that much, pending my decision, but I did realize that I needed to have some sort of definitive decision made before I even considered the next problem that I had created for myself.

Therefore, I seriously considered my options in terms of whether or not staying on the farm was going to be a good idea or if selling it and cutting my losses was really the better choice for me.

_You did already lose Zeb, more than likely..._ I thought with a sense of bitterness that made my stomach flex uncomfortably. Thinking about how I might never be able to feel him against me again, made me feel as though I was going to be sick.

Yet, I shook the depressing thoughts from my mind and made an effort to focus on the specifics of my ultimate decision; the root through which the fate of my entire life was grounded at that moment in time.

After all that I have learned on the farm and the unexpected romance that blossomed between me and Zeb; I tried to decide what to do. I found it strange though, that the very thing I thought would make my choice simpler was the one thing that actually made it seem impossible.

I cursed myself for thinking that having Zeb reciprocate my feelings would make me want to stay.

_You can't think about that now!_ I thought, slapping my hand against my forehead, before I focused on a specific option. I thought, in a perfect world that I could sell the land as well as everything on it, which would give me the freedom to move wherever I wanted, or I could keep the land and start a new life; hopefully one that would continue to include Zeb.

But this isn't a perfect world... I reminded myself, and it is likely that Zeb hates you.

Still, the possibility that if I choose to stay, Zeb would want to be with me was alluring. Plus, I was enjoying my life on the ranch, but the question remained, _would I enjoy it if Zeb wasn't there?_

Part of me told me that I most definitely did while another part of me was viciously against it.

Yet, there was another part of me that thought if I lost Zeb, I would probably never find happiness anywhere; the ranch or the world.

So, with all of those parts vying for attention, I didn't know what I wanted more. In fact, I didn't even know if everything I was feeling would have a chance to become a reality at my will. Hence, I realized that even if I made a decision, that didn't mean that I would be able to act upon that decision, especially if it concerned Zeb.

All of this was just so overwhelming for me. Usually, things happened to me, which I hated, but at least when that happened, the choice was made for me.

But now, you have the rare opportunity to make the choice, so take it! I thought to myself.

When it came down to it, I realized that I certainly had not expected to meet Zeb and even when I was fantasizing about being here, I could not have imagined that I would actually be enjoying my time here, even if a blazing hot ranch hand, who fulfilled not only my wildest desires, but was also one of the most intriguing people I have ever met was in the description for the ranch.

Therefore, there was a lot to think about and with no one to talk to that wasn't biased one way or another, the decision grew even harder.

I must have laid there for hours just waiting to have an epiphany of some sort, but alas, nothing came to mind.

# Chapter Ten

I had not realized that I had fallen asleep at some point during the night until I woke up the next morning. However, I was only awarded with a brief sense of relief, before the task of the day, as well as the incident of the night before dawned on me.

Immediately, my heart filled with dread and I groaned, trying to put the thought out of my head, but then Carlton crowed loudly at my window and I knew that I had to face my fate. I knew that the sooner I came to a decision, the sooner I could get it over with.

Then, at least, I would know the extent of the damage I caused and how much I was going to have to rebuild my own life.

Therefore, I thought over everything that had happened and everything that I had thought about the night before. The supposedly clear thinking method of getting some sleep before making a major decision did not seem to help my undecidedness. Yet, I forced myself, after I had reviewed everything, to make my choice and before I could change it, I got up to go find Zeb.

I searched the house, before I made my way outside.

I eventually found Zeb out by the horses; from the look of him, I could tell that he had already done some work on the ranch, which made me feel just a little bit worse about what she was about to say.

However, instead of being angry, when Zeb turned around to face me, he smiled brightly.

"Good morning!" He said as he walked towards me.

I wondered why he had such a change of heart, I thought.

Seeing him like that, smiling and happy, reminded me of how much the ranch seemed to mean to him. I wished I could just not have this conversation, at least for a while, because I knew that the second that smile was wiped off of his face, whether he was outwardly upset or tried to hide it, would make me want to go back to before I had opened my mouth and said anything at all.

But if last night was any indication, you know that you can't go back, so just keep pushing forward. I reminded myself.

"Good morning," I answered, smiling back at him and trying to hide the tears that seemed to be pooling in the corners of my eye.

Before I said anything else, I blinked away the water in my vision and thought that no matter what happened today, I would figure out a way to make it up to him and who knows; maybe I would end up with Zeb anyway.

_Wishful thinking..._ I murmured, but shoved the negativity out of my mind and decided that I was going to try to get through this with as little drama as possible.

As I moved closer to him, I wanted to run up, hug him and give him a kiss, just so that I could have the chance to taste him on my lips once again, but I knew for a fact that wasn't what he wanted. I knew that was only going to make it harder on both of us and that was the last thing I wanted to do.

Therefore, I continued a brisk stride towards him, ignoring any urge I had to be intimately near him. Even though my body fought against my better judgement, wanting to throw myself at him and beg for him to take me back, I resisted and continued the even pace.

However, as I walked up to him, I watched as he turned and gazed up, towards the sunrise and his eyes rested back on the view of the horses running.

"What a beautiful sight this is, huh? To witness such large animals having fun and enjoying their surroundings is such a gift that many just can't appreciate."

Finally making it next to him, I rested my arms over the old wooden fence, just like Zeb did and for a moment I stopped allowed my gaze to follow his. Immediately, I was lost in the splendor of the horses as well. They really were beautiful and graceful. It was an awesome sight that I knew I was really going to miss.

As that thought crossed my mind, my eyes began to wander around the ranch and I begin to truly see the beauty of the land. I remembered what Zeb had told me, about everything on the ranch having a personality. As his voice rang in my ears, I was actually able to visualize, in a way that I had never been able to before, what he truly meant.

The beauty of the sunrise, peeking over the horizon and the overwhelming sense of peace that it brought me was soothing. I realized that every day I was out here, I felt a little bit more at ease and a little bit more relaxed.

Even though I was putting in hard work, each and every one of my waking hours, it felt good. Going to bed at night, I felt accomplished.

I then thought about the calf that continued to respond to my voice, every time I spoke, as though I was almost as important in that little one's life as its mother.

I suddenly thought what would happen if I sold the farm to the wrong owners. I would have no say over what they did with the animals, unless I took them with me; but if I moved away, that wouldn't be possible.

I sighed, now seriously beginning to have doubts about my decision. I began to think that if I moved away, I would not realize everything that I gave up until it was too late to get it back. I knew that I didn't want to do that.

I wasn't sure if I had lost Zeb for good, but the more I thought about it, even if I did, I think by selling the ranch, I would be giving up a lot more.

Still, I wanted to keep to my conviction and so, even while I continued to take all of this in, I told Zeb, "I...I came out here, because I want to talk to you..."

At this, Zeb's eyes shifted over to me, but before I had a chance to speak, he stopped me and answered, "First, I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry." I was slightly taken back by this, but I did not say anything at first, so he continued, "I never meant for any of what happened last night to take place...." He stopped, before his gaze fell to the grass and he answered, "I...I'm sorry. I was out of line, but I meant what I said last night, before you left. I just needed some time to take it all in." He smiled, in a kind of sad way, but sincere nonetheless and added, "I have come to terms with whatever decision you make. I just wanted you to know that."

I smiled back at him and almost reached out my hand, but stopped, right before I actually moved. "Thank you. That means a lot and I am sorry for...what I said and how I acted."

He shrugged and his simper brightened, "Don't worry about it, Layla."

Even though he gave me his undivided attention after saying his piece, I could not help but continue to peer around and take in everything that was around me, as though it was for the first time. I sighed, and began. "I was up, basically all night, trying to come to a decision...but I came out here to make it final..."

He stared at me with easy eyes and I tried to ignore the world, just so I could get the words out of my mouth. However, when it finally came down to informing him about the decision that sounded good a moment before, I just could not bring myself to say it now.

Once again, I looked around at the ranch, but this time, I felt myself drawing on it for strength instead of trying to block it out. I smiled, realizing that within only a moment, my mind was unanimously made up for me. The decision certainly wasn't what I expected, but it felt exactly right for me.

After breathing in the fresh, country air I answered, "Believe it or not, I decided that I am going to keep the ranch and see where it all goes. I'm going to call my boss this afternoon and tell him that I will not be coming back."

Zeb's eyes lit up and even though he was always a happy person, I didn't think I had ever seen him happier. He beamed at me and inched himself closer as he replied, "Are you serious? You're going to stay?"

I nodded eagerly, "Like I said, I am so sorry for how we left things last night and even if we can never..."

"No." He said, once again in the domineering voice that made me stop short. He shook his head, "Don't..." He answered, before he moved in close to embrace me tightly, before he pulled me back and kissed me with and intense vigor. His breath tasted like coffee, but the tingling feeling of excitement that began to course through my body made it so I did not have a care in the world. I was just so happy to have him back in my arms. I really felt like my life was coming together.

It was right then, that I knew, without a doubt, that I had made the right decision.

However, as Zeb deepened the kiss, allowing his tongue to wander through my teeth and slip around my mouth in a delightful and playful way, I heard a car pulling up the driveway.

Even though I heard it, I was inclined to ignore it and continue to enjoy the time that we were sharing, but Zeb caught sight of it, he immediately stopped what he was doing, to see who was coming.

I followed his lead and noticed that a fancy Rolls Royce was coming into the gate.

_Does everyone know that gate isn't locked?_ I thought as I watched two men get out, dressed in suits, to pry open the gate from either side.

After the gate was opened, they got back into the car, before it began to pull the rest of the way up onto the land.

"Well, that car looks a little lost, huh?" I joked with Zeb, but when I saw his expression, I realized that he was glaring at the car, with a coldness that I didn't know he was capable of.

For a moment, my eyes passed between Zeb and the car, before I placed my hand firmly on Zeb's arm and asked, "Who is that?"

Zeb sighed with aggravation as his eyes slid back over to me and he answered with a tone filled with contempt, "A rotten businessman. He tried everything he could to get your Grandfather to sell, but he never would." In Zeb's eyes, there was a thick amount of warning as he explained, "Be careful, Layla...He wants to buy the land and he doesn't care what he has to do to get it."

### Thank you for reading!

## Please visit your favorite eBook retailer to view the next books in the "Finding Love Out West Series"
Finding Love On The Ranch

by

Lacy Hyde
Copyright © 2017 by Lacy Hyde

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Finding Corralled By The Cowboy

All rights reserved.

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. No part of this work may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording and faxing, or by any information storage and retrieval system by anyone but the purchaser for their own personal use.

This book may not be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of Lacy Hyde, except in the case of a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages for the sake of a review written for inclusions in a magazine, newspaper, or journal—and these cases require written approval from Lacy Hyde prior to publication. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.

# Chapter One

"Didn't someone tell me there was going to be a party here tonight?" I jumped up at the sound of my best friend Rachel's voice, causing sand to go flying up around my boots. My dress flapped in the wind as I fought against it to jump into Rachel's arms. She was as tall as a model, and she always had a big smile on her face. The other two people I invited weren't far behind her, waving at me as they approached carrying beer and marshmallows; the perfect combination.

"So where's your other half?" I asked Rachel, looking around to see if her new husband was joining us. She was actually visiting the area for a honeymoon slash meet their parents trip. She had gotten married to a man whom her parents hadn't even met. Apparently, he was some executive from New York that had just fallen in love with her when they'd met during Spring Break in Hawaii.

"Oh, he's already setting up our loft in Manhattan. I leave in a few days, so he thought it was best to just let me do my thing while he did his. But that's why he is the perfect guy for me," she explained with a laugh before walking over to the pile of wood I had set in the sand. She used a lighter to spark it, creating a small fire for marshmallows.

Before I could say anything else, I was lifted off the ground and squealed before finally being put down on the sand again to see that it was Miles that had picked me up. He had come into my life in high school. We were in choir together and both sang soprano. He was a very attractive blonde with great fashion sense, but he was that flirty ladies' man that was okay to be friends with but you never dated.

"I've missed you," I told him as he looked me up and down.

"I guess that freshman fifteen didn't get to you," he complimented, making me blush. He gave me a kiss on the forehead before walking over to set down the marshmallows. It was Lauren who was struggling to carry all the beer, which made sense since she was always _That_ girl.

"It got to me, but I promise it's all alcohol weight!" Lauren called out, patting her belly. She was the shortest of all of us. Despite what she seemed like, she was extremely intelligent. In fact, she was on her way to a Master's degree in Marine Biology. So, she was only home for about a month before she would be back in the grind. But I tried not to let it get to me that I knew it might be one of the last times for a while we would hang out. It wasn't like it hadn't felt the same before we all went off to college in the first place. I just wanted to enjoy my birthday and forget the fact that compared to all of them, my life was relatively boring.

I kneeled in my dress next to the fire as we settled in, trying to picture us all the way we were before. We used to come to the beach nearly every weekend in high school doing things we were so sure were wild and reckless, but they were really just harmless fun. None of us had physically aged too much, but there was something about each one of us now that just didn't quite seem the same as we did as teenagers. But I hoped for one night we could create who we were and have a great time just the way I liked it; if not for my birthday then to say goodbye to Rachel.

Miles popped open the bag of marshmallows and began to throw a few at each one of us so that we could roast them. "So, what are you going to do in New York, Rachel?" Lauren asked, narrowing her eyes at the leggy brunette.

"Well, I haven't really figured out that part yet. I mean, he makes enough money that I don't have to work, but I don't want to do nothing. I thought about maybe starting my own photography business or something. I don't know, I'll probably just play it by ear." Rachel shrugged, leaving Lauren's mouth hanging open.

"No way, that body would be a waste behind a camera. You should be in front of it. You can't tell me that the guy has no fashion connections. I'd love to see you as like A Victoria's Secret model or something Lauren suggested.

We all laughed. "That's only because you'd live vicariously through her," I said, popping my almost black marshmallow in my mouth before nudging my best friend with my knee. "But I really couldn't see you as a housewife. You should do something. Maybe you can be one of those snooty women that have those charity parties where people wear ball gowns and fight over who donated more." I laughed at my own comment and heard myself snort much to my embarrassment. Rachel nudged me back as the whole circle began to cackle at the terrible sound my sinuses had just made.

I put my hands up in surrender and stood up, knowing the perfect distraction. "So, doesn't anyone want to jump in that water and get this party started?" I stood up and started to pull my dress over my head, teasing them with little patches of my bare skin. I knew what they were thinking because I had done it before one night when we were drunk. I think it was at Miles' 17th birthday party. We had all ended up going skinny dipping at my suggestion.

Finally, I pulled it all the way off to reveal that I had on a cute blue tankini with most of the back cut out. That was when they all stopped ogling and began stripping off their own clothes. Miles stripped off his shirt and ran at me, scooping me up so that my legs were on one side of him and my head and torso were over his shoulder. I screamed as he ran us into the water, letting the wave's crash up onto me. Then, he finally threw me down in chest deep water. I gave him a good splash in the face.

"So, what about you, birthday girl? What are you going to do with your life now that you're getting older?" Lauren asked. She had always been the inquisitive one. Usually, it was a fun part of her personality, but I was unsure whether or not I had the answers. Compared to the other two women before me, it seemed like my life was some undecided tragedy. But it was really as simple as the fact that I hadn't enjoyed city life at all. I had gone to school to get my BA in Business because it was the most useable degree, and it was going to help me hopefully run my father's ranch one day. So, I went with honesty.

"I feel so not put together by saying this, but I really don't know what's next. I came back a year ago because this is where I want to live. I love it here, and I love the ranch. I always thought that I would take over the ranch one day when my father gets too old to run it, you know? I've been helping him since I was just a little girl. But beyond that I have no real plan other than to not go back to college. I'm done with all of that. It's just too loud for me."

Rachel laughed at that, so I splashed her perfect face. She needed it anyway; she was hardly wet. She was so much taller that the water barely covered her still. "You would never make it in New York if you thought college was too loud. This is Texas, and I know they say everything's bigger here, but really New York has a larger population in a much smaller space. There's always noise."

"Well, that's why I am not planning on living in New York. I'll settle for visiting you and your husband once in a while," I said, shooting a look at Rachel. "Besides, I'm not the only one sticking around, right? It's not like Miles has any specific plans." I leaned against him, putting my arm up on his shoulder. But the awkward silence that passed between us told me that I might have been mistaken. "Wait, don't tell me you're leaving too." It came out a little whiny. My friends were all growing up and moving on without me. What happened to fun and sticking together?

"Now, don't give me that look like I've betrayed you or something. You know I've always wanted to get out of here, Star. And now I am. I can't wait to get married or get a career or something like that. So, I'm just going to go and find something for myself somewhere else. I leave for Dallas tomorrow morning." Suddenly my birthday had turned into this big pit of depression that passed through all of us. At least Dallas was still in Texas; New York seemed like the other side of the universe to me at that moment.

I sighed and let it go. There was no reason to be angry with him. If anything, I was secretly disappointed with myself. I had been the fun, interesting country girl in high school. But I'd grown up to be the boring country girl who didn't want to leave home. It was unnerving. It was like I had lost my spark. I wasn't ready to let that happen.

I ran to shore, grabbing two beers and instantly guzzling them down. It was time to stop the serious talk and get the party underway. Lauren cheered and whooped, following me onto shore, grabbing another beer of her own before running to her old blue pickup. Soon, she had their favorite country station blasting a Luke Bryan song. Lauren came running at me and grabbed me, swinging me around. I felt instantly dizzy since I had the beers a little too quickly, but Miles showed up behind me and caught me. Pretty soon we were all dancing and grinding on each other like old times, the wet ends of my long blonde curls slapping against my body.

We lost track of time as we danced to song after song and drank more and more beer. It started to feel like old times; I almost forgot I had just turned 24.

Eventually we all collapsed into the sand together, our heads touching and began to look up at the stars to the sound of the waves crashing. I had seen pictures of beaches all around the world my whole life; see through clear blue ones and ones with black sand, but I couldn't imagine they help anything to my favorite piece of the Texas coast. There were sounds and sights and nature that just seemed not to be found anywhere else. Or maybe it was that all my memories were right there on that beach.

At some point I must have conked out because I woke up drooling on my passenger side window as Miles drove my blue pickup the two hours back home to Guerra. "What happened?" I asked him, feeling tired. "What time is it?"

"You're alright. You had a bit much to drink, so I decided to drive you home instead of riding with Lauren. She sobered up pretty quick. But of course we all know how well she holds her liquor. Oh, and it's 2:30 in the morning, just so you know. Your parents will be thrilled."

I tried to laugh, but it came out sounding fake. He was right, though. It brought back so many memories of when Rachel and I used to stumble in giggling after midnight senior year. "How far are we?" I asked, trying to sit myself up straight so I could get my bearings. He didn't have to answer, though. I knew exactly where we were. In fact, I could make out the edge of my parents' property in the distance.

"Well, that answers that," I commented, trying to finger brush my still damp hair so I didn't look like a complete crazy person. Of course, I could only hope that it wouldn't matter and I'd make it in without waking them up. But I never had before.

Miles pulled up next to the front gate leading into the ranch, and I looked around dreamily. Even in the dark I could see how beautiful the place was. It reminded me why I moved back in the first place. Open space with green grass and room to move and be free with the scent of rain and heat forever in my nostrils was as close to paradise as I believed I could get. There were even animals all around I could relate to and enjoy being with.

Miles helped me out of the truck and walked me up to the ranch style home that I'd lived in my whole life. It still had the same white brick and a cactus out front. It was my mother's idea since she used to live in Phoenix before she married my father. That was her way of compromising. If she had to live on his ranch, then she had to bring the décor with her.

Miles took my key and unlocked the door, leading me inside the dark house. Luckily, my parents had at least left the stove light on. It cast a dim yellow glow towards the hallway that led to my bedroom and bathroom. The benefit of building the house from the ground up instead of just buying one meant that everyone got their own bathroom and even privacy. I basically had my own side of the house.

But sure enough, just as we reached the hallway, lights flicked on, and my parents came out in their pajamas and slippers in classic old people fashion. Sometimes I thought they would make great comic strip characters because of how hilariously but amazingly typical they were.

"Hi Mr. and Mrs. Milligan, I'm just making sure your daughter makes it to bed safely. The truck is parked outside. She didn't drive home," Miles explained quickly. He had that down pat still.

"Well it looks like it's just like old times," my mother said shaking her head and placing her hands on her hips before cracking a smile. "Good night, Star."

"Good night, Mom," I said with a smile as Miles helped me the rest of the way to the bedroom. Before I knew it, I was sound asleep.

# Chapter Two

I dusted my jeans off and adjusted my hat, trying to shield my eyes from the sun. I didn't have many hangover symptoms, but that Texas summer sun was getting to me for sure as I helped my father on the ranch. I had made it a habit to work with him at least three days a week to prove to him that I could do it. I knew I was a tiny girl, and I hadn't always seemed that serious, but I had a work ethic. I especially had one when it came to do what I loved which was feeding animals and working the land. I could repair fences and help a cow give birth as good if not better than any other guy that worked on a ranch.

"You've been doing a good job lately," my father praised, nodding over to me as he wiped the beads of sweat pooling above his wrinkled brow. Up close in the sun it was easy to tell that my father was aging. He was still a very handsome man with salt and pepper hair, and he was in great shape. But his face looked like it had seen many years. He had sun spots too, running up and down his neck. Would I look like that in 20 years?

"Thank you, that means the world to me. I don't want you to think I'm just trying to be a burden for you guys. I really love it here," I told him, picking up my jug of water and letting some run down the back of my neck.

"What made you think we felt that way, Star?" he asked, furrowing his brow in confusion.

"It's just everyone else is getting married and getting careers and their own places, and here I am coming in at three in the morning and still living with you guys rent free. It's not because I don't want to do anything."

"Oh, Star, I didn't think it was. We love having you here, and I wouldn't call all this sweating rent free. But I do worry that you might want to do something else but you feel obligated to stay here and take on the family business. I mean maybe you might like to move to a bigger city and find a husband or a new career. You should be exploring at this age." Star shook her head, wondering what she was doing that made it unclear what she wanted.

"I know I could have all those things, and at some point I'm sure I'll want a family and to see other places. But I love small town living, and I like working with my hands and being with the animals. I don't feel jipped. I feel whole." I looked around me finding it hard to imagine another way of life in a place where people didn't work with their hands and didn't have ranches; where they had bosses and sat in front of computers all day.

"I can understand that, but I am bit surprised. I didn't realize you were so passionate about this. We can talk more about it if we go riding. Would you like to?"

I nodded. He knew how much I enjoyed riding horses. I'd started very young, insisting on it even though I kept falling off. I quickly became a natural and even trained a couple of them for competitions.

We went into the stables and picked out our horses. I chose a white one with black spots. She was young and loved to run. My father picked his trusty old red horse. He was regal and muscular and had been in the family for the last seven years.

We trotted out of the stables as I tried to control my horse's urge to run. "So, what is it you're wanting to do or accomplish?" he asked, looking at me seriously. It was nice to be able to connect like that with my father. I knew so many people who didn't have any kind of relationship with their father. Not that he and I had always been close. I spent my teenage years disagreeing with him and getting closer to my mother, but it was just a phase. My father was my hero now that I knew all the hard work he put in every day to make sure that our family could live the way we did. He was the hardest worker I knew.

"Well, I'd like to work on a ranch, possibly run one someday. To be honest, I was hoping eventually I could take over this one or be your partner or something when you guys get older and can't do as much. I am just not sure what to do while I'm waiting. I really love it here, Dad, and I don't want to leave. But I do want to be my own person and pay the bills and all of that, you know?"

My father chuckled and patted me on the back. "I can understand that completely. You know I was the middle child in my family, but my younger sister of course didn't want anything to do with the ranch. Then, my brother who I assumed would get it flunked out of college and fell out with my father. I was only 16 when I saw that opening and went for it. I got my GED and started to work on this place immediately. It's what I always wanted. And you are clearly my daughter. And I think what you want is reasonable. There are plenty of ranches to get experience on around here including mine. You should think about that and look into it. Then, we can go from there."

I nodded, feeling suddenly really good about myself. I really didn't know for sure if they wanted me to work on the ranch or take over one day, but it seemed like my father was going to take me seriously. "Thanks, Dad," I said as we rounded a corner. It seemed we had only been out there a couple minutes, but as we headed back towards the stables, I realized it had been much longer.

"There was actually something I wanted to ask you about," my father said as we got closer to the stables and climbed off of the horses.

"Okay, what is it, Dad?" I asked, feeling a little curious.

"Your mother and I have our wedding anniversary coming up in a few days, and I'd really like to do something special for her. I can't remember the last time we took a trip together, so I wanted to take her to Galveston for a little bit and maybe see that pier they put up and just relax together, you know? But I'll need someone who can take care of the ranch while we're gone. I was hoping that maybe you'd be alright with doing that." He looked up at me almost guiltily, like he thought it would be a burden to ask such a thing. But my parents had been married for 30 years almost, and they deserved some time away. And I was happy to give it to them.

"Dad, I don't know why you seem to feel so guilty about asking. Even if I didn't want to work on the ranch I would do this for you guys. I think it's great that you want to take Mom out for your anniversary. You deserve a break; you both do. Plus, it sets a good example for me one day just in case I ever decide I want to be with somebody. You guys are still so love with each other. Don't lose that. It's why you two are the perfect parents." I reached over and wrapped my arms around my father's neck, standing on my tip toes. He was a rather tall man. I got my blonde hair from him but my small stature from my mother.

As I pulled away, I thought I heard him sniffle like he had been holding back tears. "Thank you so much, Star. Your mother is going to be so excited. Plus, this can be a good trial run to see how you do. I'll go tell your mother so she can start packing. I'd love to take her tomorrow night if I can. Is that alright with you," he added the last part like an afterthought. He was so excited; it seemed he couldn't hold it in.

"You go tell Mom, and you guys take as long as you need. I'll make sure our horses get up." I laughed as he practically ran towards the house. It was nice to see a couple that was still so happy about spending time together after so many years. I hoped one day if I met someone we could have that same success.

***

"Thank you so much for this again, dear," my mother said as she gave me a hug and a kiss. It was around six fifteen, and we had just had a nice dinner so they wouldn't have to stop for food on the way to Galveston. They had booked a hotel right on the beach and were planning on having a nice night there together before starting any activities in the morning. Apparently the hotel had a Jacuzzi and everything. I was sure they were going to have an amazing time.

"It's nothing, Mom. You've done so much for me, the least I can do for you is let the two of you go on a trip for your anniversary. It's the big three-O." I could see my mother was about to get emotional as she turned around and tried to hall her own luggage out the door. But after my father gave me a tight hug, he picked it up along with his own so she didn't have to carry it.

"Such a gentleman," my mother told him quietly, kissing him on the cheek. I waved to them as they closed the front door behind them. As I heard their truck start and drive off, I suddenly felt very alone. The house was quiet.

I sat down in front of the television and just stared at it, flipping through channels as I realized there was nothing to watch. There would be no work on the land until morning either, so I literally had nothing to do. I picked up my cell phone and dialed Rachel's number instead, knowing that she was leaving soon. Maybe she would want to come over and have a final sleepover or something.

"Hey, what's up?" Rachel asked when she answered the phone. I could tell I was on speaker for some reason.

"Not a whole lot; I'm just a little bored and lonely over here. My parents let me watch the ranch while they go to Galveston for their 30th anniversary, and it's so quiet here. There's nothing to do until morning. When do you leave?" I asked her, trying to hint at the fact I wanted her to come over.

"My flight goes out tomorrow evening at eight. I'm actually trying to pack my things now and having a really hard time. Guys seem to be so much better at this stuff than we are." I imagined her trying to fit all her hair products on top of her clothes and sitting on a piece of luggage to get the thing to close. "Maybe I can come over in the morning, though. I'd love to say goodbye. I'm really going to miss you." Well, that answered that question.

"Yeah, I would like that. I'm going to miss you too. I'm going to miss all of you. I can't believe we're all going to be apart again. Just promise you'll keep in touch." I was feeling a little sorry for myself in that moment when really I shouldn't have. There were worse things than your high school friends moving away.

"Of course I will. In fact, I'll probably be back to visit for at least holidays. And you know that I can fly you up to New York to see me. I mean, I'll be pretty bored myself until I find something to do. We'll talk all the time. But hey, I've got to get to packing or he's going to kill me for not being ready for that flight. He's dying to have me there with him now."

"Alright, I'll see you tomorrow," I told her before hanging up just as a knock came at the door. I wasn't sure who it could possibly be since my parents were gone. Maybe it was Miles or Lauren. I went to the door and opened it without looking out first. Guerra wasn't really the place where people showed up at the door to harm someone. But I did get a surprise when I saw who was there. It was the local sheriff. He was an older gentleman and had been sheriff most of my life. But like my dad he was still a very fit man.

"Good evening Ms. Milligan," he greeted me, tipping his hat.

"Good evening, Sheriff Tate. What brings you by this evening?" I asked curiously. It wasn't every day that the sheriff just knocked on your door even in a small town like Guerra.

"I'm afraid there's been an accident, Star. Your parents have been in a car crash." I froze and stared at him like he was crazy. I'd just seen them like an hour before. They had just left with smiles on their faces. What was he talking about? Plus, my father was an excellent driver. He had never been in an accident.

As my mind began to process it, the first question came to mind. "Are they alright?" I asked, beginning to feel panic rising in my chest.

"I'm afraid I don't have all the details. I have a report from witnesses that it was getting hard to see because it was dusk and started to rain near Hebbronville and there was a curve in the road that the other car missed. So, they hit your parents pretty hard. They were flown to the hospital in Laredo where they could be better cared for. I have come to escort you if you like. The fastest way is to take 16 which is where the wreck happened, so you have to have a police escort to get through."

"Sure, let me get my things," I said quietly as he nodded. I turned down the hallway to my room and leaned against the wall for a minute and just counted my breathing for a few seconds. I didn't know what was ahead of me, but I had to keep it together. Mom and Dad were going to need me.

I went into my room and slipped on a pair of jeans and a better shirt. I also grabbed a bag and threw in something clean just in case I was at the hospital a while. Then, I walked out the door, following the sheriff to his vehicle. My body moved by itself. I had no train of thought. It was like my mind was in a complete fog as the sheriff took off from the ranch.

# Chapter Three

I was out of it for the next hour or so as we made our way along the same path that my parents took on their way to celebrate their 30th wedding anniversary which was actually not for another couple of days. Were they even going to be able to celebrate now? I didn't know how severe their injuries were, so I couldn't even speculate.

But I suddenly sat at attention as the vehicle came to a halt in front of a road block and flashing lights. We weren't quite to the wreck yet, but they had put blocks several hundred feet back so that they can send cars to the exit off the highway because it was closed. Sheriff Tate rolled down his window as a man approached wearing a uniform as well. "This is their daughter," the sheriff explained, pointing over to me. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to smile and wave, so I just sat there and stared out the window, preparing myself to see what had become of my father's old truck.

The man in uniform went over to some of the other people out there and started moving some of the barrier so that we could get through. There was a wrecker on the scene already that was blocking my view as we drove slowly forward. "I apologize that you have to see this. It takes a while to clean things up. But I assure you, there is no one left at the scene. All parties have been taken to the hospital." The way he said that made me wonder if something bad had happened to the other driver.

As we approached, the first thing I saw were the tire marks. It looked like someone swerved while trying to hit the brakes. I assumed that was my father. Then, as we passed, I looked to my right and saw something terrifying. It was a large truck of some kind, like one belonging to a business, that had hit my father's truck. Not only had my father's truck flipped, it had been slammed straight into the guardrail. It resembled a twisted piece of blue metal on the driver's side as compared to the passenger's side. That side was dented in where the other truck seemed to have hit it a second time right at the front passenger side headlight.

I felt instantly sick to my stomach and was glad as we passed the end of the blocked off section of the highway and began to speed up. We would soon be passing South Fork Estates before switching highway to head northwest to Laredo. It was going to be a long ride still, and I had no idea what had become of my parents. I just kept seeing that smashed up hunk of blue metal and imagining what injuries could have been sustained and how anyone would come out of that without at least being paralyzed. I loved my parents, but I was not ready to care for them like children yet, nor was I ready to say goodbye. But I couldn't think that way. I just had to stay focused and make it to the hospital before I came to any conclusions.

When we finally pulled into the hospital, I looked around and had a hard time imagining sick people inside. It could have easily been some kind of luxury hotel. There was a huge, gated pond out front with a fountain, and the exterior reminded me of a Spanish adobe. It was ridiculously beautiful.

Sheriff Tate walked inside with me to make sure that I was going to get the information I needed. It was after eight at night so the front desk wasn't manned. We had to actually walk back to the desk in the emergency department where the nurses were sitting. They seemed to all be chatting as if there weren't patients around them with fatal injuries. It was a very busy hospital, so I assumed there had to be patients around. We walked up to a woman in blue scrubs who smiled up at us. "Hello, there, who are ya'll looking for?" she asked sweetly. Sheriff smiled back and took his hat off out of courtesy as he leaned into the counter.

"I am the sheriff in Guerra, and this woman's parents were flown in here after a car wreck outside of town. I just want to make sure she speaks to somebody and gets the information she needs about them. I wasn't given much myself. Their last name is Milligan." He cleared his throat as the woman began typing on her computer.

"Alright, I'm just going to look up their location to see if they are up in Trauma or in surgery. They could even be here in the Emergency department. Then, I can better direct her to where she needs to go." The smile was still on her face as she scrolled with her mouse, but I swore I saw a slight twitch before she looked back up at us.

"Doctor Wayland is overseeing their cases, so I'll page him and see if he can come and talk to you about the condition of your parents. Until then, you can wait in the family room up in Trauma on the third floor. You'll see a small door next to the elevators that's labeled when you get to the third floor. Just go on in and make yourself feel at home. There's a bathroom in there as well as some tea and coffee." I nodded and turned to the sheriff.

"I have it from here, but thank you for bringing me all this way." It came out really formal, like I was doing business with someone. I supposed you never knew how you would handle that sort of situation until you were in it. Sheriff Tate shook my hand and put his hat back on his head before walking out of the room. I took a deep breath and followed the signs leading to the elevators and rode one up to the third floor. It was really fast, almost nauseatingly so, but it was very quiet. You could tell a lot about a place by how well the elevators ran. It gave some comfort about the treatment of my parents.

I found the room that the woman had mentioned and walked in to find that there was a man in a coat who I assumed was Dr. Wayland already sitting there and waiting on me. That was awfully fast, which I thought was strange and possibly a bad sign. Shouldn't he be busy taking care of my parents?

He stood up as I entered the room and held out his hand for me to shake. "I am Dr. Wayland; I'm assuming you are Ms. Milligan?" he asked, shaking my hand a little less firm than I expected from a doctor. He was tall and lanky, towering over me awkwardly. He even seemed to hang his shoulders to try and get closer to my level. "Why don't we take a seat so we can talk about your parents?" He gestured to some typical waiting room seats. Though, I couldn't help but notice the room was more the size of a large office and had less than ten chairs in it.

I followed his instruction anyway and sat down. "Feel free to get a cup of coffee or some tea first. I find that some of that orange tea over there calms my nerves," the doctor continued. I wondered for a moment if he was trying to avoid something like bad news. But I went over to the table that had a fresh pot of coffee and some hot water ready for tea. I chose some lemongrass tea and some honey chamomile both in a large Styrofoam cup. Then, I sat down once again, ready to get the show on the road.

"Alright, can you please tell me about my parents now, doctor?" I asked as my whole body threatened to shake apart from the anxiety that was building. Dr. Wayland sighed and wiped at his brow and ran his fingers through his dark hair. All the antics had stopped.

"This isn't any easier for me than it is for you. It is sometimes the worst part of my job. From what we can tell, your father passed on impact. He was pinned against the guardrail by the vehicle after it hit your parents' car for the second time. There was nothing that could be done for him. I'm sorry." He reached out to touch my hand gently in comfort, but it felt more strange and invasive than anything else. Was he saying what I think he was saying?

"So, he's gone, then?" There was that strange emotionless voice coming from my mouth again. It was odd because on the inside I felt like I was exploding at the seams, but on the outside I could do nothing but go through the logical motions.

"Yes, I'm afraid so. Of course, you'll have to go down and officially identify the body. It's just something that's unfortunately necessary," the doctor responded. "I'll have a nurse escort you down when you're ready." He nodded like it was the most natural thing. I shifted so that his hand fell off of mine. He cleared his throat and ran his fingers through his hair once again.

"Wait, so if I have to identify his body, where is my mother?" It had just occurred to me he said nothing of her. Maybe she was still alive, though I couldn't imagine giving her the news that she had lost her husband just before their 30th anniversary.

"Your mother's condition is much more complicated. She had some internal injuries we had to deal with right away, and she needed blood transfusions. After we took care of her immediate needs, we ordered some tests, mainly a CT scan for her brain. She was unconscious when they brought her in. It looks to me like she has some significant brain damage. She needs some help breathing, and we aren't sure if she's going to wake up or if she will be functional. What we do next is up to you. We could certainly keep her hooked up to see if her condition changes. We could give it a time limit and then unplug the machines and see if she can breathe on her own. Or you can review the test results yourself and decide if you think it's best we just let her go. We assume you're familiar with her wishes when it comes to things like this, but she didn't have a DNR."

I sat there, completely stunned. My father was dead. There was no way to sugar coat that. And my mother was in a coma with brain damage and may or may not have been a vegetable at that point. The worst part was they wanted me to make a decision as to whether or not she lived or died. I couldn't even bring myself to say anything. How would anyone handle something like that? I had no idea what my mother would have wanted. We didn't talk about stuff like that. I was only 24.

As my mind was warring with itself, Doctor Wayland decided to make my decision for me. "Why don't you go ahead and take care of your father and then I can take you in to see your mother. We'll go over all the test results and possibilities then. That will give you some time to process this and think about it. Let me go get a nurse who can take you down." He patted my hand again and left the room. It was strange that he thought a little time was all I needed. It was going to take a lot longer to process the fact that I was possibly about to lose both my parents in one night.

A nurse came into the room and motioned for me to follow her. We took the elevator down to the basement floor which I assumed was where my father was being kept. She must have realized the kind of mood I might be in because she didn't say much of anything unless she had to. I really appreciated that. My thoughts were all over the place, and I had no idea how to talk to a human at the moment.

"This is as far as I go," she said in front of the silver door that led into the morgue. I already felt a chill standing in front of it. "Doctor Stone is in there waiting for you." She nodded to me and headed back upstairs, leaving me alone in that cold hallway. I took a deep breath and went inside, not sure what to expect.

"Hello?" I said to the doctor whose back was to me, shivering where I stood. He turned around and smiled at me awkwardly. He was a young man not too much older than myself with red hair and glasses. I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but that wasn't it. "I'm the daughter of Ron Milligan," I said timidly, and he just nodded. I guess he didn't know how to talk to me either. He rolled out a covered body and handed me a clipboard with a sheet to sign. I read over it and saw that it was just for me to confirm the identity of the body or that I didn't recognize it.

As he pulled back the sheet I found myself hoping that it was a mistake. It was going to be some stranger under there, and I would find out that my parents were just fine on their way to Galveston still. But even through the many injuries, I knew it was him. The doctor covered him back up as I nodded and signed the clipboard, handing it back to him.

I ran, taking the elevator back up to that family room with the tea. I went straight to the bathroom and emptied anything that was still in my stomach into the porcelain bowl in front of me. The worst part was knowing that it was only the beginning. Before I knew it I would be saying goodbye to my mother too because as soon as I saw my father it all became too real. I knew I was going through what no one ever wanted to go through.

