Emily awoke to the chirping of a bird instead of to the sound of the neighbor’s car doors slamming as they either left for work or came home after a graveyard shift. For a split second she thought she was dreaming again when she smelled the combination of cinnamon and coffee. But her eyes were open and her mind was going in circles.
She grabbed the sheet, pulled it around her body, and sat up so fast that it made her dizzy.
“Good mornin’, gorgeous,” Justin said as he brought a tray with coffee and cinnamon toast to the bed.
“Mornin’,” she said. “Is this place for real? I’d forgotten how quiet it is back here.”
He sat down beside her on the edge of the bed and picked up a piece of toast. “That’s why I’m building my house in a spot like this. It’s located about a mile west of here as the crow flies. There is a pecan orchard between where I’ll set the house and the fence that marks the border of the ranch. Only time it’ll be noisy is when the harvesters come in to get the nuts. I can’t wait for you to see it.”
Rather than taking a bite, he held the toast to her mouth. “A queen should be fed from the hands of her lover. She should never get her hands dirty.”
“But what if the queen wants to plant flowers or put in a garden, or maybe even put on a pair of gloves and haul hay? Or pull a calf or help build a barn? Can she get her hands dirty then?” she asked.
“Are you for real? Would you do those things?” he asked.
“I love ranchin’, just not all the paperwork of a big operation. We talked about this before. Remember? I want to know how many times you’ve done this?”
“What? Had sex with a gorgeous woman? Fed her breakfast in bed?”
“All of the above,” she answered.
“Lost count on the first one. Never on the second. You are the first, Emily, and words can’t describe last night. I feel like I’ve known you for years, not weeks,” he said.
“Is that your best pickup line?” She sipped the coffee and set it back down.
He picked it up. “No, I’ve got much better ones, but that’s comin’ from the heart, not the lips.” He leaned in for the first kiss of the morning.
His tongue tickled her upper lips. She opened slightly to allow him entrance and enjoyed the taste of cinnamon and coffee blended together. Who’d have ever thought that those two flavors could be so erotic? Someone should make a mouthwash that tasted like that. Her hands went around his neck. The sheet fell to her waist, but she didn’t care. She didn’t want him to ever stop kissing her. His rough hands skimmed her sides from her breasts to her waist and then down to her hips. Every nerve ending begged for more just like they had the night before when he’d done the same thing.
“We’re supposed to be somewhere this morning, aren’t we?” She panted as she pulled away, knowing that five more minutes of making out was going to put them in the bed for the rest of the morning. She shivered, thinking of how embarrassing it would be if Cade and Levi came looking for Justin, and found them all tangled up in the sheets.
He nuzzled the inside of her neck. “Yes. No. Maybe. It can wait.”
“And if your family comes to see if maybe you’re sick because you’ve never been late to work?” She tugged the covers back up over her breasts.
He picked up her hand and began a string of kisses from her wrist, up her arm and to that soft spot on her neck again. “I’ll put a DO NOT DISTURB sign on the door.”
“You going to make an honest woman of me if my daddy comes lookin’ for me?” she asked.
He stopped suddenly and chuckled. “Does your dad have a shotgun?”
“More than one.” She wrapped the sheet around her body and headed toward the bathroom. “I’ll be ready to go in ten minutes.”
“Want me to wash your back?”
“There’s not room in that tiny shower for that.”
He wiggled his dark eyebrows. “Is there room in your shower?”
“Nope.”
“Guess we’ll have to see about skinny-dippin’ in the big bathtub in the bunkhouse tomorrow then.” He grabbed the end of the sheet and tugged as she went by.
The sheet fell away. She stood there, wearing nothing but a puzzled look. “Tomorrow? We have a date for church and dinner, right? What’s that got to do with the bunkhouse?”
“One week after y’all left, remember?”
“Oh!” she exclaimed. “I forgot about that. I thought the church date was replacing that drinkin’ thing.”
“Are you backing out on a bet?”
“I’d never do that. Do you really think we should do that on Sunday? Seems kind of sacrilegious, don’t it?”
