Blaze called me one afternoon when I was out in the foothills making sure the herd's water supplies weren't frozen over. I didn't have gloves on, so my hands were slow and clumsy with the cold, and I dropped the phone before I could take the call. It would be a better idea to call her once I got back to the house, anyway.

So that's what I did, about an hour later as I stood in my gutted kitchen, stirring beans over a rusty old camp stove I'd found in one of the storage buildings.

"Jack?"

My blood ran cold as soon as I heard her voice – she was upset. "What is it?" I demanded. "Blaze, is something wrong? What –"

"I'm fine," she answered hurriedly. "I mean, I'm physically fine, if you're worried about that. Are you busy? What are you doing?"

I chuckled. "I'm never too busy to talk to you. And I'm making dinner on a camp stove."

"A camp stove? Why?"

"Because I took the old range to the dump yesterday and the new appliances can't be installed until the other work in the kitchen is done. It's boring. How about you? What are you doing?"

I didn't want to push Blaze. Not because I didn't want her, but because I wanted the decisions she made about her life to be her own. I didn't want her to feel manipulated into something – a life – she might later regret, even as I was certain down to my bones about what I wanted. What I wanted was her, and our baby, all of us together. It meant that every time I talked to her there was a strange undercurrent, the knowledge between us that sooner or later, decisions were going to have to be made.

"Uh, well, not much. Lulu cut her foot at the dog park yesterday. It was minor, but you should have seen me, I totally freaked out."

"Must be those mom hormones kicking in," I commented, without thinking. "Not that, uh, I mean –"

"I quit my job today."

I looked down at the beans bubbling on the camp stove as my brain gave me a very practical assessment of what had just happened: I had misheard Blaze's comment.

"What?"

There was a pause, like she thought my own hesitation meant more than the fact that I genuinely wasn't sure what she'd said.

"Didn't you hear me?" She asked.

"I – uh, no, I don't think I did. It sounded like you said you quit your job, but I'm too much of a glass half empty person to think that's actually what you said."

"Glass half empty? As in if I did say that I quit my job, it would be glass half full?"

I laughed out loud. "Have you lost your mind, Blaze Wilson? Are you calling me from the psyche ward? What I'm asking is, is there a single goddamned part of you that thinks I don't want you to quit your job and move here?! I feel like I've been pretty clear on that point."

"You have, Jack."

Her voice sounded strange. A little wobbly, but I couldn't tell if it was happy or sad.

"So?" I asked. "Tell me what you said before we both die of old age, Blaze!"

"I said I quit my job! Because I did! Quit my job, I mean. Today. Just, like, a couple of hours ago. I still have six more weeks but I –"

"You what?" I ventured, after a pause. I wanted to hear it from her.

"I want to move to Sweetgrass Ranch. To live with you."

Blaze's voice was very quiet when she said that, very quick. I knew why, too. It was because she was afraid. Afraid it was somehow not going to work, afraid that I had lost my own mind and decided I never wanted to see her again. Crazy. The woman was absolutely crazy.

"Well," I said, sitting down on the one chair still left in the kitchen. "That is the best thing I've ever heard."

"Is it? Better than hearing you had ten million dollars in a bank account you didn't know about?"

"Not even close. I – Blaze, you've made me so happy. I am so happy right now, I'm sorry, I don't know how else to say it. I'm smiling so hard my face is aching. Is it true? You're coming here?"

"Yes it's true, Jack. It's been true the whole time – I'm just a coward."

"You're not a coward," I told her, suddenly desperate to have her in my arms, to be able to look at her beautiful face as we talked about what was to become our life together.

"I am," she shot back. "I am, Jack. I knew this was what I wanted. I knew it when we were in Dublin – hell, I knew it before we even knew I was pregnant! All I want is to be with you. That's all. But I was too much of chicken to admit it to myself, let alone my parents or my friends, too worried about what they would think of me. But it doesn't matter what they think. It only matters what you think."

"What I think, Blaze Wilson, is that you are not a coward, you're just careful. That's a good thing. You needed time to come to terms with your new circumstances, I understand that."

"I wonder if you'll always do that, Jack."

"Do what?"

"What you just did – that thing where you spin something I've said or done in the best possible light. I wonder if you'll always do it?"

"Probably not," I told her, "because no one can do that all the time, every single day. People get irritated and annoyed with each other – we're going to get irritated and annoyed with each other. But in the larger sense? On a longer timescale? I don't really think I'm even capable of seeing you in a bad light."

We were quiet for a little while, then, both of us lost in our own thoughts. It was me who spoke first, a few moments later.

"Six weeks did you say? This house is not going to be ready in six weeks. I don't even know about six months. I need to get a better bed for the main bedroom. And an air purifier, too – all the work going on around here means dust, and I don't want you breathing in dust while you're –"

"Jack?" Blaze interrupted me, a smile in her voice.

"Yeah?"

"Is that your dad-hormones I hear kicking in?"

I laughed. "Maybe. It might just be my 'make sure everything is perfect for Blaze Wilson all the time' hormones – and they kicked in months ago."