# Chapter Four

I suddenly felt like the walls were closing in on me as I looked over everything that Doctor Wayland had given me. While I was down in the morgue they had done even more tests on my mother. The doctor was honest with me about the fact he had little hope that my mother would improve. If by some miracle she ever came out of that coma she wasn't going to thrive. She would need help doing every little thing. She may not have even been able to communicate. I wanted it to be some ridiculous lie. I wanted a second opinion, but I knew that I was at one of the best trauma centers in the state. They knew what they were talking about.

I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what would happen if my mother did wake up and come home with me. I would have to tell her that her husband was gone and that I had kept her here to live a sad life. Even though I had no idea what her wishes were, I couldn't imagine her being very happy about that. No matter how much she loved me, she would have wanted to be with my father wherever he was. And he wasn't there anymore. I instantly knew I had my decision, and it was almost a sense of relief. In a way, I had already lost her.

I stood up and went to find the doctor. I wasn't going to wait any longer. Who knew if she could feel pain or not? Besides, it didn't make sense for me to be there anymore. I had so much ahead of me to do, and I needed to do it in my own home. But then I realized that I didn't even have a ride home, and I wasn't in the mood to ride back with the sheriff. So, before I talked to the doctor I needed to make a call.

Rachel's phone rang a few times before she answered. I hoped I wouldn't be too much of a burden to her at the moment, but she was the only one I could imagine coming to get me at the moment. "Hey, two calls in one day. You must really be lonely," Rachel joked. If only she knew the half of it.

"I need to ask a favor of you, Rachel," I said. _Good_ , I thought my voice sounds like me. I'm at the trauma center in Laredo, and I'll be leaving soon. But I was brought here by the sheriff. Is there any way you could come and get me?"

There was a silence, but I knew she was still there because I could hear her breathing. "Is everything okay?" she finally asked.

"It's my parents. They were in an accident," I breathed out, not able to say more than that.

"Alright, I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Don't take 16," I warned her before she hung up.

"Can I help you?" one of the nurses at the desk asked me after I hung up my phone. I had kind of just been standing there, and she seemed annoyed by it.

"Yes, I need to speak to Doctor Wayland. I have made my decision," I told her. She nodded and went to fetch him. She didn't even bother paging him. When the doctor came back he had all sorts of papers for me to sign consenting to what we were about to do and to use her as an organ donor if they could. It was almost an hour before I finally got in to see my mother. Rachel had already texted me to tell me she was getting pretty close. At least I wasn't going to have to hang out after saying goodbye to my mother.

The nurse led me into the room where my mother was. She was hooked up to a bunch of machines. I stood next to her and grabbed her hand. "I'll give you a few minutes, but they'll be in here soon to unplug her," the nurse said. She wasn't trying to be rude, but it did come out cold. Maybe that was the way she used to get through each day with this stuff happening around her all the time, so I couldn't really be angry.

I looked down at the woman who gave birth to me and knew I was going to fall apart the minute I left that room. "Mom?" I asked quietly. I didn't know if she could hear me, but I really hoped she could. "I'm going to let you go be with Dad now because I love you, and I know that's what you deserve. I'm going to miss you every day. You have been the best mother to me; better than most people could even hope for. I want you to know that I'll be okay, and tell Dad that I love him, and I'll take care of the ranch.... if you left it to me. And if not I'll make sure whoever gets it will take care of it." I began to cry, and I wasn't sure what else I could say to her. That pretty much summed it up. So, I just held her hand until the nurse came in with the doctor to unplug everything.

I left the room and stood outside the door until I heard the heart rate machine signal that she was gone. That's when I knew it was time for me to go. So, I headed out in the parking lot to find Rachel sitting there in her car. I climbed in, no longer hiding my emotions.

***

"We have everything set for Thursday evening at six o'clock Ms. Milligan. If anyone wants to send flowers just have them sent here to our address under the same of one of your parents. Do you want there to be a viewing the day before?" I gave the woman at the desk a strange look at the word "viewing". Logically, I knew the point of those. I had been to one for one of my grandparents when I was little, but especially in their situation it seemed like an inappropriate question. I was just about to say something when my phone started to ring.

Rachel patted me on the shoulder. "I'll take care of this, hun. You go answer that call, okay?" I felt so guilty that she had stayed behind with me instead of being with her husband, but I didn't know how to handle all that alone. I had to plan the funeral, clean out the house, call all the family...It seemed like the list just never ended. Where was the time to grieve?

"Hello," I answered the phone. I sounded very disinterested, which I probably was.

"Yes, may I speak to Ms. Star Milligan?" a man with a British accent asked.

"This is her," I said, knowing I sounded exasperated. I hadn't looked in the mirror in two days, but I was sure I had circles around my eyes. I probably looked like a zombie or something.

"I am your parents' lawyer. I have in my possession their will and am the executor. Is there a time soon that I can meet with you?" the man asked. I hadn't even thought of that, but of course they had a will. They owned a lot of property.

"You can come see me at the ranch in about an hour if that's alright," I responded unenthusiastically as Rachel came up to me.

"I will see you then, Star," he said before hanging up. I looked to Rachel and she nodded to let me know she took care of the whole viewing thing. She placed her hand behind my back and gave me a push out the door, which I needed. I was on autopilot and breaking down.

"Sometimes these people can be so insensitive. They just get so used to dealing with this stuff that I guess they don't realize it's a big deal anymore. That's pretty sad, huh? But don't you worry about a thing. I already made it clear that a viewing was not an appropriate thing and for her not to ask about it. You're just having a memorial pretty much, right?" Rachel asked as we drove down the road back towards the ranch. I nodded. They were getting buried in their family plots but with closed caskets. It just didn't feel right to do it any other way after their injuries.

Just the thought of going back to the ranch was daunting. On the one hand I did want to be home, but it was hard to think of it as home when I was in the middle of making big decisions about my parents' things because they were no longer there. I didn't even know if I had the lawful right to go through their things yet, but I just needed to stay busy. Plus, I thought some of the family would want some trinkets or something when they came for the funeral, and I didn't want to deal with shipping anything. They all lived pretty far away. "So what was the phone call about?" Rachel pressed on. She had been trying to get me to talk for a while. It wasn't that I was holding my emotions back; I just really didn't know what to say. Grieving literally left me speechless.

"It was my parents' lawyer. He's supposed to be meeting me back at the ranch in a little while to go over the will with me." I shrugged and looked out the window, watching the familiar Texas landscape pass us.

"Wow, that's kind of a big deal. They probably just gave you everything since you're their only child, but what if they didn't? What do you think you'll do?" It had actually already occurred to me that there was a chance they wouldn't have given me the ranch or the house or anything. They hadn't even known I wanted it. There was a chance they gave it to a distant cousin or simply willed the land to the county to sell or do what they wanted with it. As hard as it was to be in that house without them, it was even harder to imagine living anywhere else. "Well, you know you're always welcome to stay with me. I'm sure the same goes for Miles. And he isn't that far. I mean, at least he's in Texas still."

I appreciated her sentiment, but I tried to imagine myself couch surfing with a bunch of guys or living and working in busy New York. Of course, being near Rachel would be fun, but it wasn't going to be a permanent solution. I just had to hope that my parents provided for me.

It wasn't too long after we got back to the ranch that the lawyer showed up. His name was Edward Redmann. He had on a grey suit and nerdy red glasses. He definitely wasn't originally from Texas. I could hardly imagine my parents sitting down with the man to go over important matters like their property, but as he showed me all the paperwork, it became clear that's exactly what they did. Everything belonged to me; their entire estate. They had left everything to me. Suddenly, I felt like I couldn't handle any more information. I excused myself to the bathroom and just sat on the cold tile floor with my head in my hands.

Of course I wanted the ranch, and it was somewhat of a relief to know that they trusted me that much. But no way did I ever expect or want the property that way. I thought I'd just inherit it when my parents got too old to care for the land not at 24 when they both died in a car crash. I just couldn't go through with anything else at the moment. I felt frozen, and I hoped yet again that Rachel would come to my rescue and usher the man out of there. But I also knew that wasn't fair. She should have been in New York already with her husband.

If only I could have stayed curled in a ball in the bathroom and pretended the word didn't exist, I would have. But I had to take care of my parents' estate and get back to some kind of a normal life. The ranch, the animals, they needed me.

I stood up and wiped the tears away, looking at myself in the mirror. " _Okay Star,_ " I told myself. _You're going to survive, and you're going to get through all these things you have to do one by one. You are not going to break down somewhere embarrassing. You're going to make sure you get through all of this with as much dignity as you can, and then you're going to let Rachel go to her husband_.

I took a deep breath and headed back out to the man and began going through all the paperwork. I needed to just get it done so I could move on to the next step. I'd heard somewhere that sometimes you had to take life one thing at a time, and that's what I was going to have to do.

"Rachel," I said, turning to my friend once the lawyer finally left. It was dark outside, and she had cooked some fried chicken for us to eat along with corn and potatoes. It was the first real meal I'd had since I took that fateful trip to Laredo. "I think you should go to New York after the memorial... like right after."

She stopped eating and looked up at me like I was crazy. "I can't just leave you to deal with all of this, Star. He can wait. I've known him for a tiny fraction of the time I've known you." She reached across the table and put her hand on mine. For a moment, I really wanted to give in and just let her stay, but it wasn't right.

"I need to deal with this on my own at some point. I love that you are here, and I need you to get me through the next couple of days. But then I need you to go where you belong and let me learn to live again. You need to see that awesome husband of yours and live that fun New York life. You don't need to watch me mope around here." Her shoulders sagged, but she let the subject go. I got the feeling I was going to have to buy that ticket for her and drag her to the airport when it came time.

# Chapter Five

I pulled my hair up with a silver clip and adjusted my dark green dress. Something about buying a black dress just to wear to a funeral just didn't seem like it made sense. Besides, I'd heard that it wasn't even a thing to wear black anymore as long as no one was in like bright yellow or red or something. So, I stuck to a wrap dress that I had from high school graduation. The fact that it still fit proved to me just how little I had changed since then. It was just another sign of how stuck I was compared to my friends, and the fact that I was now actually alone didn't help me. I had even told Rachel I was helping her pack her bags and driving her to the airport after the funeral. I must have been some kind of masochist.

I took a deep breath and walked out into the chapel where the memorial was being held. The caskets were waiting outside at the burial site. The memorial was just going to give people a chance to say a few words about my parents whose pictures were up by the podium.

I saw many sympathetic eyes turn on me as I made my way to my seat at the front where immediate family was supposed to sit. Since I was pretty much it, I had asked my father's siblings to sit with me as well as my mother's younger sister. While the chapel was decently full with people most were either long time family friends or cousins. My father was the only one of his siblings to have a child. My mother's sister had her three children with her, though, ranging from 11 to 19. It was good not to be alone, but it felt strange considering I hadn't seen any of them in several years.

The memorial started, and to be honest, it was hard for me to pay attention while people went up to the podium and told their favorite stories about my parents or said how much they would miss them. It was the only way I could get through was let it go by in a blur. Finally, it was my turn to step up to the podium and say what I needed to say.

My knees were shaking, and the room was so silent as I took the steps up towards the podium and lowered the microphone. "Hi, everyone," I said nervously, not sure if I should smile or what. "I want to thank you all for coming here today to celebrate the lives of my parents. They meant a lot to many of you and the world to me. Their loss was so sudden; I still don't know what to make of it, to be honest with you. I'm just trying to get through all of this. So, I'm sorry if I don't say the right thing up here. But what I remember most about them is their love for each other and how it never faded. They were actually on their way to celebrate their 30th wedding anniversary when the accident happened, and I remember when my father told my mother he was going to take her on a trip. She was so excited; they both were. It was like watching two teenagers falling in love. They still were so excited to be together and knew how to have fun and laugh. I hope that one day I can learn from them and maybe have something similar with someone. I wish that to all of you as well. And while I miss them dearly, I am very glad that they are together because I couldn't imagine it being any other way."

I nodded and walked off stage, placing my hand on my stomach to help slow my breathing. I did the best I could, and that was better than I had expected.

Music began to play, ushering people out to the grave site, though many people began to come up to me and give their condolences. I smiled and nodded and shook hands as I moved through the sea of people.

But as I got to the back of the chapel I noticed an unfamiliar but handsome man amongst the guests. I wondered if he could be someone that married into the family or someone's date. He had gorgeous silky slicked back dark hair and tantalizing eyes. His suit looked much more expensive than anyone in town would ever dare to wear or purchase. And there was something almost taboo or devilish about him. I wasn't even sure what it was or why I was thinking about how handsome someone was at my parents' funeral, but I felt like I should ask how he knew the family.

"Umm, hi," I walked up to him and said awkwardly. He grinned at me in an almost impish way only adding to his handsome and mysterious demeanor. "I'm sorry, but I just didn't recognize you, and I was wondering if you were here with someone and maybe I missed it."

"Oh, how rude of me," he said, holding out his hand to shake. "My name is Jonathan. I'm not here with anyone. I actually knew your parents a little through some business dealings and mutual contacts." I narrowed my eyes at him and shook his hand. His skin was soft, telling me he obviously didn't do any work with his hands. I honestly couldn't think of how such a man would know my parents. Plus, he was being very vague about how he knew them. The whole thing was just odd. But I also didn't feel like grilling anyone in that environment.

"You did pretty well up there. If it were me, I probably would have fallen apart or just refused to speak at all," he added after I pulled my hand away. I smiled at him to let him know that was appreciated. It was nice to know that I didn't make a fool out of myself.

"Thank you for that. I'm glad I at least put on a good face. I was so sure I was going to embarrass myself. Hey, I need to head to the graveside service. I'm assuming I'll see there. But if I don't, thank you so much for coming. I'm sure it meant a lot to them," I said cautiously, sneaking past him to the door.

"No problem, but don't feel like you have to put on a face. Everyone knows you should be grieving," he called to me as I stepped out into the fading light outside.

When I got to their grave site, I saw that the caskets were already prepared to be lowered. The service was simple; just a prayer and some family putting trinkets or flowers on the caskets. Some people dabbed at their eyes while some totally lost it. I stayed silent as I fell apart on the inside while Rachel stood by my side and held my hand. Again, she became my rock. Maybe one day I would be able to do something great for her and make it up to her, but I hoped it wasn't because she lost her parents. I wouldn't wish that on anyone.

Even though I should have been focused on the service and saying goodbye to my parents, the thought of Jonathan kept coming back to my mind. It kept bothering me like a fly or something buzzing by my head. He had looked so rich, way too rich to have been close enough to my parents to know who they were and that they were gone.

Even more disturbing was the fact that I found him to be handsome. I usually wasn't one to be boy crazy or anything, but there I was at my parents' funeral thinking about some man I didn't even know. Maybe it was the mystery of it all or that it was a good distraction from the pain.

As everyone left the grave site and parted ways, at least for the time being, I decided to let the thought go. I hadn't seen him in the crowd after that, and I was almost certain I would never see him again. It shouldn't have been something I was concerned about. I needed to get back to the ranch because I knew some of the family would be there. I didn't know when it became a tradition to cook or give food to the grieving family member, but I was pretty sure that was the plan. I had cleaned out the fridge in preparation, knowing everyone would at least be dropping off some sort of casserole or potato salad.

As I climbed into the passenger seat of Rachel's car, I finally saw him again. He was on his cell phone and several yards away, but he looked right at me and waved. I wasn't sure if it was a nice to meet you and goodbye sort of thing; or I want to talk to you again thing. But it didn't matter because I doubted he would be a guest at the ranch since he wasn't family. It was mostly going to be my aunts, uncles and a couple of cousins, and even they were only staying for a couple of hours. They were all eager to get back to their lives somewhere else. Like many they weren't fans of rural Texas the way I was. They all lived farther north.

"Who's that?" Rachel asked in a soothing voice, the same one she'd been using with me for days. I could tell she thought I was fragile like an old piece of glass that might just shatter any moment. She was probably right.

"I don't really know. He says his name is Jonathan. He said he knew my parents a little but didn't give a whole lot of detail on how. Isn't that weird?" I asked passively.

"Well, it could have been someone they knew when you were away at college. I do know he's pretty cute though," Rachel said offhandedly, though I knew what she was getting at. Before she found Mr. Right, she used boys as a fun distraction. She probably figured I could do the same. But I just wasn't that type.

"Well, it doesn't really matter. I'll probably never see the guy again, right?" It was a mostly rhetorical question, but she answered me anyway.

"You're probably right. It's a shame, though. He looked pretty wealthy, and he had a great smile." I shook my head, not understanding how she judged people. But I was amused by it. It was better than being miserable and keeping my mind on the losses I had faced.

We joked like that about normal things all the way home. It was nice, like old times for a little bit even though she was about to go halfway across the world from me. It was great to know we could still be that close and know each other so well; a comfort in my world of darkness.

A knock came at the door, and I wondered who it might be. All my family had cleared out of the house and it was around nine at night. Nobody had stayed around too long, which actually turned out to be a comforting thing. It was more exhausting than I had expected to entertain family. I guessed it was just because I was so used to being isolated; an only child whose parents' families and lives were in a way a mystery or at least something pushed back in my mind. They had kept in touch through e-mails, phone calls and Facebook instead of actually being present. It made no sense to suddenly start being together.

When I opened the door I was surprised to see Lauren standing there. I had told her and Miles about my parents the day before when I could handle giving them the news. Miles was already in Dallas and hard to reach while Lauren had been staying on the coast with her family. I hadn't expected to see her.

"Well, are you going to let me in?" she asked with mock anger. I opened the door wide, and she flew at me with a hug. "I couldn't just leave you hanging even if it meant driving a couple of hours to get here. Plus, I wanted to see if I could help Rachel pack. Or even help you polish off some of that great food I know you don't have room for."

Her humor was another relief, and she was unfortunately correct. Two large bowls sat on the kitchen counter because there was nowhere to keep them. I shut the door and led her into the living room where Rachel was bringing her stuff out to re-pack. She had pretty much pulled it all out while staying with me. She was one of those girls who had a wardrobe change at least three times a day.

The two girls also hugged before they both sat on the floor and began packing. I went into the kitchen to fill a bow with some macaroni salad for Lauren. "Thank you, dear," she said as I handed it to her along with a spoon. She was using a fake Australian accent to be funny.

We spent a good hour laughing with each other and packing, but it had to end too soon. We all walked out and packed the back of Rachel's pickup with her luggage and squeezed in it together. And I took off towards the airport while the other two girls blasted music and began to sing along. I was driving what was soon to be my truck because Rachel couldn't take it with her, so she gave it to me to use since my parents' car was totaled.

I let the simple banter fill my head as we took the two hour long drive to the airport where we would be saying goodbye to our friend for a long time. Once she was in New York I knew she wouldn't be looking to come back to Guerra any time soon no matter what she said. The ending of so many eras were coming my way, and it frightened me. In the light of day the next morning, I was going to be completely alone for the first time in my life. How was I going to handle that?

# Chapter Six

The next morning, when my alarm went off around six a.m. I wasn't exactly sure what was ahead of me. The ranch had been slightly neglected over the past week while I dealt with all the things I had to do for my parents and the funeral. Of course, I had cared for the animals, but I had done the minimum. It was going to be my first real day running the ranch by myself, and it was going to be tough. I wasn't even going to use any of the ranch hands because I wasn't sure yet if I could afford them or not or how many I needed. I was determined to try to take care of the first week myself and then see what I absolutely needed help with.

The first thing I did was pull on some old boots, a pair of cut off shorts and a light button down top. I knew it would cover me from the sun but keep me cool because it was so lightweight. I decided a sports bra underneath was best...well it was the only one I had. _I need to make a trip to the store to get some more appropriate attire_ , I thought.

As I walked outside the sun was coming up in the east, making everything shine brightly under its first rays of the day. I had made myself a list based on what I knew from growing up there. The first thing I needed to do was milk the cows. So, I headed towards them. Some of them were just waking up while others were already on the move. I led them one by one into the barn where they could eat happily while I washed their udders and milked them. By the time I was done with that I had so much milk I didn't know what to do with it, and I still had another round to go later in the afternoon. Cows had to be milked twice a day generally. At least that's what I learned when I was like four or five.

I knew they had a deal with one of the local companies. I would have to find the phone number to call to make sure that service was continued. I left out a couple of gallons for myself and moved onto the chickens; feeding them and picking the eggs. Luckily we only had six chickens, so most of the eggs were used by my family. But now I would have to sell some. I thought about making a website for the ranch so people knew we had excess to sell, but I wasn't sure when I would find the time.

For the moment being, I carried the eggs and two gallons of milk inside to put in the fridge which I had already cleaned out by sending half the food home with Lauren. It was finally time for me to have a little breakfast even though I was way too exhausted already to cook it. That was clearly why my mother did the cooking while my dad worked the land.

So, I stuck my head under the cool faucet and sat down with a cup of instant coffee for a minute just to chill and cool off. One thing I had to say for the whole place is that the air conditioning was still working great. If it ever went out, I wouldn't know what to do with myself.

After I drank my coffee I was able to get up and make some eggs and bacon for myself. It didn't taste as good as my mother's, but it was pretty wholesome considering. I actually felt proud of myself and energized when I was done and washed off my dishes. It was time to get back out there.

I spent from nine until noon doing everything I could think of from checking and repairing fences to bathing and brushing the horses. I even planted some seeds in the garden and pulled some of the vegetables that were ready. I kept myself pretty busy so that I didn't have to think about how alone I was or how I was never going to get to brag about how good I was doing to my father. I would never cook another meal with my mother or go shopping with her.

Those thoughts began to creeped back in as I slowed down, raking the manure and other items from the horses' stall while they ran around in their corral.

I tried so hard not to sniffle or cry, but tears constantly began to sting my eyes and cheeks as I recalled the first time my father let me ride a horse or the first calf we helped birth together. It was getting to be too hard.

Just as I was about to head in for lunch, when I saw a silver Mercedes pull into the long, dirt driveway in front of the gate that led onto the property. I really didn't want to see anyone at the moment, but considering the fact that the car was so expensive and had tinted windows, it made me curious as to who it could possibly be.

I sighed and walked up to the gate to meet the person in the car. I had more work to do, and I didn't even look the part to be talking to anyone. I was sure I was covered in dirt and sweat among other things.

I watched the driver get out and could see that it was a man in designer dark jeans and a polo, but his back was turned to me. I could not tell who he was. The light blinded me, and I tried to squint to make out his features as he turned around to face me. That's when I realized I knew exactly who the man was. It was Jonathan; the handsome, mysterious man from the funeral. For a moment I caught a look of surprise on his face that I wasn't sure of the reason for. But then he caught himself and smiled as he approached the other side of the gate.

"Well, it looks like we meet again "I said, trying not to feel too self-conscious about the way I looked. I was going to spend most of my days looking like that from then on. So, I'd have to get used to it and so would anyone who wanted to be around me.

"Yes, it does. It's nice to see you again, Star, but I was almost entirely sure that you'd have moved on now and left town. But it looks like you're in the thick of it." He looked me up and down with a smirk, and I suddenly felt an odd chill run through me. I had always been pretty, but I wasn't used to being looked at by guys like Jonathan.

"Yeah, I have been trying to do this whole ranch thing by myself. Hard work doesn't exactly look that attractive," I admitted with a shrug. "I've lived here on the ranch for a year now, though. I came back after college because I loved it here so much. The big city just wasn't for me. The ranch is actually being transferred to me, so as long as I pay the bills, I can stay here. This is pretty much my home now. As you can tell, I'm still sort of processing that." I nodded and tried not to stare at his hazel eyes or his yet again perfect hair. I could tell through his navy polo that he was probably ripped under there. I imagined that the guy paid for a personal trainer and a team of nutritionists to stay looking like that.

A few strange and confused looks crossed his face, but I ignored it. I was happy to see him for whatever reason. It was probably because I was so lonely being on that ranch without my parents, but there was also something that drew me to the rich stranger. "Well, there's nothing wrong with a little hard work and getting a little dirty sometimes. Your father, I think, would have agreed with me on that." He winked at me when he said it, forcing me to hold back an obvious gasp. I wasn't sure why he was there, but something about being there with him kind of made my brain melt. It probably didn't help that it was hot enough out there to boil an egg.

"I've still got a couple of things to do on the ranch, of course, but would you like to come inside for some tea? I'd like to think I make some pretty good southern peach tea," I suggested, trying to tempt him.

"Yeah, that would be nice, actually. But why don't you let me try my hand at the tea so that you can finish what you're doing and get washed up. I'm sure it's been a long day for you already." I nodded and opened the gate to let him in, trying not to do something dumb like trip or bat my eyes at him.

He walked past me and led the way into the house like he was in charge. He had clearly been by a couple of time before, but that confidence was what I noticed. Something about it made me like him even more even though I hardly knew more than his name.

***

It took me about an hour to finish up the rest of my tasks and get cleaned up. I felt like I was peeling off layers of skin scrubbing all of the dirt and sticky dried sweat off. I still hadn't milked the cows, but I figured they could wait until evening.

I came back out into the living room with some nice jeans on and a tee shirt. My hair was back down and blow dried to the best of my ability. But more than anything I felt better.

As I peeked my head into the kitchen I saw Jonathan filling our glasses with tea. I was skeptical because he definitely wasn't from the south. He didn't even have a Texas accent. I took a sip as I leaned against the counter, and I was pleasantly surprised. It tasted like something straight out of Georgia. "Have you ever lived in Georgia?" I asked offhanded, but I was surprised when he nodded.

"I've lived a lot of places," he explained as he walked with me to the living room where we sat down to relax with our tea. It felt nice to just sit there and relax with someone else in the house. "My family moved around quite a few times because of my father's job. I spent the bulk of my childhood in Ohio, though. Texas was the last place we ended up, and for some reason it just suited me."

I looked at him strangely and took another swig of my peach iced tea. What he was saying just didn't fit the image I had of him.

"So, I'm sorry for this, but I'm still a little confused as to how you knew my parents. I guess I must have been in college when you met them, and I was too out of it at the funeral to really push for any information."

"Yes, that's right. I got to know them, your father in particular, pretty well about three years ago. You must have been at college. I became an advisor of sorts to them."

That still seemed pretty vague. But I didn't see any reason to push him out of the house for it. It just wasn't my business yet. So, I decided to leave it alone.

"So, is it just you or do you have a boyfriend here with you?"

I wasn't sure if it was just making conversation or if he was asking for a reason, but I was quick to answer.

"It's just me which seemed like a good idea until now. Until about a week ago, it hadn't been a big deal. I had a lot of friends who I grew up with in town, but they've all kind of moved out and on, you know? One's married; she's the one who went through all this with me. I took her to the airport last night to force her to go be with her new husband. She wanted to stay behind for me, but I couldn't let her do that."

"I couldn't imagine how hard this must be for you, especially facing this practically alone. I'm no expert, and I don't know you, but it didn't seem like any of the family was very helpful or very close to you. How are you holding up?" Other than Rachel, for the most part, he was the first one to actually want to know the real answer to that question. Everyone just dismissed or assumed things about my feelings.

"I'm just doing the best I can. I certainly didn't expect to lose them both at once or so soon. I mean, they were headed off to celebrate their 30th anniversary. The timing was bad. Of course, not that there's good timing for that, but it just feels wrong. And now I have their ranch, and it almost feels selfish. I didn't want it because they passed. And I just keep replaying that night in my head, how they were so happy when they left and then the next time I saw them..." I trailed off, pretty sure he didn't want the gory details of that.

"You can talk about it if you want. If not that's alright, but I would imagine keeping things to yourself just makes the grief build," Jonathan suggested. There was a comfort in his presence and in his words that felt like it was keeping me there alive. And the way he honestly cared made me feel like he must have had a good heart.

"It was just, when I got there I had to identify my father's body. And my mother was on the verge of being a vegetable. I had to decide to let her go. It was almost like the worst possible scenario for me." I looked down at my feet as the conversation got serious. Jonathan sat in respectful silence as we sipped out tea.

Eventually, though, I knew he would have to leave. That was the worst thought because anything was better than being on that ranch alone at that moment. But soon he stood up to go. "Well, I don't want to keep you. I'm sure you have a lot more to do here." He nodded and got up, walking towards the door. But as he opened it he turned back around and looked thoughtful. "Would you like to go out for dinner?" he asked suddenly. I wasn't sure if he meant right then and there or some time.

"Let me think about it," I offered, not sure what else to say. So, he gave me a card with his number on it and I waved goodbye. Once he was gone, all I was left with was silence.

I took care of the cows and finished everything else up before putting the horses back in their stalls. As I entered the empty kitchen it seemed haunted with the family that once occupied it. Suddenly, dinner alone in an empty kitchen made me want to vomit. I pulled out my phone and dialed the number Jonathan had given me.

# Chapter Seven

"Hey, Jonathan? This is Star. I think I'll take you up on the whole going out for dinner thing," I said nervously. He probably thought I was crazy. Or worse, he had already eaten or was comfortable at home with some other woman and now I called.

"Oh, alright. I'll be right back over there to pick you up as soon as I get ready," he answered quickly. I could hear him shuffling around like he was already preparing to come pick me up. Was I really going to ride in a Mercedes with a handsome man to go out to eat?

"Okay, I'll go get ready too." I hung up the phone and instantly panicked. I had never been on a real date before; if that's even what it was I was doing with Jonathan. I mean, I'd had a beer with a guy, seen a movie or hung out in his dorm room. But I had never been on a real adult date where it was more about chivalry and romanticism and less about making out and staring at each other's' bets features if you catch my drift. I didn't have anything super nice to wear that was on par with the kind of things I imagined Jonathan wore on dates; like tuxes. But what I had was going to have to be good enough for wherever he was taking me.

I just went with a white dress with blue flowers on it that landed above my knee and a pair of boots that weren't completely torn up. In fact, they had blue rhinestones on them that almost matched the blue flowers on the dress. But I did leave my hair down the way I liked it.

It wasn't too long before a knock came at the door signaling that Jonathan had come to pick me up. At first I found myself leaping across the room towards the door before I decided to slow it down as not to seem strange or desperate. Then, I opened the door to see that he was dressed rather casually too, still in what seemed to be his signature jeans and a polo. Though, it was a red polo this time.

"Hi," I said as he led me out to his car. "I don't think I've ever been in a car like that before," I admitted as he closed the door behind me like a gentleman.

"Really?" he asked, looking at me sideways before taking off out of the driveway. I had to hang on for dear life as the acceleration plastered my head to the headrest.

"Really," I squeaked out before we both broke into a laugh.

"Sorry about that. I'm usually driving alone," Jonathan explained as he shifted gears. "I guess you really are a country girl."

I nodded. "What about you? You said you moved a bunch of places." I looked to him for an answer, very curious to know more about him.

"Well, like I said I spent the most years in Ohio, though we moved a couple times there too. At the age of 12 is when the moving really started. I lived in Georgia for a year and then went back up north, living in Connecticut for three years and then Michigan for another two. We came to stay in Texas with some family over the summer after I graduated high school, and my mother insisted on staying. I went to college in Dallas and then just stuck around. I liked it better by the beach."

He was becoming more and more like a real person by the minute. I smiled at him as we pulled up to a bar and grill. It seemed to be like a pretty hip and casual; environment. We walked in and found a booth in the dark lighting. The menu had everything from fancy pasts dishes paired with wine down to bar food and beer.

I let Jonathan just order whatever for us so that we had a table full of things like onion rings, fries and wings as well as a bottle of wine. He spent the first little bit telling me jokes and things that made me laugh like the fact that he was a clumsy child with acne. I couldn't even imagine that. "I bet you had guys falling all over you from day one and that you were the sweet shy girl," he said, trying to guess what I was like. I laughed again at exactly how wrong he was.

"You are so far off!" I squealed, gasping for air in between giggles. I'm the resident party girl here in Guerra. I gave my parents so much crap staying out at the beach for hours deep into the night and stumbling in with my guy friends or my friend Rachel way past curfew and possibly drunk. It was a regular routine, especially in the summer. I even got my friends to go skinny dipping in the ocean once. In fact, that's how I spent my 24th birthday; partying on the beach. It was like old times coming in that house again with my best friend Miles carrying me and my mother shaking her head."

Jonathan made a face, scrunching up his features in a totally cute yet unattractive way. "Something about that just doesn't seem right. I mean, I'm sure you looked great doing it, but I wouldn't want all those germs and fish swimming around certain areas," he admitted with a chuckle. "I like the way the ocean looks but the idea of critters does freak me out."

"A big guy like you?" I asked, wondering if he was playing games with me. "I guess I just don't get it. I mean, my father used to have me catch little fish with my hands and even took me crabbing once. But then again, I've touched udders so after that I guess there's not much else to be grossed out by." As we talked, I realized that for the first time since their passing, I was able to talk about my parents and memories I had with them without breaking down. Jonathan was having a positive effect on me. I wanted to cling to him for dear life even though I'd just met him.

"You're definitely different, Star. Which reminds me, where did you get the name? It's very unusual." I took a sip from my wine glass and a bite from another onion ring before answering him. The food was so good and for some reason, I suddenly felt like I hadn't eaten a decent meal in a long time.

"Star actually isn't my given name; Samantha is. But when I was about eight or nine helping my father on the ranch he decided to start calling me Star. So, from then on it just stuck. That's what people have called me ever since." The look on his face was that of confusion, and I broke out in laughter once again. "Around here, everyone has some kind of nickname which is generally more popular than their given name."

"Really? I guess since I'm from up north mostly, I just don't get it. We didn't do that up there." I burst out laughing, and he followed. There was a slight chance that I'd had a few too many drinks. I never had been a very heavy drinker. I could work on the ranch with the best of them, but drinking for me was like for any typical woman of my size. In other words, I got tipsy pretty quickly. And the food, no matter how good it was, wasn't helping as much as it should have. Luckily, Jonathan seemed to be tolerating the alcohol pretty well.

"I imagine that if I were ever to go up north there would be a lot of things I didn't understand, so don't feel too bad. I've heard people say it's almost like leaving the country entirely to come down here. Actually, my mom always said that. She didn't always live in a small town like Guerra. She was a city girl through and through." Thinking about my mother was threatening to ruin the good feeling. I really did miss her. "I miss her," I admitted with a sigh. There was no use in keeping it all in.

"I'm sure you do, and I'm sure even wherever she is she misses being with you as well." It was such a sweet thing to say, I almost reached out to hold his hand. He always seemed to have the right words at the right time. "But tell me about that. Why did she move if she was a city girl?"

I smiled at the memory of them telling me their love story. I made them a book about it on their 15th anniversary. "Her and my father just clicked right away, and they just weren't going to be without each other. But my father already knew he wanted to live out here and be a rancher. There was no other option for him. So, she got her Phoenix-like decorations; the ones that are still at the house now, and he got the ranch in Guerra." It made so much sense. Did everyone have a great story like that? I hoped I would one day.

"They always did seem to be very much in love even after all that time. Well, I think it may be time to pay the check and get out of here. We've been tying up their booth for two hours now," Jonathan announced, raising his hand to get the waiter over. Instead of waiting for the check, Jonathan just handed over his credit card. Were rich people really like that, not caring about the money they spent?

I looked at the clock and confirmed what he said. "It doesn't feel like it's been two hours," I told, him, feeling a bit of wonderment at how good he had been able to distract me. It probably helped that he was rather charming. For the first time I noticed that we had ended up somewhere scooting closer to each other, or at least I had scooted closer to him over the course of the evening.

Once the waiter brought his credit card back to him, he took my arm and helped me out to the car. I was pretty sobered up by then, but I figured he was trying to be a gentleman and do the right thing. As he climbed in and shut the door, I began to feel that loneliness threatening to creep back in again knowing that he was about to drop me back off at that empty house. I wanted to know how long it was going to be before I felt okay with that or got used to it. My biggest fear was that it would never happen.

By the time we pulled up in the driveway and I looked out the car window, I was feeling uneasy. I looked over at Jonathan who was getting out of the car so he could come around and let me out. He was a very good looking guy, and he had been so nice to me the whole day. I knew there were things I didn't know or understand about him and how he knew my parents, but all suspicions aside, I felt like I needed his company.

He began walking me up to the door almost voluntarily. I felt a little bit like I was on my way to the gallows or something. Just as he was about to say goodbye and leave for the evening, I decided to just try and make him stay. I gave my best smile. "Jonathan, would you like to come in for a little while? We can have another glass of wine. I know there are a few older bottles in there that should be really good and aged by now. My grandfather really loved wine." I met my eyes with his and blushed trying to focus on getting him to agree.

"Sure, I'd like that. Show me that wine?" He smiled and displayed his dimples as we walked inside together. He shut the door behind us, and I went to get the wine and glasses. There were two cabinets in our large kitchen that held racks of wine and six or seven bottles of various ages. I grabbed what looked like a good red and brought it out with two glasses.

"So, what do you think? I asked, passing it to him.

"This is a good brand and a good age. Let's open it." He used his keys to pop the cork, making a loud noise that filled the house. It was worth it just to get rid of the silence as he poured me a full glass and passed it to me, sniffing his like it was a flower.

I sat on the arm of the couch next to him as I took not so tiny sips from my wine. As Jonathan went to rest his arm on the couch he ended up brushing up against the bare skin of my leg. Suddenly, there was an awful lot of tension in the room. I was pretty sure I could have cut through it.

"So," I said, clearing my throat. "Do you have some significant other at home? Though, I probably should have asked before I drank with you," I teased, reprising his question to me earlier in the day.

He chuckled and knocked back the rest of his wine like a pro. It was kind of sexy.

"No. I've always been more of a loner and a business man. Of course, it doesn't help that sometimes I still see myself as that awkward young boy who no one wanted to sit next to at lunch. I often get advances but always seem like I don't know what to do with them." I threw back the rest of my wine as well and ended up going too far back so that he had to hang onto my leg and help catch me. But his hand lingered there afterward during a moment of intense silence as we looked at each other.

"More wine?" he asked my after a second, and I held out my glass to him as he reach over with the bottle. But as he poured, I lost my balance, slipping down the arm onto the catch. I landed awkwardly halfway on top of him and halfway stuck in the tiny space between him and the edge of the couch.

"Sorry," I whispered, struggling to get up, but all I succeeded in doing was putting myself farther up into his lap. I was about to stand up, but his hand slipped around my waste. I had a decision to make. Was the night going to end in an awkward PG goodbye or was I going to make a move? I was just tipsy enough that I thought I just might do the ladder.

# Chapter Eight

"You have pretty eyelashes for a guy." _Yes, that actually did come out of my mouth_ , I thought.

"Well thank you," he answered, sounding amused.

I couldn't help but notice that his hand was slipping down over my butt very slowly, like he was trying to be sneaky. I knew I had felt some sexual tension between us. It felt almost like a victory to be right. My breathing became quick and uneven as he swiped right over my round ass and snaked up my back leaving searing indents where his fingers landed. My spine was revolting against me, trying to force me to react by shivering or arching.

Then, Jonathan started using his strength to put a little pressure on my back. I was pretty sure he was trying to force me forward which would cause our lips to meet. I fought for a moment, trying to stand my ground. I was the party girl, not the drunken hook up girl, but I swore I felt a deeper connection with this strange man than just something carnal.

So, I let my muscles relax and gave in, leaning in towards him. Our noses touched first, sliding along each other. It was strange and sensual as we kept our eyes open and watched each other move and breathe. Then, our lips brushed ever so slightly as we still kept eye contact.

