Three hours later, it was over.

Angie drove home. In an ivory daze, she showered and put on some sweats. Then she lay on her bed and cried herself to sleep.

She woke up to her cell phone. Didn’t bother looking at the number.

“Hello?”

“Angie?”

Rafe.

“I got your number from Amber. Are you standing me up?”

Our dinner date. “I’m sorry, Rafe. I should have called but I fell asleep. My…my father passed away today.”

Silence. Then, “Oh God, baby, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know he was ill.”

“I didn’t know either, until yesterday.” But I should have known. “He kept it from us. That’s why I came to you last night. I couldn’t be alone. And this morning I wanted to talk.”

“I know. I should have let you talk. I should have talked to you last night. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you like that.”

She let out a huff and shook her head. “You didn’t take advantage of me. I wanted you. I think that was pretty obvious.”

“I understand. Making love is the ultimate sign of life. It made sense for you to want it in the face of death.”

No, no. He had it all wrong! She hadn’t wanted to make love. She’d specifically wanted to make love with him. She loved him.

Yet she hadn’t told him any of that yet. And right now, she didn’t have the energy to confess her love and face that he might not return her feelings. That would take more strength than she possessed at this moment.

“Angie, have you eaten anything today?”

“No.”

“I’m coming over and bringing you dinner.”

“But—”

“No argument. I made some great stuffed pork chops and homemade applesauce. Good old comfort food. You’ll love it. I’ll pick up some wine on the way.”

“Rafe, I don’t know. I’m a mess.”

“I don’t care. I’ll be there in half an hour.”

Course he had no idea where she lived. Probably got that information from Amber too.

Amber. She should call Amber. But she couldn’t find the strength to even press speed dial. Catie would let their friend know. She wasn’t as broken up as Angie was. Catie loved their daddy, Angie knew, but she wasn’t as close to him. Besides, she was married now. She had Chad. And their baby on the way.

Who did Angie have?

Harper. Harper was strong. He’d help her get through this. But he was her baby brother.

She needed strong arms to hold her while she cried, a soothing voice to tell her everything would be okay, even when she knew it wouldn’t be.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. Rafe.

The door squeaked open. “Angie?”

His voice sent ripples through her. Even in her discombobulated state he affected her. “I’m up here.”

Sounds came from the kitchen, and then the stairs creaked as Rafe ascended. She looked a fright, but she didn’t care. Either he loved her or he didn’t. Or he could grow to love her or he couldn’t. This was Angelina Bay at her worst. If he couldn’t take it, she’d be better off without him. Though she couldn’t bear that possibility.

He peeked into her room. “Hey there.”

“Hi, Rafe.”

“Oh, baby.” He came to her, sat down on the bed and took one hand in his. “I am so, so sorry. You must have loved your daddy a lot.”

The damn broke. She cried all the tears she’d tried to cry during the afternoon when all she could muster were silent weeps. She cried for her daddy, for herself, for any children she might have who’d never know their wonderful grandpa. She cried for her mama, for her loss, even though they hadn’t had a marriage of passion. They’d had a marriage of respect and deep friendship. She cried for Catie and Harper. But mostly she cried for herself and how no one would ever adore her the way Wayne Alan Bay had.

She cried, and she cried, and she cried.

Rafe’s black shirt was a mass of tears and nose drippings by the time she finally quieted.

“It’s okay.” His voice soothed her. “It’s going to be okay, baby.”

He held her then, held her and rocked her as she choked back the sobs that threatened to unleash again.

Finally, he spoke. “Can you eat something? You should eat.”

She shook her head. The thought of food turned her stomach. “Not hungry.”

“Okay.”

He didn’t push her, thank goodness. He’d made her dinner, and she loved him for it. For that and so many other things. For what a good man he was, his amazing work ethic, his devotion to his father, his devotion to the livestock he cared for at Chad’s. Mostly she loved him because he was Rafe.

The man she adored.

“Here,” he said. He arranged a few pillows and blankets and tucked her under them. Then he lay down next to her and gathered her in his arms.

“Go to sleep.”

And she did.

---

She awoke to Rafe still beside her. He’d taken off his jeans and shirt and wore only navy blue boxer briefs. She got up and headed to the bathroom. Looking in the mirror shocked her. What a freaking mess. How could he have stayed?

But then, she loved him. She no longer cared what he looked like. She loved the Rafe inside. If he looked a mess she’d love him just as much. Was it possible he could feel the same for her? Would she ever have the courage to find out?

She jumped in the shower. The water pulsing down her tired body soothed her aches. She closed her eyes and let the warmth coat her hair.

“Like some company?”

She opened her eyes. Rafe, naked and glorious, stood outside her shower, his hand holding the open door.

She motioned him in. He’d taken his hair out of the ponytail, and it hung in glorious tresses down his back.

“Here, let me help,” he said. He grabbed shampoo from the shelf and massaged a generous dollop into his hands. He spread it onto her hair and began to massage her scalp.