“Nothing says we can’t settle the bet tonight.” Justin slung his long legs over the side of the bed and stood up—stark naked and with that dreamy look in his eyes.
She almost turned around and took him back to bed. They were consenting adults, so she shouldn’t care who knew they’d spent the night together.
“Tonight it is, then. I’ll bring the fried chicken.” She crossed the room and shut the bathroom door behind her.
Justin waited until he couldn’t hear the water running in the shower anymore before he stepped into the bathroom. “Move over, darlin’. While you get dried off and dressed, I can get a shower.”
She took a step toward the vanity to give him access. He took the opportunity to tip up her chin with his knuckles and kiss her.
“I love wet kisses,” he whispered in her ear.
He stepped into the shower, adjusted the water so that it was cooler, and hoped that helped with the instant arousal he got from simply looking at all those luscious curves. He sang at the top of his lungs.
The bathroom door was open when he slung the shower curtain to the side. Her back was to him, and she was pulling a knit shirt down over her body. Even that simple movement was sexy. He slipped his arms around her waist and hummed a country tune as he swayed with her.
She flipped around, the shirt barely covering a lacy bra. Her fingertips combed through the soft hair on his chest as they made their way up to his neck.
“I’m tempted,” she said, softly.
“Me too.” He dropped the towel. “Let’s give in to what our hearts want.”
“Can’t.” She kissed him on the cheek. “I’m already dressed.”
“I know how to take care of that little problem.”
“I don’t have a single doubt that you do.” She stepped away and jerked her shirt the rest of the way down. “But too much of a good thing gets old after a while.”
“That’s one old sayin’ that I don’t believe.” He chuckled.
When he’d dressed, he slung open the door and Beau rushed inside. The dog tucked his nose into Emily’s hand and wagged his tail. She dropped to her knees and rubbed his ears. Then she kissed him on the top of his head and asked if he’d like to go for a ride with them.
“Beau is a sweetheart. And so are Gussie and Hopalong.” Her voice got high and pitchy, like she was talking to a baby.
Justin could have sworn the dog was smiling up at her. He remembered his grandpa saying—you can’t fool dogs or kids. If either one shied away from a person it was best to beware of them.
“Okay, sweetie pie,” Emily crooned to the dog. “We’ve got to go but you can go with us and tell Justin what you think of his house site.” She straightened up and headed out the door.
He ushered her toward his truck with a hand slung around her shoulders. The minute that Justin opened the door for her, Beau hopped inside.
“Daddy takes our old ranch dog in the truck with him all the time,” she said.
“Your ranch dog? I thought your grandmother was the one who owned the ranch.”
“She does, but we’ve got a dog,” she answered.
A mile down a path even rougher than the one back to the cabin, he stopped and pointed at a grove of pecan trees. “Right there. I just have to figure out how many trees I need to remove to get my house set back in there.”
“You’ll want a yard, right?” she asked.
“With a fence around it.” He nodded. “What do you think of a split rail?”
“It’s a shame to cut down pecan trees. What if you set your house in front of them, and then planted a couple of fast-growing shade trees on the sides right outside the fence?” she asked. “Let’s go walk around and pretend we’re inside the house.” She opened the door and barely made it out before Beau did. He took off after a squirrel, chasing it up a tree. Justin had to hurry to catch up to her as she made her way down the rutted pathway toward the bare pecan trees.
“What if you turned the house around so that the front was looking at the trees? It would be like a park,” she asked.
“A park?” he asked.
“It looks like a beautiful park to me. I see a wide porch on the house with the summer breezes flowing across it. You’re sitting in a rocking chair with a glass of sweet tea or lemonade in your hand as you watch children play tag or chase around the trees.” The soft tone in her voice and the dreamy look in her eyes said she was looking into the future.
Justin wondered if she was sitting in the rocking chair right beside him on that porch in the vision that made her light blue eyes look like that.