I pressed my body into him and up my arms around his neck, he held to my hips and butt tighter, squeezing my right cheek for good measure. And then our moths collided like we were diving right into each other.

His lips were soft, and I gasped as he parted my lips with his and slipped his warm, wet tongue in my mouth.

It wasn't like making out with a college guy at all. It was slow and meticulous, as we discovered every inch of each other's mouths; every bump, every tooth. My whole body was engulfed with an electric shock as Jonathan slowly moved his left hand onto my bare skin, rubbing at my calf. No one had ever been able to make me feel like this, it was an exciting experience.

Jonathan slipped my boots off, one-by-one. Letting them drop to the floor with a thud. He tucked his hands under my knees and pulled me up and back so that I was laying across him on the couch. I felt like I was about to become his play thing, but in a strange way, that was getting me going. I felt my panties getting wetter by the second, as Jonathan slid his hands up my bare legs stopping just above the knee and going back down.

I giggled once or twice as his fingers slid across my most ticklish places. Finally, he lifted my dress up so that my stomach and my white satin panties were exposed to him. I would have felt so self-conscious if it weren't for the liquid courage I'd been filling up with all night. Instead, I sighed as he placed his lips against my bare skin, kissing up from my ankle all the way up to my belly button and back down. I knew he must have been able to tell through my panties the affect he was having on me. I was sure I was soaking them, but he just kept exploring and teasing me, focusing on everywhere but where I wanted him to.

Jonathan's hands felt strong, but soft, as he grabbed my legs and brought them up so that my knees were bent. It made it easy for him to slide out from under me while allowing one of his hands to slide across my skin on the way. A strange whimper flew from my mouth, as it seemed that he was going away. But then I watched as he stood up and unbuckled his belt, sliding it from where it sat in his jeans and throwing it to the ground. Something came over me, and I felt like I had to be the one to take his clothes off.

I reached out and latched onto the bottom of his shirt and tugged. He came easily with a huge smirk on his face that he couldn't hide. I looked up at him as I unbuttoned his jeans and unzipped them, letting them slip to his ankles. It revealed that he was wearing black silk boxers.

"It's so sexy how innocent you look even though you're taking my clothes off," he whispered to me as he looked down at me and bent over so I could tug his shirt over his head. I reached out to feel of his skin, even under his shirt he was muscular and tan like someone from a movie.

Jonathan leaned down and kissed me on the mouth, instantly parting my lips. Our mouths smacked together and sucked on each other as the intensity of our connection grew. My heart was beating fast, and my stomach was tugging at me like I was at the top of a large hill on a roller coaster about to tip over the edge. My nails scraped against the flesh of his chest, and his hot breath was all over me as he left my lips and began to kiss down my neck to my chest.

Then, he yanked me to an upright position and pulled my dress over my head, making my curls go everywhere. He stood back and looked at my body as I sat in front of him in nothing but my bra and soaked panties. There was a shine in his eyes that was a mixture of lust and awe. No one had ever looked at me like that before. I had never found so much excitement in another human being before either.

Suddenly, he became ravenous and had a feral look in his eyes. He pushed me up against the arm of the couch and slid my panties off in one quick swipe. He then climbed onto the couch with me and placed each of my hands on my ankles. I braced myself for whatever was going to come next. He crouched low in front of me, teasing me with his fingers for just a second as he took in my scent. Then, he dipped his head low and flicked his tongue out of his mouth so that it slid across my clit in one quick motion. I surprised myself as I called out in shock and pleasure, his tongue leaving as quickly as it came.

"Mmmm," he commented, looking up into my eyes before dipping back down and repeating the motion, only this time his tongue lingered.

I closed my eyes as my breathing came in quick gasps. The pleasure of his tongue lapping against my most sensitive spot was overwhelming like the shock of static electricity. My legs shook weakly with the intensity until I willed myself to relax. His tongue slipped down past my clit and found my sweet, wet center, which was screaming, for him.

His slick tongue dove inside of me, exploring the pink, sensitive flesh, and I moaned softly, letting my legs go so they could rest gently across his back. He began to make his tongue stiffer and thrust it in and out of me, and my head fell back against the couch in pure ecstasy. I imagined and wondered what it would be like to have his shaft inside of me the same way, sliding in and out of my aching center.

I called out to him and ran my hands through his dark locks as my body began to feel like waves were coming over it. My legs began to quiver uncontrollably, and Jonathan reacted by sliding his tongue in deeper and faster, coaxing me to my zenith. As I released onto him, he lapped me up while my center pulsed in front of him. I balled my hands into fists until my whole body relaxed. It seemed to have taken a lot out of me, like I could fall asleep right there. And as Jonathan slid his arms underneath me and scooped me up in his arms, I thought that's what I was going to do.

I gave him directions to the hallway where my bathroom and bedroom were. I could feel my eyes fighting to stay open, and I was startled back to reality when he threw me down on my queen size bed.

"You didn't think I was done with you, did you?" he asked before pulling down his boxers.

And there he was, right there in front of me and totally bare. His tan color extended everywhere, and he was very well trimmed. His shaft was long and stood at attention as he crawled into the bed with me. As his member slid along the inside of my thigh, my center came to life again, making the bed sheets wet from my excitement.

"I guess I did," I whispered as he reached behind my back to pluck my bra off, unfurling my B cups. He leaned forward and sucked my left breast into his mouth, teasing the nipple with his tongue. Did he go to some kind of class to learn how to use his tongue like that?

I let him lay me down, and my hair spread out behind my head. He played with it, sliding it between his fingers. I closed my eyes and let him continue kissing and playing with my breasts. I was content with him staying there for a while even as they began to swell and ache a bit.

After a few moments, he moved to kiss down my body, and I felt his member slide down and back up my leg, coming very close to my wet center again. I gasped as it grazed my soft lips and hit the other leg as he raised himself up to his my lips.

"All of you tastes so sweet," he told me, allowing his shaft to have a mind of its own and tease me.

"Please," I begged him, wanting to know what it felt like to have him inside of me.

I reached down, trying to grab onto him until I finally stretched far enough to land on it. I wrapped my hand around him firmly and he gasped and arched his back at my touch. I gave him a few strokes and finally saw a reaction on his face as he bit his lip. Then, he looked at me in desperation and nodded his permission. I spread my legs wide and guided him to my opening, so that he could slide in on the slick sweetness my arousal was causing.

We both moaned as I let go and his shaft moved deeper inside of me. It was like he was finally locking in place where he was supposed to be, and my head collapsed back on the bed again, my breathing coming in shallow spurts. His body slid over mine, and I could see beads of sweat rising and pooling in the little creases between his well-defined muscles and over his brows. We just watched each other react as his shaft forced me to spread further for him, letting him reach new depths that felt better by the second.

Suddenly, he stopped and slid out of me, leaving me wanting. However, before I could even protest, he flipped me over so that I was on my knees. My butt was up in the air facing him, and he pulled my hips into him, plunging his shaft back deep inside of me. I screamed as he impaled me all the way through, slamming into my G-spot and even beyond. He gathered my hair into his hand and used it as leverage. Then, I felt it, that shakiness and electricity that came in waves until my insides began to pulse around him. He groaned loudly as I squeezed him to his climax as well.

We collapsed in the bed next to each other, panting and trying to catch our breaths and slow out hearts. As we calmed, Jonathan patted his chest for me to lay my head on it. He began to sweetly run his fingers through my blonde curls. It felt soothing to be there with him like that. It almost felt as if we had known each other much longer. Just as I felt myself start to drift to sleep, though, Jonathan asked me a question that threw me for a loop. "Were you considering selling the ranch, Star?"

With those words, I froze, and I felt like I might throw up. My stomach was winding itself up tightly so that I felt queasy. It was always my first sign that something was off. Why was he asking about selling the ranch while we were lying bed together after having sex? Something told me I needed to tread carefully and think before I gave any kind of response.

My mind went back to all the time I spent with him and all the conversations we had. Not once did he ever offer more details about how he knew my parents, and while I had been spilling my guts to him, he had been vague most of the time. In the back of my mind, I had always felt something was a little off about Jonathan, but I had always pushed it back because I was grieving or because I enjoyed his company.

Now that the excitement was over, I worried that I had already gotten in way too deep sleeping with this man and liking him so much. I had told him so many things and let him in the house I'd grew up in with my parents. I wondered if he could have been hiding something from me. I never figured out why he showed up to the ranch in the first place. I felt a little duped to be honest.

I decided it was best to hold back a little more until I knew more about Jonathan and what he could be hiding. It wasn't in my best interest to be honest anymore.

"Umm, I don't really know about that, Jonathan," was what I gave him as my body tensed up, knowing something strange was going on.

# Chapter Nine

"I just don't really think that's appropriate to ask. I just found out I got the place," I continued, lashing out this time. Jonathan put his right hand up in surrender.

"I'm sorry, we don't have to talk about that if you don't want to," Jonathan said, backtracking immediately. I was pretty sure he sensed my discomfort with the question. He seemed nervous at my reaction. "I was just trying to make conversation with you. I really didn't mean anything by it," he said, trying to cool me off. So far, it wasn't working, though. Something just felt so strange about the question. It sounded almost like there was a specific reason he wanted to know like something way too fast and creepy like him wanting to live with me. Or maybe there was something entirely more sinister than that.

"Why would you even ask something like that?" I asked, feeling hostile as I pulled away from him. "I mean, we're lying in bed together; we just had sex. I don't know how that question even makes sense right now or ever really." I looked to him for a reaction, but to my dismay he simply shrugged as if he wasn't even sure himself if he knew why he had asked that question. He was so confusing to me at the moment, and I didn't know what to do. He was in my house. I couldn't just take off running. And I couldn't forget about the time we had spent together. My head seemed to be spinning and changing directions all the time when it came to Jonathan.

"I really was just trying to make conversation, Star. I didn't mean to offend you or make you feel strange or angry. But I do understand how it sounds now," he admitted. I stood up and pulled my panties back on along with a clean button down shirt, but I didn't button it yet. I passed him his boxers instead.

"Yeah, it sounds strange," I told him, feeling desperate to be alone all of a sudden.

"I know now that it sounded better in my head," he insisted as he slid his boxers back on in compliance. "I'm really sorry for starting something. I would really rather just lay here and cuddle with you instead of making you angry. I have been having such a good time, and I seem to have lost my mind momentarily. Is there any way that we can just let it go and you can get back in the bed with me?"

His eyes pleaded with me. It was the first time Jonathan had ever let anything slip from his mouth that wasn't perfect. I could have just been cracking and chipping away at the surface only to find something bigger inside there that I didn't like. The idea of that frightened me, especially after how far I had gone with him. If that was the case, though, pressing the issue could chip away at him so much that he exploded into some kind of monster. Or I could have been ruining a good thing with my sudden paranoia.

I sighed and slid into the bed next to him again cautiously. Since he was letting it go and knew he had said something strange, it seemed like the best choice at the moment to let it go myself. It just wasn't worth the aggravation to continue to fight about it. Cuddling with him did sound like a pleasant thing to do. Plus, his company was the only thing in what seemed like forever that kept me feeling normal and like I wasn't going to just lose it and break down every second. I wasn't about to ruin that over something that turned out to be silly.

I flashed him a smile as he was trying to gauge my behavior and then leaned down to give him a soft kiss on the lips. Jonathan pulled me into him as the kiss became more passionate. If I wasn't exhausted I would have been willing to go for another round. Something about his touch just really got me going.

His hands slid up my back, and he rubbed my nipples with his thumbs again. I climbed on top of him, and he took my hips in his hands to held me there as we continued to kiss. Finally, we allowed each other to breathe for a moment. Then, Jonathan started to tickle my sides, making me laugh and fall to the side of him, gasping for air.

Once the laughter subsided, I had to apologize. "Jonathan, I'm sorry about snapping at you. I didn't really mean it. You know what I've been through the past few days, and I guess it just rubbed me the wrong way. Let's just relax and have a good time like we have been. I really have enjoyed spending time with you." I didn't know if it was too much information to tell him considering how suspicious I suddenly was of him. But it was pretty much the truth.

"I'm sorry too, Star," he said with a sigh. "I should have realized how that might sound and been more sensitive. You only have to talk about what you're ready to talk about. I'll let you start the conversations from now on," he said, feeling my bottom lip with his thumb.

I laid my head back on his chest for a moment, and he went back to playing with my hair. But suddenly, it just didn't feel like enough. "I'm not as tired as I thought I was," I admitted to him, making his chest rumble with a loud chuckle.

"Well, then let's get up and do something," he suggested, sliding out from under me then offering his hand. I looked down at myself skeptically, wondering what we were going to do with me dressed like that. But then I got an idea.

"Let's get dressed, and then you can meet me in the living room," I told him excitedly.

"You really want me dressed?" Jonathan teased. I laughed and flipped my hand at him to let him know I thought he was being silly.

"It's up to you, but I'm getting dressed." I pulled on some jeans shorts and a shirt that had the American Flag on it; nothing fancy. It wasn't like he hadn't already seen all of me. There was no point for formalities anymore.

I slid across the wood floor with my bare feet and dared to enter my parents' bedroom. I knew there was a special gem from my great grandparents sitting in their bedroom closet gathering dust. If it still worked, I thought Jonathan might get a kick out of it. Sure enough, I found the old thing buried behind some books and worn boots. I carefully pulled it out and carried it into the living room where I found a shirtless Jonathan already waiting for me. "I opted for a compromise," he joked as he approached me and I placed the phonograph on the floor. I began to dust it off carefully, revealing the shiny dark green paint.

"I can see that," I told him, trying not to show a reaction as he squatted down in front of me.

"Is that what I think it is?" he asked as I tried to make sure the needle and everything was balanced before I wound it up. I wondered what kind of music it might play. I hoped it was something good.

"It's a phonograph," I told him as I began to wind. "My great grandparents brought it with them from Germany when they came here to America. My grandmother told me all the time how they loved to dance even though they were just farmers. I have pictures of them somewhere," I offered before letting it go. I instantly recognized the song that started playing. It was "Bei Mir Bist du Schön". It was a popular Swing song during the rise of the Nazis in Germany. It was pretty catchy.

Jonathan held out his hand, and I took it. He pulled me up on my feet and began to dance with me. I was shocked at how skilled he was. He swung me around and threw me in the air, leaving me breathless. What wasn't this guy good at? "Do you know how to do everything?" I asked him with a smile as we danced around each other.

"Nope, I don't know the capital of every country," he said, making me double over in a laugh so that I couldn't keep dancing. It just proved to me that there was every reason to have ended that fight and had him stick around. My cloud of depression was lifting significantly, and I was feeling happy again. All my stupid suspicions must have grown from my anxiety over having too much to do and no clue how to get any of it done by myself. There was no reason for me to continue to be miserable, and I was almost certain my parents would have been happy to know that I was having a good time in the midst of all the chaos and tragedy.

"Well, that's good to know," I replied, taking his hand again so that we could dance again. I didn't know how long we did that. I ignored my screaming burning legs and the sweat pouring off of me. I just enjoyed the moment the way that I used to. In the back of my mind, I made a note to call Rachel about it considering how cute she had thought Jonathan was at the funeral.

After some time, we stopped and sat on the floor. The clock told me that it was nearly eleven thirty at night, and I still needed to get up early as usual to start the next day on the ranch.

"I think I need to take a shower and get to bed. You're welcome to stay the night, of course, in fact, I'd love you to. But I do have to get up early to get the work done on the ranch," I told Jonathan, looking at him.

"Sure, I'll stay the night, but how about a bubble bath? I'll even run it for you," he offered. I nodded.

There was no way I was turning down that offer. He got up and headed to my bathroom, and I pulled out my phone, wanting to get a quick text into Rachel while he was out of the room. She would kill me if I waited to tell her.

Hey, I only have a minute. I hope you made it alright and are having a great time with your husband. Wanted to let you know Mr. Cute a.k.a. Jonathan showed up at the ranch this morning, and we have practically been together since. Thought you'd want to know. Getting in the tub now!

I hit send and then laughed at how much like a teenage girl I sounded, but maybe that was a good thing. Shouldn't a good relationship and life keep you young? My parents certainly had that going for them.

My phone buzzed. Apparently she had answered me immediately.

OMG Star! You deserve every moment of happiness you can get. You just snatch it up and go get in that bath. But do NOT forget to call me tomorrow. Oh, and things are great with the hubby. He's so happy to have me here with him.

I smiled at the message but almost jumped out of my skin when I heard Jonathan's voice. He was a little closer than I had anticipated. "Should be done in a moment. The water is nice and warm, so you might want to get ready before you miss out," he suggested with a wink, leaning up against the wall. I slid my phone back into my pocket and smiled at him as I stood up and walked past him into the bathroom. I pulled out a towel for him and a pink robe for myself. Bubbles were rising in the tub as I began to strip off my clothes.

Suddenly, Jonathan's arms were wrapped around me, he kiss my neck. I shivered as it both tickled and felt great at the same time. He slowly slid my shorts and panties down. It was a bit of de ja vu for me. Once he was done with me, he lifted me into the tub and turned off the water. It was nice and warm. I watched as he put on a show, taking his pants off again and then his boxers. His physique was so perfect I didn't think I was ever going to get used to it.

As he slid into the tub across from me, he pulled me into his lap and locked lips with me while he grabbed my loofa and sponged some soapy water over my back. It loosened all the muscles that had tightened up while I was working my butt off on the ranch all day. I began rocking my hips against him, feeling him get hard underneath me while he continued to soap up my body. Before I knew it, his hard member had slipped inside me once again and there was no resisting it.

So, I rode him in the tub, splashing warm soapy water over the sides until we both reached climax once again.

# Chapter Ten

I woke up the next morning to the bright light streaming in through the windows. It was my second official day taking care of the ranch myself, and I had already fallen short. My body was a little achy, but I felt very satisfied remembering the events from the night before. As my hand landed on the bed next to me, I realized I was the only one in it. Where had Jonathan gone?

For just a second I panicked thinking that maybe he had taken off on me after I fell asleep. He wouldn't have been the first guy in history to do that to someone. But as I sat up and listened, I could hear the sounds of pans sizzling and feet sliding across the wood floors. He was still there just in the kitchen. He must have been making breakfast for me.

I finger brushed my hair and tiptoed into the kitchen to see what was going on. Jonathan's back was turned to me, but he seemed to notice instantly when I entered the room. I wasn't as sneaky as I thought. "Well, there goes the idea of bringing you breakfast in bed," he said without even turning around. I could hear the smile in his voice. "I hope you enjoy eggs, ham and potatoes. I even made some chili just in case you were that kind of girl."

I slid into one of the seats in front of the bar and placed my chin against my fist. "I am absolutely that kind of girl," I admitted happily. It sounded absolutely delicious. "And don't worry about the breakfast in bed thing. I needed to get up so I can take care of the ranch anyway. In fact, I should really be out there right now." I squinted up my face at the idea of going out there in the heat instead of being inside where the A/C and one of the hottest guys on the universe were. It just wasn't a logical choice.

"The only thing that's immediate is milking the cows, and I'm sure they can wait until after breakfast," he told me, placing a plate full of delicious food in front of me. "I promise I will be out of your hair as soon as we eat." He raised his hands in surrender before making his own plate and sitting it next to me before turning off the burners. I made a pouty face at him about his statement. I didn't really want him out of my hair.

"Don't give me that look; that's not what I meant. I have business to take care of, and so do you. You'll only be distracted by me if I stick around, and you know it. Once your job is done, I can come by any time you'd like. You have my number." He flashed a devilish grin my way, and I blushed. I was feeling a little shier without all the alcohol in my system. It was probably a little late for that, though. He was so right, though. I was never going to go out on the ranch and do anything with him lounging around the house shirtless and cooking for me. As much as the idea of being alone again sucked, I needed to prove to myself that I could handle all that work.

"Okay, I think I can live with that," I replied before sticking my fork into the eggs. I took a bite, expecting just the typical southern breakfast, but I was amazed. "Oh my gosh, it's another thing you're great at. Did you go to charm school or something?" I asked, pointing to the eggs and chili.

"No, but I did have an aunt who always wanted to have her own cooking show. The chili is her recipe." He started eating at his own meal, and I went back to mine. To say I was impressed would have been an understatement. Even beyond the initial attraction and all the drinking, he still seemed to have a good heart to me. And he was sharing more about his life. The paranoia was not only in check but long gone.

We ate breakfast together like a real couple, occasionally gazing into each other's eyes and smiling. It felt yet again like we had been together a long time, like we were already some kind of power couple. I dared not ruin by asking him if we really were a couple or if we were "going steady" or whatever. I didn't think adults decided like that. It either happened or it didn't, right?

My phone started buzzing, and I knew instantly who it would be. Rachel was dying to hear details, but I really couldn't give them to her with him right next to me. So, I excused myself outside for a moment and walked a few yards away from the house.

"Rachel, he's still here!" I squealed into the phone in a fit of annoyance.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I had no idea. But that's a good thing, right? Like you woke up and still like the way he looks and want him to be there?" I laughed at Rachel. She was married to a rich man and living in Manhattan but still trying to live vicariously through a girl who just gained a ranch because her parents died and who hadn't had a real boyfriend in over a year.

"Yes, I still want him here. He made me breakfast, and he's probably going home soon. But I bet he's probably wondering why I had to take such an early phone call outside," I said through gritted teeth.

"Nah, guys know girls do this. I'm sure he knows exactly why you're out there. So, how far did it go? Does he look as good under the clothes as he does with them on?" I rolled my eyes. It was too bad she couldn't see my reaction.

"Yes, he looks even better actually," I said, exasperated. "Hey, how about I call you back this evening?" I asked her, wanting to get back in there with him.

"Of course. You go get 'im!" She hung up on that note, and I took the embarrassing walk back into the house. Had she been right about him knowing we were talking about him?

When I got back inside I was greeted with a kiss on the cheek. He had already cleared away our plates. What a gentleman. I noticed that he had also slipped his shirt on. "Are you leaving already?" My voice came out a little whiny, and I kind of wanted to slap myself for it. I sounded needy. But I guess the right guy could bring that out in any kind of girl.

"Yes, I am. But, how about you walk me out and maybe we'll talk about the next time I can fix you breakfast," he said with a wink, making me blush yet again. We held hands as we walked out onto the ranch and towards the gate that led to the driveway. His silver car sat there in all its perfection, just waiting for him to return to normal life. I couldn't help but worry a little what would happen to us once we returned to the everyday routine. I hoped that as strong a connection as we had built we would still be doing pretty well. I could easily see myself getting into the routine of a girl falling in love with that man.

He leaned me up against the driver's side door and began kissing me passionately, running his hand up my leg. I was still wearing my gown which was much more like a slip. The benefit of living out in the country like that though was that no one could see other than my neighbor who I assumed was still asleep considering she was just an older woman who trained horses. "I'm going to miss you," I said. I couldn't help it; it just popped out of my mouth. He smiled and licked my earlobe once.

"I feel the same way. Don't worry; if you haven't already called me, I'll be sure to call you later. It's going to be a long day thinking about that long hair of yours and those cute little legs." He looked me up and down once as I moved away so he could get in the car. Then, I waved as he started it and pulled out of the driveway in his typical racing fashion. I bit my lip, thinking about how amazing the night before had been, and a whirlwind of emotions raced through me. But it was time to get to work.

***

I came out of the barn and spotted a figure walking towards me. I acquainted and hooded my eyes with my hand to see who it was. It was a woman with a long braid that she had on one side of her chest. Her hair was white, and she was wearing a pair of jeans and a western shirt. It was Ms. Beasley, my neighbor. Other than the funeral, I hadn't seen much of her. I had gathered that it was because she was so busy. She trained horses and sometimes held riding lessons on her property which was just east of ours. It was significantly smaller.

She had been a family friend for a long time. In fact, a lot of the time I referred to her as my grandmother since I had barely known my own. She was a sweet woman who helped care for me when I was little and my parents were busy. She was spunky too. I had always hoped I'd have that kind of spirit when I got older.

I waved to her before wiping some of the dirt and sweat form my brow. I had spent the last hour catching up on everything and had made such good time. But I was in desperate need of a break. Hopefully, Mrs. Beasley was going to be a good excuse.

She walked up to me and silently wrapped her arms around me. She knew that there were no words to describe the loss that we shared in my parents' death. As she pulled away I saw the shine of tears in her eyes.

"How have you been doing, Star?" she asked me honestly. It made me think of the way Jonathan had asked. He was still on my mind even through all my hard work. I didn't know how I was going to get through the day.

"I've been trying to keep busy. I got the ranch and everything on it, so I've just been struggling with trying to figure all this out myself. It's pretty tiresome, but I think my father would be happy. We actually talked about it just before he died. I finally got the courage to tell him this is what I wanted to do. This wasn't how I wanted to do it, though." I nodded along as I spoke.

"Oh, dear, of course not. And I think your daddy would be very proud of you right now for trying so hard. I'm sorry I didn't get over here sooner, but I've been real busy and then I hurt my back. These old bones aren't as fit as they used to be," she said with a laugh while flexing her arm as a joke. "But I want you to know I'm here if you need advice or just to talk. I remember when I lost my parents, and it was like the world was ending for me even though I was already an adult. I see a lot of myself in you sometimes."

"I'll take that as a compliment," I told her, patting her on the back. "Thank you for the offer. It does get lonely over here in this empty house sometimes. It's almost like it's haunted, and it's hard to think of anything else."

"Well, not to get in your business, but it didn't look like you weren't very alone this morning," Ms. Beasley teased. I was a little embarrassed to know she saw that display of affection. She probably knew he'd spent the night. "Don't be embarrassed. It's not good for you to be alone. I was so stuck in my ways that I waited to look until it was too late. Tell me about him," she urged.

"Well, he said he knew my parents. I actually met him at the funeral, and we kind of hit it off. He's really handsome and sweet. It's very new, of course, but I'm just crazy about him right now." I looked up to see that there was a sudden look of concern on Ms. Beasley's face. "What is it Grandmother?" I asked her, feeling that weird thing in my stomach again.

"What was the man's name?" she asked, slowly.

"Jonathan," I said with a shrug, unsure of what the problem could be.

"Star, I don't want to kill your mood or disturb you, my dear, but has he asked you to sign anything?" I shook my head, not sure of what she was getting at. "That man was in the middle of trying to buy that ranch from your parents. You may not know too much about it yet, but they were in financial ruin. They were working, against their better judgement, with him in order to sell the home and ranch so they didn't lose everything financially. I think he's trying to fool you, Star. Please, be careful."

"I had no idea." It came out very quiet and weak. I was more talking to myself than to Ms. Beasley. But she responded anyway, hugging me again.

"It's going to be okay, dear. There are plenty of fish in the sea, and I have all the faith in the world that you can save this place. Just keep your chin up and your eyes open." I nodded as she walked away after imparting her words of wisdom.

As she looked at me with sympathy in her eyes, I could feel my chest getting heavy. I had been so sure Jonathan and I had gotten very close, close enough that he could and should have been honest with me if that was the case. Was that why he had shown up to the ranch the morning before? It was a scary thought, and I instantly felt betrayed. Jonathan had a lot of explaining to do; that was the only thing I knew for certain.

### Thank you for reading!

## Please visit your favorite eBook retailer to view the next books in the "Finding Love On The Ranch Series"
The Cowboys Touch

by

Carol Lewis
Copyright © by Carol Lewis

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

The Cowboys Touch

All rights reserved.

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. No part of this work may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording and faxing, or by any information storage and retrieval system by anyone but the purchaser for their own personal use.

This book may not be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of Carol Lewis, except in the case of a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages for the sake of a review written for inclusions in a magazine, newspaper, or journal—and these cases require written approval from Carol Lewis prior to publication. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.

# Chapter One

"If you touch that radio one more time, Dorothy McGreen," I warned, my eyes flicking over to her in the passenger seat, "you can walk home."

"Well if the radio wasn't such shit, I wouldn't have to fiddle so much," my best friend argued. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted her reaching for the dial again, ready to search through our shoddy radio stations to find one without static, and I lightly slapped her hand away. She fell back in her seat, laughing the same clear, melodic laugh she'd done since we were kids. Her wispy blonde hair billowed in the cool breeze from the window—my dark brown disaster was up in a messy bun on the top of my head, but little stray pieces tickled my forehead and neck every so often.

We were on our way back from a local market, one that the small town of Friarsville hosted every Friday morning. It was a chance for farmers to bring in fresh crops and live critters, charging reasonable prices to fuel our local economy. Usually there were a lot of urbanites trickling in as the morning went on, deigning it acceptable to trek out to the countryside for "fresh organic" product. Little did they know half of the farmers here covered their crop with pesticides: otherwise the bugs would make an absolute mess of them when the season was right.

I blamed no one for marking their product as organic—it was just an excuse to jack up the prices, and with the way the economy had been over the last few years, I could see why even the small town growers wanted to take advantage wherever they could.

My truck hit a hard dip in the road, bouncing around the baskets of fresh corn, tomatoes, and strawberries in the narrow backseat bench behind me.

"Christ, Jen," Dottie grumbled, taking hold of the rubber grip strap above the window. "Go easy on the old gal."

"Yeah, I know, I know," I muttered as I tried my best to steer around the cracks and dips that no one bothered to fix anymore. The town barely had the money to function, let alone deal with a few busted roads out amongst the farm fields. My truck could take it: Dad taught me how to maintain it when I first bought it as a teen, and it purred like a kitten ever since. My obnoxiously red gas guzzler—it was the first major expense I'd ever made.

"I can't stand the static," Dottie complained as we rumbled along. This time I didn't slap her hand away from the radio, preferring she found a station where we could actually hear some music. The Frairsville station played mostly religious news and songs, which meant we were constantly on the hunt for nearby stations to syphon off of. Bellville and Tuckerston had more progressive DJs on their radio networks, but it was hard to keep a constant signal, especially once you hit the farm fields.

"There, there!" I said as I went for the volume dial, "That's a good one!"

As the sun finally poked out from behind the billowy white clouds, I plunked my sunglasses down onto my nose from my forehead, then relaxed back into my seat, elbow hanging out the open window, as some good tunes finally blared from my dashboard. It'd only taken us twenty minutes to find anything.

We were midway through screeching a new crooning classic when Dottie tapped my leg.

"Look, over there," she urged when I shot her a curious expression, and she quickly turned down the music as we approached the property of one of her neighbors. Mark and Janet Billson had been living three fields down from Dottie long before either of us were born, but it seemed we were destined to outlast them in Friarsville; there was an auction taking place in front of their house. I slowed the truck to a gentle stop, dust from the unpaved shoulder flying up at us as I pulled over. Teeth gritted, I leaned forward with a squint, hoping that it might just be a garage sale or something—all the while knowing I was looking at an all too familiar sight.

All the telltale signs of a bank auction were there: sleek cars littered up the dirt driveway, men in suits tromping all over the beautifully green lawns, surveyors setting up equipment. Like so many farms over the past few years, the Billson place was probably about to get hacked up, divided into little pieces, and sold for condo development. The farmland on the other side of Friarsville was already under development for new residential areas, and in the last town council meeting, some sleazebag from a property development firm pushed for a mall to be built in the area too.

Don't get me wrong, I'd love a mall. It'd be a great escape from some of the everyday drudgery that years of working on a farm could sometimes produce, but I didn't want one if it meant good people were bought out of their homes and whisked off their land, the land they'd spent years cultivating.

"It's just sad," Dottie sighed, leaning over me to watch the depressing scene unfold. "Mark and Janet are devastated."

"Where are they going to go?" I asked. A flashy sports car suddenly appeared in my side mirror, and I poked my head further out the window to watch it whizz by. The windows were too tinted to see the driver, but as soon as it turned onto the Billson property, I could only imagine what kind of jerk was sitting behind the wheel.

"Janet has a sister in Iowa, actually," my bestie explained as she settled back into her seat. I heard her click her seatbelt on, and I took that as a sign that she wanted to leave. My body rumbled as the truck slowly shuddered back to life. "I think they're going to try to build a small place on her property with whatever settlement money they can get from selling everything."

"Sad," I muttered, echoing her previous sentiment. "Really sad."

Unable to watch those men pick apart the property for much longer, I drove the truck back onto the pavement and floored it down the road, only slowing once I reached the boundaries of Dottie's family farm.

"Mom's worried we're next," Dottie muttered once I'd stopped in front of her driveway. My eyebrows shot up, and I tried to bite back the look of panic that threatened to color my face. "I mean, our bills are off the charts these days."

"We're not doing much better," I told her, taking her arm and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Nobody is, but I'm sure things will pick up. I can't imagine the bank coming after your dad... He's too important to Friarsville."

Dot reached into the backseat and pulled up her reusable grocery bags, each one brimming with fresh produce. She then huffed irritably and muttered, "Here's to hoping."

We said our farewells as she hopped out, and as I always did, I waited until she was halfway up her massive driveway before giving two honks. She turned and waved, her figure shrinking the more she walked, her hair billowing in the wind. Had it been nighttime, I would have waited until she was at her door—well, no, I would have driven her to her front steps. The neighborhood—or lack thereof—had always been a fairly safe one, but we'd been taught never to take chances after the sun went down. Big open property. Lots of places for intruders to hide.

Lately, however, the intruders came when the sun was up. I spotted them in my rearview as I pulled away from Dottie's property. In the distance, more incoming bankers and developers were pulling on to Mark and Janet's farm, ready to rip it to shreds. No one warned us of _those_ kinds of intruders when we were kids.

Exhaling deeply, I shifted the truck into gear and sped away, leaving the foreclosed farm behind me. With Dottie gone, I switched the radio off, my mind too full of worries to deal with static-riddled tunes blaring in the background. I was so immersed in my thoughts, my concerns for my neighbors sinking their claws deep into me, that I almost missed the turn-off for my farm. Slamming on the brakes, my tuck skidded as it slowed, though I retained control; she'd been my baby for far too long to get the slip on me.

With a slight roll of my eyes, I turned onto our unpaved driveway. In the distance, the family farmhouse loomed, and I knew at any given moment, my parents and my grandpa would be in the seven bedroom home. A few of the rooms were closed up, no longer in use now that the newer generations weren't birthing a dozen kids anymore. It had been my home for as long as I could remember, and the sight of the flower boxes on the window ledges and dark green shutters contrasting the grey stonework on the walls always settled my nerves.

Home was where my heart had been for years.

And now, somebody could take it from me. Easily. I'd seen it today: all we needed was to get behind on our bills, and one day _my_ sprawling land and livestock barns could be crawling with men in business suits, their cars ruining the lush grassy fields.

No. I couldn't think about that. As I pulled into my usual spot at the front of the house, I vowed not to dwell on the town's problems for the rest of the day. There was too much to do around the farm for me to sit and mope about something that might not ever happen to us. So, I grabbed my boxes of produce, loaded them into the kitchen, hugged my beautiful mom, and then threw myself into work. Starting with my favorite task first to boost my spirits, a smile touched my lips as I headed to the horse barn, and as soon as I heard my mare whinny for me, I was lost to the work.

# Chapter Two

"Ouch!" I twitched and glared at the ball of white fluff on my lap. "Foster! That hurts."

Our sole indoor cat looked up at me lazily, his paws kneading my bare leg without a care in the world. He was pushing his luck and he knew it; all the other cats were barn cats, yet the fluffiest prince of them all lived solely indoors because he couldn't stomach getting mud on his luscious coat. The family catered to him more than any of our other animals, and in the twelve years we'd had him, he'd probably been disciplined twice. My eyes narrowed as he continued clawing gently at my leg. It was an affectionate gesture, sure, but that didn't mean it was painless.

"Okay, time to sit with someone else," I said after another thirty seconds of painful annoyance. He squirmed as I lifted him off my lap and set him beside me on the couch, but he didn't stay by my side for long. Insulted, he stalked across the couch cushions and hopped onto my grandpa's armchair, curling up into the old man's lap while he snored. The cat shot me a triumphant look, then slowly closed his eyes, joining my grandpa in his early evening nap.

I rolled my eyes. Foster had too much attitude for a creature whose brain was the size of a walnut. Now that he was gone, I could settle down into the comfortable position _I_ wanted to sit in, as I hadn't moved since he deigned me worthy of being a bed some twenty minutes ago. The evening news rumbled in the background, just low enough to let my grandpa doze while I struggled to hear what the newscaster was saying.

Something about cows?

Probably. Livestock made an appearance on our local newsfeed at least once a night.

Casting my grandpa a quick look, I swiped the remote off the coffee table and turned up the volume a few notches—only to have the old man snore even louder. Slumping back on the couch, I shot him an affectionate look. Wiry and thin, the guy worked harder than most his age. With worn hands and a wrinkled face from decades of working outside, he was one of my favorite people in this whole world. If he wanted to snore in front of the evening news, who was I to stop him?

Once the commercials hit, I climbed off the worn couch, the one we'd had in this exact living room long before I was even thought of, and grabbed my empty mug. We'd made some tea before the news, and while I had finished mine fairly fast, Grandpa barely had two sips before falling asleep. After the day of work I had, I could use the added hint of caffeine so that I too wasn't falling asleep before 9 pm.

I paused, however, when I heard hushed voices in the kitchen. Now that I was officially a grown-up and had been for years, my parents weren't usually the types to have secret discussions in low whispers without me or my two older brothers. However, as I loitered outside the doorway, that seemed to be exactly the case. Leaning in, I tried to put my skills of listening to the news on almost mute to good use as I attempted to pick up the topic of conversation.

"Well, we can maybe... pay that one later—"

"Then they'll cut off the hydro," my mom reasoned, and I heard my dad sigh.

"Well, we can't pay all of these right now. Something is going to have to be a little late."

"Yeah... that was Janet's logic too."

Silence settled in the kitchen, and I leaned back against the wall, closing my eyes tight. There was some weird portion of the American population who thought farmers were just rolling cash. Sure, we had a lot of land, but we worked damn hard on it, and there was never a guarantee that anything we produced would actually sell enough to cover the costs of harvesting it. A few farming families I knew were loaded with cash, but not here. Not in this town. It was slowly turning into a wasteland out here, and before we all knew it, this lush wasteland would be all brick and concrete and a few planted gardens with a Starbucks on every corner.

Nobody talked to me about bills. I didn't need to pay rent to live at home, and my parents paid me a small stipend for all the work I did so I could pitch in on groceries, pay for the truck, buy cat food. Nobody ever asked me to help pay bills.

And maybe they should have.

"I don't know what to do," my dad muttered, words I never wanted to hear him say. "Maybe we should consider... I don't know... selling some of the land—"

"Your dad will say that it'll be over his dead body," Mom fired back. "He won't stand to see condos and apartment blocks popping up in his own backyard."

"What else is there to do? I can't make money magically appear, Hilary."

"I know, John, I know."

Swallowing hard, I pushed off the wall and wandered back to the living room. Commercials were over, but tea could wait: that was a conversation I didn't want to interrupt, and not because it might be awkward. No, I just had nothing to contribute. I had no idea how to bring in extra revenue beyond the product we already sold to distributers and on market days. I couldn't summon more perfect crops to harvest and sell—that took months of careful planning and work.

Foster had sprawled out across my grandpa when I returned, that fluffy white head nestled under the old man's chin. I couldn't imagine losing any of it, the place I'd called my home all my life. It would break my heart to see investors and bankers ripping it apart to price each glorious feature. If we fell behind on our bills, we'd lose the animals, the trails, the fields, the pond. Our house would be bulldozed, decades of memories gone in a matter of minutes, our way of life gone with it.

I had to do something. As I stared blankly at the news, seeing the images but not really registering anything going on, I acknowledged that I wasn't naïve enough to think I alone could fix everything.