Judy offered scalp massage for an extra ten dollars at the salon, and Angie took it when she had the time. But Rafe’s fingers were in a class all their own. He kneaded her head and neck and pulled the suds though her strands all the way to the ends. She savored the feel of his fingers, the warmth of his presence.

“Now rinse,” he said, turning her toward the shower spray. He massaged the suds right out of her hair, squeezed conditioner into his hand, and stroked it into her hair. “Your hair is beautiful, Angie.”

“Mmm.” She closed her eyes and let his fingers tantalize her. “So’s yours. You look like a Lakota warrior, all fierce and wild and free.”

“I am part Lakota Sioux.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Really? How?”

She jerked her eyes open. Would he think she’d been asking questions about him? “Catie told me.”

“Oh.” He rinsed the last of the conditioner from her hair. “My other half is Comanche, on my dad’s side. My mom is Sioux with a little Irish mixed in.” He squeezed some shower gel onto her mesh body scrubber and started washing her. “So where do you come from?”

“Mmm, that feels good. The Bays are English with a little French. My mama was born Maria Ciara Gomez. Her father was Mexican and her mother Irish.”

“Maria Ciara, that’s pretty.”

She closed her eyes, relaxing. “She was named after her two grandmothers, so she named me after my two grandmothers. Angelina was my father’s mother, and my middle name is Siobhan, for my mother’s mother.”

“Beautiful name for a beautiful woman.” He rinsed the soap from her body.

Her nipples tightened as the streams of water wandered over her. Why on earth was she getting turned on when she was so sad?

Because this was the man she loved, the man who offered her comfort. If being with him, his body inside her, offered her comfort, why should she not avail herself of it when she so needed it? She reached between his legs and stroked his already erect cock.

“Oh, baby.” He gritted his teeth. “Are you sure?”

“Completely.”

He lifted her into his arms and impaled her.

Completion again. Sweet, lovely joining.

He grabbed her ass, lifted her up, and thrust her down upon him. Up, down. Up, down, and with each slick stroke, she fell more and more in love with him. So in love she wasn’t sure she could continue to live if he weren’t here.

“God, you feel good, baby. So good.”

She sobbed into his shoulder as her climax built. When it finally emerged and the kaleidoscope of pleasure whirled through her, she murmured into his neck, though not giving voice to her words.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

“Yeah, that’s it. Come for me, baby.” He hoisted her up and down more rapidly. “God, yeah. I’m coming with you, Angie. Ah!”

With one final plunge, he pulsed into her. So in tune with him was she, her walls felt every spasm.

He kissed the top of her head as she slid down his slick body.

“Go on and dry off,” he said. “If you stay in here with me I might never get to work today.”

“But we didn’t wash you yet.”

“I can handle it myself. If you put your hands on me I may have to fuck you again.”

“What would be wrong with that?”

“I can’t lose my job.” He smiled. “Don’t worry, there’s plenty of time for more showers.”

“Good.” She stepped out of the stall and grabbed a towel. “Because I want to get my fingers in that gorgeous hair of yours.”

She dried off. He’d said there’d be more showers. That was a good sign. She sighed and got dressed.

She had to admit she felt better. A good night’s sleep and a good cry always helped. Not to mention a good bout of lovemaking.

She wasn’t looking forward to today. She had to go with her mother to make the cremation and memorial service arrangements.

“You look nice,” Rafe said, exiting the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist.

His bronze chest glistened. No hair covered it, and only soft hair covered his muscular legs. God, his legs. So powerful as he sauntered toward her. The muscles in his calves bulged. No wonder he could ride a horse without reins.

Speaking of… “I can’t make my lesson today. I have to help my mother with the…arrangements.”

“Of course. I figured as much.”

“But I will continue the lessons. I swear it. It was my father’s wish that I learn to ride well, and I intend to.”

“Good. I’ll enjoy seeing you. But for now, you take a break. You let me know when you want to start lessons again. I’ll make sure Belle gets her exercise.”

He’d enjoy seeing her at lessons? Did that mean he didn’t intend to see her anywhere else? Course he’d just said there’d be more showers. Quit second guessing, Angie.

“Can I get you something for breakfast before you go to work?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I will take some of my leftover dinner for lunch though.”

His dinner. “I’m so sorry. You went to all that trouble to make me dinner and I—”

He stopped her with a chaste kiss on the mouth. “Don’t you worry about that. You had much bigger things on your mind last night, and you can enjoy the other half of the leftovers for your own lunch.”

“Can I get a rain check?” Did she sound too desperate?

“Sure. Of course. As soon as you’re feeling up to it. But don’t rush it, Angie. Take your time to grieve.”

“Well”—her voice shook—“I still need to eat.”

“True enough. Make sure you do. You’ll be able to deal with things a lot better if you don’t starve yourself.”

He hadn’t taken the hint. Oh, well. Maybe he was right. She needed to take time for herself and her family so they could all get through the next couple of weeks. She’d miss him, but her family needed her and she needed them.

Daddy, I miss you so.