Back in her apartment Emily packed a small case with what she’d need for Sunday morning. There was no way she was driving home after proving that she could drink Justin under the table. She’d finished taking everything she needed out of the bedroom when someone rapped on the door. Expecting it to be Justin, she slung it open to find Nikki on the other side.
“Hey, want to go get some pizza and catch a movie?” Nikki’s eyes went to the bags and the dress draped over the top of them. “Oh, you’re about to leave. No problem. We’ll do it later. Tomorrow afternoon?”
“Got that date to settle the debt tomorrow,” Emily answered.
Nikki slapped her forehead with the back of her hand. “That’s right. I forgot. Well, I’ll catch you next weekend.”
“Hello, Nikki,” Justin said from the bottom of the steps.
“Well, hello.” She grinned.
“Maybe you could help me out here.” He climbed the stairs and stepped past her into the apartment. He nodded toward Emily with a mischievous look on his face. “We’re about to settle an argument about who can hold their liquor the best. You know anything about Emily’s tolerance?”
Nikki giggled. “Let’s just say you better get ready to lose this battle. What’s the stakes?”
“The joy of being the winner,” Emily answered.
“Well, I’ll get out of here and let the party begin.” Nikki threw a sly wink at Emily.
“See you Monday morning.” Emily blushed.
“If you need my famous hangover remedy just give me a call.” Nikki turned around to leave and then looked back. “I mean that for you, Justin. She won’t need it.”
Justin waved at her and sniffed the air. “I smell fried chicken. I can’t believe you cooked. I figured we’d pick up a bucket on the way to the cabin.”
“Did you bring good liquor?” she asked.
He nodded. “Jack Daniel’s, Patron—the best.”
“Then I bring good food. You take the basket right there with our picnic in it, and I’ll get my suitcase and Sunday dress. I’m not driving home after consuming that much alcohol.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “So do you want to do this in the cabin instead of the bunkhouse?”
She shook her head. “Nope. When you pass out cold, I’m having a long, hot bath in that huge tub. I never did get one when we were there with the Five.”
“And if you pass out cold before I do?” he asked.
“Honey, there ain’t that much alcohol in the liquor store,” she bragged. “I’m Irish, remember. We have booze running in our veins instead of blood. And I’m a big girl to boot.”
“Baker is Irish?” he asked. “Well, darlin’, the Maguires are Irish too. And Mama was a Finn, which is also Irish, so we may need to stop by the liquor store on the way out of town and buy enough to fill up that big bathtub.”
“We could go skinny-dippin’ and use straws.” She locked the door behind her.
His laughter echoed out across the dark night. Emily could imagine it reaching all the way to the stars surrounding a sliver of a moon.
“I feel like a kid who found the liquor cabinet unlocked.” She put her things in the backseat of the truck.
“Did you ever do that?” He settled into his seat and started driving toward the ranch.
“Oh, yeah,” she said. “The twins were fourteen, and I was fifteen. We didn’t want Mama to find out that we’d been drinking, so we just sampled each bottle.”
“Which was your favorite?”
“Jack Daniel’s,” she said without hesitation.
“Your least?”
“Christian Brothers brandy. That crap tasted like paint thinner smells.” She shivered. “We decided that its name was deceptive.”
He laughed again. “It’s not so bad if you mix it with something, but rest assured, darlin’, I didn’t buy a bottle for tonight. I got tequila, Jack Daniel’s, a bottle of wine and one of rum, plus the stuff to make whatever mixed drinks you might like.”
“I never mix wine and whiskey. Gives me a headache the next morning for sure,” she said.
“That’s called a hangover,” he told her.
“No, darlin’, that’s a headache. A hangover is something more drastic that requires Nikki’s famous cure, which is really bad. If I ever had to use it, I’d probably never drink again,” Emily said.
A few minutes later he parked the truck behind the bunkhouse and turned to look at her. With nothing more than the moonlight, she could see enough of his expression to know that he appreciated what he saw. He’d never mentioned that she was a big girl, that she had a sprinkling of freckles across her nose, or that she should do something with her hair, like put highlights in it—unlike her last boyfriend. He just kept telling her that she was beautiful and he loved her curves.