But I could contribute. Somehow, I could lessen the financial burden.

As soon as the hour struck and the news switched to old game shows, I quietly climbed off the couch and crept out the front door, grabbing my cleanest pair of runners and my good jacket. There was work out there for me—I just needed to find it.

***

I'd been eating at Merlow's Diner since I was a kid. Back then, my dad would drive by Dottie's place with me bouncing around the front of his truck, seatbelt be damned, and he'd take both of us out for pancakes or waffles or hot chocolates. The diner was a staple to our community, much like many of the farms that were in the process of being foreclosed on. My relationship with the owners had always been good, sunny even, and I planned to capitalize on that and land myself a job there.

It didn't matter what they gave me. I could sweep floors all day and I'd be happy, as long as I was making some extra cash to put toward family bills. Sitting in my truck, I leaned back in the seat and watched as the nighttime diners slowly trickled out. The place closed at 8 most days, but it wouldn't surprise me if they packed things up a little earlier should the restaurant empty out faster than usual.

Grabbing my purse, I climbed out of the truck after checking my hair in the mirror, only then realizing that while I'd dressed nice and smoothed my hair into place, I hadn't brought a copy of my resume.

Not that there was much on the slip of paper. Aside from some volunteer activities that had started in my teens, the only real experience I had to note was working on the farm. Sometimes I helped out in offices or did cash at a market, but I didn't consider any of that worthy to put on a resume—those were just little odd jobs, nothing noteworthy. Taking a deep breath, I looked both ways before crossing the slowly emptying parking lot, smiling and waving at a couple I knew when they honked at me in passing.

"Well, hi there, Jenny girl," Max, the owner for the last thirty years, greeted as soon as I stepped inside. He was the complete opposite of my grandpa physically, but they had a very similar work mentality. His wife ran the kitchen, producing all the yummy baked goods and breakfast dishes that brought the people in, and Max took care of coffee orders and payments. It was a classic little diner, with a wraparound bar in front of the kitchen, stools in even intervals in front of the counter, and a few cute booths at the windows. On Sundays after church it was downright impossible to get a spot to sit, and most of the time there was a line out the door.

"Hi, Max," I said in return, occupying one of the barstools and resting my hands on the counter. He wandered over, his round midsection waddling with each step, then flicked on the coffee pot to boil some water.

"What can I get you, sweetheart?" His eyes wandered over my jacket, and he raised a brow. "That's a pretty jacket."

"Thanks." He was used to seeing me in t-shirts with grass stains, so anything that was slightly above the usual grungy look was probably pretty in his eyes. "And you could get me a job... if you're hiring."

He hesitated, slowly putting down the white coffee mug that was undoubtedly meant for the order he expected me to make. I pressed my lips together, forcing them into a tight smile, and then added, "Please."

It wasn't the most professional or mature way to snag a job, sure, but I knew how things worked around here. If somebody showed up in a fancy suit with polished shoes, they'd probably be dismissed for not fitting the vibe.

"Oh, honey, we got enough staff—"

"Darla's pregnant," I reminded him, drumming my fingers on the countertop as I recalled seeing a huge baby bump on the woman the last time I was in. "I can take all the hours she calls in sick for... even half a shift. Plus she'll probably go on leave when the baby comes."

He gave me a hard look, and in the background I could hear his wife Carrie cleaning up the kitchen. She caught sight of me through the pass between the front and back of house, and offered me a sweet smile. I waved back, then fixed my stare to Max.

"Wouldn't you make more working on the farm?" he asked, sounding a little exasperated. I shook my head.

"Every little bit helps these days," I said, and although I didn't want to broadcast any money troubles my parents might be having to the whole town, I figured a hint of it wouldn't hurt to garner some sympathy. "We need all the money we can get at home... Especially after what happened to Mark and Janet's place."

Max sighed heavily, crossing his thick, muscular arms across his chest. "Can you make coffee?" I nodded, a smile starting to creep across my face. "Do basic math?" Another nod. "Deal with uppity folk who like their tea a specific way or else it's your ass?"

"I'm always very polite," I insisted, a slight tremor in my voice, "but I don't take abuse. I don't think you do either."

Max laughed, his head bobbing up and down as he considered it. "No... No, I don't. Don't let my staff take it either."

He disappeared briefly to deal with an elderly couple who were paying their bills, and I smiled at them as they made their way to the door. Once he returned, he gestured back to the boiling pot of water.

"You getting anything?"

My excitement started to fade, and I wondered if he'd had a brain fart and forgotten why I was even here. Biting my cheeks, I nodded again. "Yeah. I'll do some decaf I guess."

"Well, you might as well come back here and make it yourself," he remarked, setting a mug in front of the pot. My heart soared, and a few grateful tears pricked my eyes. I blinked them away hastily, knowing Max wasn't the type of man who wanted to deal with weeping women. "I mean, you'll be making them soon enough."

"Really?" The implication was clear, but I wanted to be sure. Our eyes met briefly, and Max nodded.

"Yeah, why not. I know you're a good worker. Plus I owe your dad for more than I'd like to admit. Let him know I didn't give you a hard time."

I laughed, taking off my purse and jacket before hurrying to the side of the counter. I didn't tell him just how grateful I was for the job, but as we worked together for the rest of his shift, Max showing me where to find sugar packets and how to work the cash register, I had a feeling he knew. Without me saying, he knew that my life, my farm, depended on the extra money.

And I wasn't sure how I would ever thank him.

# Chapter Three

"Oh, no, honey, this is all wrong..." I pressed my lips together into a tight smile as Samantha Smith, choir conductor at the local church and freelance organist, shook her head at me and pushed her order back across the countertop. "I asked for two creams, three sugars, and I can already tell just by looking at it that there are more than two creams here."

She was right. There were, in fact, three creams, but I couldn't understand how that would make a difference. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Max tap the little tray of coffee condiments: earlier in my shift, he'd explained the importance of letting the patron make their own coffee. Samantha, however, had been insistent that I do everything as soon as the hot water was in the cup—and now I'd done it wrong.

A wave of stress washed over me as her friends raised their thin little white eyebrows at me, a whole group of dusty-haired clucking hens who had nothing better to do in the afternoons than sit around the diner and gossip. It _was_ my first shift, after all, and it was uncharacteristically busy in the diner for a Thursday afternoon. Still, I was a slave to the customer now, and all I could do was smile and blame myself.

"I'm so sorry," I managed to force out, all the while knowing my smile _definitely_ did not reach my eyes. "I'll make that again for you."

"And you can tell Carrie that her egg salad smells off," the woman continued, pointing now to the sandwich on the pretty plate I'd just delivered. "I want her to do up a fresh one for me."

"Oh, I..." I trailed off, looking helplessly to Max, but he was in the midst of dealing with a couple of teenagers at the cash register. Shouldn't they be in school? Squaring my shoulders, I took the plate as well, my smile all but breaking my face. "I'll let Carrie know."

Samantha nodded, reeking of smug superiority, and then turned back to her ladies to chat. I couldn't help but wonder if this was some obscure hazing ritual that they did with all the new staff. After all, Samantha was friends with my grandpa. I couldn't picture her saying one awful thing to me in my life before this afternoon, and yet now it was like I was no better than the dirt on the bottom of her prissy little kitten-heeled shoes.

Carrie, Max's wife and cook, raised her eyebrows at me when I explained the issue. Her eyes read that she was ready to shoot the messenger, but luckily she took pity on me.

"Just give her a new coffee," the woman told me through the pass-way between the kitchen and the front counter area. She then lowered her voice and said, "I'm going to take about ten minutes and give her the same egg salad. Tell her I'm making a fresh one now."

I stood up a little taller at that, and when I told Samantha that a fresh sandwich would be ready soon, an excited tremor passed through me. Ha. Rude people deserved a little bit of rudeness back.

Once I'd refilled everyone's coffee and done a quick sweep of the booths, I wandered back to the far end of the front counter where Dottie was sitting. My best friend grinned as I approached, straightening up and pushing her plastic menu aside.

"Who even notices when there's too much cream in a coffee?" she whispered, shooting Samantha Smith and her gaggle of senior citizen ladies a scowl. I rolled my eyes, wanting to put the whole thing behind me as Dot asked if Samantha knew it was my first shift.

"I don't know... Probably," I mused with a shrug. "I mean, I've never been behind the counter before."

"Well, you're doing awesome," she praised, giving me a thumbs up before I went back to collect Hank Johnson's soup that had just been put up in the window. At least he didn't have any complaints, though he barely looked up from his newspaper when I delivered it. Sighing, I shuffled back to Dottie. Even though I was in my mid-twenties, I was thrilled that my best friend had offered to spend the first two hours of my shift with me, not interfering, but rather acting as a silent support system from a distance.

"Thanks," I muttered, leaning on the counter with a sigh. "I just don't want to let Max down. He really didn't have to hire me, and I'm so surprised he did, to be honest."

"Why?" Dottie's thick but maintained eyebrows shot up, and she started fiddling with the plastic menu. If I'd learned anything about my best friend over the years, it was that her hands always needed to be busy—hence our radio brawls in my truck. "Jen, you're a good worker... Everyone knows you are the type of person to go above and beyond at a job. Plus everyone loves your grandpa. I'm surprised he didn't offer you a position as soon as you walked in."

I smiled at her, appreciative of the praise, all the while knowing it wasn't unfounded, but a little unrealistic. Lots of people were good workers, but if an employer didn't have the funds to hire an extra set of hands, there was no way that good worker would get the job. After all, I was only here today because Darla had a doctor's appointment out of town, and Max had called me last minute to fill in for her shift. Usually the afternoons were for me to work with the animals alongside our hired farmhands, but my parents agreed to let me go to work as long as it didn't interfere with our work at home.

Little did they know that every paycheck I made, every tip I earned, was going straight back into the home. If they knew, they probably wouldn't have agreed to me taking the job: my dad was always firm that it was _his_ responsibility to see to the financial needs of the family, and I had serious doubts that this was going to change anytime soon.

As the tail-end of the lunch rush died down, many of the customers drifted out of the diner, including Samantha Smith and her gaggle of friends. When things were quiet, Max wanted to show me how to work the cash register again, and Dottie finally decided to leave.

"What, you're not ordering anything Dorothy McGreen?" Max teased his thick arms folded across his chest as she headed for the door. My best friend shot him one of her sweet smiles, and then shrugged.

"Trying to watch my figure, Max," she fired back, patting her stomach. "Your wife's pies are just _too_ tempting."

"Maybe you can take one for the road," Carrie called out from the kitchen. "I know your mom likes them too..."

After a bit of back-and-forth guilt tripping between the three, Dottie conceded to taking a whole pie home for the family, which gave me the opportunity to work the cash in a no-pressure situation. Once it was over with, I smiled and muttered, "That wasn't so difficult."

"Well, you only had one thing to ring in," Max chuckled, both of us waving at Dottie as she finally pushed her way through the front door. "Wait until you have huge orders and five people wanting to split the bill."

He must have seen the fear in my eyes, because seconds later he was laughing and giving me practice orders to build up my skills. Over the next hour, I rang in the few customers we had while Max served, and I decided I preferred serving. Handling payments involved more math than I would have liked, and there was less room for chatting up customers, most of whom I'd known since I was a kid.

However, it wasn't long until someone I _didn't_ know from childhood strolled into the diner. I'd seen this particular fellow around town a few times before at the grocery store or post office or book store, and Dottie and I wondered if he'd just moved here—or lived somewhere even _more_ remote than Friarsville. Still, it was hard to forget a face like that.

Or a body—and this was coming from a woman who worked around physically fit men all the time.

If we stood next to one another I was sure he'd tower over me, and I wasn't exactly on the shorter side of the average height spectrum. His skin was sun-kissed, right down to the bright smattering of freckles over his nose and cheeks. In fact, his hair looked lightened by the sun too, the thick locks of light brown hair suiting his overall complexion. Tall and broad, he was a little leaner than the typical farmers I'd grown accustomed to over the years; it was like he did physical labor, but not the kind everyone else did. Vibrant blue eyes met mine as soon as he walked in, wearing a pair of nicely fitted jeans and a casual t-shirt with some scribbles on it that I couldn't read.

It was almost stylish—he usually looked well put together—which was something else that set him apart from the usual crop of men that I'd grown up with. In a way, it was a refreshing change, but I wasn't exactly ahead of the fashion trends by any means. So, while it didn't impress me, it was like the fresh garnishes on an already stunning dish: it'd be fine without the flourishes, but it looked extra beautiful with them.

I looked away quickly when I realized I'd been staring, and then pretended to rearrange a napkin dispenser next to the cash register.

"Henry," Max cried, his usual booming voice issuing the standard greeting that he gave just about everyone when they first walked in. "Good to see you, kiddo. What'll it be today?"

"I've been craving some grilled cheese, actually," the man admitted, and I couldn't stop myself from eavesdropping as he settled atop a nearby barstool. "Any tomato soup on the menu?"

"Today's special, of course."

"Grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup it is."

The two men seemed friendly enough, but their conversation was kept minimal—typical men. When Max went back to place the order, I felt those bright blue eyes shift to me, and suddenly it was my turn at the plate, and it was either step up to bat or hide under the counter.

"I feel like I've seen you somewhere before," Henry said to me, his head cocked to the side when I glanced his way, pretending to be surprised that he was talking to me, like my heart _wasn't_ thumping noisily in my chest. Good looking guys like him were usually snatched up by the time they reach my age, but a quick glance to his left hand showed him ringless. However, the lack of a ring didn't mean someone hadn't already snagged him, and I decided to tread cautiously.

"Well," I chuckled, crossing my arms and leaning a hip against the counter. "I work here."

"First shift," Max interjected, cutting off Henry before he could speak. "Don't get cocky."

My eyes narrowed at him as the older man shuffled by and proceeded to get Henry's drink: a cold glass of Cola from the machine. A part of me wished I'd had the brain to ask him if he wanted a drink.

"Yeah, no, I feel like I've seen you somewhere else," Henry continued, his smile radiating warmth and openness so much so that I could physically feel myself start to relax around him. I shrugged, knowing that it was the same story on my end, but I couldn't think of one particular instance of seeing him. He just had a face that floated in and out of memories.

"Do you live in town?" I asked. The diner had gone even quieter with Henry there, and the lone couple at one of the booths were reading their papers and nursing teas. "I think I've seen you before too."

"Bit of a weird way to start a conversation, I guess," he said, swiping some of his brown hair back and chuckling. I arched an eyebrow, which brought out a twinge of pink on his cheeks. "I guess I'm just excited to finally see you in one place, which is also weird. Sorry, I just—"

"We're in the same boat," I insisted, reaching out to touch his arm as if to assure him that there was nothing to be embarrassed about—but really I'd done it to cop a feel of his impressive biceps, which bulged beneath the sleeve of his t-shirt. "I've seen you around, but haven't heard your name until now." I paused, suddenly feeling the blush on _my_ cheeks now as I realized Max was listening to us babble about nothing. "I guess that makes us both a little weird."

"Well, let's get formally acquainted then," he offered, extending his hand to me. "Henry."

I took his hand, sliding mine in and trying not to watch the way his long fingers wrapped around mine. I grinned and said, "Jennifer."

"Pretty name."

"For a pretty girl," I laughed and then cringed inwardly. People had said it to me all the time: pretty name for a pretty girl. I'd meant it as a joke, but since this was the first time we were getting properly introduced—and not creeping on each other from across a busy store—it probably wasn't the right thing to say. Henry chuckled, however, and leaned back when Max set his food down in front of him. I made fleeting eye contact with my new boss, and while I could tell he wasn't thrilled that I was chatting up customers, he wasn't about to stop me either.

"You know, Max, your wife makes the best grill cheese in the whole state," Henry said as I pretended to restock a napkin dispenser for the second time in fifteen minutes. "Sometimes I come down here just for the pleasure of eating one."

"So you're not from town then?" Another cringe followed my question, but I tried not to show it. I'd always been an inquisitive person, ever since I first learned to talk. Show me how to do things. Tell me your stories. Explain difficult concepts—I lived for that kind of stuff. Most of my family and friends had grown accustomed to me asking an unending line of questions whenever a new topic sprung up in our lives, but Henry might have thought I was being nosy.

After all, who was I, really? Just some girl who he'd seen in passing a few times, enough to remember my face and nothing more.

He chewed his food with a smile, holding up a finger until he swallowed—that had to be a good sign.

"My mom has a place here," he told me, "down passed that old factory they closed a few years ago. I come down to make sure things are in order when she isn't here."

"That's sweet of you," I remarked, reining in my never-ending desire to know _more_. Instead, I asked if the tomato soup was as good as the grill cheese, and once again Henry sung an ode to Carrie's cooking. When he'd finished, the pair of us swapping laughs and goofy grins, the diner had taken in a few more customers, and I had to drag myself away to fetch coffee, toast and butter bread, and fill soup bowls while Max hopped back on cash.

It didn't take long for Henry to finish his meal—grilled cheese and tomato soup wasn't exactly a sit-down meal to last into the evening—but he was still there almost an hour and a half later. Sometimes we'd chat while I huffed around serving the late afternoon rush. Occasionally, in the reflection of whatever shiny surface I was standing in front of, I'd catch him studying me from his seat, though the reflection was always too distorted for me to make out his exact facial expression. A part of me swelled with pride that I'd captured the attention of such a ridiculously handsome man, who, up until today, had been a total mystery to me.

Well, he was still a mystery—one I wouldn't mind unraveling both figuratively and literally.

My shift came to an end in the hour lull between the later afternoon rush and the regular dinner crowd. Another counter attendant had arrived, and I was relieved from my first day of a new job a little early. Betty, who'd arrived stinking of smoke but wore the biggest smile with whitest teeth I'd ever seen, congratulated me on the job. She'd been three years ahead of me in high school and used to rant about how she was better than some hick town—that she'd make it someday.

I tried not to gloat _too_ much in my head whenever I saw her.

After changing out of my work t-shirt in the back, I cut through the diner on my way to the parking lot. Max thanked me for my hard work as he served one of the few lingering late afternoon customers.

"It'll get easier in a few weeks," he assured me, his eyes darting up as he counted the cash in his hands. "See you Sunday?"

"See you Sunday," I agreed. Two shifts a week here wasn't exactly going to put much of a dent in whatever debt my parents were combating, but it was a start.

I'd just stepped off the curb when I heard someone call my name—my full name, which I'd only given to one person today. Swallowing hard, I turned on the spot and hoped the glorious sunshine would hide my impending blush. Henry jogged after me, catching up in about two seconds, and stopped just a little too close.

"I'd hoped to grab you before you left," he admitted, running a hand through his thick hair, my eyes wandering unconsciously to his bicep. "Did you want to grab a drink sometime? Get to know each other a little better? I feel like I should know you, but I don't."

"Same," I laughed, knowing the feeling quite well. As much as I wanted to accept a date from a sinfully handsome guy who I _hadn't_ known in elementary school and watched go through the awkward teen years alongside me, but I knew I had to pass. Firstly, it probably wasn't good business practice to date customers. Secondly, I didn't have the time or money to spare on dating—relationships were costly in both areas.

"So, what do you think?" Henry asked, perhaps sensing my hesitation. "Sal's does really good wings on Friday nights. Wings and beer?"

Ugh the _perfect_ date—for a girl like me, anyway. I licked my lips and sighed, the breeze ruffling my hair around my face, before shaking my head.

"I make it a habit not to date people who eat at the diner," I told him, all the while feeling a little lame. "I'd love to, it's just... like a personal policy, I guess."

A grin spread over his lips, and he tucked his hands in the pockets of his perfectly fitted jeans as he asked, "Didn't you just start working today?"

"It's a new policy that I intend to adhere to," I replied, sticking my chin out at him as he chuckled. "I appreciate the offer though. Sal's makes great wings."

I'd probably be kicking myself for turning him down later, but in the heat of the moment, it felt like the right thing to do. Although it was hard to look at that handsome face and comprehend that I'd just refused him: that probably didn't happen often.

"Well, I guess I'll see you around the diner then," he offered, bowing a little before turning and heading back inside. I watched him go, my cheeks flushed, and then made a beeline for my truck, my tips jingling in my pocket with each step I made.

Made a few bucks, got asked out by a deliciously sexy man—not a bad first day at a new job.

# Chapter Four

"Oh for goodness sake..."

After almost three months of working at the diner, I'd grown accustomed to Max's groaning and muttering under his breath. Most of the time it was aimed at customers, occasionally at his wife, but today it seemed to be directed to me. I wasn't in his direct line of sight or anything, but as soon as he poked his head in the pass, I felt myself shrink a little; I already knew what he was grumbling about.

"Your boyfriend's here again, Jen," he told me flatly, and I stepped away from the prep station, my ready-made salads looking quite dapper and fresh. My body ached from a day of working at home, and the last thing I'd wanted to do tonight was come to the diner and wait on customers and stand around on my sore feet, all the while knowing I had to get up at the crack of dawn to do it all again tomorrow. We'd had to let a few farm hands go, and they shot out of our employment and didn't look back. Lots of farmers in more affluent areas needed summer workers in their orchards and fields, and while the pay wasn't great, it was more than we could afford to give.

Less farm hands meant more work for all of us. Grandpa usually fell asleep around five these days, so overworked that he occasionally skipped dinner in favor of dozing. Mom and Dad were fighting hard, pushing to sell our produce, our cow's milk, our eggs. No one told me how far behind we were on bills, but I could always gauge how deep in the shit we were based on the rings around Dad's eyes.

Now that Darla was off, too pregnant to waddle around filling coffee and fetching sandwiches all day, I was able to work almost five nights in a row some weeks—which left me exhausted. My tips were half-decent, but I'd had to fight my parents every time I handed over my check. They were both too stubborn to accept my help, but Grandpa secretly deposited the funds into their accounts, and somehow we'd stayed afloat.

My coworkers were tolerable. Max and Carrie ran a tight ship, though there was usually a few short periods in a shift that us waitresses could sit around and chat. There were probably worse jobs in the world—no, there definitely _were_ worse jobs in the world—and I'd never tell anyone how exhausted I was these days, but... I was. Totally spent. Worn down. Tired.

The only thing that kept my spirits up, however, was what Max was grumbling about right now.

"He's not my boyfriend," I argued, hurrying around from the kitchen to the front of house side, smoothing a hand over my hair. It was swept up neatly in a ponytail, and I almost wished I'd worn it loose: it was looking pretty sultry after my shower.

"Well, he's here enough and doesn't buy much," Max insisted from his seat in front of the cash register. "Certainly acts like all the other boyfriends who hang around here."

I shot him a look, then rolled my eyes. Henry had been showing up at the diner every week since we were first formally introduced—and he'd asked me out every time. Sometimes I wondered if that was the only reason he kept coming back, because Max's attitude had only gotten frostier toward him. Without fail, he ordered a grilled cheese and tomato soup, along with a glass of soda, and then spend the better part of my shift chatting to me about any topic under the sun. Sometimes he'd show up in the middle of a rush, and the only words exchanged between us were as follows:

"You want to get a drink?" he'd ask. "Sal's has some great wing and beer specials."

"I don't date customers," I'd reply with a shrug. "If I date you, I'll have to date everyone."

Then we'd laugh like it was some big joke, like it was normal banter between two friends. If it was a dead night, we'd be able to talk more, but that exchange always worked its way into our conversation at some point. I was never sure when he'd come by, but he always did, without fail, once or twice a week, and always when I was working.

And if I was being honest with myself, those conversations, no matter how formulaic they could be, were the highlights of my week. With all the stress bearing down around me, all the weight on my shoulders, I really needed a few highlights every once and a while.

Smoothing my hands over my hair once more, I leaned on the counter and smiled as Henry stepped in. Clad in a pair of smart jeans and a button-up shirt, it looked like he'd just come from somewhere important. Well, not really, but no one ever dressed up around town; most of us didn't want to ruin our clothes while we worked. I, on the other hand, had started dressing a little nicer for my shifts at the diner. There was no uniform required, but I noticed my tips were higher if I wore a pair of tight pants or a low-cut top. Nothing _too_ low: the little old ladies who came in before or after bingo games never tipped if I looked too dolled up.

"Hi Henry," I greeted, head cocked to the side as he approached me. Max was right; he walked in the place like all the other boyfriends did, and yet we'd barely gone past talking about surface level stuff. I licked my lips, cheeks heating up in a pale pink blush—the same kind my mom had always done—as Henry settled atop a bar stool and grabbed the plastic menu nearby. It was all for show. Everyone knew what he wanted. I could practically smell Carrie whipping up the grilled cheese sandwich in the back now.

"Jennifer," Henry said in return, dipping his head a little, his eyes traveling over my hair and face. "You look quite pretty today."

My eyebrows shot up. For all our flirting, he'd never been so obvious about it in the past. It was all stolen glances and the occasional brush of our hands when I was passing him things. Max all but groaned from his spot at the cash register, and I shot Henry a shy smile before sauntering off to get his usual drink. When I returned, he looked handsome as ever, his hair swept back away from his face in that effortlessly casual way that made me want to ruffle it.

"Soda, extra ice," I remarked as I set down his drink, ice cubes clinking noisily against the class. "You getting your usual today?"

"You know it."

I was about to relay the order back to Carrie, but she waved me off through the pass-through opening; as I'd predicted, she already had his order going.

"So, Jen," Henry started, threading his hands together and resting them on the countertop. "Got a question for you."

"Oh yeah?" I bit back my smile, all the while noticing Henry glowering at us from the corner of my eye. I wasn't sure why it bothered him so much. I was still doing my job, after all. I'd never ignored customers to chat with Henry. In fact, I would usually ignore Henry first and tend to other people when all was said and done.

"You want to get a drink with me?" he asked, our usual back-and-forth starting earlier that afternoon than I was used to. "I hear Sal's has great wing and beer specials."

I licked my lips, a knot of excitement churning in my stomach.

"Oh, for God's sake," Max grumbled, and I let out a small sigh.

"Okay," I replied, sliding my hands into my pockets and shrugging. "I could do wings and a beer."

Henry's smile faltered, and for a fleeting moment I had the horrible thought that he only asked me out as often as he did because it had become routine at this point—that maybe he didn't _actually_ want to go out with me, but he liked our little game.

Thankfully, before I could let the thoughts fester for too long, his huge smile jumped straight back into place, and he ran a hand through his hair before scratching at the back of his neck.

"But doesn't that mean you'll have to date _everyone_?" he chuckled, and I only then realized he had fetching little dimples on both cheeks when he laughed. How had I not seen those before? "I swore you had a rule about not dating customers."

"Well, if you keep coming in here and ordering a grilled cheese and tomato soup just to ask me out, I think Max is going to burst an artery," I fired back, nodding in my boss's general direction. The old man continued to grumble under his breath, fiddling with the cash machine, but I could have sworn he was smiling.

Maybe smiling was too strong a word. The corners of his lips were upturned. There. I'd like to think he was happy for me.

"Ah, so is that the only reason you want to go on a date with me?" Henry inquired playfully, wiggling his eyebrows as I laughed. "Because your boss wants to get me out of here?"

I shrugged. "Well, I mean..."

"Maybe you should be my permanent wing man, Max," Henry called over, to which Max rolled his eyes and waved off our silliness. As the giggles died down, Henry leaned across the counter, his hands clasped together neatly. "But seriously. This is for real? You're actually accepting?"

"Well, I saw some pigs flying today, so I figured I'd give it a shot," I whispered back, resting my elbows on the counter so that we were at the same eye-level. Henry grinned at me, showing off a set of pearly white teeth. The smile continued all the way up to his eyes, bringing about cute little crinkles. Grandpa always told me that's how you know if someone is genuinely smiling or not: it's all in the eyes.

His excitement was infectious, and I tried not to let it show just how happy I was to finally say yes. Hell, if he'd been the best part of my week for months now, it only made sense that I ought to try to get him involved in my life on a more frequent basis. Who knows? Maybe he'd prove to be a good distraction from all the other stress in my life. Dating wasn't cheap, but guys tended to fork out more money at the start of a relationship anyway.

Not that I just wanted to date him so he'd buy my things. I intended to split the check whenever and wherever I could, but I knew most men preferred to pay initially, if only to show they could. Without meaning to, my eyes danced across Henry's features, taking in the expensive looking watch and the semi-nice outfit he wore. In fact, he _always_ looked like he was headed somewhere important, and a part of me couldn't help but wonder if he was a city kid in disguise.

"What's your schedule like next week?" Henry asked as I set his bowl of soup in front of him, then turned back to grab the grilled cheese. I paused for a moment, going through every single item on my list. Animals needed to be tended to daily. Crops needed to be pulled, watered, sorted, boxed, clipped—among many things. My days were usually spent working on the farm from right in the early AM with my two older brothers and parents, and then late afternoons were for the diner.

Then it was in bed by nine-thirty usually, and I'd start the whole day over again after a restless night's sleep.

But I knew I had to find time for him. I really _did_ want to see him outside the diner, and it was pretty obvious now that he was keen on doing the same thing with me.

"My only night off is Thursday," I said, hoping Max wouldn't jump in and tell me someone had already called in sick, or there was some festival or concert or whatever happening in town and we'd need all hands on deck to tend to the crowds afterward. Usually I didn't mind taking extra shifts on short notice, but this wasn't one of those times.

"Thursday it is," Henry told me, drumming his fingers on the countertop, unable to stop himself from grinning at me. "Beer and wings at Sal's. D'you want me to pick you up?"

My instinct was to say we'd take separate cars, but if we were going for beer, I actually wanted to drink and not feel guilty about either leaving my car at the bar, or risking driving home a little intoxicated. Which I didn't do often, but it had happened in the past. Once or twice. Four times max.

Maybe five—but that was in _all_ my years of driving.

"Sure, that'd be okay, I guess," I said when I realized I lapsed into some internal justification of my driving habits with my own brain. Clearing my throat, I turned away so he wouldn't see me blush. "Guess I should get your number so I can text you my address."

"Did you hear that Max?" Henry asked jovially, slapping the counter with an exaggerated hick accent. "This pretty lady wants my phone number."

"Don't make me regret this," I sniffed, setting a small square piece of paper in front of him with a pen. He simmered down after, quickly scribbling his number down in his slanted, somewhat sloppy script. When he was done, I folded the paper and stuck it in my pocket. Like a good employee, I never brought my phone out with me while I was working. It was in my glove box in the truck, and Max constantly went on about leaving valuables unattended.

I'd usually snort and roll my eyes whenever the old man got started. There was barely any crime around here—unless you counted the crime of the banks stealing all our farmland, but I never hopped up on _that_ particular soapbox, even though the opportunity presented itself on a fairly regular basis.

"You better text me," Henry insisted, running his spoon through the thick tomato soup Carrie had made fresh that morning. I shrugged.

"I don't know... Lot of things on my mind lately. I'll try to remember."

"Otherwise I'll be back here, ordering the same meal, and asking you why you won't date me," he told me, his eyebrow raised. I swallowed hard and looked away, my stomach giving a little flutter of nervous excitement at nothing more than a slight eyebrow raise. Not a good sign.

"She'll text you," Max interjected before I could come up with anything clever. "Just stop asking for tomato soup. My wife's sick of making it."

"This will be the last one I have for a long, long while," Henry laughed. "I promise."

I pressed my lips together to keep my smile from growing too large, and then turned my attention to the newest arriving customers. Slowly, the early dinner rush started to trickle in, and before long I didn't have a free second to chat it up with Henry anymore. He didn't seem to mind—he never did. As always, he finished his meal, added a few parting words to me as he paid up, and left. This time, he reminded me about Thursday, and I had a feeling I wouldn't see him back here for the rest of the week. In fact, I suspected I wouldn't see him at all until next Thursday, and for some reason, I was excited about that.

It made the thought of the two of us spending time together actually seem special.

The rest of my shift passed by in a blur, with a steady stream of customers pouring in all night. By the time I was done and cashed out, I was ready to crash.

And I did. Right in the front seat of my truck. I wasn't sure when I'd fallen asleep exactly, but I woke up to Max tapping on the window. Blinking the sleep out of my eye, I rolled the window down hastily, my heart hammering in my chest.

"Go home, kid," he ordered. His car sat in front of mine, the only other one in the lot, and I could see Carrie giving me a concerned look. "Do you need us to drive you?"

"No, I'm fine, thanks," I mumbled, sitting up and wiping the dried drool off the corners of my mouth. Totally embarrassing, and I realized I'd passed out for almost two hours after my shift had ended. My parents were probably worried out of their minds. After Max left, I dug my phone out of my glove box and saw a few missed calls. I couldn't tell them I'd fallen asleep: they'd feel guilty for me working such long days. I'd tell them my shift ran long, that Carrie needed help cleaning the kitchen.

At least working late was better than passing out from exhaustion. After I got the truck going, its engine rumbling to life noisily, I shifted on my seat and dug the piece of paper out of my pocket. Nibbling my lower lip, I punched the new number into my phone, and then sat back with a sigh. How was I going to balance a guy into this hectic life of mine? Where would I find the time—or the energy—to throw something else into the mix?

However, before I let myself sink into a spiral of doom, wondering whether or not accepting a date from Henry was a good idea, I turned on the radio, cranked the volume, and headed for home. Bed was calling, and I could worry about everything tomorrow.

# Chapter Five

As embarrassing as it was to admit, I hadn't been on a proper date since high school. Back then Johnny Fraiser and I were fifteen, and he came all the way up to my front door with a rose to ask me out. I hadn't been home at the time, and he ended up sitting and having a nerve-addled conversation with my dad and my two older brothers, but in the end I figured it toughened him up for what he could expect if he wanted to actually date me. We ended up seeing each other for just shy of a year, after which we had an incredibly dramatic high school break-up that ended in a lot of tears and heartache on _both_ sides of the playing field.

After that, "dates" didn't seem "cool". You went on a group "hang-out", and then you and your significant other would wander off on your own to spend some quality time together. Looking back on it now, it was absolutely ridiculous, but that had been the way things went for a long time. Most of the kids my age had known each other from childhood, and we flirted with just about everyone during that stupidly hormonal stage of our lives. Since then, however, I'd been too busy with work and school and life to think about a boyfriend.

Plus I'd never been the type who needed a partner to feel whole. A lot of my girlfriends were off searching for that Mr. Right to take care of them so they could start being moms already. There was nothing wrong with that—I couldn't deny feeling a pang of maternal longing looking at a cousin or friend with their newborn baby—but I just wasn't at that stage in my life yet. Getting married in your twenties just felt too young. How did any of us know what we wanted? Most of us hadn't gone farther than a few towns over—I'd never even been to the state capitol outside of an elementary school field trip, and back then it wasn't like I was paying attention to much.

So this was kind of a big deal. Never mind that it was gorgeous Henry from the diner taking me out: this was the first time I'd done my hair and make-up in weeks—months, actually. Following a tutorial I'd found online, despite our shoddy internet connection, I'd transformed my usually unruly thick hair into glossy waves, all the while knowing the look would probably last 2.5 seconds once I was in Henry's car with the windows rolled down.

My mom never wore make-up, and seeing as Grandma was no longer with us, I had very little real-world inspiration for my look. Dottie kept her make-up natural most of the time, so as I colored my cheeks and slathered mascara on my lashes, I tried to mimic her. In the end, I added a neutral brownish lip color to tie it all together, thinking that I was actually kind of a catch.

I'd initially wanted to tie my newfound beauty regime up in a neat little bow with a dress, but we were going to Sal's bar and grill—not exactly the kind of place for a lady to wear a dress. Still, I classed my outfit up with a loose, flowy top that had sleeves to the elbows, along with a pair of tight dark jean shorts that cut off at the knee. Most importantly, everything about me was clean. No dust, no dirt, no animal shit... Getting ready for a date with Henry was like being reborn.

Earlier in the day I'd texted him my address, and he'd done the typical boy thing and replied with a curt _Awesome_ in response and nothing more. So, going into everything, I had no idea how he was feeling, but I could only hope he was as nervous as me. That was only fair, right?

"Well, don't you look fancy," my mom said, beaming at me from the kitchen doorway as I hurried down the stairs. I brushed my blown-out hair away from my face, smiling.

"Thanks. I feel fancy." The rest of the house was quiet save for the radio in the kitchen, which I assumed meant everyone else was out. Good. Like I needed my brothers teasing me about getting dressed up—and I definitely didn't need my dad eyeing Henry's car down from the window as I climbed in.

"A little too fancy for Sal's, don't you think?" My mom pinched the flowy, almost sheer fabric of my top. "I'd hate to see you ruin such a nice outfit."

"It'll be fine," I insisted, letting her enjoy a material other than cotton for a few seconds longer. "I wanted to feel pretty tonight. I'm kind of nervous."

"Oh, don't be nervous, sweetheart," she told me as she fiddled with my hair. I should have complained that she'd make it flat if she kept playing with it, but I didn't. I knew there were times when she just wanted to be a mom to her little girl. She gave me a warm smile when she pulled her hand back, a soup ladle in her other hand. "He's been hounding you for, what, four months now? You have all the power here."

"I don't want power," I argued weakly, the thought making me a little uncomfortable. "I just want to have some fun with a guy for once."

My mom nodded, and there was a hint of sadness in her eyes as she watched me. "I know you do. You've been working really hard lately. I'll tell Dad to give you tomorrow morning off. Stay out late. Have some fun. Sleep in. I think you've earned it."

I wanted to argue that I'd be fine to get up at my usual hour, but then thought better of it. I hadn't slept in since... well, probably around the same time I'd last gone on a proper date. It was time.

My phone went off noisily, startling both of us. Right on time, Henry was apparently waiting for me in the driveway. We exchanged a quick look, both my mom and I reading the text, and I offered her a small smile.

"Well, here goes nothing," I muttered, palms sweaty and heart pounding.

She gave me a tight hug and fixed my hair a few times over as I stuffed my feet into some cute little flat shoes and slung my purse over my shoulder. With my hand on the doorknob, she gave her a few pearls of dating wisdom, none of them sticking in my head as I went outside.

Sure enough, Henry was there waiting for me in a sleek little four-door car. Navy blue. Very clean. Not ideal with the roads around here. I was surprised the whole side panels weren't covered in dirt. My truck was pretty high off the ground, but even then it wasn't safe from the dusty, gravelly roads.

Although the windows were tinted, I could still make out a slight outline of a figure in the front seat—who appeared to be on his phone—as I made my way around to the passenger's side. My nervous anticipation melted into something a little more sinister, and I envisioned it _not_ being Henry sitting there when I opened the door, but some other crazy character who'd come in his place.

My fears dissipated, however, as soon as I had the door open. Henry smiled at me, looking quite handsome in a pressed button-up shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows, and a dark pair of jeans.

"You scrub up well, kid," I remarked as I clambered into the vehicle, wanting to break whatever tension there might be from the very beginning. His chuckle warmed me from the inside out, his voice low and appealing, and it felt very final, in a way, when I shut the door behind me.

"I was about to say the same about you," he insisted playfully, placing his hand on the back of my seat as he reversed down the driveway. I tried not to gawk at the way his corded arm stretched out behind me, the muscle taut, his mid-section twisted so he could look out the back window. The whole car smelled distinctly like him; I'd always catch a whiff of his cologne if I happened to "accidentally" lean in too close when I was serving him, but I didn't need to do that here. Most of the guys I knew didn't bother with cologne, but with Henry, it seemed perfectly natural, and a part of me wondered if my clothes would hold some of the scent after the date.

Not that I'd go around sniffing them or anything, but...

"I was worried I'd be too dressed up for Sal's," I admitted when I realized I was staring just a little too intently—it was hard not to. Clearing my throat, I quickly buckled myself in and settled back in the seat, a soft blast of AC cooling my flushed features.

"Same," Henry said once we reached the edge of my property. The car's tires bumped over the shift between dirt road and pavement, a familiar feeling that always reminded me of coming home. Henry finally got the car straightened out, and then faced forward again, still grinning. "But then I thought... Why not? It's a special occasion."

My eyebrows shot up as the butterflies in my stomach did an excited little jig. "Is it?"

"Definitely," he remarked with a nod. "I mean, this right here is months of hard work finally paying off, so why not celebrate?"

Why not celebrate? I hadn't realized this was such an event for him, but then again, most guys didn't ardently pursue a girl for months on end if they weren't actually interested in getting to know them. Hell, most of the guys from around here would have lasted about a week or two of being rejected, and then they'd slink off, tails between their legs, to chase easier prey. Henry hadn't given up. Not once. He'd eaten the same thing every week for four months, and a part of me wondered if it was just so he could keep asking me out. Why else would someone consume _that_ much grilled cheese and tomato soup?

"Is it weird?" he asked after the pause went on for too long. "Seeing each other outside the diner?"

I gave a laugh, letting out some of my nervous energy with it. I'd never been in a guy's car like this before with the intention of going on a bonafide date. Sure, friends had given me rides, and friends of my brothers' had dropped me off after parties when I was too drunk to drive, but this was different.

There was subtext here—and I was much more nervous than I would have thought I'd be. I saw Henry all the time, but he was right: this was our first real conversation outside the diner.

"It's nice," I replied, fiddling with the strappy dangly bits hanging off my pleather purse. "At least I'm not serving you food."

"Well, the night's still young." He laughed at the narrowed look I shot him and then reached for the radio, though he kept the volume low once he found a static-free station.

We kept the conversation light on the way to Sal's. Henry asked about my day, and I regaled him with the rambling details of the farm work I'd done, going into unnecessary detail—something I chalked up to my nerves more than anything. I mean, he didn't really need to know all the names of the calves in our small herd of cattle, and yet I told him anyway.

"Which one's the cutest?" he asked as he sped the car up to catch the light. It just turned red by the time we cleared the intersection, and I couldn't help but smile. People didn't exactly move fast around town. Sure, when we were out in the fields or with the animals, you bet your ass we got our work done, but off the farms, most people were Sunday Drivers all seven days of the week.

"I can't pick the cutest," I insisted, placing a hand on my chest, as if aghast that he would even ask such a question. "I love them all equally."

"Until they're turned into veal, right?"

"We breed for dairy, not meat," I replied with a sniff. The chickens went to the local butcher, but I wasn't about to tell him that. "Some of those cows were at the farm before I was."

I caught him grinning to himself, giving a slight shake of his head as he considered my words. The farm life wasn't really new or interesting to anyone I knew around town, which made me wonder just what _exactly_ Henry did for a living. I knew he was in town on occasion to check in on his mom's house, but otherwise I knew very little about him aside from his preference for grilled cheese and tomato soup—and the fact that he was incredibly persistent when he wanted something.

The sun was only _just_ on the verge of setting as we pulled into the parking lot at Sal's. It was fairly empty now, but in a few hours the place would be jumping. As I climbed out of Henry's car, quickly checking my hair and make-up in the side-view mirror, I knew that I could expect a bunch of afternoon drunks by the bar, and maybe some teenagers scattered in the booths, hoping none of the staff would notice them after the twenty-one and over cut-off point at nine.

There was a noticeable gap between us as we strolled toward the establishment, which had been made up to look like a dude ranch—woefully out of place in a town like Friarsville, but it was the only real grown-up bar around aside from the strip club. And no one would _dare_ be seen at the strip club most days; from what I understood, most of their clientele were out-of-towners, but the cocktails were apparently good.

"Where are you going?" I asked with a frown when I noticed Henry skirting the main doors and heading for the side. "Are we going through the kitchen or something?"

He turned around and strolled backward as I followed, his hands up.

"I might have done something to commemorate our first date," he told me, and then wiggled his eyebrows at me when I shot him a questioning look. I usually avoided the back of Sal's whenever I visited, as there was nothing but some garbage bins and a smoker's patio that always seemed too busy. Tonight, however, the area behind the bar was empty, and I wondered if maybe he'd get them to bring us our beers outside.

"So, it's nothing fancy," Henry remarked, and I suddenly realized where he was headed. Aside from the garbage bins and the smokers' patio, there was a small storage unit that looked like a miniature version of the bar. Most nights, inebriated idiots tried to pick the lock and see what was inside, but it soon became apparent that there'd be no need for _this_ soon-to-be drunk idiot—something had to calm my nerves!—to join the masses.

"What did you do?" I asked, a little wary of what I might find inside. When he pulled the doors open, I actually let an audible gasp, stumbling to a halt as I took in the sight before me.

"I always picture first dates being in fancy restaurants with silk linens and champagne and stuff," he told me as I approached the shed numbly, "but since I brought up Sal's that first night, I figured it'd still have to be here, but I could maybe... class it up a little."

And class it up he had. Unlike everyone else who looked at the storage shed through beer goggles and wondered what mysteries lurked inside, I'd always assumed there was nothing but dusty equipment and boxes of old beer that nobody drank. What I saw before me was... another story entirely.

What caught my attention first was the string of little lights scattered across the ceiling. I wasn't one for mood lighting, but those combined with the big candles in the middle of the table kind of did it for me. The space wasn't huge, but it was incredibly clean, the wooden floors seeming like they were freshly swept in preparation for tonight. A round table sat in the middle of it all, holding those candles and a bottle of wine. I blinked and suddenly realized my jaw was hanging open. Clearing my throat, I pressed my lips together and moved in for a closer inspection, arms folded over my chest.

"I thought I'd bring some restaurant class to Sal's," Henry admitted as he followed me in. We both had to duck our heads at the entrance, but once inside, the ceiling was actually quite tall, and my eyes wandered its entirety: there were little Christmas lights strung up to the very top.

"You did this... for me?" I asked without thinking. My cheeks flushed when I realized how self-absorbed the statement was, and quickly added, "For our first date, I mean?"

Henry nodded, and my body practically buzzed at how close we were standing in the dimly lit shed. "I did."

"Why?"

He laughed, an earnest sound that warmed me from the inside out, and then offered a small shrug. "Because I thought you'd like it. And it's a bit more private than a seat at the bar or a booth by the pool tables inside."

Nodding, I moved forward to the table. In the middle of the circle of thick candles were some summer flowers, ones that could easily be plucked from the nearby fields. I touched the petals gently, a soft smile on my lips.

"Do you like it?" he inquired, and I sensed a bit of hesitation in his tone.

"It's incredible," I replied, unable to tear my eyes away from the beautiful setting he'd made for us. "Really."

No guy had ever done something like this for me before. Although, given my limited dating experiences, maybe I just hadn't found the right guy yet. Maybe sweet guys like Henry did this sort of thing all the time for their lady friends.

"We're still eating wings though, right?" I asked with a chuckle after examining the bottle of wine. Henry shifted behind me and pulled out the chair, gesturing for me to sit, which I did with all the grace I could muster—which wasn't much.

"Oh, hell yeah," he remarked once he'd tucked me in, taking a seat across from me and grinning. "You think I'd pass up wings at Sal's?"

Smirking, I passed him the bottle of wine, which he proceeded to open.

"If we weren't having wings, I'd probably leave," I admitted cheekily, which made him smile. As he filled each of our spotless wine glasses to the halfway mark, I tried to swallow the massive smile that threatened to stretch across my face. While my nerves had started to fade, I still trembled with excitement. Already this date was above and beyond what I'd expected, and as we chatted, we were quickly given a basket of BBQ wings and some extra dipping sauce for the side of veggies, I realized tonight was exactly what I needed to forget all my problems and stress.

Scratch that: _Henry_ was exactly what I needed—and I wasn't about to let him go anytime soon.

# Chapter Six

"So," I started, shooting Henry a wry smile from my side of the car, "I think it's safe to say you have _terrible_ taste in music."

He laughed, the sound rippling through me in a pleasant way, a way that left me feeling both warm and secure, yet the hairs on my arms stood in response too. A telling sign if there ever was one. Maybe it was the wine. Alcohol always made me a little freer with my emotions, but my head was clear, lacking the usual post-drinking buzz.

"What are you talking about?" He turned up the volume, bobbing his head along with the guitar solo. "This is a _classic_."

"Just because it's a classic, doesn't make it good," I argued with a slight roll of my eyes. Even when we were bickering, I couldn't wipe the smile from my face—and Henry seemed to be in the same boat. I'd gotten so used to the cute dimples on his cheeks from the nights of staring at his handsome face that I almost forgot how attractive they were on their own. We'd spent an awesome few hours at Sal's, totally secluded from the rest of the bar-goers, feasting on wings and wine, Henry less so with the wine than I, and while I would have _killed_ a dessert, my stomach just couldn't have handled it.

Not exactly an attractive trait to be bloated on a date, but I'd worn a loose, flowy shirt for a reason.

As we left, Henry offered to take me on the scenic route home. At first I'd wondered if he'd been joking, because _everywhere_ around town was the scenic route, but when we headed beyond the city limits to hit the open countryside roads, I realized he was serious. It was like neither of us wanted the night to end, and as I settled back in my seat, half-listening to his rant about why this particular song was one of the best songs ever made in rock history, I almost hoped we'd drive forever.

Eventually, a comfortable silence blanketed us, me alternating between ogling him in my peripherals and admiring the beautiful starry sky through the smudge-free window.

"Okay, I have a question," he said finally, reaching for the radio and turning down the music. He glanced my way, and I nodded quickly, waiting. "Would it be really corny of me... to drive you to a look-out point?"

Thankfully it was finally dark enough to hide my blushing, because my cheeks lit up like the fourth of July at the mention of a look-out point. There were a few locally, and I'd been to all at some point, usually with a few friends and a couple of cases of beer. When we were young, I'd go with family—but never a guy, especially one I actually wanted to lock lips with.

"I knew it," he muttered, returning his gaze to the road with a slight shake of his head, perhaps taking my silence for discomfort. "Sorry, it was cheesy, but I—"

"No, no," I interrupted, fidgeting with the soft hem of my shirt, unable to look him in the eye. "No, that sounds great. I think there's one nearby, actually."

Henry shot me an excited grin before making a hard left at one of the offshoots from the main road, the car bumping over the grooves and dips in the shoddily paved lane. While good farmland was made on flat plains, we had a few hilly areas in the county, and one in particular overlooked a large lake. In the summer months it was used for boating and swimming by teenagers and families, and occasionally you'd see a pair of old guys out with their fishing gear on a boat, even though the fish seldom ventured close to the surface.

A thin line of trees gave us some semblance of privacy as Henry brought the car to a stop. Ahead, starlight twinkled on the glistening waters of the lake. Clean, quiet, peaceful. I couldn't imagine a more perfect spot to spend the last part of our first date. We looked at each other at the same time, then both chuckled and looked away. Henry turned the radio off, followed shortly by the ignition. He then rolled down the windows, a comfortable summer breeze wafting in, catching my stray hairs and blowing them about. I shifted when they tickled my neck.

I drew in a deep breath, then said, "Henry—"

"I bet—" Unfortunately, we both spoke over one another, and once again we dissolved into embarrassed chuckles. When the nerves faded, Henry cleared his throat. "You go first."

I pressed my lips together, feeling the way my heart pounded heavily in my chest. I'd been brave a few seconds ago, but now that we were both aware I had something to say, it was harder to get the words out. Rather than look directly at him, I shifted my attention to the lake, finding peace in its calm waters.

"I just wanted to say," I started, my fingers back to playing with the hem of my shirt, "that this is the nicest thing any guy's ever done for me."

My tongue swiped across my lower lip in the silence that followed, and when I spared a glance his way, he was studying me with raised eyebrows.

"You can't be serious."

I nodded. "Yeah, I am. Guys these days don't do... cute little romantic dates. We hang out at their house or with our friends at the bar. It's never been like this before, and... I really appreciate it."

The smug little smile on his lips hadn't escaped me, but I let him have it. After all, he'd done a fantastic job planning our first official date. I would have taken us to Sal's, yes, but we probably still would have been sitting there drinking beer with wing sauce all over our faces. Still fun, but not special.

"Well, that's the problem," he told me after a brief pause. "You've been dating guys. This might be the first time you've dated an actual man."

We stared at one another for a moment before I let out a giggle, settling back in my seat as the laughter overtook me. His faded laughter faltered a little.

"What? Are you laughing because the thought of me as a man is unrealistic, or—"

"No, it's just..." I collected myself, sitting up a little straighter, still grinning. "That's such a line, you know? _Now you're finally dating a real man_... It's like we're in a movie. I... Yeah." My cheeks flushed when I realized it wasn't _that_ funny. "Sorry."

"Don't be," he insisted. He then reached out and brushed the hair away from my face, blown there by the breeze, and I finished the action by tucking it behind my ear. "I like it when you laugh... even if it's _at_ me instead of _with_ me."

For some reason, I found that to be one of the sweetest compliments I'd ever received. He liked my laugh—and I liked to laugh. What a pair we were.

"I'll be honest," I said after a moment. "I find it a little... weird that you're doing so much for me. I mean, we barely know one another."

Henry shifted in the seat, swiveling so he leaned his shoulder against the sturdy backrest. "I don't find it strange at all," he admitted with a shrug. "Jen, we've been talking for months. Even if I'd met you yesterday, you'd deserve something special for a first date."

I swallowed hard, my lips spreading into a warm smile. "That's sweet."

"It's the truth."

"But a lot of our talk has been, you know, surface-level stuff," I babbled, only realizing as soon as it escaped my flapping gob that I should just shut up. "I know you like tomato soup and grilled cheese, and you know which customers I hate serving, but we haven't really talked about anything serious."

I inhaled softly when he reached out and touched my hand, his large palm enveloping mine in a gentle embrace.

"What's serious?" he asked, his brow furrowed. "Do you... want to talk about something? You can tell me anything. I'm not the kind of man that runs scared because of a little personal stuff."

I'd wanted to unload to someone, _really_ unload, about all the stress going on at home for months now. In fact, there was nothing more I would have preferred to do than whine about our financial strains, about how much work I now had to do on a daily basis just to make ends meet—about how much my back hurt every time I climbed into bed. I could probably go for hours if he let me, and I didn't need Henry to solve my problems. There was no back-and-forth necessary; I just wanted to vent.

But this wasn't the time or the place. Sure, I'd been the one to bring up "serious" stuff, but I wasn't about to kill the mood by talking about money troubles. That was almost _too_ serious for a first date—maybe even a third or fourth. For now, I wanted to go back to smiling, to laughing. I wanted him to touch me again, and not just to grip my hand or smooth my flyaways back. _Really_ touch me. My eyes drifted down to his lips, slim but pert in a way—like a teen idol I'd fantasized about as a kid.

Henry was probably a great kisser.

I inched forward, hesitating for only a moment. Both of us had a heavy-lidded quality to our gaze, a lusty cloudiness in our eyes, and I swallowed hard again before leaning in and closing the distance completely. Kissing was easier than talking.

At first, we barely touched one another, my lips merely brushing over his as his hand wandered up my arm. My skin prickled with anticipation, excited little goose bumps covering my arms as a shiver ran down my spine. His hand stopped its wandering at my chin, which he gripped lightly, using it to pull me even closer as his tongue tentatively explored the seal of my lips. Eyes fluttering closed, I opened my mouth to let him continue his curious wandering, our tongues soon meeting, tangling, brushing up against each other as our breathing quickened.

Kissing was _definitely_ easier than talking. Something deep inside gave an excited little clench, agreeing with the sentiment wholeheartedly as a tingle started to grow between my thighs. Suddenly I wanted his hand there, not on my chin. Cupping me. Rubbing me. Encouraging the tingle to blossom into something even more pleasurable.

I sat up a little straight, breaking the kiss for a moment to drag my flowy blouse over my head. Suddenly, even with the windows down and the breeze rolling it, I felt too hot in my clothes. My hands jumped down to the base of the little tank I wore underneath, though I hesitated when I noticed the way Henry's eyes drank me in. He was waiting, expectant. It made me a little self-conscious, even if there wasn't much light aside from the stars above.

His eyes darted up to mine suddenly, and he gave me a small smile.

"We don't have to do anything more than this," he insisted, but there was a low, lusty quality to his voice that shot straight through to my core. Arousal flooded me, knowing I excited him with just a bit of skin and some kissing. Confidently, I dragged my tank top up and over my head, then set it on the dashboard next to my blouse. As I made my move to climb onto his lap, Henry hastily, somewhat clumsily, pulled his shirt off too.

Fair was fair, after all, and I tried not to drool at the hard, muscular chest and stomach that greeted me. He was lean and tall, and I'd expected less beneath that shirt. Sure, his arms were toned, but you could get a toned pair of arms by doing the bare minimum amount of physical effort each day. I licked my lips as I sidled across the front seat and onto his lap, giggling at the sudden jolt of the seat reclining.

He smiled too, maybe at the sound of my laugh, and reached up to brush the hair out of my face.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, his words exciting me more than his touch—though not by much. A hard bulge jabbed into me as I settled against him, and I quirked an eyebrow, grinning before slating my lips over his. Henry groaned as I rolled my hips over his arousal, doing little figure-eights so that he brushed the sensitive bud that was just _aching_ to be touched.

His hands slid up and down my back, and after a few moments, he took a leap of faith and reached around to cup my breast. Now it was my turn to moan, and I did so vigorously as he kneaded the mound, my nipples growing hard under the fabric. Unable to take the lack of skin-on-skin for long, I broke the kiss and reached back to unclasp my bra. It soon found a place in the passenger seat, and I let out a gasp when Henry sat us up somewhat so he could run his mouth over my breast, his lips parted, before closing them around my nipple. My hands fisted in his hair as I bit back a squeal, the feel of his tongue and teeth over such sensitive skin sending a wonderful combination of pain and pleasure through me.

"Henry," I gasped, my hands tightening in his hair as his hips bucked up, grinding against me. My response was downright shameless, and I felt my toes start to curl in my shoes as the friction started to build. Whimpering, I reached between us and got to work on his zipper.

"Hey, hey," he chuckled, slowing my hands. I shook my head, vision fogged over with lust.

"I need you," I all but whined, not caring how it made me sound. Some people judged women who 'put out' on the first date, but I didn't care. All I cared about in that moment was slaking the lust that seemed to have taken over my whole body. I wanted more, and I wanted him to give it to me.

"Slow down there, pretty girl," he teased. My cheeks flamed at the throwback to my joke when we'd first met: pretty name for a pretty girl. Then, before I could slink away to hide my embarrassment, he got us up and moving, shifting us in place so that I was sprawled back on the front seat, and he had the slightly awkward responsibility of hovering over me. He smirked when our eyes met, then said, "I want to take care of you."

My eyebrows shot up, but when I saw him getting to work on my pants, I wasn't about to complain. We managed to wiggle them and my panties down, and he let out a low, soft groan when he started to massage me. I was wet— _so_ wet. He lingered around my engorged little button, palming it over and over again, pinching and rubbing me to the brink of madness. Amidst my hazy lust-addled mind, I wondered how he'd feel if he used his tongue instead.

Just as my muscles started to clench, heat rising across my body, the telltale signs of an imminent climax, Henry slipped two fingers inside me, leaving my swollen bud alone for a moment to work the button inside. I arched off the seat, my hands grasping at whatever I could get a grip on as I started seeing stars, my breath coming out in unsteady moans.

" _Christ_ , Jen," Henry hissed, pumping his fingers in and out of my as an orgasm washed across my body, dragging from me an embarrassing little squeal as my eyes clenched shut tightly. My body tightened around his fingers as I came, waves and waves of pleasure drenching me head to toe. When it finally started to ease away, it took me a few hard blinks to see properly again.

"That was amazing," I whispered, my hand falling to my forehead as I tried to slow my breathing. "That... I..."

No guy had ever made me come like that the first time we were together. In fact, I almost had to stop and wonder if a guy had made me come like that—period.

"Thanks, I work out," he said, and when I shot him a look, he grinned bashfully as he reached into his pockets. "Sorry, that was stupid. I just..."

He trailed off when he undoubtedly found what he was looking for, and when he produced a condom, my body sprung back to attention. As good as the orgasm was, I wasn't ready to call it a day yet. Nibbling my lower lip, I nodded to his worthless question, then climbed back a little on the reclined seat, wriggling out of my pants as best I could. I only managed to get them down to my ankles, since there wasn't enough space to maneuver around him—but none of that mattered. All I wanted was Henry.

As I made myself a little more comfortable, Henry ripped open the condom wrapper, slipped his pants down, and rolled it onto his impressive shaft. Just as I'd been pleasantly surprised by dips and ridges of his abs, so too was I surprised here by his length and thickness—so much so that I struggled not to stare.

"Is everything okay?" he asked as he crawled over me, and I swallowed hard, nodding.

"Perfect."

His lips pressed firmly to mine, and I managed to yank one leg out of my pants to wrap around his waist. Slowly, he pushed into me, inch by glorious inch, until our hips knocked together. My body stretched to accommodate him, the pleasurable tightness of it all making me whimper.

I arched up, bringing my hips to meet his as he started to thrust. Just like our first kiss, we moved tentatively at first, maybe a little worried about taking things too far too fast—but that didn't last for long. I soon had both legs wrapped around him, clinging to Henry's shoulders as he pumped in and out of me, bringing me higher and higher to my second climax of the evening. When the pleasurable heat pulsed through me, weakening my arms and legs, I cried out against his shoulder as he lavished my neck with affectionate, firm kisses.

His hand, which had buried itself in my hair a while ago, tightened into a fist, tugging my head back in a way that made me gasp. He'd been steady so far with his thrusts, occasionally switching it up so that he pulled out of me completely, only to slam back into me moments later before I could protest, but now his rhythm stuttered off, and he soon stiffened completely as he groaned out my name.

We both lay there silently in the aftermath, wrapped around each other, kissing lazily as our breathing slowed. When he finally got a little too heavy on top of me, I started to sit up a little, which prompted him to get off.

There was a fleeting moment of worry that flashed through my mind. What if this was all he wanted? What if he spent months chasing me _because_ I kept saying no, and now that he'd gotten what he wanted, he was done?

My worries vanished, however, when he handed me my bra, looking a little sheepish as I slipped it on. He seemed shyer suddenly, and I couldn't help but find it endearing. Guys who were just after sex were aloof after the deed was done, but Henry was remarkably attentive, handing me my things, asking if I was okay, if I wanted the AC on—whatever I needed to feel comfortable.

My heart must have swelled two sizes that night, because I couldn't look at him now without feeling _something_. Something had changed between us, and the physical act we'd shared was only a small part of it.

"You ready to head home?" he asked after we sat in the front seats together, hands clasped between us, watching the starlight on the glittering surface of the lake. I squeezed his hand and smiled.

"Ready when you are," I told him, and when he squeezed back, my stomach knotted excitedly. Instead of turning on the engine, he simply turned back and faced the lake, his hand gripping mine firmly, our fingers lacing around one another.

It was another hour before either of us were ready, and even then, Henry took the scenic route.

Anything to prolong the night—neither of us wanted it to end, and that, to me, was the definition of a perfect first date.

# Chapter Seven

"So what was this one's name again?"

" _Her_ name is Bluebell," I reminded, shooting Henry a sidelong look as he grinned. Our horses strolled side-by-side, two best friends who'd grown up on our farm happy to be out on the trails. Even horses like a little change of scenery every so often.

"Right, Bluebell," he chuckled, patting the spotted mare's neck. She gave a whinny in response, and I smirked. Totally feel the same way when he's riding me, Bluebell. My eyes quickly snapped up to his face, feeling a blush coming on at the thought of him riding me. He stared straight ahead, totally relaxed in both posture and expression, a gentle smile on his lips. "How could I possibly have forgotten a name like Bluebell... for a horse?"

"Hey," I said as I swatted at his arm, laughing. "My cousin was six when she named her. I think it's just fine for a horse."

"More of a," he lowered his voice, leaning over as if to share a secret, "a cow's name, don't you think? She might be growing up with a complex now."

I rolled my eyes as he settled back onto his saddle. My mare, Beaner, stopped to strip the leaves off a sapling, and I urged her onward, easily catching up with Henry and Bluebell.

As the end of summer rolled in, the weather was absolutely perfect. In fact, it had been pretty much perfect every time Henry and I saw one another over the month that had passed since our first date. We'd only been rained on once, and that was on a drive back from a stunning little restaurant in a nearby big city. At the time, Henry had pulled the car onto the shoulder, the rain so thick that we couldn't see any farther than a few feet in front of the dash. Naturally, we made use of the downtime, a throwback to our first night in the car alone together.

He never would have struck me as the kind of guy to initiate sex all the time. I mean, he was sweet and thoughtful—nothing like the horny assholes who hung around with me and my brothers growing up. And yet whenever the opportunity presented itself, Henry merely had to glance my way with an arched eyebrow and I was all weak in the knees—putty in his hands. I kept just how much he affected me to myself, of course. He didn't need to develop some big silly ego all of a sudden—and my mom didn't need to know how much sex her daughter was having.

The rest of my family didn't ask much about Henry, though my brothers were itching to give him "the talk" about dating their baby sister. For that reason alone, I tried to schedule our dates around the time most of the family was either off the property completely, or were so busy with work—we were down another farmhand right before harvesting season—that they couldn't be bothered to introduce themselves to my boyfriend.

My non-farming, fancy-dressing, sweet-talking boyfriend, who might not fit in with them anyway—which was just fine for me. I liked the change. I appreciated the way Henry's softness both contrasted and combined with his assertive nature. He could tell me we were doing something without coming across like he was ordering me to do it, and all the while I knew that if I wasn't comfortable with something, he'd back off. He was just that kind of guy.

How he'd managed to walk into my life was beyond me, and I wasn't about to ever question it. As long as things were good and Henry took my mind off all the financial disasters hitting my family, wave after wave, then I didn't question a lot of things. For example, Henry's job was still a bit of a mystery, as was his family. We talked a lot, but like before, the serious stuff was pushed to the background in an effort not to kill the mood.

Sometimes it was just better that way. Easier.

"It must have been amazing growing up here," Henry said after a long pause. Our mares had just trotted down a gently rolling hill, leaving behind us the forest thicket we'd passed through. In the distance, my brothers were probably working in the fields, running machines and checking produce quality.

That was why I'd been okay with having Henry over, with taking him on a little ride through the property. I'd worked damn hard today already, getting up _before_ the crack of dawn to finish my jobs around the farm, all the while knowing that I'd have the afternoon to relax with him, a few blissful hours before my shift at the diner. He'd already noticed I worked a lot, and Henry seemed keen these days on taking advantage of my free time. I didn't mind. I'd rather spend it with him than anyone else—even my own company. When I was alone, I had time to think. When we were together, my brain was occupied with something far better.

"It was... fun, I guess," I told him, my eyes wandering the mature trees, their thick tops rustling in the breeze, and the long grasses on either side of the trail. Most of our property was designated for farmland, but there was a path of forest on the western border between our land and the neighbor's, and Dad had always wanted that to be left raw and natural. We rode the horses along the well-worn trails. Somewhere out there, a half-finished treehouse that I'd worked on with my brothers was cradled in a large maple.

I noticed his brow furrow as he mulled over my answer. "Just fun?"

"Growing up in a place like this was a lot of work," I clarified. "I mean, we weren't pushed super hard when I was a kid, but my free time was less and less the older I got. Sometimes it's nice to be out here because I want to be, not because I'm working."

"Oh, well," Henry said, chuckling, "it's good to know you don't consider me work."

I played coy for a moment, my expression neutral as I shrugged my shoulders, but I couldn't hold back my huge smile for long under his stare. "Never!" Dating a guy like Henry wasn't work at all. I nodded to him as we both rocked back and forth atop our horses, drawing near to another forested area again. "What about you? What was your childhood like?"

His expression faltered as soon as the words left my mouth, and I wondered if I'd broached a touchy subject. The silence that followed all but confirmed that he wasn't interested in discussing that part of his life with me, and I was just about to change the subject when he cleared his throat and looked up, as if studying the canopy.

"It was just me and my mom growing up," he told me, and I tried my best to look attentive without coming across like I was making things a big deal. "We didn't have a lot. She worked all the time so I could focus on school, even in high school. I volunteered most of the time because that looked good for college essays, and she really needed me to get a scholarship."

I bit my lower lip for a moment, then said, "Sounds like a lot of pressure."

He shrugged. "I guess. I'd do it all over again for her. The sacrifices she made... When I made my money, I wanted to see that she'd never have to struggle again. I bought her the house in town, and a couple others, actually. All her favorite places in all her favorite states... I got her a place to stay. Because..." I couldn't look away now, and I noticed the way the bulge in his throat bobbed as he collected himself. "There was a point in our lives where we didn't even have a house of our own. Not even to rent. So... Yeah. That's... That's depressing ol' Henry."

"I think it's amazing that you bought her houses," I insisted, fighting to keep my voice steady. Something in his tone moved me, his words making my eyes water and my throat feel a little tight. All I wanted to do was hug him, but he seemed to have stiffened up as he opened up. Even Bluebell sensed it, the mare shifting and stomping as we moved along the trail.

"Thanks," he muttered. My grip loosened from the rein, my hand wanting to jump across the distance between us and stroke his arm, but it didn't. It stayed firmly in place, and I decided to lighten the mood as best I could.

"What the hell do you do for a living that lets you buy multiple houses?" I asked playfully, laughing at the thought. With my savings, I could probably buy a trailer somewhere—but what was the point when I lived with my family, who I actually got along with, totally rent-free?

"Oh, I went to school for finance," he told me, waving it off like it was nothing. "Made some good investments, snatched up some cheap real estate when the recession hit, fixed it up and sold it when people were flush again... You know, pretty standard, boring stuff. All I wanted was to pay my mom back for what she'd done for me, you know?"

I understood exactly, but just as I was about to _tell_ him that, a blast echoed from somewhere behind us, spooking my mare. It could have been anything, probably a truck backfiring, but my delicate creature went off like a shot, flying through the trees as I tried to slow her. I'd been a rider since I could walk, but sometimes the horse got the better of it—and this was definitely one of those times.

Branches whipped my face, and there was a pretty slim chance I'd walk away from the incident not bleeding. Instead of trying to soothe her, I focused on protecting my skin, regretting the decision not to wear a helmet.

Much to my surprise, it was Henry who came to my rescue. He and Bluebell appeared out of nowhere, cutting off my mare and riding alongside her until she slowed. Eventually I was able to regain control, and gently steer her back toward the trail, where we all eventually came a stop.

"Are you okay?" Henry clambered off Bluebell, gesturing for me to do the same, and I shakily slid off into his arms.

"Fine," I said, brushing the bits and pieces of forest brush off my clothes and skin. "Am I bleeding?"

"Little scratch. You're walking out of this thing like a total champ," he assured me, brushing my hair back as my chest heaved. Adrenaline pumped through me, and I found it a little difficult to walk as we moved the horses over to a sturdy tree and secured them there.

"How'd you... do that?" I asked, motioning back to the forested area I'd just raced through atop a frightened horse. "You said you didn't ride."

"I volunteered at a stable in high school," he admitted somewhat sheepishly, and my eyebrows shot up, impressed. "I thought I'd have lost the knack for it, but apparently riding a horse is like riding a bike. It all comes back once you start doing it again."

My eyes swept across his handsome features, and suddenly something new pumped alongside my adrenaline: desire. Want.

"You're full of surprises," I murmured, wrapping my arms around his neck and pressing my body against him. He smirked, his hands settling on the small of my back.

"All good, I hope?"

I shrugged as my hands slid round to cup his face. "So far..."

Our lips met passionately in the middle of the forest trail, birds squawking overhead, woodland critters dancing along the branches. With our two horses tied to a tree, we soon found one of our own, my back pressed against the bark, Henry buried between my thighs, as the warm afternoon sun beat down on us.

# Chapter Eight

"I'm sorry about this," Henry said as we pulled into a hidden driveway along the side of a winding country road. We were on the outskirts of Friarsville, headed for a dinner date on one of my rare nights off. "The guy who usually pops in once a week to check on things said all the stuff in the basement was making weird noises. I just want to make sure I'm not paying for some asshole to come by and do nothing."

I nodded, my eyes wandering the sweeping trees, the canopy tenting over the gravel driveway. "Totally fair. I think you and my dad would see eye-to-eye on that."

The radio hummed in and out of a connection, and Henry finally just turned it off. Shadows painted his car the farther in we went, and I felt a rush of excitement wash over me. We were going to see his mom's house, the one he'd bought outright for her so she'd always have a roof over her head in all her favorite places. He'd told me all about his real estate grabs, in basic detail anyway, that day we were horseback riding through the trails on my property. Now, as the first week of September claimed us, the summer heat still clinging hard, I was finally going to see one.

"Your dad sounds like a smart guy," he said with a chuckle, easing the car around the winding bends like he'd done it a hundred times before. "We'll probably still be able to make our reservation. I'll call if we're running late."

"No rush," I told him, and I meant it. Although we talked a lot, Henry hadn't exactly been forthcoming in ushering me in to his personal life. He always picked me up from my place. We always talked about _my_ childhood growing up on the farm with a pair of goofy brothers. Our stints down his Memory Lane were always short, to the point, and I wanted to soak in a bit of his history while I had the chance.

Plus this was a great distraction. More farm hands had been let go recently, right before harvesting time, and we were working like crazy to make sure everything was where it should be for the fall sales period. One of the waitresses at the diner quit, which meant Max was giving me more shifts than I could handle, and seeing Henry had become a once a week affair at best.

And it was always the best day of my week. Henry was my port in the storm, as cheesy as it was, and I needed my time with him to clear my head, to genuinely laugh at something again. Otherwise it was all bills and surly diner guests and tense conversations at home, hushed and secretive like I didn't know what was going on. Henry was my breath of fresh air, and I clung to every second I had with him.

We had to have been on the driveway for a good five minutes before the trees started to thin, and I sat up a little straighter in my seat as his mom's house popped into view.

"She's in the house in Oregon at the moment," he told me as my jaw dropped, overwhelmed by the sweet little bungalow. "Though she said she'd like to meet you sometime, if you'd like."

"That'd be... That'd be great," I stammered, so wrapped up in the house that I barely noticed him. His mom was a single lady in her seventies, from what I gathered, and this looked like the perfect little cottage for her to enjoy her comfortable retirement in. White wood, baby blue shutters, a pine-wood colored roof. The front door was red, and a flourishing garden wrapped around the entirety of the home. To one side there was a lake teeming with watery plants, and I swore I saw a turtle making a dive for the water from the shoreline. To the other side was a gazebo, whose cushioned seats looked like the perfect spots to enjoy a hazy summer sunset.

"Wow..." I breathed. "Did you... do all this?"

"I planned the bungalow," he told me as the car slowed to a stop. "Mom loves to garden, so Thompson makes sure it stays so nice while she's away."

"Thompson?"

"Eric Thompson," he clarified, and I nodded, realizing who he was talking about. "His dad runs the corner store?"

"He does a great job."

"He's my eyes and ears here," Henry admitted warmly as he shut the car off. "Okay. Two minutes, I promise, and then we can go."

I watched as he hopped out of the car, then slowly followed, not bothering to tell him this wasn't actually the nuisance he was making it out to be. After taking a few moments to admire the garden, one that would be on a downward spiral now that fall was settling in, I hurried in through the red front door after him. The inside was cozy but clean, with tasteful landscape paintings and surprisingly modern furniture.

"Mom wanted to be an interior designer a long time ago," Henry told me when I asked who did the decorating, him or her. "I just gave her free-reign to do whatever she wanted with the place."

Once more that indescribable feeling churned at the very core of my being, and I couldn't help but study the man I was dating with open affection. It was one thing hearing about what he'd done to help his mom out, but it was a totally different experience being there in person and seeing the outcome of his generosity. The house was beautiful and well-maintained, and I could easily see his mom enjoying the spring season here, with its perfect temperatures, tending to her garden in happy solitude. I couldn't imagine why she'd need multiple houses, but as Henry ducked into the basement to check on things and I stayed on the ground floor to study all the photographs on a bookshelf, I wondered if she needed to travel now.

From what I gathered, the two of them had bounced around when Henry was a kid, but not very far, and never out of state. They moved from town to town, drifting through the underclass bowels of society where no one would notice them. Maybe all the houses were necessary because now his mom could finally move as she pleased—and he wanted her to be comfortable and safe in her favorite places.

Of course, Henry never said of that to me. I only gathered what I could from our brief conversations, making deductions as I went.

"I'll just be a couple of minutes," Henry told me before descending into the basement, leaving me behind to snoop to my heart's content. I wandered the entirety of the bungalow, poking my head into rooms, marveling at how clean it was considering no one was there to dust it every week. I ended up back in the living room, admiring the images on the grand bookshelf. Henry had been a pretty adorable kid, albeit a little thin and lanky. I could see the emergence of his handsome features as he aged, his jaw becoming more pronounced, his eyes suddenly containing a depth that wasn't there as a boy.

He looked just like his mom. They were hugging in all of their pictures, making it pretty clear that they were close. She wanted to meet me—and I wanted to meet her. This was headed somewhere great, if my gut had anything to say about it, and as I stood in the house he'd purchased for his mom, the one he ensured was clean and well-maintained even when she wasn't there, it hit me like a lead brick to the face: I was falling in love with him.

My core squirmed at the thought, that excited feeling I'd felt when we'd been on the trail pulsing through me. I couldn't stop smiling. It was so obvious now, so clear that I'd been falling for him for some time now. He was, in almost every sense of the phrase, the ideal man. Intelligent. Funny. Affectionate. Passionate—about me, about his family, and about our town.

I flinched as footsteps thundered up the stairs nearby, Henry emerging from the basement level a few moments later. He wiped his hands on his dark jeans, giving me a slight eye roll as he shut the door.

"Everything looked fine," he told me. "Glad I didn't hire someone to come out and do this..."

Running a hand through his hair, he paused a few feet from me, his gaze sweeping the room, no doubt to make sure everything was in its proper order. Watching him, I suddenly couldn't help myself. Without a word, I crossed the space between us, cupped his face in my hands, and pressed a soft, sweet kiss to his lips. He leaned into me, an arm coiling around my waist, pulling my body flush with his.

I pulled away before either of us could deepen the kiss, wanting to savor the sweetness of the moment. The softness. Affection was written plainly across both of our faces as we studied one another, and Henry finally reached up to tuck my hair behind my ear.

"What was that for?" he asked, his breath dancing across my skin, smelling like the spearmint gum he'd been chewing when he picked me up. I pressed my lips together, suppressing the enormous smile threatening to surface. I might have been falling in love with him, but I didn't need to scare him off in the meantime. Love scared a lot of guys, and while I didn't think it would bother Henry, I wasn't quite ready to take that risk yet.

"Because... you're you," I replied warmly, sneaking one last peck before untangling myself from his hold. Henry watched me for a long moment as our fingers laced together, then nodded toward the door.

"You ready for dinner?" he inquired. Just as I was about to nod, my stomach gave a thunderous gurgle, and I placed my hand over it with a laugh. Henry beamed at me, leaning forward and kissing my forehead. "I guess that answers my question."