“You have the most gorgeous eyes,” he said.
She opened the car door. “They’re blue like yours.”
“No, darlin’, yours are the color of a summer sky. Mine are dull compared to that. And you’re supposed to wait for me to be the gentleman.”
Gussie rubbed around her legs the moment she stepped out, and Emily stooped down to pick her up. “This isn’t a date, and d-ar-lin’.” She dragged out the word to several syllables. “I appreciate being treated like a lady, but I do know how to open doors.”
“Why is it not a date?” He followed her to the back door of the bunkhouse.
“Because we’re not going in the front door, which means you don’t want anyone to know we’re here,” she said.
“Honey, we can do this at the ranch house in front of Cade and Retta if you want to. I’m not ashamed of being seen with you. Matter of fact, I’ll stand up in church tomorrow morning and confess that we’ve been sleeping together.” He entered the house behind her.
“Sweet Lord!” She gasped.
More than a dozen candles were lit, throwing just enough light to make the room sexy. A vase of red roses was centered on the coffee table, and petals led from there to the bedroom, where more candles burned. She followed the trail all the way to the bedroom, and then into the bathroom, where she reached down and picked up a few to feel the velvety softness.
“This is pretty sexy,” she said.
His presence behind her stirred the heat inside her to a full-fledged blaze. He slipped one arm around her waist, gently pushed her hair away from her ear, and whispered, “Not as sexy as you are. Shall we go skinny-dippin’ before we start drinkin’?”
She glanced at the tub. Bath oil and salts were laid out on the seat of a ladder-back chair with two big fluffy white towels draped over the back. “Yes, please. But let’s bring the bottle of tequila and the shot glasses. We can start while we’re in the tub.”
“You start the water while I’m gone.” He whipped around and disappeared before she could blink.
Emily got the water to just the right temperature and dumped in both the oil and the salts, then she stripped out of her clothing, tossed it all at the bed in the other room, and got into the tub. When he returned, he was naked and carrying a bottle and two shot glasses. He pulled the chair up to the tub and set it all down before he joined her.
Her legs, almost as long as his, were stretched toward one end of the tub and his toward the other. He reached out over the edge of the tub and filled two shot glasses. She took one from him when he handed it over and threw it back in one gulp.
“First one always brings the most fire,” she said.
“Yep,” he agreed and refilled both shot glasses.
She downed that one and held out the empty toward him. While he poured, his foot edged its way up the curve of her hip, stopping at the indention of her waist and then moving up her ribs.
Well, two could damn sure play this game. She moved her foot up his inner leg and watched his eyes the whole time. When she reached the top, he gasped.
“Water too warm?” she teased. “I could add some cold.”
“I was thinking more of adding ice,” he admitted.
“Let’s play a game. Whoever loses gets a shot. The winner gets a pass,” she said.
He shook his head. “That’s not fair. The rules were to see who could hold their liquor better.”
“Okay, then, we’ll leave the shots out of it. Here’s the game. You can use one finger and only one to touch me anywhere above the neck for one minute. And I can’t say a word. Then it’ll be my turn,” she said.
“You played this before?”
“Nope, but I read it in a romance book one time. I never wanted to play it until now.” She glanced up at the clock on the wall above the toilet. “Time starts now.”
He moved forward just slightly and traced her jawline with a touch so soft that it made her insides go all mushy within fifteen seconds. Then he moved to her lips and spent the rest of his minute making love to her mouth with his index finger.
“My turn,” she whispered when the time was up.
She started at the nape of his neck and brought her finger around to the soft spot under his ear, where she made lazy circles. “I’m already willing to lose this game. I want you, Emily, and I’ll forfeit the drinkin’ game for a night with you in bed, or hell, on the floor or right here in this tub. I’ve never had sex under water. Have you?”
“No, but I’m willin’ to give it a try.” She inched forward until she could wrap her legs around him. “After this we’ll have to try bed sex to see which is better.”
“On a twin bed and then on the queen-size, just so we know the difference in the three,” he agreed.