His words were murmured against my skin, and I closed my eyes briefly, enjoying the feeling. With some effort, he moved away from me, and I followed him back to the red front door. Once we were through, I cast one last look at the bowels of the bungalow, briefly wondering if the next time I saw that bookshelf full of pictures, I'd be there with his mom and him, enjoying a barbeque out back before the weather turned sour.

But that was only a hope. For now, dinner awaited us, and I took Henry's hand happily, jogging beside him back to the car, laughing as I went.

All the while wondering if, for any reason, my sheer and utter happiness was too good to be true.

# Chapter Nine

As soon as I passed the property line between our farm and the neighbor's, I gave up on finding a radio station that wasn't a staticky mess. There was no point in fussing over it when I had about thirty more seconds of driving to do until I reached my driveway. The trunk bounced angrily, taking the dip between the main road and our driveway a little harder than I would have liked, and I made a mental note to take a look under my beastly baby one of these days to make sure all the rough driving hadn't wreaked havoc on the suspension.

There were far fewer cars in our driveway these days, with almost all of our farmhands let go, and as I pulled into my usual parking spot, I noticed the last of our hired help stalking out of the main house. Frowning, I clambered out of my truck and slammed the door, arms folded as I watched him approach.

"Hey, Jaime," I said hesitantly. The look on his face told me he wasn't in the mood for conversation, but because he was a gentleman, he still offered me a small smile and a head bob as he passed. Wordlessly, the man I'd known since I was a high schooler made his way to his beat-up Civic, threw himself in the front seat, and then roared down our unpaved driveway. Then, in the blink of an eye, he was gone—just like all the rest of them, dust flying up behind him as he made a hasty retreat.

Shaking my head, I figured the lumber sitting in the back of my truck could wait to be unloaded. We were patching up some pens this week before fall rolled into winter, and I'd been tasked that morning with picking up the supplies my dad had ordered over the phone. As per usual, the assholes at the lumber yard thought I had no idea what I was doing—I always loved the look on their faces when I called them on their crap, or pointed out that they were trying to overcharge me for what I was getting.

It was the little things in life that you had to enjoy.

But with the look on Jaime's face all but burned into my brain, my victory against the shit-talking twenty-somethings at the lumber yard felt a little hollow. Rather than heading for the house, I went to the horses stalls, knowing I'd find my oldest brother in there mucking pens. I could have gone straight to the source in the house, but Jaime had been a good worker and a family friend for years—whoever sent him on his way probably wasn't feeling very good about themselves right about now.

True to form, I found Marcus knee-deep in soiled hay in one of the stalls. The horses themselves were out in the adjoining fields, enjoying their lazy day of grazing while we prepared their living arrangements for another night.

"Hey," he said, glancing up only briefly when I stopped by the door, which was about my hip's height. It was an accomplishment, as a kid to be taller than the stall doors. Even though Marcus was the older of my two brothers, James towered over it before he did, though I was still last to comfortably peer into a horse's stall without going up on my toes.

Once I was able to do it, I didn't understand what all the fuss was about.

A bit like drinking.

And sex—until I'd met Henry, that is.

"What's happening with Jaime?" I asked, leaning against the door, my arms crossed as I watched him work. I could have helped, sure, but today wasn't my day to clean stalls. My brother stood up straight with a sigh, rolling his thick shoulders back before cracking his neck. The sound seemed like it came somewhere deep within, and I wrinkled my nose, wondering briefly if it hurt.

"Dad let him go today," he told me as he went for the water bottle sitting on the window ledge behind him. "Can't afford to pay him anymore."

"What?" I processed the news rapidly, my mind jumping from place to place. Harvest time was coming up, and there was still a lot of work to do before we could wind the farm down for the winter months. A lot. Too much for four people. Try as Grandpa might, he wasn't exactly a lot of help these days; the summer had really taken a toll on his body.

"Yeah..." My brother nodded, his expression grim. He'd known Jaime as long as I had. He'd grown up with the guy around. He and Jaime's daughter had even flirted with the idea of becoming a thing recently. "I mean, it's not fair to keep him if we can't pay him a fair wage. Same for everyone else."

"But... that's everyone," I remarked weakly, aware that I was stating the obvious. "Right?"

"We're a farm without any farmhands, yeah," he agreed, setting his water bottle aside and grabbing his rake again. "Just the way it has to be. Times are tough on everybody, but at least we still have our house. Word is that Dottie's family is in serious trouble."

My heart sunk at the thought. With all the work I'd been doing these days, not to mention my efforts of making a fantastic relationship thrive, I hadn't exactly seen much of my best friend. We'd talked here and there, but not like we used to. Guilt weighed heavily on my shoulders, and I licked my lips.

"How'd you know that?"

"Mom was talking about it the other day."

_Jesus_. I made a mental note to call Dot as soon as we were done here. Apparently there was a lot we needed to talk about.

"You're going to have to start pulling your weight a little more too now," Marcus told me, grunting a little as he heaved a solid pile of soiled hay toward the bin in the corner. My eyebrows furrowed at the thought, and when he glanced back and saw my frown, his expression softened. "I know you're seeing that guy—"

"Henry."

"Yeah, whatever," he muttered with a slight roll of his eyes. "Henry. Okay. Fine. But we could really use you around here. I mean, maybe you can quit that job you took too. Why do you need to work at a diner?"

Anger prickled through me, a surge that I could feel across my body. Could I tell him that every single one of my paychecks went right back into the farm, not into the savings account I should be growing in my twenties?

No. The sheer amount of guilt Marcus would take on knowing the truth wasn't worth it, so, as he stared me down, I shrugged in response to his question, pretending I had a hangnail I needed to pick off.

"Seriously, Jen," he said before turning back to his work. "We all need to pick up the slack now that we let everybody go, and you aren't excluded."

_Just because you're a girl_. My brothers used to say it to me all the time growing up. Anytime I complained about chores, they'd give me the same speech about how I wasn't "special" just because I was a girl. If Mom and Grandma could work on the farm, so could I.

Which I knew, of course. My idiot brothers complained about chores way more than I did as a kid, and yet apparently my whining was the only kind that warranted a big speech after.

"Yeah, I'll think about it," I said, pushing off the stall's door and folding my arms. "When you're done, can you help me get the wood off the back of the truck?"

"Sure thing, sis."

Sighing, I wandered out of the small barn, my mind wandering listlessly from one stressor to the next. After pausing briefly in front of my truck, I instead turned and made a beeline for the house, preferring to make myself a lunch with our dinner leftovers from last night than haul planks of wood around.

It could wait a half-hour. I had all day to work.

And, I guess, all night now too.

***

"Hello pretty girl."

Nothing made my stomach butterflies flutter harder than hearing Henry's voice purr through my phone. Sure, it was great in person, but there was just something about his voice that really did it for me—which would make our impending conversation all that much harder.

It was after midnight, but neither of us were surprised the other was awake. After finishing the last of my work for the day, I'd had a quick shower, the water scalding hot, and then climbed in to my bed. With no lights on, I sat in the darkness, the nearby window open just enough to let a little of the chilly fall air in. My hair sat in a wet bun on top of my head, and my feet throbbed and my legs pulsed after spending the whole day on the go.

Dot had been on my list of people to call tonight too, but I didn't have it in me to have that conversation after the one I was about to have.

"Hi," I breathed, drawing my knees up to my chest and hugging them. "How's it going?"

We hashed out how our week had been away from one another, and I suspected he thought I was calling to plan our next date. In fact, I could almost hear the hopeful quality in his voice, and I was suddenly glad I was sitting in the dark, my back pressed to my headboard, alone. If I had to do this face-to-face, I might have chickened out.

"Listen," I said in the silence that dragged on after our usual conversation topics came to a close, "I have to talk to you about... us."

He exhaled into his phone, and I pressed my lips together, wishing there was some way around this.

"I'm all ears," Henry said, and I almost wished he wasn't. Clearing my throat, I let my eyes wander the dark landscape of my room, the shapes of my desk and dresser slowly becoming more visible as I got used to the darkness.

"I think we need to slow things down." My stomach knotted as soon as I said the words, a sinking, heavy weight settling in it and making me nauseous. He remained silent on the other end of the line, as if waiting for more. I didn't have any more—there was nothing left to say.

"Okay," he offered slowly, "and why is that?"

"I just feel like things are moving too fast for me," I told him, words flying out of my mouth before I could stop them. "I... don't have the time to dedicate to a serious relationship right now. I mean, with the way things are looking, I might not even see you for the rest of the month, and I can't... put my heart into something, into someone, who I don't see."

"And why wouldn't you be able to see me?" I could hear the frown in his voice as he spoke, and it broke my heart. "Is something wrong? Have I done something?"

"No, no, it's not you." _It's me_. Definitely couldn't say _that_ clichéd phrase to him. If I could help it, I never wanted to say it, or hear it said to me, ever in my life. Taking a deep breath, I gave the basics of my situation: money is tight, we've lost our workers, and I'm needed at home. Henry was silent for the duration of my little explanation, and when I finished, I inhaled deeply, tears pricking at my eyes, and said, "I just think we could, you know, cool it for a while. It's not fair to string you along if y-you're never going to see me. I have to focus more on my family now."

He didn't deserve that. He deserved someone who had their shit together, who wasn't on the verge of bankruptcy and fighting for every penny she earned. He had rich tastes. He liked to do dinners in the city, and on more than one occasion had he tried to take me shopping or suggested a club night with some of his old college buddies.

I wanted to do all those things—with him especially. I wanted the new experiences. I wanted to try something outside of the little town that I knew like the back of my hand, but I just... I couldn't. It wasn't fair to him anymore, and I wasn't about to drag him down with me.

"Jen, I can help you with the family stuff. I didn't even know—"

"No, you don't have to," I interjected quickly. There wasn't much he could do to help, unless he was willing to find a buyer for all of our crops—and I refused to even consider taking a loan from him. "We'll get it sorted out, but for now it's... a little difficult, you know?"

A long pause followed, and I bit my lower lip, wondering if I had just ruined everything for good.

"So are you breaking up with me?" he asked finally, and a tear slid down my cheek.

"Not... officially," I managed to force out. "Maybe a break. Make things less official. See each other when we can, but there's no... pressure."

"Right." His tone was curt, clipped, and I shut my eyes tight. "Well, I guess... I'll see you when I see you."

"Henry, I'm sorry—"

"It's not your fault," he said stiffly. "I'm sure you wouldn't do this unless you had to. Unless it's just an excuse to dump me."

" _No_ ," I stressed, sitting up a little straighter, my mind racing as to how I could convince him that wasn't the case. "No, Henry, it's—"

"I'm only joking," he told me. "Sort of. Look, it's late. Talk to you later?"

I nodded, even though I knew he couldn't see me, sensing that my voice wasn't as strong as I wanted it to be. "Sure."

Our goodbyes were clearly forced, neither of us throwing much emotion behind our words, and when the line finally disconnected, I let me phone drop and buried my face in my hands. It wasn't the best decision I'd ever made in my life, but I knew, for now, it was the right one. I couldn't fall in love with him knowing that I'd never see him. It would break my heart.

But as I sat there in the dark, tears slowly streaming down my face, I realized I'd done it to myself—my heart was already broken, and I had no one to blame but me.

# Chapter Ten

"Are you ready for this?" Mom asked as I all but dragged myself down the last few stairs, miserable. I stared at her for a long moment, my jacket slung over my arm, and then gave a cold, hollow laugh.

"Am I supposed to be ready for this?" I snapped, but my expression softened when I noticed the hurt look in her eye. This was just as hard for her as it was for me. While Dot had been my best friend since childhood, Dot's mom had been my mom's friend since _they_ were kids. Neither of us wanted to go through with today, but we knew we had to.

My mom crossed her arms, holding herself in a little solo hug. "I know, it was a dumb question."

"No, I'm sorry," I muttered as I slipped on my jacket and fluffed my hair out from under the back. "I just... It's going to be so hard."

"Imagine how _they_ feel," she said with a sigh, her eyes a little watery as she checked the time on the massive grandfather clock at the end of our front hallway. "Let's just get this over with. I told them they could stay with us tonight before they drive out tomorrow."

The worst had finally come. As September drew to a rather mild end, Dot and her family lost their farm and property to the bank, unable to keep up with the payments any longer. Land developers had been out all week, scoping the area, probably trying to see where they could put their next tacky set of townhouses amongst all the beautiful greenery.

I'd tried my hardest to be there for my best friend while her world crashed down around her, but my month had gone almost exactly as I'd told Henry it would go: I worked all day, slept maybe four or five hours a night, and barely saw anyone outside of my family or the diner staff. He hadn't shown up at the diner for any of my shifts, not once in the weeks since I'd forced us to take a breather, and I still couldn't decide if that was a good thing or not. It certainly made things easier on my heart not seeing him randomly appear on a barstool while I served coffee.

Still, a part of me would have liked to see his face one last time. Instead, all I could do was imagine what it looked like as I stomped all over what could have been a fantastic relationship.

But I tried not to mope. I didn't force us on a break—or, I guess at this point we might be broken up officially, given the fact that we haven't really talked—because Henry was a bad guy. I brought things to a halt because I knew how hard it would have been on us to slowly fizzle out as we both clung to the frayed strands of our relationship while I worked all day, every day. It had been tough not seeing him, not touching him, but I tried to think that the alternative would have been harder.

Shoving my feet into a pair of boots, I followed Mom out to the driveway, where we both piled in to her car and pulled away from the house. Somewhere around the property, my brothers, dad, and grandpa were working, all the while wishing they could have come with us. It was a loss to the community whenever somebody lost their home, but for our family, it was especially hard to see it happen to the McGreens. They were more than our neighbors: they were our family.

The drive down to the McGreen family farm had never felt so long. Along the way, I really took the time to study the farms in my area—or, I guess I should say the farms that once were. Just a few years ago, there was nothing but fields of crops and green grass, paddocks for the animals—and it was gorgeous. It was the sight I'd grown up with all my life. Now, everywhere I looked, the bare-bones skeletons of the new housing developments stared back at me. Some had walls, some were just wooden frames waiting to be filled in. From what I picked up at home and at the diner, developers were hoping to be finished at least the basics before winter hit, and then start showing at least a model home or two in the spring.

For all we knew, this could be our last year as a small farming community. Based on the sheer volume of houses going up, plus the massive billboards advertising a new shopping mall and grocery store—as if our local markets weren't good enough anymore—we were slowly morphing into a small city. There was still plenty of land to buy, and I had a sinking suspicion that the Dot's farm wasn't going to be the last to go.

Both Mom and I were silent as we drove, neither of us bothering to turn on the radio. I noticed, as we closed in on the familiar long driveway, that we'd both worn black, which I thought was fitting. After all, we were going to a funeral of sorts.

My face screwed as I battled to keep my emotions contained, not wanting Mom or anyone else, Dot especially, to see how upset I was over the new changes. Taking a few deep breaths, I forced myself to look out the window, but that didn't do any good. Dot's property was littered with strangers, a sea of flashy, clean cars lining her gravel driveway. They'd set up the auction in front of the house, with a mass of chairs facing the front porch, and some asshole standing up there with a gavel to confirm the purchase. Not all the deals would be done that way; I knew from previous auctions that there'd be developers inside working out a deal for shares of the land—it made me sick to imagine them crowding around _my_ kitchen, debating the worth of my childhood home.

Dot found us before we hit the back row of chairs, falling into my arms and finally letting out the emotion she'd probably been holding in all day. I held her tight, glaring at the people who turned around to gawk. I hoped it made them feel terrible to be there, callously fighting over some poor family's belongings. Didn't they know how devastating this was?

"I know, I know," I whispered. "We're here for you."

My mom rubbed her back as my best friend sobbed, and we slowly moved away from the auction area to the side of the house. It gave Dot a chance to dry her eyes and blow her nose without a dozen eyes on her, and when she looked up at me, crumpling her used tissue in hand, I saw the rage in her eyes. In that moment, I realized she was shaking.

"Some asshole bought up most of the land," she told me, hiccupping and shooting a glare toward the house. "He haggled and got himself the b-best price he could, and the other developers just _let_ him, like it was his right."

"Probably some big-shot jerk who's never even set foot in Friarsville until today," I grumbled as my mom hurried over to Dottie's mom, who looked pale and blank. Numb.

"I'm so sorry I haven't been around much lately," I told her, my guilt over not helping her through this as much as I should have making my chest feel tight. Dot, true to form, tried to wave me off, shaking her head like it was nothing. "No, I'm serious. I feel like I haven't seen you in ages, and I... should have been there while all this was happening."

For a few seconds, Dot looked like she was going to argue with me. After all, my best friend was one of the sweetest people I knew, and she never liked anyone taking the blame for anything. However, maybe she realized I needed her to acknowledge my apology, because she gave me a small smile and nodded.

"Guess we'll have to make up for some lost time over the last few months, huh?"

"You bet your ass we do," I chuckled. We hugged again, and I winced when her fingertips dug into my shoulders. "Dot, what—"

"That's him," she hissed in my ear, suddenly shaking again. "That's the guy who swooped in and almost all of our property."

"Let me see this jerk..." I turned slowly, searching the small crowd to see who my best friend was glowering at—only to feel like someone had punched me square in the gut.

Because the man she was glowering at was Henry.

He looked so... different. He was sporting some scruff, and he wore a pristine business suit, a briefcase in hand, an aloof expression on his face.

That fell away, however, when our eyes met. Now not only was someone punching me in the gut, but they were wearing massive rings and beating the absolute crap out of me. Struggling to draw a full breath, I managed to get out, "Are you sure that's him?"

In my peripherals, I saw Dot nod.

"I'll never forget him," she all but snarled.

My head shook as he turned toward me, taking a few steps forward to close the distance between us. I couldn't. This wasn't happening—not my Henry. My Henry was sweet and funny, assertive in all the right situations. Passionate. My Henry was the man who'd stolen my heart.

This Henry looked cold. This Henry snapped up Dot's land—and I honestly couldn't say I knew what he planned to do with it.

I'd thought my heart was done breaking, but apparently I was wrong.

Grabbing her hand, I dragged her away, unable to look at him for a second longer. We retreated behind the house, and without a word, both made a run for the old tree house in a sturdy oak that we'd spent endless hours in as kids.

Once in there, we both sat together, holding one another's hands—and cried.

### Thank you for reading!

## Please visit your favorite eBook retailer to view the next books in the "The Cowboys Touch Series"
Corralled By The Cowboy

by

Celina Whitley
Copyright © 2015 by Celina Whitley

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Corralled By The Cowboy

All rights reserved.

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. No part of this work may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording and faxing, or by any information storage and retrieval system by anyone but the purchaser for their own personal use.

This book may not be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of Celina Whitley, except in the case of a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages for the sake of a review written for inclusions in a magazine, newspaper, or journal—and these cases require written approval from Celina Whitley prior to publication. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.

# Chapter One

It's amazing what happens when you get what you ask for.

One day, I'm at work, hating my job just like anyone else. The next day, I am on my way home with a severance check for two month's pay and a 'thank you for working at the same measly job for five years. Don't get me wrong. I never envisioned myself being there forever, but I most certainly did not want to go to work to be let go unexpectedly.

But I had to admit that it was what I had asked for. I've been craving freedom, a change in my life for so long, but never knew how to start down that road. Obviously the universe was going to take care of that for me.

When I arrived home, totally ready to kick off my shoes and lay across my bed doing absolutely nothing, I was met by an envelope stuck in my door. Nothing else could go wrong. Maybe someone saw to it to bless me with an envelope full of money. That would surely make my day. I was not in the mood for much else.

Instead of opening the envelope, I tossed it on my side table and opted to pour a glass of wine and take a hot bubble bath. Hopefully I would be able to gather my thoughts and figure out a game plan. Although I wanted a change, I had not come to the point where I knew what that change was supposed to be.

The only thing I could think to do was to take a road trip to blow off some steam. No specific destination, just west as far as I could go. Scenic, spacious, and wild open and free. I had been the responsible one for so long, something inside of me was begging for a little less of the responsibility.

There was not much holding me back. I had just broken up with my now ex-boyfriend Jeff. After dating exclusively for the past two years, he decided he wanted to see other people. The kicker was that he still wanted to be friends. I was not sure what that meant, so I thought it best to back off. He apparently did not get the memo. I could not get rid of Jeff even though he was the one who broke it off with me. I tried not to let it bother me, because the chemistry between us was unbelievable.

I actually was not against the fact that we were really just having sex and maybe a little pillow talk. It felt nice not to have to look out for someone else's feelings for once. Jeff and I weren't in a relationship so I did not have to care about the emotions or any of the other extras. I was not sure if Jeff understood that. But it did not matter. He was the one that broke up with me. I did not feel like I owed him anything; no explanations, no excuses.

The wine was just perfect and the hot bath relaxed me. I could not stop thinking about where I would want to go out west. Maybe now was the time to take that trip, find out exactly what I wanted in life. I had a few months of income saved and it would not take me long to find a job and start over.

I suddenly remembered the envelope that was on my door. I made my way to the foyer so I could retrieve it. Fingers crossed, I hoped some twenty dollar bills would fall out and make my day.

Instead, there was a letter on bright pink paper. I had to read it twice in order to make myself believe what I was reading. The long and short of it: the rent was going up five- hundred dollars at the end of my lease in a month. There was no way that I was going to be able to afford to live here. Looking around, it felt like the walls were closing in on me.

I burst through the front door, falling out onto the porch trying to inhale as much fresh air as I could.

Think, Christy. Think.

What on earth was going on? Maybe Mercury was in retrograde because there was no way that I was losing all of this at one time.

Lost my job, ended a relationship, and now finding out that I had to move all at once. Holding my hand to my heart, I hoped that it would stop racing. This would be one of those times when I could use a little something in a small, white pill form to take the edge off.

Maybe if I closed my eyes, this would all blow over. Maybe when I opened my eyes, things would be different. I tried it. It didn't work. I was still clutching the pink paper in my hand.

The earth was still spinning, birds still chirping, and the sun still shining as my life was going down the drain. I would just have to get my life together somehow. Where to start that process was the issue.

Another glass of wine would help for the time being. As I sipped, I started thinking that maybe this would not be so bad. What if this was the fresh start that I was looking for? What if the universe heard my thoughts and began to simply strip away all of the things that I no longer needed moving forward in my new life?

The thought started to motivate me.

First Jeff. He was truly a jerk that did not really know how to love a woman. I learned that at the end of year one of our two year relationship. I spent all of year two trying to convince myself that what I saw during year one was the truth and that I should walk away from it.

Then there was my job. I had never thought of being a personal assistant for a living. The company I worked for had some big named clients and I was pretty sure with the connections that I made over the years I could tap into my network and easily find new work. That was not what I needed though. I needed to be able to start fresh and chose a new career path that I truly loved.

And with the final straw being the rent increase, I was sure now that the universe was giving my current life the boot. The wine warmed me as I downed the rest of it. There was a sudden clarity as I searched the bottom of the glass.

I could do this. Not sure if it was the liquid courage pumping me up or the fact that I did not have anything else to look forward to living here. I snatched up my laptop and got ready to sell off some of my belongings online. I would need money for my cross country trip and there was no way that I would be able to take all of my furniture with me. Especially because I did not know where I was going. And really, I did not want to take everything with me. If this was going to be a fresh start, I needed it to be completely.

As I began separating the things that I was taking from the things that I was selling, I was more and more excited about moving on.

Ignoring Jeff's phone calls also added to my confidence. There was no way that I was going to let him disturb me this evening. By midnight, I had everything in separate piles and I had taken pictures of all of the things that I was going to sell. Feeling accomplished, I finally took Jeff's fifth phone call while I sat amongst my things.

"What Jeff?"

"No 'Hello, lover. So happy to hear from you'?"

"Not at all. Because you aren't my lover and I'm not exactly sure that I'm happy to hear from you."

He sucked his teeth. "I can't tell that we aren't lovers. Not when I'm in your bed at least twice a week."

Yes. He was still a jerk. I rolled my eyes.

"Jeff. Really?"

"I'm merely pointing out the truth."

"And I'm not sure that I asked you either way. What is it that you called for? It's well after midnight."

"Had you answered the other four times I called earlier, then it would have been before midnight."

I had to massage my temples to soothe the tension that was forming during this phone call.

"Anyway, I thought that maybe I could take you to dinner or something, but it's a bit too late for that now. So I will just swing by and take you to breakfast in the morning. Be ready around nine."

My first inclination was to protest, but then I realized that it would be nice to have a meal on his dime. Jeff was never one to have a problem digging in his pockets in order to impress me, or any other woman for that matter. And what fun it would be to have him watch me pack the rest of the belongings in my car and drive off.

"Instead of going out to breakfast, why don't we stay in and eat? Get kind of cozy."

I could hear him smiling over the phone.

"Staying in? Sounds great to me. I'll see you in the morning."

I threw my phone on the bed. Today was not the best day of my life, but tomorrow seemed to be working out already.

# Chapter Two

"What is going on here? You did not tell me that you were having a yard sale." Jeff barged in with his hands full of bags from our favorite diner. I was going to miss that diner.

"I'm moving."

He rolled his eyes and set the food on the counter. "Where is the table?"

"I told you that I am moving. I've been selling off all of my furniture all morning."

Jeff walked up and put a hand on my forehead. "Are you alright, Christy?"

"Never been better." I pulled out all of the food containers and broke a fork out of the plastic wrapper.

"Please tell me you aren't going to eat right out of the container."

"I am," I replied as I dug in to the frittata. "I just sold off all of my plates and utensils."

Jeff put down his fork and walked off down the hallway. I kept eating. I wanted to be on a full stomach when I drove off.

"You are serious?" he said as he came back up the hallway.

"So very."

"You did not tell me that last night."

"You did not ask."

"Was it something that I did?"

If I could slam my fork down for the extra added drama then I would have, but the plastic fork would not have had the same effect as a metal one.

"Why do you think that everything in my life revolves around you?"

"Christy, why do you want to act like we are not in love?"

He gazed deeply into my eyes with those soft baby blues. There was a time that he would hook me with those eyes, convince me to do anything that he wanted.

Not today.

"We are not in love. Where on earth would you get that idea, Jeff?"

"The past two years that we spent with one another. Didn't that mean anything to you?"

He slipped his arms around my waist, nuzzling his lips in that delicate spot behind my ear that always seemed to make me go crazy.

"It did. But it doesn't right now."

He looked around, confusion setting in on his face.

"Moving?" He sucked his teeth, snatching the plate of frittata from me.

I gladly let it go and went for the home fried potatoes with the peppers and sausage.

"Yes. Moving."

"So are you going uptown or downtown?" He was not even looking at me, instead, concentrating on the food in front of him.

"Out of town."

I was so happy that he brought some orange juice to go with our breakfast. I gulped down the juice, loving the fact that he always remembered to get me the one with no pulp.

His laugh was so loud and hearty, I thought that he was going to choke on the food that he was eating. Fully prepared to do the Heimlich on him, I sat my food down.

"Out of town? Come on Christy. What is really going on here? Are you having a mid life crisis?"

I was slightly offended. "First off, I'm only twenty-seven, so I don't think that I qualify for a mid life crisis."

That was more like his department. At almost forty, Jeff was closer to mid life than I was. That was what made me so frustrated about him. He was supposed to be more grown up than I was, and although he had the career together, he was still out there trying to sow his wild oats and live life as a playboy.

"What's second?" he asked, slyly grinning.

"There is no second," I replied.

"Well then why did you say 'first off'?"

If I wasn't enjoying my last meal from my favorite diner so much, I would have thrown the food at him, plastering his face with grits and bacon. But Jeff was not worth it and I was ready to go and move on.

"Thanks for breakfast. I need to throw the last of my things in my car. You want to walk me out?"

"So you are really going to do this?"

"I am. And I'm doing it right now."

"But there are still things here in your apartment. What are you going to do with the rest of it?"

"Carla is going to take care of everything for me." My next door neighbor was a Godsend. She was an older woman that lived alone and was one hell of a baker. We often spent our evenings talking about life and love over one of her pound cakes and a bottle of wine.

"Oh. Well."

I waited for him to blurt something out, but he did not. It was one of the first times I could remember that Jeff was speechless. If I was not mistaken, he appeared to be hurt. I was not sure why. We had broken up and as far as I knew, he moved on with some young girl that caught his eye, pleased him in bed, and followed him around like a lost puppy. Why would he even be the least bit concerned about me?

"Well. Let me grab my bags. I really need to hit the road."

There was no way that I was going to let on that I had no real destination, therefore I had no real reason to get on the road at a certain time. I just wanted to get going so I would not second guess myself.

When I locked the door, everything felt so final. Carla answered the door on the first knock.

"My Darling," she said, arms open wide.

I did not want to make this goodbye too long because I was sure that I would burst out in tears if Carla hugged me any longer.

"Thank you," I whispered to her. I meant that in more ways than one and Carla knew it. I passed her the keys and wiped the one stray tear that escaped.

"Call me when you get there," she yelled after me.

I barely turned around when I waved. If I looked at her, I knew that I would completely break down.

Jeff opened my car door for me and then leaned against the frame.

"I need to get in there." He was blocking me from getting in the driver's seat.

"Where is there?"

"What?"

"There. Carla said for you to call her when you get there. Where is there?"

"Jeff, come on. Let's stop playing games."

"And what if I am not playing games with you? What if I am serious about being with you? What could I do to make you stay?"

"Are you serious?" I searched his eyes, trying to peek into his soul and see if he was even close to telling me the truth.

I could not tell the difference.

"Why do you always think that I'm joking around with you, Christy?" He threw his hands in the air. "This is why we can't be together."

"Is that what you think, Jeff? The reason that we are not together is because of me?"

He ran his hands through his blonde hair. "If you would just grow up and find yourself, things between us would be so much more stable. I swear, Christy. I'm going to get tired of waiting for you."

Fortunately for me, he had stepped to the side, and I could throw my bag in the car. That was all that I needed to leave.

"Thank you for breakfast, Jeff. And do me a favor. Don't wait for me to grow up and find myself. It may take me a second."

It was not as if I needed that tiny reminder of why I did not need to be with Jeff, but it was most certainly welcomed. He leaned in to kiss me, but I ducked and slid in to the driver's seat.

Pulling the door closed forced him to move completely out of the way. Hopefully the fact that he was nodding meant that he got the point. I waved as I drove off. Seeing him in the rearview was a wonderful end to the Jeff and Christy saga.

With some tunes playing, belly full, and my mood full of excitement, I rode off toward the highway. My plan was to travel west. Although I had dreams of going to California, I knew that the cost of living would be quite expensive. And besides, living in New Orleans, I had enough of the fast life. It would be great to settle down and live at a slower pace. There would be plenty of time to think about what I wanted to do with my life as I drove through Texas.

About two hours in, I hit a stride, and by the time I hit the Texas/ Louisiana border, I was more than ready to live my new life. Crossing the state lines made it all the more real and that's when the tears started falling.

It hit me that I had really just gotten up and left all that I knew. To some, that may look downright insane. To me, it was just as insane, but completely necessary. I wanted this new life so badly, I could taste it. I said a separate prayer that I would find the man of my dreams. The illustrious Mr. Right. Was that even something real or was it like searching for a unicorn?

Driving through the tears was becoming more difficult, but the release was just what I needed to push me forward. There was definitely no turning back. And I did not want to do so.

I needed to pull over and refuel as well as stretch my legs. For a moment, I wished I had someone to road trip with. Like a good female friend or something like that, but I needed to be in this alone. Otherwise, I would not appreciate the change that was going to happen in my life.

It was apparent that I was in Texas. Everything was definitely bigger in Texas. Men in oversized cowboy hats, large gold belt buckles, and elaborate cowboy boots. I actually loved every second of it.

One of my favorite daydreams was of a cowboy that would come and sweep me off of my feet. He would be this strong, strapping, young man. Rich oil tycoon that could easily switch between wearing a perfectly tailored designer suit and a tee-shirt that displayed his muscular biceps and a pair of jeans that showed off his butt. He was easy going, but did not play about his woman and when he loved, he loved hard.

We would complement each other. He would be the yin to my yang. I had been dreaming of this man for years, but never did I run across anyone remotely close to him. It was to the point that I was giving up on finding him. I had actually given up on finding love at all.

What I had with Jeff was not love. As a matter of fact, I was not sure what it was. And I'm not sure that it really mattered at this point. All that did matter was that it was over and I was completely sure of that fact.

The highway signs pointed to a small restaurant off of the highway. There was a gas station right across the street. I could grab a little something for the road, gas up, and maybe get one of the attendants to check my car out before I got back on the road.

"Hi pretty lady. How can I help you?" The attendant came around to the driver's side window.

"I want to fill up my tank and can you take a look under the hood and make sure everything is alright?"

"Certainly." His smile was pleasant and when I looked at him again, his baby face was attractive. He was a flirt, winking at me. David was stitched on his name tag.

"Thank you, David."

He saluted me with a nod and I was fully aware that he was watching me as I walked off to the restaurant. I put in a to-go order and then went to the restroom. When I came back out, I took a seat near the window where I had a clear view of David servicing my car.

He was nice to look at. I could appreciate some good scenery on my journey. Being here made me feel a million miles away from home. Somehow I felt closer to where I was going versus where I had come from.

The waitress brought me my food and I was ready to hit the road.

"So David, what's the verdict?"

He let down the hood, wiping his hands on his handkerchief. "Everything looks real fine. Real fine."

When he said the second fine, he was obviously referring to my long legs that were displayed in the cut off shorts and cowboy boots that I was wearing.

"Thank you, David." I stuffed the money I owed him in his breast pocket. Giving it a pat as I turned to get in the car, I smiled. It felt good to shamelessly flirt and know that a man found you attractive.

"You are mighty welcome, pretty lady."

Politely, David closed the door and gave a tap on the hood to let me know that I was free to drive off.

Next destination was more Texas. It was such an expansive territory it would take me a while to get through. That was alright by me. That gave me more time to think. As if I needed more.

By nightfall, I knew that I should go ahead and pull in for the night and get some rest. I stopped, grabbed some dinner, and found a motel off of the highway that looked relatively safe. I had never slept in a motel before, but this entire journey was supposed to be an adventure right?

I was impressed that the accommodations were better than I assumed they would be. I could definitely get a good night's sleep here. By the time I finished eating and took a shower, I was much too tired to do anything else. This was the most alone that I had ever been in my life and somehow it did not feel lonely. My body was exhausted and my mind had long since been ready for rest.

There had been so much change in the past twenty-four hours and I had not let it defeat me. I smiled just thinking about it as I sank into the bed, clutching the pillow tightly next to me.

That freedom that I was searching for seemed right in my grasp. Sleep came easily and it was the best that I had in a while.

# Chapter Three

Refreshed from my night of sleep, I found my second wind and was ready to keep moving forward. It was nice to be out in the open road with no destination. For the first time, I felt like my life was finally where I wanted it to be, or at least on track to a place where I could comfortably live my life the way that I wanted to.

With my music and my favorite chips, it seemed like there was nothing that I could not conquer. At the hotel, I grabbed a map and a few tour guided pamphlets to aid me along the way. Since I was on a journey, I thought that I better make it fun by stopping off and doing some sight-seeing. With my trusty pamphlets; the world's largest tumble weed, the cacti ranch, and the restaurant where you could do the steak challenge (I was not sure who would carry me out after I attempted to eat a twenty ounce steak, but the experience would make it all worth it), I headed out the door.

I hit the road before it got too hot for the day. But it was Texas and it was often a one hundred degree heat index before eleven in the morning. There was nothing but me, a few cars from time to time, a tractor trailer or two, and the open road. The scenery was much more dusty and dry than I cared for, but that was all part of the experience.

There were not many good radio stations. I finally got one that played pretty decent country music that had clear reception. The first song was about a man that had just lost his girl and was going out all night to drink away the pain. The next song hit home. It was about a woman who wanted a new life and had to face doubt and fear to go after that new life.

The signs started marking their way to the rest stop. There was food there and I could stop and get gas. Plus there was a little rattling noise that started a few miles back that I was getting concerned about. The rattling got a little louder just as I pulled in to the parking lot. A strong man stood there, directing me to pull in to the spot in front of him.

"What can I do for you little lady?" the attendant asked.

"That rattling sound. I've been listening to it for the past few miles. Can you check me out?'

"Sure thing."

I popped the hood and he flipped it up.

"You could use some more radiator fluid. Let me see what else is going on here. Do you have a minute on your trip to stop so I can get you back on the road?"

"How do you figure I'm taking a trip?" I asked.

"Out of town license plate. Woman on her own out here in rural Texas. It all adds up, little lady."

"Oh well, sure. I have the time. I'm just going to go over there to grab a bite to eat while you look under the hood."

He waved his hand, letting me know that it was alright that I leave him with the car.

I had the best piece of apple pie that I'd ever had in my life and had managed to take a few pictures of the scenery to document my trip. There was an older woman sitting at the counter next to me. She reminded me of Carla. There was also a younger gentleman that looked like the older lady that came inside and called for her. He was a definite cutie and we caught each other's eye right away.

I did not miss him flirtatiously smiling as he held the door for his mother and walked outside. When I looked out, I saw the attendant dropping the hood on my car. I ordered another piece of pie for the road and a large drink to go.

"Now, I topped you off with your fluids, but I suggest you get a full out diagnostic done when you get to your destination. But you are good to go."

He spit some tobacco to the ground and opened my car door.

"Thank you."

"My pleasure." He slammed the door shut and went back to work. I looked to the side and saw the young man and his mother in the car next to me. They both smiled, the older woman waving. I waved back and she looked over to her son and said something that made him shake his head as he started the engine.

I wondered where the two of them could be going. Everybody had a story to tell. And besides, the guy was cute. I wondered if all of the guys out here were cute like he was.

It did not matter. I was off on my own path and I was not sure if I would have the time to begin or nurture a relationship. This transition point in my life was not the time anyway. There was so much that I was looking forward to. After having been in a relationship for two years, I did not need to look for any type of man or love. Maybe a bit of companionship, someone to warm my bed from time to time, but other than that, this journey was about being on my own and enjoying that.

With nightfall coming, I thought that it would be better to if I stopped now and took a rest for the evening. I found a motel that fit what I needed. A soft, clean bed, a shower, and a few reality shows to keep me entertained. Out in the middle of nowhere, all alone, just me and that delicious piece of apple pie that I got at the diner miles back.

And my ringing phone.

"Christy, when are you going to stop this and come back home?"

The sound of Jeff's frustration made me want to laugh.

"I'm not Jeff. And let's say that if I was planning to come back home. I would not be coming home to you."

While talking to him, I flipped past a few channels, searching for something to watch. There was absolutely nothing on.

"Christy. This is gone far enough. Where are you? I can send you a plane ticket to come home."

I was getting frustrated. "Why must my life be a joke to you? Why? I mean, I left and you have the nerve to try and call my bluff when I'm not bluffing."

"I'm not trying to call your bluff. All I want is for you to come home."

"You do realize that we are not together? Right Jeff? And we have not been together for a while now."

"Touché. I still care and I'm not sure that I can sit around and watch you make a mess of your life."

I knew that I should not ask, but I did anyway. "Why would I be making a mess of my life because I chose to move away and move on?"

"We are always going to be together, Christy."

"Oh, but that's where you are wrong. Because you changed all of that when you cheated on me. The rules changed. Or did you not get the memo?"

"Why do you have to act like that? Always bringing up the past. I thought we moved on from that?"

"And why would you think that we moved on from being together?"

I could feel my jaw clenched, not believing that Jeff had the nerve to ask me this question.

"You are always so impossible, Christy. It's part of what attracts me to you, but it's also what pushes me away from you."

Pow! There it was. Jeff had this way of bringing me way up in order to bring me crashing down. I was tired of the roller coaster ride.

"Jeff, I'm going to get some rest. I'm getting off the phone now."

"Christy, you don't have to throw tantrums all of the time. It's not your most attractive quality."

The last thing that I wanted to discuss was Jeff's less attractive qualities. We did not have enough time to begin.

"I am so very tired of this back and forth, Christy. You will come to your senses soon. Do you want me to put some money in your back account? Is that it? Fine. I will drop a little money in your bank account and then take you shopping and for a spa day when you get home. What day should I expect you?"

"You just do not get it. And you know what, Jeff? I don't have the time to help you to try and understand."

"What are you trying to say, Christy?"

"That for the second time, we are over."

"I don't believe that."

"Jeff, at this point, it does not matter if you don't believe me. It is what it is. We have been over for a while and that's that."

"Fine. I'll let you have that. I'll call you in the morning, Christy. Good night."

He ended the call before I could respond. I was not exactly sure what happened there between us, but I did not want Jeff to be confused whatsoever. At any rate, I was not sure that I would answer the call in the morning.

All I wanted tonight was to go bed with a clear mind and energy, ready to hit the road in the morning. I did not need Jeff in my way clouding my mind and my judgment.

The sunrise poured in to the window, letting me know that I had slept the entire night through. I wanted to get up around five a.m. and continue my trek, but my body let me know that I needed to do otherwise. Instead of waking at the crack of dawn, I woke slowly a little after nine a.m.

It did not matter. Feeling well rested, I was ready to start my day. My phone notifications were flashing and I knew it had to be Jeff. I was not going to answer at all. It was not worth the aggravation. If I was over him, there was no need to dive back in to that pool.

For some reason, the man in the car with his mother popped in to my head. I wished for a moment that he had spoken to me, asked me my name or where I was going. I wished we had struck up some sort of conversation over a slice of pie and a milkshake. I wondered where he was going and if we would ever cross paths again.

The answer to that was most likely not. So I learned from that one interaction to jump at a chance to go for something that you want. You may never get the opportunity again.

After a shower and a few yoga stretches, I checked out of the motel and hopped in my car, ready to go. But apparently, my car was not ready to go. It stalled out, the engine struggling to turn over. How was that even possible when the car had been looked over at least twice in the past forty-eight hours?

Closing my eyes, I prayed that the engine would turn over when I turned the key. I'm not sure what mojo started working, but I was ecstatic when the engine started. All I wanted to do was make it to wherever I was going. Maybe this was just a small hiccup, an obstacle to test me and see if I would turn with my tail between my legs and go running home at the slightest sign of trouble.

Shaking my head, I backed out of the parking lot. I was not turning back, and most certainly not that easily. It would take much more than a little engine trouble to make me turn around and go back home. That was something else I had to do. Get out of calling my old home my home. I was moving forward to something new. It was necessary to be uncomfortable in life in order to make the changes I had to.

Being in this space in my life was full of contradictions. I was both optimistic and scared, exhilarated and ready to drag my feet. Pretty sure that all I had to do was keep going, I promised myself that morning that I would not give up until I found exactly what I was looking for.

Right now was just a little confusing because I was not sure what that was.

I decided to go past the cactus ranch and the largest tumbleweed. Truthfully, I wanted to get through Texas as quickly as possible. My phone chimed several times. Jeff did not have anything to tell me that I needed to know immediately. I would talk to him later. I was pretty sure that he would be calling back later tonight.

I made a mental note not to answer.

# Chapter Four

By the time I made it through New Mexico, I started thinking that I could very well keep going to California. It did not seem that far off all of a sudden. But as soon as I crossed into Arizona, my car started letting me know that maybe California was out of reach.

First there was the rattling sound, and then there was the smoke coming from under the hood. And then it stopped working altogether. To boot, the bars on my cell phone were at one and there was no reception.

I wanted to kick the car, punish her like I was being punished. It was early morning, so the sun was not at its height. In the event I would have to walk, I had a few bottles of water and a snack or two that would last me.

Jiggling the cell phone, I hoped that would be enough to get a few more bars to get reception. No such luck. The only thing that was working in my favor was the ranch that was straight ahead. It looked to be the only thing for miles. I found it odd that no other cars were coming through this stretch of highway, especially with it being a major thoroughfare.

Turning back to the car, nothing had changed. Smoke rising from the hood, there would be no way that I could get it started. My phone was still not going to work with me. There was only one thing to do. I could not sit out here and wait for someone to drive by. Besides, for some reason, doing that did not seem safe. Something about going to the ranch seemed the safer idea. There were horses grazing, and I could see the silo of a barn in the distance.

Fortunately, I had on my comfortable sneakers with a pair of cut off shorts and a tank top. I threw the water bottles and the snacks in my bag and set off for the ranch. This would have to work.

A car whizzed by, driving a little too quickly for my taste. But then again, this was nothing but open road, made for opening your car engine up and testing it out.

I swear as I walked, the ranch got further and further away. It made me wonder if it was an oasis, instead of a place of refuge.

A man came riding over the hill on a golf cart. He was wearing a white t-shirt, a distressed cowboy hat, jeans, and cowboy boots.

"Can I help you Ma'am?"

I must have had a confused look on my face.

He chuckled. "Yes, I'm a cowboy that drives a golf cart. I can ride horses, but there is no need to do that all over the ranch when you can indulge in modern convenience."

"Okay, makes sense." I could not help but giggle.

"Now what is a pretty lady like you doing walking out here on this road by yourself?"

Turning to point back down the road, "my car decided that it needed a break. I'm stalled down the road."

He rode the golf cart to the gate. "Let's go check it out."

With one hand on the gate, he hopped over the rail, landing on both feet expertly. I was able to see all of him, and I liked what I saw. He was gorgeous. Much taller than I expected, he had a five o'clock shadow, and piercing blue eyes, and a physique that showed that he worked out regularly.

"Come on," he repeated.

"We're going to walk back down there?"

I was not looking forward to doing that. I had already walked this far down here.

With a polite smile, he replied. "Are your keys down there with the car? I will walk down there and check it out for you."

"Yes, I left them with the car."

"Fine. You wait here. As a matter of fact, stand closer to the rail of the gate. Sometimes people are pretty reckless as they bend this corner on this part of the highway."

"Alright." I stepped back as he said.

It felt like it took him forever to get down to the car and come back. His expression on his face looked defeated.

"Is it that bad?"

He extended his hand. "My name is Blake, first off. And yes, it is that bad. Come on up to the house. I'm going to get you something to drink, a little something to eat and I will get my truck to tow your car up here so I can get under the hood."

"Wait, a cowboy and a mechanic?"

"Multitalented. What can I say? Now come on."

I really did not feel like I had any choice. There was no way I could stage a protest and stay out here on the side of the highway with the messed up car.

"Maybe I could just use your phone to call a tow service and get it fixed."

I did have options.

"You could. But the next service station is a few miles away from here and where will you stay while you wait?"

When he mentioned the service station, I became frustrated. Hadn't I been to two service stations with no success? And here I stood, with Blake, a man that I did not know offering to fix my car.

"I promise I won't bite. At least not until night time when my fangs come out."

His comment stopped me in my tracks while he laughed.

"Just kidding. Really. Come on. I would not be the gentleman that my parents raised me to be if I left you out here alone. Plus it's very hot out here. You would melt if I left you out here."

He motioned for me to jump over the fence, which was not exactly my thing. I opted to climb through the rails. He hopped the fence and was already waiting as I pulled myself through the space. I joined him on the golf cart and we made the bumpy ride through the grass, up the hill toward the house.

We came what I thought was dangerously close to the horses before we made it to the expansive driveway that led to the front door of the house. I was not even aware that the house was that large but it was even larger as we approached.

"You live out here all alone?"

"What makes you think that?" he asked.

"Just asking."

"Well, I do live out here alone. I actually take care of this house now. It was the house that I grew up in. My parents downsized and moved to a retirement community where they live in a luxury condo."

He pulled the golf cart to a stop.

"Come on in. Please make yourself at home."

Blake walked around to my side and held my hand as I got out of the vehicle. I had to stop from holding my mouth open because the inside of the house was not what I expected. Completely updated and contemporary furnishings with sculptures and expensive artwork.

"You have great taste, Blake."

"Thank you." He took off his hat, smile a little crooked, a dimple popping out of his right cheek.

"You can have a seat in the living room. Or maybe you would like something to eat or drink while I go and hitch the tow for your car."

"I'm actually pretty tired from driving and I could use all of the above plus a shower."

"Well, you can use the guest room. It's down that hallway, third door on the right. And there is some lunch already made in the kitchen."

He turned around and pointed. "Which is that way."

"Perfect."

As he walked off, I could not help but to notice the way his jeans fit his body so nicely. Snug enough to show off his quads and his butt. I loved a man with a good butt. His stride was full of strength and masculinity.

The shower was calling me and I hoped that by the time I was done, Blake would be back with good news about my car.

Three doors down the hallway, I found the room he spoke of. For a guest room, it looked like it was out of a travel magazine. Way too beautiful to just be sitting here empty. I couldn't help but to run my fingertips over the gold trimming on the furniture and I had to throw myself on the plush bed with white linens. It was what I imagined it would feel like if I landed on a cloud. The motels I had been checking in to were nothing like this. After a shower in the largest, most spacious bathroom I had ever been in, I took a seat on the bed and before I knew it, I was passed out, sleeping.

By the time I woke up, I was not even sure where I was. When I rolled over, there was a cool breeze floating in the open window. It was already dark outside and all I heard was the sound of a random passing car on the road and crickets. It was actually extremely peaceful. The kind of peace that I had been craving in my life. I almost did not want to get up out of the bed. It was easy to imagine living a life like this. This was more along the lines of what I wanted in life.

My stomach growled and interrupted my daydream. I was long overdue for something to eat. I slid on my clothes and tried to find my way out of the maze of corridors in the house. I could not believe that a simple cowboy like Blake lived here. It was more like the house of a millionaire; plush, luxurious, and expertly decorated. I pictured a cowboy living on a ranch to live somewhere a bit more rugged with animal heads on the walls and oversized masculine wooden furniture.

All I needed was a little something to eat and a report on my car, and I could get out of here and get back on the road.

# Chapter Five

Blake stared at me over the rim of his cup.

"So, what is a woman like you doing on the open road like this alone?"

"I'm moving."

"Where? If you don't mind me asking."

"I'm not sure." I could not believe that I actually felt confident admitting that.

He nodded, with a look of confusion. Blake did not feel like the kind of man that would harm me. I just did not get that kind of energy from him. So I broke down and told him a bit about what I was doing.

"Sometimes, you just need a change in your life. That's all it is."

"I can understand needing change. Did you have enough to eat?"

"We had steak and potatoes. I am more than stuffed. Thank you for such a wonderful meal."

"No problem. I haven't had anyone else besides myself to cook for in a while."

"So you are here all alone?"

"Yes. Like I said, my parents moved to a condo. It's good for them."

I pushed my plate away and then sighed when he presented dessert.

"So give me the damage on my car."

"A cracked radiator hose and an oil leak. I can get all of this fixed for you, but you have to wait for the parts to come in."

"And that will take how long?"

"I already ordered them. At least a week."

"Wait. What? A week. What am I supposed to do in that time?"

He shrugged, matter of fact, as he ate his pie.

"You can either stay here with me, where you are welcomed to stay. Or I can take you to a hotel while I work on your car and I can call you when it's finished. But as you can see, I have more than enough space here where we will not bump into one another."

He had a point. The house was big enough. And maybe all of this was just part of the journey. Part of the adventure.

"I'll stay." Plus that guest room was calling me. It would be much better than any accommodations I could pay for, and I needed to be able to hold on to my money as much as I could because it would start to dwindle if I was not careful.

"Good. It will be nice to have a little company around here."

This was not what I was expecting. "And you are sure that the car can be fixed in a week?"

"And you can be on your way. To wherever it is that you are going."

"I want to take that as a slight, but we don't know each other well enough for that to be happening."

"Well. Are you going to eat your pie?"

"I am full and I could use some fresh air."

Truth was, I wanted a tour of my surroundings so that I could be comfortable with where I would be staying for the next week.

"Let me show you around the house."

The tour was amazing. "There is so much more house here than I was expecting."

"Well, I did some more add-ons a few years ago and it was good when the house was full. But now, it's just a lot. So I have to say, it's kind of nice to have someone else here for a change. My parents come out for the holidays, and now since they are older, they actually prefer to travel elsewhere and see the world rather than come here where they've lived for years."

He showed me the rest of the house which was breathtaking.

"I'll show you the rest of the place outside in the daylight. But it's just a farm. Nothing too exciting. Just a lot of land and animals."

"Sounds interesting. This is a lot different than the scenery that I'm used to looking at everyday."

Blake snatched up the plates off of the table and put them in the sink.

"I can wash those up."

"No." His hands were big as he held them up in a motion to stop me. For a quick second, I wondered what it would feel like to have his hands wrapped around me. Touching my waist, holding me as he kissed me with those amazing lips.

"You are a guest. I would never have you clean up. I will get them in the morning."

I barely heard what he was saying because I had drifted off into a daydream. What on earth was I doing daydreaming about something sexy with this man that I did not know?

"Thank you."

I caught a glimpse of Blake looking me up and down, but before our eyes could meet, I turned away. He was gorgeous, rugged, a real man's man. I liked that. He was a stark contrast to Jeff. Not that Jeff was not an attractive man, but I never got the rugged vibe from him. And up until now, I was not aware that I was attracted to that rugged vibe.

"Do you need anything else before I turn in?" he asked.

"No. I think I will be just fine. Thank you, Blake. For everything."

A faint smile came across his face as he excused himself and disappeared off down the opposite hallway from my room. He had this aloof quality that drew me in to him, but at the same time kept me at arm's length away.

I went to my room to relax the rest of the night. Not sure where any of this was going, I found that soft spot in the bed and sunk in to it. The warm night breeze wrapped itself around me, a cocoon that I did not want to let go of. The curtains danced on the breeze as I stared out at the night sky. It was gorgeous out here. The sky was so clear and the stars looked like they were close enough to reach out and touch.

For the first time in life, I felt like I could breathe. I felt free and it was like I could think clearly. This life that Blake had was exactly what I wanted. Peace, quiet, and a slow serenity that was the complete opposite of the life I lived in Louisiana. I could look out at the sky and the stars every night and listen to the sounds of the crickets and the complete silence. For so long, I thought that silence was scary. Now I was starting to understand that silence could be comfortable. This could be my life.

I slept so long that afternoon, I was not tired by nightfall. The only thing I could think to do was go wandering through the house. Maybe it would help me to get to know Blake a little more. Why I wanted to get to know him, I was not sure. I just figured I better take this experience for all that it was. Hopefully it would be something to talk about later. A story to share with my friends, my kids, and my grandkids.

My toes were cold on the marble floors and there was a little draft in the house flowing through the corridors. There were a total of six rooms. I found two half bathrooms and wondered if all of the bedrooms had their own en suite like mine did.

The gourmet kitchen was like something on a television cooking show. There was also a den, a study that was used as an office, and a gym. The dining room could easily fit twelve people at the table. And the living room was complete with a bear skin rug and a grand piano.

I could not understand the contradiction in the style that decorated the house and the rugged cowboy that I met at the gate down by the road. It was a fact that I wanted to reconcile, but it just did not make sense. Maybe there was a part of the story that I was missing. And I was certainly interested in what that story was.

There was something behind the rough exterior and those baby blue eyes. His hardy demeanor let me know that he had been through something and that he was going to be guarded until the right person came along to make it safe for him to unlock his feelings.

I was not sure if that person was me, but I knew that sometimes we all needed someone to help us to figure things out. Walking around the house, I finally took a closer look at the things that I had not looked at on the official tour Blake gave me. There were all kinds of family heirlooms, pictures of Blake from childhood to adulthood with his parents. There were even pictures of him in college and graduations. From the looks of it, he was an only child and his parents doted on him.

I ran my fingers along the fireplace mantle, touching the frames and the trinkets carefully placed there. It was obvious that there was a lot of love in this house and in Blake's family.

By the time I finished my tour, the craving for a glass of wine took over. I hoped that Blake had some ready in the kitchen. I was the worst at uncorking wine bottles. With it already being well past midnight, I did not want to do too much roaming around the house. If Blake was not used to having visitors, he would not be used to someone lurking around his home. I did not want him to think that I was being nosey, which was exactly what I was doing.

After shuffling around, I found a bottle of wine that was perfect. There was also a perfect chocolate cake in the refrigerator too. A match made in heaven.

"Are you going to eat that cake all alone?'

I swirled around to see Blake standing behind me. Wearing only a pair of pajama pants, barefooted, and chest muscles rippling, he was standing there waiting for me to answer.

Staring at him made it hard to do so. With his pecs on full display, it was hard to concentrate on what he was asking me.

"Uh, yes. I mean, no. Do you want to join me?"

Raising his brows, he gave me a flirtatious look. Blake did not answer verbally. Instead he went to the cabinet and got out two plates for us.

I was sitting with the platter of cake and a fork in front of me. I had not thought of sharing the cake with anyone else.

"On second thought. Here."

Blake pulled out a fork for himself and dove right in to the cake. "Are you going to uncork that wine?"

Telling him that I always struggled with the cork was not something I wanted to do. But he would soon find out if I did not open the bottle. Instead, I just passed him the bottle and the corkscrew and he got the point.

I was happy to see him open it and pour the wine for both of us. It was the perfect compliment for the dessert. We ate in silence, but with our focus shifting between each other and the refreshments.

"Did you enjoy your self- guided tour?"

"I did. Made me feel like I got to know you a little better."

"Do tell."

I would normally be aggravated by a man of such short words and a challenging attitude. But there something about Blake that made me want him more.

"Nothing much. Just got to see your family pictures. It looks like you come from a great family."

He sipped the last of his wine, setting the glass on the counter. I could barely breathe as he came slowly closer to me. By the time he was standing right next to me, I was feeling dizzy.

"I do. But that's not what you were looking for was it?"

His words floated on his rich, baritone voice, leaving me hanging on his every word.

"I was just looking around. Since I will be here the next few days."

"Hmm."

Not sure what his reply meant, I sat quietly waiting for him to say more. Instead, he just stared at me, those eyes penetrating my very being. I wanted to know more, to feel more. But was that okay due to the fact that I had just met this man?

"Just looking around is perfectly alright. I told you to make yourself at home. I meant it." He let his gaze linger a few more minutes, and if I had not backed up, I knew that he would have kissed me. Licking my lips, I tried to imagine what that kiss would taste like.

"But maybe I should go to bed now. I'm sure that you have to get up in the morning and do, well, ranch kind of things or something while we wait on the car parts."

What was I saying? _Ranch kind of things_? I was not sure what that even meant. I was pretty sure that it sounded as ridiculous to him as it did to me now that it had escaped my mouth.

"Anyway, I think I'll just turn in. The room is so very comfortable. Thank you, Blake."

He took that opportunity to inch closer. "You are very welcome."

Exhale.

"Okay. Good night."

I tried to suppress the urge to run down the hallway. This was all throwing my mind out of whack. My mind was spinning out of control as I closed the bedroom door. Leaning against the door, I tried to get my balance and calm my racing heart.

What was a girl to do when she was in the house, so close to such an attractive, sexy man?

# Chapter Six

The knock at the bedroom door woke me from my sleep. I was not intending on staying in bed so long, but somehow I could not climb out of the fluffiness of the space.

I pulled the pillow tightly over my head, trying to drown out the knocking. Unfortunately, it did not work. The only thing that would still the noise was if I actually crawled out of bed and answered the knocking.

Swinging the door open. "Yes."

When I saw Blake standing there in some jeans that fit him in the most outstanding way and a white t-shirt that allowed his muscles to bulge from underneath, I was suddenly aware that I probably looked like hell.

"Get dressed." He looked me up and down from head to toe. "Meet me outside."

He did not say anything else, turning on his heels to walk away. I could hear his heels from his cowboy boots padding down the hallway. Outside? I did not want to go outside or do anything right now besides relax in the softness of my bed.

There was no way that I could stay in the bed after Blake summoned me. Throwing the covers off of me was going to be the hardest thing that I would do all day. Sliding on my shorts, a tank top, and some sneakers, I made my way outside.

"What could be so important that you had to wake me up so early?" I was trying not to appear too indignant as I crossed my arms across my chest.

Blake did not appear phased by any of it. He tossed me a large brimmed cowboy hat like his own. "Here. Put this on. You'll appreciate a little shade from the Arizona sun."

He stared at me as I caught the hat, twirling it over in my hands. Raising his eyebrows was my cue to put on the hat. I did as I was told and sat it on top of my head.

"Better now?"

"I was not aware that you could pout so well."

"What?" My brain was foggy from waking so early.

"I'm going to show you around the ranch. Show you what I do for a living."

"Oh. Okay. Fine. I'm paying attention."

"Are you sure about that, Christy?"

I tried to calm down my attitude. Blake did not deserve my pouting.

"Sorry," I said in an almost whisper.

"Here." Blake had a way of ignoring my tantrums already. Smart man. He passed me some gloves. I didn't dare ask what we were going to be doing this morning. I was already on Blake's bad list for coming down here with an attitude.

How much could it hurt? If anything, I would end up with a few calluses and a story to tell.

Blake looked out over the hills. "Obviously you are not the kind of girl to do manual labor, so you can go inside if you want to. I would understand."

"Is that a challenge?"

That sly grin again. He did not verbally respond. Instead he started walking out of the shed where we were getting ready for work.

I was not ready for what he may suggest we do.

"First, I want to take you over to the stables. Have you ever ridden a horse before?"

"No. As a matter of fact, I have not."

"Great," he clasped his humongous hands together. "That's first on the list."

I asked for adventure and I was most certainly going to get it. Blake showed me how to groom the horses and how to feed them. Surprisingly, I did not do too badly.

"Now, choose your horse."

"How?"

"Your horse will most likely choose you anyway. Here. I see that Sheba has been taking a liking to you."

He brought the gentle creature over to me and he was right. Sheba had taken to me from the moment I walked into the stable.

"Okay. Let's get this going. I want to go ahead and make a fool of myself and get it over with."

"You won't make a fool of yourself. And if you do, I promise not to laugh too long."

"Blake, you aren't making me feel any better about this."

"Come on," he chuckled. "I'm going to show you how to saddle her up and get on."

Anxiety set in, but I was not going to let Blake know that I was terrified of getting on Sheba and riding. And I did not want Sheba to know that I was afraid either. I'd read somewhere that animals instinctually sensed fear, so I did my best to suppress it.

"Put your foot here," he pointed. I did as I was told.

"Now, swing using your body weight to throw your other leg over the saddle."

It got a little more difficult at that point. Awkwardly, I swung my leg and missed and had to start the process over again. Only with Blake's help could I get my leg over to the other side. His hand securely on my butt, he pushed me so I could mount. Then his hands on my waist, he made sure that I was on the horse safely.

It took away the fear, but introduced the feel of his touch and I did not want it to end.

"Are you comfortable up there?"

"I don't want you to leave me. Where are you going?"

"Let me get my own horse. I'm not going far."

I panicked, thinking that the horse would move without my command, but Sheba must have sensed that I was a mess so she sat still.

Blake on the other hand came gallivanting out; the expert rider and I almost wanted to cry out in frustration.

"Let's go."

That was my only command. No specifics on how to make the horse go. I had to rely on what I had seen on television. I dug my heels in Sheba's side gently and she started trotting. The pace was perfect for a novice like me. And besides, I had no clue where we were going.

Once I got my balance, the ride was actually very pleasant.

"You have way more land back here than I though."

"My family has owned this land for generations. We've been asked to sell, but my parents don't want to. I think we could stand to let go of some of it. But then again, if we sell, it will most certainly destroy the beauty of it all. We don't need a building development in my backyard."

"No. You don't." I pulled the reigns on Sheba and she came to a slowing stop. The scenery was breathtaking. Lush green grasses tucked against the mountains that were so very majestic. The array of colors; red, orange, green, all meshed together in a symphony of beauty. There was no way that I would give all of this up if it belonged in my family.

"Why don't we get back? There are a few other things that we need to do."

"I kind of think Sheba and I were bonding."

"You will have a chance to take her out again."

Taking it all in, I did not bother to let the anxiety about riding Sheba get in the way of me enjoying the ride. There was so much out here that I was beginning to love.

"Well, I have to say that you have done a great job for that to be your first ride, Christy."

"Thank you. It was a bit nerve wrecking at first, but it got better as time went on. And besides, it was absolutely beautiful out there."

"One of the many jewels of Arizona."

I sat there, wondering about the right technique to dismount. "I could use a little help getting down," I eventually asked.

Playfully rolling his eyes, Blake dismounted his horse like a pro. I knew that I would not look so sensational when I got off. And of course I didn't. Trying to get down, I was pretty sure that I was going to take Blake down in the process. Instead, he grabbed me by the waist and helped me slide down safely.

"There you are."

I was not happy until my two feet were touching the ground.

"Thank you."

It did not go unnoticed that he did not take his hands off of my waist. It also did not go unnoticed that he did not take his eyes off of me. And I loved every second of it.

"Let's go over here. I have something else to show you."

This time he grabbed my hand, leading the way. I practically stumbled over my own feet, trying to keep up with his stride.

"What? Are you pulling me this fast to get over to the pig pen? No way."

Digging my heels into the grass did not help me to slow down.

"Yes. The pig pen. I need to clean up."

Just as we got to the gate, I caught my balance and held myself up against the rail. "I'm not going in there."

"Yes. You are."

"No. Really Blake. That is not my thing."

"It wasn't mine either. But sometimes you have to do things that you don't want to do."

I had to pause for a moment because I was trying to figure out why he thought that I had to do any of this.

"Why don't I let you handle this while I tend to something that is a little more my style?"

He smiled at me. "And what would that be, Christy?"

I knew that I was pouting. "I'm not sure what that would be, but it's not getting in the pig pen. Besides, I'm not messing up my shoes going in there."

Blake rolled his eyes, shaking his head. With a sigh, he opened the pen and slid inside as the animals began to rush toward him. That was exactly what I was afraid of.

I could not deny that I wanted a closer look, so I climbed up on the top rail and perched up there. It would get me a better view of whatever Blake was about to do. My goal was to look attentive if I was not going to get hands on.

That worked for a minute, but after wrangling the pigs, Blake raised his hands, beckoning me to come his way. I shook my head no.

"Christy, come on."

When was the next time I would get a chance to play around in a pig pen?

"Fine." I did not want to jump in head first, but I did want to get this over with.

First problem, getting down off of the rail. I almost fell face first into the mud. Second problem, I kept thinking about how dirty my sneakers were going to be. These were the ones that I used when I did not mind getting them dirty, but after stepping in to the pig pen, there would be no coming back. Third problem, I had Blake staring at me so intensely, I felt like I had no choice but to complete whatever task he gave me the right way.

"What am I doing?"

"We're going to feed them," he responded.

I don't know what I expected him to say. My feet were sinking in the cool mud, the sun was starting to bare down, and thoughts of a luxurious bubble bath ran through my mind.

"Let's get started."

Blake handed me a bucket that will filled with all kinds of veggies and some other things that I did not recognize. I always heard that pigs eat slop and for some reason envisioned it as something in a soup like consistency. I followed Blake's lead as he threw buckets of feed out to the pigs.

We dipped and threw the feed in to the trough and the pigs made their way over to their dinner table. I was about eighty-five percent sure that I could get through the task when one of the pigs decided to get friendly with me. He came over, nudging me and when I lost my balance, all hell broke loose.

Fortunately, the mud was soft when I hit the ground. But what was unfortunate was that the soft cool mud ended up oozing up my back and splashing all over my body, including my hair. The pig sniffed, his whiskers tickling my arm. The closest I'd been to a pig was bacon for breakfast.

And when Blake broke out into a gut busting laughter from somewhere deep within, I wanted to be angry. But it was impossible to do so because I realized how helpless I had to look, sitting there in the middle of a pig pen with mud plastered all over me and a pig sniffing me. If it had happened to someone else, I would have laughed as well.

"Let me help you." When he extended his hand, I felt relieved.

"My knight in shining armor."

The first inclination was to wipe the excess mud off of me, but I thought twice and realized that maybe being hosed off would be more effective.

"There is a hose near the barn where I can help you clean off before we go in the house."

"That sounds wonderful."

Blake led the way, still snickering at my misfortune.

"Can we call all of this outside work a wrap?"

He turned to look at me, those blue eyes sparkling. "Why, yes Christy. We certainly can."

# Chapter Seven

The water from the hose did the trick and at least washed off most of the mud. My clothes were done and so were my sneakers. I was ready to take a long, hot bath so I could scrub again because I could not shake the feeling of the mud still on my skin.

By the time I showered and changed, Blake was sitting at the kitchen counter drinking a bottle of water.

"I thought that maybe I would take you to town. Show you around a bit and make sure you get a pair of new sneakers and some clothes to replace the ones that you had to throw away."

"That would be great. But I have some other clothes packed. You really don't have to do that."

"Well, I need to get out and go to town anyway. And there is no sense in you staying in the house alone."

Somehow I felt like he was giving a command, more than asking if I wanted to go with him. And this could be yet another part of my adventure. Besides, I did not think that there could be anything that exciting in the small town where I was.

"Fortunately, my schedule is free. I guess I have some time to go in to town. And besides, the company may be more exciting than the trip."

I was shamelessly flirting and was not going to apologize for it. There was something brewing between Blake and I. During my water hose shower, I decided to figure out exactly what that was. It was working. He was blushing.

"Let's go."

I waited out front for him to pull up in his vehicle, a pick up truck as I expected. He stepped out of the driver's side and came around to open the passenger door for me.

"Impressive," I said with a smile.

"Thank you." He tilted his hat and closed the door behind me.

The ride was quiet at first. Blake cranked up the music as I took in the scenery. I could not get over how beautiful Arizona was. It was not the ideal place I thought of settling, but there was something peaceful and serene about it.

"What are you smiling for?"

I glanced over in his direction. The warm air blowing through my hair. "I did not know that I was smiling."

"You are. And you should do it more often."

His turn to flirt.

"Maybe I should. It's just that."

"What?"

I paused for a second, not sure if I should share for fear of sharing too much.

"Well, I have not had much to smile about recently. There has been so much going on in my life."

Blake nodded quietly.

"We all have things going on in our lives."

His comment was humbling. "That is true."

"So are you going to tell me all that you have going on in your life?"

I rolled the window down a little more. The fresh air was refreshing.

"We can talk about it later. Today is such a beautiful day and I want to enjoy it. Plus I want to see this town you are bragging about."

He laughed. "I would not say that I was bragging, but I do love my little town where I live."

I didn't bother to say much else because we arrived in town. It was quaint. The backdrop of the mountains made it look like a postcard. People here smiled when they walked by, looking happy and content. It was a little more up to date than I expected it to be.

"We do live in the new millennium around here."

"I mean, I kind of figured that."

"Just kidding, Christy."

"I figured that. It is beautiful out here. I can see why you love it so much." I had to stand there and take it all in for a moment. I wasn't sure when I would get a chance to see something this breathtaking again.

"Been here all my life. I never want to take it for granted."

Such prophetic words. Not wanting to take for granted the beauty in life. I did not want to be the type to do that either.

"The ladies all shop over there. Go on in and tell Mandy to take care of you."

"Alright." I glanced at him again before I walked across the street to the store.

"Welcome! How can I help you?"

The woman seemed like the salt of the earth kind, very sweet.

"I need to pick up a few things."

"Certainly. What can I help you with?"

I told her the items that I was looking for. She was so much help, showing me around the store for everything that I needed. By the time we finished, I had three outfits, a pair of sneakers, and a new pair of heels.

Not sure why I was buying so much, I thought about putting some of it back.

"You must be new in town. I have never met you before. I kind of know everyone in town. I'm Mandy."

"Oh, Mandy. Blake told me to ask for you when I came in. I'm Christy."

"Blake. He's such a sweetheart. So are his parents. So nice to meet you, Christy."

With a smile, Mandy began ringing up the items and putting them in a bag.

"You are all taken care of, Christy. Make sure you come back and see me."

I was confused because I had not paid for anything. "Uh, let me take care of the bill."

Mandy held up her hands. "If Blake sent you in, he will take care of everything."

"Really?"

Mandy nodded. "He's good for it."

Mandy laughed. "Blake is a great guy. He's always doing something around town to help out. As a matter of fact, his entire family is always donating money here and there for repairs, fundraisers, or anything in general. He's pretty generous like that, but then again, he comes from a good family."

"That's good to know. I mean, that he's such a good person." I was actually happy to hear that I was not staying in the home with a man that people considered to be a lunatic. What was the word that was often used? Eccentric. At least people thought of him favorably and that was nice to know.

"Known him for a long time. Never been anything but. Have a good day and I hope to see you again, Christy."

Mandy passed me the bag across the counter and I waved goodbye as I left the store. Not quite sure what Mandy was sharing with me, because she kept mentioning how generous he was.

"Thank you, Mandy. I appreciate it and hope to see you again." As soon as I opened the door to leave, I saw something that stopped me in my tracks. Blake was standing across the street, in deep conversation with a tall, leggy blonde. She kept flipping her hair, in that playful way that a woman did when she was flirting. I could not tell from his body language if he was interested in her like she appeared to be in him.

I watched the scene as she laughed and touched his shoulder gently. Blake just stood there, rigid posture as she continued to try and get his attention. He turned, looking in my direction with a double take. There was no way that I could act like I was not staring at him and his admirer, so I just stood there in the same spot for a moment. I spotted a diner a few steps away and I decided that was the place that I would go to escape the obvious personal conversation that was going on.

Blake watched as I began walking away. I took one other glance and then made my way to the diner. Why was I getting angry about this? I had known him for a total of three or four days. Blake lived here his entire life. Of course he knew everyone and had an entire history here. There was no way that I was privy to all of that history just by looking at a few pictures on a fireplace mantle.

I found a booth in the back of the diner. My waitress came over immediately smiling as she poured me a glass of water.

"What can I get you hun?"

As I browsed the menu, I was not that hungry but I wanted to eat to at least take my mind off of what I had just seen.

"Can I get a strawberry milkshake, an order of onion rings, and a turkey club sandwich, no mayo?"

"Coming right up." She popped her gum, not even writing down my order. Swiveling on her heels, she went and put in the order and set about tending to some other customers.

The chime over the door sounded, making me look up from my phone to see who was coming through the door.

Blake looked around until our eyes met and he made his way directly to me.

"Why did you run off like that?" he asked, approaching the table.

"You were busy. I thought that I would go and grab something to eat while you finished."

Frowning, he took a seat across from me. "Christy, really. It was not that serious. Did you find what you wanted with Mandy?"

I liked how he expertly changed the subject so quickly.

"I did. Thank you."

He folded his massive hands on the table. "Good. I told you that she could take care of you."

The waitress came back and greeted Blake with a huge smile. "Blake, would you like the usual hun?"

"Sure, Deb. That would be great."

Deb sat my order down in front of me with the same smile plastered across her face.

"Be right back."

Blake turned his attention back to me. "So what did you get?"

"What?"

"From Mandy's store. What did you get?"

"Don't worry. I did not do too much damage. Just a few things. Thanks again."

Deb returned with the plate of Blake's usual; a steak medium rare, a side of scrambled eggs, and a glass of orange juice.

He dug in before saying anything else to me.

"That was an old friend of mine."

"You really don't owe me an explanation, Blake."

He shrugged. His nonchalant attitude was really starting to get under my skin.

"You always appear to be so indifferent." I closed my eyes as soon as the words escaped my lips. Somehow, the things that I was thinking escaped my mouth from time to time.

"I guess it's a talent of mine." He straightened up in the seat, leaning across the table. The way that his eyes concentrated on mine, I was mesmerized.

"Maybe so." I tried to sit back in my seat, but what I really wanted was to lean in more closely to him, meet his lips with a kiss.

And I was way too distracted when he licked his lips. Right there. Leaned across the table, licking his lips and concentrating on me. When would he come right out and say, "Christy, I want you?"

"Can I get the two of you anything else?" Deb came over to the table, with the privilege of having a front row seat to our interaction.

"No, thank you. As a matter of fact, can I get a to go box?" I asked.

"Sure thing. I'll be right back with the check."

"I have a few more things that I want to show you while we are out here in town."

"Really? I kind of thought that we would be done for the day."

"If that's what you want, we can head on back to the ranch," he responded.

"That would be nice. It's been sort of a long day so far."

Blake nodded, throwing a few bills on the table when Deb brought the bill.

He stood up first, holding out his hand to me. I walked out of the diner first, headed toward the truck. And as we made our way, there she was again. The blonde haired woman walking past Blake's truck. She did not appear to see us at all, but I got a closer look at her and she was gorgeous. I wondered then if Blake had a type.

The ride back to the ranch was quiet. I did not know what else to say to him. I already felt like I had overstepped an imaginary boundary. I really was not sure what was developing between the two of us, but there was most definitely something there that the two of us were well aware of.

By the time we reached the ranch, Blake and I went our separate ways. It gave me plenty of time to be a little more nosey. I went exploring in the house to see if I could find any pictures of his old friend lying around. His house was immaculate and about the tidiest house that I'd ever seen in my life.

This time, I ventured down the corridor where Blake's room was. He was outside in the stables and I knew that he would not be back for a while.

There was a gym, a study, and what I could assume was his bedroom. I thought it too personal to go in the bedroom, so I took my chances snooping around the study.

With the requisite taxidermy heads mounted on the wall, I was then intrigued by the contradiction of business journals and information about Wall Street investments lining the walls on a built in book shelf. I was struggling to figure this man out.

His desk was full of picture frames. I stepped around to the side where his huge leather chair was to get a better look at the pictures. He stood smiling in one with some children who had the same blue eyes, dirty blonde hair as he did. In another picture, the same children with another leggy blonde. His parents were in another of the pictures with the children.

Did Blake have children and a wife?

No. Not possible. I had been here for almost a week and there were no children or women floating around. And the woman that he spoke to in town was not the same woman in the picture. I could not remember if he said anything about having a sister or any nieces and nephews.

Maybe I had stumbled on to way too much information. None of it mattered, because as soon as I had my car fixed, I would be out of here, leaving Blake to swim in the shallow end of his pool of indifference all by his lonesome.

# Chapter Eight

When I awoke the next morning, I decided to have a changed frame of mind. There was no way that I was going to let yesterday bother me any further. Blake had not even really made a move on me. For all I knew, I could be imagining the chemistry between the two of us.

I dressed and went to the kitchen with the intention of finishing my to-go plate from yesterday. A note awaited me on the counter.

'Parts arriving tomorrow for your car. In the garage working on it now.'

Funny thing was, I had almost forgotten about leaving until yesterday. Somehow things felt settled here. The sense of peace I was feeling about being here was awesome, but it was also a bit false. The truth was that I did not know much about Blake and I had not divulged much about myself either. For all he knew, I was some drifter with a raggedy car.

The sun was beaming down when I walked to the garage. I found Blake in there, music blasting, him under my car and tools spread out all over.

I stood there tapping my feet to the beat of the song on the radio, waiting for Blake to come from under the car.

"Why have you been standing there all of this time without saying anything?"

He rolled on a board from under the car. Wiping his hands on a rag, he stood up.

"I didn't want to disturb you or anything."

"You are not disturbing me at all. I finished what I could today. The rest I will do tomorrow after the part comes in." He started throwing tools into their storage place.

"Thanks for that. I mean, I know that it would have cost me an arm and a leg if I had gone to town to have a mechanic fix it."

"Hmm." He nodded and went over to a cooler in the corner. Pulling two drinks from the ice, he turned to me and tossed me one.

Thankful for good hand- eye coordination, I caught the bottle of ice cold water.

"So have you figured out where you are headed after your car is fixed?" He gulped down the water as he leaned against the car's door frame and waited for my answer.

"Not really." I twirled the bottle around in my hands.

"You're just going to stay here in town for a while until you figure it out?"

Instead of getting frustrated and inferring what I thought he was asking, I answered his question with another question.

"And what if I decided to do that?"

"It may be good for you," he shrugged, tossing the empty water bottle successfully into the trash can.

"Good for me? How is that?" I was determined to drag something out of him.

"I live in a wonderful place here. And you said that you were looking for something with a slower change of pace. It doesn't get any slower than living out here. Open range. Fresh air. Friendly people. You may find that it's just what you have been looking for. If you are willing to give it a try."

Those blue eyes were staring through me again. "I do like it here so far. Everything is so gorgeous out here. So peaceful. That is the kind of peace I have been looking for. But I'm just not so sure of where I would like to end up. Maybe here, maybe somewhere else. But I still have some time to figure it out."

Blake opened his mouth to speak, but he snapped it closed. I wanted to know exactly what the thought was that went across his mind. But I left well enough alone.

"I'll see you back at the house. And that's great news. You know, that the part is coming in. I can get out of your hair soon."

Not even waiting for him to respond, I turned and headed back to the house.

***

Where was I going? It seemed to be such a loaded question. There was something settling about this special place that I found, but there was so much more out there that I could be missing out on. I did not want to miss out on anything. There could be so much more that I needed to experience.

But what if all that I needed was right here and I needed to experience that life here? I was not sure of what the answer was to that question. When I thought about it, what kind of woman would I be to stay here, after falling for a man that I hadn't even known for a month?

My grandmother used to say that sometimes there were circumstances that were extraordinary and that sometimes we had to do extraordinary things to stay there.

What if this was one of those extraordinary circumstances?

Looking out over all of the land, the lush greenery up against the backdrop of the majestic mountains, I decided that I could live life right here. Even if it was only for a little while. There would be no need to go racing toward the great unknown when there was so much here that I had not experienced.

I'd tell Blake that I was staying, hoping that he would not have any expectations because of it. It was already hard enough to figure out what was happening between us as it was.

The back door closed and I knew that Blake was in the house. I could hear the water running in the mud room where he was surely washing his hands and taking off the dirty clothing he had on in the garage.

Munching on some carrot sticks, I tried to fight the anxiety that was budding in the pit of my stomach. If I was going to stay here in town, I would have to get a place to live, look for work, and really look at putting down roots. This was all starting to feel so real to me.

"A penny for your thoughts," he asked me with a smile.

When Blake smiled, something in me made me want to put down my defenses. And when I did, it made me notice how stringently they were erected.

"I was just thinking about how I just might go ahead and stay here in town for a while. Maybe feel it out. See what kind of adventure will happen here."

"Adventure?" He scrunched his face. "I doubt it. Not living out here. Nothing but calm living. Nothing else."

"That may be exactly what I need here. A little calm living. Something nice and relaxing for once."

Blake stole a carrot from my plate. "What do you plan on doing with yourself if you do live here?"

"Like work and a place to live?"

He nodded.

"Exactly."

"Step one was to agree on the fact that I plan to stay here for a while. Step two is to come up with a game plan on where to live and looking for work."

"What kind of skills do you have?"

I dipped my carrot in the dressing and took a bite before speaking again. "I've been a personal assistant for so long, I had not really thought about what else I would do. I'm great at organizing and project planning. I'm also good with numbers so anything that has to do with any of that would be right up my alley."

"Those are respectable skills. I'm sure someone here in town can use some help with those areas."

"Or maybe I might try my hand at something else. I recently read this article on a blog about this woman who quit her job and traveled abroad for a year, not working and finding herself. She figured out that she had been missing out on so much in life and she took the time out to do things differently, giving her a new perspective on her life."

Blake shook his head. "Sounds a little out of order to me, but to each his own." He spun his finger around in a circle near his ear, signaling that he thought the idea was far-fetched.

"You think I'm crazy."

He shrugged, taking another carrot and popping it in his mouth. "Not really. But I believe that you believe that you are doing all of the right things. And it is your life. So you have to do what's best for you."

I began to clean up the dishes from the snack that I ate.

"I'm going to go into town if you don't mind."

"Be my guest. I would like to take you out for a proper dinner tonight though. Seven sharp."

"I can do that."

I started to walk out of the kitchen and then it dawned on me that I had no mode of transportation of my own to get to town. On my way back to the kitchen to ask Blake if I could borrow his truck, he was standing there with a set of keys dangling in his hands.

"These are to the car in the garage. Help yourself."

"Thank you."

***

The car Blake spoke of was a silver convertible Mercedes Benz. Did he really want me to drive his expensive car into town? The only other car in the garage was a red corvette and I definitely didn't think he wanted me driving his sports car.

Sliding into the plush leather seat, I took a moment to familiarize myself with the vehicle. Once I found all of the buttons and gadgets I would need for the ride, I pulled out of the garage. Of course I had to put the top down. What would be the point in riding in a convertible if I did not put the top down?

Fortunately, it was not far to get to town. I remembered the directions from when Blake drove us there. Very simple, two lefts and a right and I was there. Once there, I found a parking space, fed the meter, and decided that it was better that I walk around and see what peeked my interest for work.

Maybe I could go and see if Mandy needed some help at her boutique. Then I decided that was not a good idea because I spent so much time working in fashion and beauty already. Instead, I thought I should look somewhere else to start. First on my list was to grab a coffee. A little caffeine was always helpful to get my mind flowing.

Maybe I could find something at the hospital. The more I thought about that, the more I realized that I hated to see people when they were down and out, and I definitely was not going to survive the sight of blood.

There was the diner, a few more boutiques, a seamstress shop, the movie theater, and the library. When I thought of the library, suddenly a light bulb went off. The library would be the perfect place to find peace and quiet. It would most certainly be the change of pace that I needed in my life.

Headstrong, I marched right in and up to the circulation desk. "Hi, my name is Christy. I'm new in town and I'm hoping that you have a position available for me. I'm looking for work."

The woman behind the counter was pleasant and I wondered how long she'd worked there. She looked down her nose, over her glasses.

"Well now, we weren't necessarily looking for someone."

My heart sank.

"But, I could use a little help around here anyway, now that I think about it. Not much, maybe three days a week. The library is closed on Sundays. I can pay you every week. You can start on Monday."

I could not believe my fortune. I walked in and got a job on the spot.

"That would be amazing. Thank you so much! I'm Christy by the way."

Extending my hand, I actually wanted to hug the woman instead.

"Everyone around here calls me Miss Leigh Anne."

"Thank you again, Miss Leigh Anne."

"Be here at eight. I can do a little training with you before we open at nine."

Perfect. We smiled and bid each other goodbye. Things could not be any better. That was the most amazing experience so far. Knowing that I could stay here in town was making this all the more real to me. I decided to stroll around town a little longer. There was no harm in getting to know the place where I was going to live for a while.

Walking through the quaint streets made me both happy and homesick. Thinking of home made me smile. Not because of the things that I lost, but because of the things that I was about to gain. After losing so much so quickly, things were picking up with the same amount of speed. I was learning that I did not have to focus on the things that were no longer within my grasp. Trying to hold on to those things, those people, it would stop me from moving forward to the place that I needed to be.

That was what this trip was all about in the first place. Finding a different me, that person that was buried down deep inside. That person that had not given myself a chance at life, that person that did not believe in love.

I was now starting to believe that anything was possible. How else would I be able to make the decision to hit the road after losing everything and still come up on what was best for me?

# Chapter Nine

I made it back to the house by six thirty. That would be enough time to change for dinner. Not sure what the attire would be for our meal, I opted for something casual. I did not want to be too over or too under dressed.

Blake had not given me any details, so I figured I would meet up with him in the living room. He was there waiting on me when I came in the room. Looking absolutely scrumptious in a pair of dark jeans with the most decorative belt buckled I'd ever seen, and a crisp white button down shirt, Blake approached me with his hand extended.

"You look lovely."

"Thank you."

He kissed my hand, his lips gently brushing against my skin. That tingle I felt in my spine was unfamiliar. Just a simple kiss on the hand made me feel giddy.

"Tonight, we will go out to have a little dinner at one of my favorite spots. If that is alright with you."

"I would love it."

Blake finally let my hand go. "I thought since your car was going to be finished soon that I should take you out on the town."

"That sounds wonderful." I did not want to tell him yet that I was not going anywhere. There would be plenty of time over dinner for that.

Topping his head with his black fancy cowboy hat that matched his black boots, we set out.

"I hope that I'm not overdressed."

His eyes took in the view, looking over every inch of my body. I was wearing a skirt that flared at the knee, a white button down collared top, and a pair of cowboy boots that I'd purchased at the boutique.

"Not at all. I think you look sensational. And I love the fact that you've purchased some authentic boots."

"I figured 'when in Rome'."

I was actually pretty excited to get out around town. Hoping that it would be a chance to get to know that place that I was going to temporarily call home. We took his truck and headed out. Life here seemed so simple, so easy. It felt like I was starting to find my groove.

The evening air was still warm with a dryness that I was not used to. In Louisiana, there was always a thick humidity that hung in the air.

"Where did you say that we are going?"

He glanced at me out of the corner of my eye. "I didn't."

And I knew very well that he hadn't. I just hated surprises. Shortly, we pulled into a gravel parking lot of a place that appeared to be vacant. Not wanting to ask any questions, I waited to see what was next.

Blake came around to my side of the truck, opening the door as a gentleman should. With care, he held my hand as I stepped down, and then he closed the door behind me.

"Right this way."

I felt like he was leading me down the plank. There was one faint lamp post in the parking lot that barely shed any light on the area. If there was someone waiting to rob us, they could easily jump out from the shadows and catch us off guard. And the fact that there was no one else in the parking lot did not help. There were some other cars parked, and that was the only thing that helped me feel a little more at ease with the situation.

Blake knocked at the door. Someone peeked through the slot in the door. No words were said, Blake just stepped into plain view. The slot closed and there was the sound of a few locks being undone.

"Well now. So good to see you, son."

Blake shared a hearty handshake with the gentleman.

"Luke. Good to see you. Thought I would get away from the ranch and have a night out on the town."

Luke's attention turned to me. "And it looks like you have the perfect company to do that with."

Blake turned my way. "Luke, meet Christy. She's new to town and I thought that it would only be appropriate to show her how we have fun around these parts."

Luke put a large hand on Blake's arm. "That is a wonderful idea."

I stepped inside so that Luke could close the door behind us.

"Christy, it is a pleasure." He nodded with a smile.

"The two of you go ahead in and enjoy yourselves."

Blake tipped his hat and took me by the hand. The hallway was dimly lit and I started to wonder if there would ever be any light to see exactly what was going on around me.

The answer to that was behind the door in front of us. Swinging it open, we were met with music blasting and laughter. Rustic charm; wooden tables, low hanging lights, billiard tables, and small tables that could only possibly seat two people.

Blake's face lit up when we arrived; making it obvious that he had been here many times before. He looked around for a moment and then led me over to a table that was in one of the more dimly lit sections. The table was in a section that had booth like seating on one side of the table and a chair on the other.

He held his hand out and I slid into the booth. He slid in next to me and I had to close my eyes for a moment to get my mind together. This was the closest that he'd ever been to me and my head was swimming.

The waitress came over and plopped down one large pitcher of water and one pitcher of beer, and two mugs. She did not even take a drink order. She sat a basket of peanuts on the table and then walked away.

"Is that a live band?"

"Always," Blake said, cracking a peanut shell.

He poured us both some of the ice cold beer. I took a swig and felt better as the liquid started to warm me inside. The waitress came back and asked to take our orders. We did not have any menus.

Blake took the liberty of ordering for both of us. By the time he finished, I thought maybe there were other people coming.

"Who is going to eat all of that?"

"I thought that maybe we could just sample a bit of everything."

The music was making me dance in my seat. I was snapping my fingers, tapping my foot to the beat.

"Would you like to dance?"

"Would love to."

Blake held my hand as we got up. There were a few people sitting on the side where we were and we had to navigate through the section where the billiard tables were set up. By the time we made it to the dance floor, there were several couples swinging, twirling about.

We jumped right in, finding our own groove. The upbeat tempo was fun, and Blake was a great dancer. He spun me around, dipped me, and twirled me back in to his arms. I could not stop laughing. It was more fun than I'd had in a long time.

We had to have danced for about six songs straight before we decided to have a seat. By the time we got back to the table, I had forgotten all about the food we'd ordered.

I was not as hungry as I was when we arrived, but I did eat some of the chicken fingers and I had never been one to turn down some artichoke dip.

"Let's get a round of billiards in before the night is over," Blake suggested.

"Oh no. I'm afraid that I'm not too good at that."

"I will teach you. Come on."

We found an open table, and he set up the game. I watched as he broke, shooting expertly. He ran down the rules of the game and I was still not so sure that I could be as impressive as Blake was.

My first shot was a disaster. Blake stood near the corner pocket, quick reflexes catching the ball that skipped from the end of my stick to bounce on the table and nosedive over the edge.

"Hmm. Try again."

I was not sure that I wanted to. "Will I have to pay to replace those balls if I break one?"

He tossed the ball in the air and caught it with a chuckle. "I don't know. I don't recall that ever happening. Go ahead and try again."

"I would rather watch you go again. Maybe I'll learn your technique better this time."

"Watch carefully."

That was exactly what I was doing. Watching carefully. As Blake leaned over with expert form, he concentrated before calling the shot and taking it. Perfectly, he sunk the ball in the pocket, leaving me stumped as to how he could make it all look so easy.

Saved by the bell, the band started playing one of my favorite songs.

"What do you say we go hit the dance floor once more before we leave?" I asked.

He smiled, knowing that I was over trying to make the billiard thing happen successfully. "Whatever you want, pretty lady."

The music was up tempo until we got to the floor. Then it changed to a slow song, but Blake would not let me go. Instead, he pulled me in to his chest, holding me first by the hand as he led our dance. There was nowhere that I could go from there. I closed my eyes and let him lead as I moved with him. It was instinctual to slide my hands over his shoulders as he slid his hands around my waist.

Right there, we were enmeshed with one another. It did not seem to matter that we had not known each other long. The only thing that seemed to matter was how we were feeling in that moment. I rested my head on his chest, feeling secure in his space. Broad shoulders and chest, he wrapped his arms around me, as I inhaled the scent of his woodsy cologne. I was not even sure that I could hear the music anymore. There was this rhythm of our own that we made and nothing else around us mattered.

Time froze. Being held securely in Blake's arms, I did not want to move. When he leaned in, his soft breath on my neck, I closed my eyes and let things flow. My heart was racing; my mind was unable to compute what was going on as quickly as it was happening. I decided to let go and just feel, live in the moment.

In that moment, he planted small, soft kisses on that quiet spot at the nape of my neck. That spot that no one seems to know about, but is perfect for kisses. Breathless, my knees went weak. I opened my eyes to see his baby blue's staring into mine.

For the first time, I realized that the music had changed and gone back to something more fast paced. Blake spun me out, twirled me around, and brought me back into his chest. He leaned over, dipping me. When he pulled me back up, his lips met mine.

The kiss was an explosion of all of the budding feelings that had been growing between us. His tongue danced on mine playfully. And when he pulled back, he slapped me on my behind.

"Come on, beautiful. Let's get out of here."

I opened my mouth to speak, but I could not get the words out. Dizzy with delight, I could not piece together how things had gone from zero to sixty in ten seconds flat.

We went back to the table so I could grab my purse and Blake threw some bills on the table to pay for the meal and the tip. Blake was practically dragging me outside.

We said goodbye to Luke, who let us out. It was hell keeping up with Blake's large strides. We made it across the parking lot to his truck. He squeezed my hand in his, backing me up against the frame of the vehicle.

I knew well what was next. His kisses were rushed at first, as if there was not all of the time in the world to kiss me. His hands began to move up, massaging my arms, then my shoulders as he leaned in to me. His body was so massive against mine. Blake took off his hat, placing it on top of the truck and with no words, he kept the kisses coming.

His mouth over mine, I let go as well. His tongue tangled with mine, his hands gently massaging the space in the small of my back. As quickly as he began, he stopped, leaving me to try my best to catch my breath.

"Blake." When I spoke his name, it sounded more like a whisper. He caressed my cheek, kissing my lips lightly.

"I've been wanting to do that for a few days now. I hope you don't mind, Christy."

Shaking my head, I replied. "No. I don't mind. I've been wanting you to."

I could not believe I had just confessed that to him.

"Good. We're on the same page. Now let's go. I want to show you something else."

He opened the door for me, and I slid into the seat. Watching as he walked around to the driver's side, placing his hat on his head, I was immediately aware that I was smitten by this cowboy. There was so much to me that was still a mystery, but then again, I had not given full disclosure as far as my life was concerned either.

"Where are you taking me now?"

"A little place I've always loved to go when I need some peace and quiet."

It was obvious that he was sharing these things with me, these little slices of his life and I was appreciative for that fact.

The stars were so clear in the sky and the moon hung overhead, looking so close that it felt like I could touch it. The air was sweet and warm and the ride was quiet.

We pulled up at a waterfront. The moon reflected on the water's surface, glittering in the ripples. There was no other light but the moon and two lamp posts in the lot where we parked.

Blake went around to the back of the truck and appeared with a blanket and a basket.

He opened my door. "Let's go." Extending his free hand, he waited for me to take it and walk with him.

I had no idea where this was all going to end up tonight. The soft summer breeze was inviting and spending the evening with Blake by the shores of the lake seemed like the perfect way to end the night.

# Chapter Ten

Walking around the shore, we found a space where we could finally take a seat. There was a clear view of the lake and all of its beauty. The only sounds were the lapping of a few of the waves and the crickets signaling night.

Blake spread the blanket out on the ground and helped me lower myself to the ground. He set the basket next to me and came down to the ground too.

"This is wonderful. I can see why it helps you relax out here."

"Yeah, I've been coming out here since I was a kid. The lake is peaceful, more so at night. During the day, people take their boats out and there are families out here enjoying picnics and family time."

He opened the basket and pulled out a bottle of champagne and two glasses. He poured one for me and one for him.

We clinked the glasses in a silent toast and drank. I thought it was the perfect time to let him know that I planned to stay in town.

"I found a job." I just threw it out there, waiting to see what he would say. Instead of speaking, he remained quiet, drinking his champagne.

"Walked right in to the library and picked up a little something. Only a few days a week, but good to get started."

Blake slowly set his glass down. "So you are going to stay here? For a while?"

"I thought that maybe I would."

He nodded. I don't know what I expected him to say in reply. He dug inside of the basket and passed me the open box of chocolate covered strawberries.

Suddenly it hit me that we were on a date. "Is this a date?"

"What if it was?" he asked.

"That would be great." I took one of the strawberries. It was so juicy, the sweetness dripped down my chin. Blake reached over and wiped the nectar before it dripped off of my chin.

"These are so sweet and juicy." The best I had ever tasted.

"I pick them from my neighbor's farm."

I finished my strawberry and my glass of champagne. We sat in silence, enjoying the moment.

"So are you going to finally share your story with me? You know, since you are going to be staying in town?"

"That's fair." After all, I had been his houseguest for the past few days and he deserved to know more about me.

"Where do I begin?"

"The beginning is always perfect."

Sighing, I started at the beginning. I told him that I was from Louisiana, born and raised in New Orleans. How I had been infatuated with fashion and beauty since I was a kid and how I went to fashion and design school and landed my first job working as an assistant for a design house right out of college. That job had turned in to an opportunity to go away and work in Paris, but I did not go when my father got sick and passed away. Instead, I stayed and started working as a personal assistant to a high powered CEO. When the business folded, I was out of a job with a decent severance pay.

I told him about my failed relationship with Jeff and how it had left me feeling like I needed to run from love. By the time I was finished talking, I had laid down on the blanket, and was staring up at the stars.

"It's so nice to get to know more about you, Christy. I'm so sorry that you went through all of that at the same time."

"Well, when it rains, it pours." I folded my hands on my stomach, relaxing because it felt like I had taken a huge load off.

Blake rolled over, inching closer to me. "My mother used to tell me that only the strong were equipped to handle chaos and turmoil."

"I'm not so sure that I believe that. It just feels like I'm constantly under attack," I told him.

Blake shook his head. "But things are changing right?"

"I can't lie. The tide is changing. And I am so happy about that."

His fingers traced a trail over mine. "So, you've decided to stay awhile?"

"I have. Is that alright with you?"

"It sounds good to me. I would love to have you around a little more."

Hearing those words made my heart skip a beat. Why was this man that I barely knew making me feel this way so suddenly?

"It was not something that I anticipated, but something just feels so right."

He caressed my face, softly stroking my jaw line. His touch was soothing, beautiful. Lips touched in another one of his breathtaking kisses. I wanted him right then. No thoughts of whether it was right or wrong, or if I had known him long enough. Those things did not matter right now. I just wanted to know what it felt like to have him there beside me, inside of me.

Wrapping my legs around his waist, I pulled Blake into me, letting him know that it was alright to move to the next level. He slowly unbuttoned my top, sliding it off of my shoulders. Next was my skirt and before I knew it, he was undressing himself. He never moved his body from mine, warming me underneath. Holding on to his shoulders, Blake looked me in the eyes as he entered inside.

Underneath the moonlight at the shores of the lake, we made passionate love. Slowly at first as we introduced ourselves to one another. Then the pace quickened as the intensity grew. The want for one another turned into a need, propelled by a craving to dive right in to each other's being.

Once we had come together, I did not want to let go. I did not want it to end and with the way that Blake had his hands all over me, he did not either. Whispering softly in my ear, he told me so many times how he wanted me and how much he adored me. Whispering how much he wanted me was a complete turn on and my body responded because my mind was all in.

Never before would I have ever made love to someone outside, in the middle of the night, where anyone could catch us. But here with Blake I felt secure and protected and the most free that I ever felt in my life. None of the things that would have concerned me before mattered. It was hard to focus on those things when there was a man, so sexy, so beautiful that thought the same about you.

Blake pulled me to him, wrapping me in one of the blankets and pulled me to his lap. Pure bliss awaited as he lowered me on to his erection, holding my hips and guiding me like an expert. Atop my lover, I felt like his seductive siren. Like the most desired woman in the world. Neither of us could handle the pleasure that was taking place and we sang out in unison, moans of satisfaction.

The spasms emanated through my body, ripples of excitement from my core to my fingertips. Taking a deep breath, I let go and suddenly it was like a dam burst forth. Blake's fingertips on my back, he began to dig his nails into my skin. It caused me to arch my back into his touch, making him dive deeper into my body, into my soul.

Time passed and stood still at the same time. The very duality of his hardness to my softness. I wanted him more than anything right now. The warm breeze on our skin, kept us in the cocoon that we created there in the soft spot on the earth. Intertwining my fingers in his, we both held on to each other as Blake guided me through the next climax.

He sat up, holding me closely, his hips still stirring as he thrust boldly. The intensity grew as he stared me in the eye. His gaze did not let go, and neither did his grasp. Shuddering, the rest of the climax washed over me bringing both of us to the edge.

Blake bit his lip as he tried to hold on to the very last bit of pleasure, but even he could not hold on that long. I watched as he came to his own climax and he held on to me tightly as he did.

Out of breath, but completely satisfied, we came together, clutching one another in paradise. I laid down next to him, snuggling under the blanket to catch my breath.

Blake wrapped one of his strapping arms around me, tucking me in to a cozy little place in between his arms and his chest.

"Are you alright?"

I appreciated him asking me that. "I am." Resting my head on his chest, I felt comfortable right there.

"The night is beautiful."

Blake kissed me on the forehead. "So are you."

He sighed. "Are you really staying?"

I nodded my head. "I am."

He began to casually stroke his fingers through my hair. "Such a huge decision."

"The biggest decision was already made. I left behind all that I knew to find a different life. I thought that losing my job and ending a relationship was the biggest change in my life. But it wasn't. It was just the thing that forced me to move forward toward the biggest decision in my life."

"Sometimes those things need to be made quickly so you don't think too hard about it and let doubt creep in," he responded.

"I think I did that. And I'm pretty happy with what I chose to do."

"Good." He squeezed me. "Now, we can stay here in this little slice of Heaven and risk falling asleep and being found in the morning, or we can pack it up and get back to the house where we can really relax."

"Aww," I began whining. "I have to get up? I was actually very comfortable here in your arms."

"You can still lie in my arms, back at the house."

"It's a deal."

We gathered our belongings and made our way to the truck. I did not want our paradise to end, but it had to. The ride home was silent. I wanted to fall asleep, but the ride home was way too short to do so.

When we pulled up in front of the house, it felt like the carriage was going to turn back in to a pumpkin. One thing I learned was to live in the moment, and the moments I shared with Blake I wanted to keep sacred and fresh in my mind. Not sure if this was something that would be over by the morning or if it was something that we would talk about developing into more, I decided to keep my thoughts to myself. There would be a more perfect time to discuss all of that.

Once inside, Blake pulled me in close.

"I had a wonderful time tonight."

"Me too."

His kiss was soft, tender. I liked the fact that he did not push anything to happen.

"I think I'll turn in tonight."

I did not miss the pleading in his eyes. I knew that the both of us wanted to lie in each other's arms that entire night, but the last thing that I wanted was to force something to happen because we were both feeling the pressure to push it now being under the same roof.

"Good night, Christy."

"Good night."

He kissed my hand gently, sending that same tingling sensation up and down my spine. It made me suddenly crave his lips on mine, his touch on my skin. There was no need to overindulge. I made my way to my room, closing the door softly behind me.

Blake took my breath away and there was no denying that. Being here, everything was perfect. There was not much more that I could ask for. But I needed to make sure that Blake knew that I did not plan on living in his house indefinitely. Tomorrow I had a plan to go out and start looking for my own place.

After my shower, I was ready to climb into bed. With my dreams of my new life, I snuggled in to the covers and rested my head on the down pillows. Blake was right about one thing; life had a way of turning around for the better when you least expected it.

How could my life have changed so drastically in the past few weeks? Maybe I prayed on that change so heavily that I was given what I asked for plus some. I most likely would not have gotten up and left had I not been fired and I definitely would have let Jeff stay on the revolving door of our dysfunctional relationship had I not been fired and forced to leave my expensive city apartment.

Somewhere along the lines, I decided that love was no longer an option for me and that I would not be able to find anyone special along this journey for a while, so I settled. I settled for what little time and effort Jeff was willing to give me and I let that shape what I thought a relationship was going to be.

It's funny how you don't realize how dysfunctional things are until you find something that was better. I was not sure exactly if Blake was the "better". I was not sure if being in this new town, with a new job, and a new life was the "better". But it was all worth it to figure it out.

# Chapter Eleven

Morning sun shining through the windows. I was not sure how I was going to pull myself out of bed today. Then it dawned on me that I was starting a new job soon and I needed to be able to find a place to live. That was motivation enough to get out of the bed and get my day started.

Today was also the day that my car would be fixed. Small steps on the road to being more independent from Blake's assistance. I could eventually start feeling like I was back to doing this on my own.

Blake was in the garage, finishing the repairs on my car. When I heard her crank up, I was beyond ecstatic. I almost did a cartwheel right then and there.

"I take it you are happy to see your car is all fixed."

"So very happy." I raced over to touch her and sit inside the driver's seat.

Blake smiled. "Glad I could help."

"Oh my goodness. I'm sorry, Blake. I am so very thankful. For everything. I mean, I'm fortunate that I broke down where I did. You've been so good to me. I can't ever repay you."

Blake shook his head, wiping his hands on a rag. "Not looking for you to repay me."

He kept his gaze on me, making me the slightest bit nervous. I was not sure what I was supposed to say to him. He had done so much for me in such a short period of time. Here, I was with Jeff for years and I did not feel the same amount of desire and protection as I felt with Blake.

He gave the car a hearty pat on the hood. "She's all yours."

I stood there, trying to figure out what else to say. Blake was at a loss for words as well. He approached me slowly.

"You can stay a while you know?"

"What?"

"I mean, you don't have to feel like you have to rush out of here. You got the job, and now your car is fixed. I know you are looking for a place to stay. I have more than enough space at my house. That is, until you find your own space."

"Blake, that is a great offer, but I feel like I have already overstayed my welcome."

"You really haven't. I actually like having some company. Living in that big old house by myself is getting old."

I was squeezing my keys so tightly, I felt the metal start to break my skin. "Can I think about it? I mean, I appreciate the offer, but you know. This journey is all about me finding myself and I want to make sure I do the right thing."

Blake placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Please know that I don't feel like you are overstaying your welcome. It would be my pleasure to have you stay a while longer, Christy."

"Thank you, Blake." I did not know in that moment if he would kiss me, or if we were supposed to talk about what happened last night. This was the first time we laid eyes on each other since coming home last night. Not sure if I should bring it up, I paused, trying to feel out the moment. I did not want things to become super awkward between us. It would completely ruin the beauty of last night.

Besides, my new life was about going with the flow. I did not want to get caught up in labeling what was going on or putting any strict rules on it. I was learning that was the fun part about life.

But what if now was the perfect time to discuss it? He had not taken his attention from me so I figured I should go for it.

"About last night."

We both looked at each other and laughed at the fact that we both said the same thing at the same time. It took a little of the edge off. Obviously this was the right time to discuss it.

"Does last night have anything to do with the reason you would like for me to stay?" I thought I may as well just go for it.

Blake shrugged. "Some of the reason. Not the entire reason. I don't want you to think that I want you to stay for any other reason besides," he paused. "I would just like for you to stay. Is that enough?"

"It could be. I just never," I had to think about it to find the right words. "I never fell for someone so quickly." By the time the words escaped my lips, they were a whisper.

Taking me in his arms, his lips covered mine in a sensual display of affection.

"Me either. So when something out of the ordinary happens, you have to handle it in an extraordinary way."

"And how do you propose we do that?"

"I think that you should stay." He gently lifted my chin and we were eye to eye.

"Okay. I will stay. Long enough for me to find a place."

Frowning, Blake stroked my chin. "That's a start."

"Now, let me take my car for a spin. I want to see how she runs."

Blake held up his hands. "Be my guest."

It was great to have my own car, a slice of my freedom back again. Riding through town was different this time. I felt like this was the first time that I found myself in my life. I made all the right decisions for myself so far, so there was no reason to start doubting myself now.

Once I got to town, I stopped by the library first to get my start time together with Miss Leigh Anne. She also suggested a few places that I should look for a place to live and gave them to me in a list that she had handwritten.

It constantly amazed me how wonderful people were in this town. Just willing to help without anything in return. This was exactly the kind of place where I wanted to live. I stopped in the local diner and grabbed a coffee. Everyone was all smiles, including me, until I walked out and saw her.

The blonde from the other day. She was walking down the street, engrossed in a conversation on her cell phone. Her hands were flying everywhere as she spoke in a tone that let me know that she was being firm about whatever the subject was.

Blake described her as an old friend. That was totally possible, after all, he had lived here his entire life. Why would he not run in to old friends? But I knew that was code word for describing someone he had a history with. Replaying the interaction in my mind, I could see the expression on both of their faces. There was a stress, an awkwardness that settled between them that could only be due to things unspoken and dredged up old memories.

She continued on her way, not even noticing me. I wanted to know more, but I realized that maybe that was not my place to know all of that right now. My focus was on setting up my life in town right now. But the more that I thought about it, Blake had not actually disclosed as much to me about his life as I had. Even though it took me a moment to feel comfortable enough to disclose, I finally did. Blake was a great listener, but he had not offered up much about his love life. We discussed his childhood, his parents, and the fact that he owned the ranch. But we never discussed the reason why he seemed to have the contradiction of being a rugged cowboy that lived off the land, but still enjoyed driving in a convertible Mercedes.

I drove past the addresses that Miss Leigh Anne wrote down for me just to see what the places looked like. Process of elimination would be best to decide where to start looking. The more I drove around, I felt more of a connection with the place I chose to live. But the interesting part was that I think that it had almost chosen me just as much.

I decided to pursue three of the five locations and made a note to call all of them this afternoon to set up appointments to explore. There was not much more to see, so I made my way back to the ranch.

It settled more and more on my mind to sit down and talk with Blake about more. He was really my first friend here in town and it was worth it to get to know one another more. No matter what, he would hold a special place in my heart.

I had not really done anything to show my appreciation for all that Blake had done for me, so I stopped by the grocery store to pick up some things to cook a special meal. It was the least I could do to show my thanks. I was actually a pretty good cook, and I had not taken the time to prepare a meal in so long. Cooking was therapeutic and it would be a wonderful way to cool the awkwardness that settled in between us since our night together.

Armed with all of the ingredients needed, the kitchen was my liar as I prepared our meal. The steak was perfectly seared, the veggies steamed, and the shrimp perfectly cooked.

"Something smells pretty amazing in here."

Blake appeared in the kitchen, smiling. "What is all of this?"

"An appreciation dinner. I know that I've said thank you, but I wanted to really show my thanks."

He nodded, surveying the food prepared.

"Everything looks wonderful."

"Great. Well, you can meet me in the dining room where I have everything all set up for our meal."

Blake was all smiles while I set the food out and served both of us.

"I had no idea."

"Well, there is much that we don't know about one another. But I hope this is a pleasant surprise," I responded.

"It is a very pleasant surprise."

We had comfortable conversation over our meal. It was nice to get rid of the slight tension that was between us after our night together. The conversation flowed comfortably and we just sat, enjoying each other's company and having a good time.

"The meal was amazing. What else don't I know about you, Christy?"

"So much."

"Why don't we have a glass of wine and sit back and relax?"

"Sounds good to me."

He disappeared and returned with a few glasses and a bottle of wine. We went to the living room where we sat on the plush couches and relaxed. Blake poured the wine and grabbing a remote, turned on the music. Jazz played softly and we sank into the couches with our wine. Folding my legs beneath me, I got comfortable, partly because the couch was so soft and partly because I was so full.

"So you are really going to stay in town?"

I nodded. "I am. This all just feels right." I sipped my wine and then a thought came to mind that I wanted to add. "And I decided that before, well, you know."

Blake chuckled. "It's fine. I love this place. It's a perfect little slice of Heaven. Not too fast, not too slow. People are nice, everyone looks out for one another. Great place to raise kids. Fresh air, green grass, mountains in the backdrop. What more could you ask for?"

"Have you ever wanted to live anywhere else?"

"Not really. I've traveled, seen things. Figured out that I fit in just fine here."

"I like that philosophy."

"Looks like you have figured out where you fit in now too."

Giggling, I sipped the rest of my wine. "It feels that way."

Blake refreshed both of our glasses. The more I drank, the courage to ask him about the blonde was coming to the surface.

"So I don't think we've ever really talked about your love life. Tell me about it, Blake."

He gulped some of his wine down before he began speaking. "I never really felt lucky about that kind of thing. It's a sinking kind of feeling actually. Not one that I really understand. So I have to admit that I haven't been the best at it."

He was still pretty vague and I sipped my wine trying to wait for him to actually disclose more. His eye caught mine and he set his glass on the table.

"Look, I can say that I have messed up a time or two. Maybe not been the best mate possible. A few times, my focus was elsewhere. I can admit that now."

I was surprised by his openness. "What would make you a better mate now?"

His brow furrowed, Blake pondered the question posed. "I know myself better. I know what I want in a woman and I'm not willing to settle. I also am ready to be a better mate. Commit more of my time and effort. That was something I was not able to do before and I could definitely do now. But that woman has to be able to deal with me, understand who I am and all that I require as well. I find too often that woman are willing to ask for what they want, but not necessarily meet the man with all that they themselves require."

Blake polished off his glass of wine and offered me more. I shook my head, being at my limit.

"Christy, I know that we have not known each other long, but I am willing to see where this will go. These kinds of things take time, even though they happen quickly."

He leaned in close, lips brushing mine. "But I do want you to stay."

"I'm staying."

"Good." He softly kissed my lips and sat back.

"I should clean up a little."

"Thank you for the meal. It was amazing."

He kept me smiling as I went to the kitchen to start cleaning up. As I filled the sink with hot, soapy dishwater, I gazed out of the window, knowing that I would miss being on the ranch. The views were spectacular and it was always so peaceful. An SUV came riding up the driveway from the main road.

I shut off the water and watched as it approached. The driver's side door opened.

There she was.

The blonde.

My heart started racing, and I wanted to run and hide but at the same time, make my presence known. But that was not my place in this situation. I was a guest in this house.

I heard the doorbell chime. The voices speaking were a bit muffled. Drying my hands, I made my way toward the foyer. Coming from the kitchen, I could stay unseen if I stood near the door in the dining room, but still hear what was going on.

"Blake."

"Misty. You should have called before you stopped by."

"I was in the neighborhood."

"Right." I could hear the sarcasm in his voice.

"Well, aren't you going to invite me in?"

"Come on in, Misty. But I have a few things to do."

"So you want me to make it quick."

I peeked around the corner, watching the interaction. Misty, the blonde, stood in front of Blake, sassy. Her hand on her hip, she stared at him in a confrontational stance.

"So?" She stood there, arms crossed.

"I'm not sure what's next, Misty. Things have changed and just because you are back in town doesn't mean that I want to pick up where things left off. There is too much that has happened and in case you forgot, it's been five years. Five long years."

She tossed her hair over her shoulder, looking down at the floor. Sucking her teeth, she looked back up at him.

"I made my decisions, and you made yours. What did you expect me to do? Wait around?"

I could see Blake's jaw clenched. He rocked back and forth on his toes, shoving his hands deep in the pockets of his jeans.

"Misty, the point is, you have been gone for five years. You took way too much from me, and now you have the nerve to show back up here like nothing is wrong. We have way too much to discuss, but I don't want to do it right now."

"So when, Blake? When do we discuss things?" When she said the word discuss, she raised her hands and made air quotes.

"Now is definitely not the time, Misty."

"Why? Do you have company? I was in town and Mandy told me that you have had someone staying out here at the house."

Blake rolled his eyes. "Once again, it's been five years. What I do with my time and my house is not your business."

"Your house?" Misty nodded. "Okay," she threw her hands in the air in an arresting motion. "I see you want to make this a lot harder than it has to be."

My chest was tightening as I watched the interaction. It was apparent that Blake and Misty had an intense history.

It was apparent that she wanted to lay claim to being in Blake's life.

It was also apparent that I did not know Blake as much as I would like to.

Taking a deep breath, I walked back toward the living room. I did not want to hear anymore. It was definitely time to leave. I did not want to intrude any more. Blake had been great to me, but this was a deafening reminder that I needed to get back to real life.

Taking one last peek, I watched as the two of them continued talking in a code that only the two of them knew and I knew right then, that I needed to go.

I would make sure that I was out by the end of the week. I had a job, my car, and my new lease on life. I didn't need anything else. But wasn't that what my life was about these days? Things not going all the way that I expected, but still coming out of it better?

I held my hands to my heart, trying to still the pain. Even with Misty's unexpected visit, I knew things were not over between Blake and I.

I was not ready for them to be, and I was pretty sure that Blake would not let them go that easily either.

### Thank you for reading!

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