* * *

After that phone call, the hassle of dealing with tradesmen and contractors and materials suppliers and livestock (all of whom had returned to Sweetgrass Ranch, safe and sound and happy to be home) seemed to disappear. That happens sometimes, doesn't it? Something good happens and your troubles suddenly seem to weigh so much lighter on your shoulders. I let the project manager know I wanted the work schedule immediately switched around so there would be a fully finished master bedroom and bathroom when Blaze arrived. He protested that it wasn't an efficient use of time or labor, but there was no way I was having a pregnant woman sleeping on a dusty mattress in an unfinished bedroom.

It was March when she arrived, the cusp of spring. I picked her up at the airport one evening and we drove back through Little Falls and then out along the dirt road that led to Sweetgrass Ranch until we could see it – and the house on top of the hill – in the distance.

'There it is," I said, reaching over and squeezing her hand. "How does it look to you? Like home?"

Blaze was contemplative for a few seconds. "Yes. If you're there, Jack, then it looks like home."

"Well I am here," I replied. "And I'm staying."

I drove slowly, partly because the pick-up had new and precious cargo in it, but also because I remembered what Blaze had said in Dublin, about our child one day asking us the story of how we met and how he – or she – came to be. So I wanted the two us to remember that drive, neatly bisecting both of our lives into a 'before' and an 'after.'

"The tire swing!" Blaze exclaimed as we walked up the frost-hardened driveway to the front porch – which had mostly been torn down, by then. "Where is it? And the porch!"

"Don't worry," I reassured her, "they're both coming back. I'm even keeping the old tire – it just needs new rope. And the porch will look exactly the same, too – you just won't have to worry about falling through it if you step too heavily."

As soon as we were inside, though, I called Blaze into the kitchen and asked her to sit down across from me at the little folding lawn table that was currently passing for a dining room table while the old one was in another room. She did, after a few minutes of commenting on the sorry state of the kitchen itself, and then I handed her a piece of thick, folded paper.

"What's this?"

"Look at it."

I watched her face closely as she unfolded the paper, desperate to catch the exact moment she realized what it was – and whose names were on it.

"What is this – oh, a deed? This is the deed for the – Jack! What?"

She'd seen her own name, typed at the bottom and awaiting her signature.

"I wasn't expecting this," she said, genuinely shocked. "Jack, you didn't have to do –"

"I know I didn't. But I also know you're worried about giving up your job and selling your condo with that huge mortgage still on it. I figured this would be some peace of mind for you, a shared asset."

"Wow. Well – wow. Thank you. I mean," she patted her belly, "I was already invested in this place, and you know that, but this is something concrete. I don't know what to say – I wasn't even sure you understood what I was talking about. With leaving my job and selling the condo and all that."

"Didn't you?" I asked. "Really? Of course I understood, Blaze. I may be a man, but I'm not an idiot."

We held hands across the table, smiling and slightly disbelieving that it was all actually happening.

"I made Grandma Dottie's Famous Mashed Potatoes," I said, thinking she might be hungry. "Do you want some?"

"I thought something smelled good. And yes, please."

I was at the camp stove, slowly stirring chilled potatoes in a saucepan and adding little pieces of cold butter, when I felt Blaze's arms around me and her face nestled between my shoulder-blades.

"I'm finally here," she whispered into my back. "Aren't I?"

God, it felt good to be close to her again. Before turning around, I turned the camp stove off, because I was pretty sure we weren't going to be eating potatoes anytime soon.

Blaze bit her lower lip when she saw the look in my eye and flicked her hair off her neck, tilting her head to the side in that way she does when she's flirting with me. I stiffened in my pants.

"This is what got us into trouble in the first place," she murmured as I bent to kiss her neck and slide my hands down over the ripe curve of her ass. "It was here, in this kitchen."

"I know," I chuckled, intending to crack a joke and then finding myself unable to when Blaze went for my belt.

I grabbed her wrist. "Hey – wait, come with me, the bed is much more comfort –"

"No, Jack."

I looked down at her face and saw, at once, just how aroused she was. Her cheeks were flushed pink and her lips were parted, just a little. Her eyes, too, had that faraway look in them that she gets when she needs me. Without letting go of her wrist I spun her around so she was facing the counter and a little moan escaped her throat. Jesus Christ.

I pushed myself against her as she bent willingly down over the counter, grasping her hips and pulling her ass back to me. "You make me crazy," I whispered, leaning over her back and dragging her leggings – and her panties – down. "I swear to God, Blaze, you better not ever look at me the way you just did when we're in public, because I won't be able to stop myself."

When she was naked from the waist down, she turned to look back at me over her own shoulder. "Jack?"

"What, baby?"

But she didn't have to say, because I knew. I didn't give it to her right away, because nothing is better than the tone in her voice when she's begging me for it. Instead I slid my hands up under her shirt and pulled her bra down so I could cup her soft, full breasts in my hands, gently teasing the nipples with my fingertips until her breath was coming quicker. I put one hand on the nape of her neck and then ran it slowly down her back, enjoying the way she just submitted to a touch like that, relaxing her torso against the countertop, waiting for me.

"Jack. Jack!"

"I know, Blaze. I know."

I unbuckled my belt and her body visibly tensed up, anticipating what was coming. I watched her back arch and her feet slide apart as her body asked for me, as my cock tingled with sensitivity. When I wrapped one hand around my length and pushed it up between her lips without actually entering her, Blaze made a sound that immediately precluded any possibility of more teasing. With a deep groan I pushed myself into her, leaning back so I could actually see it happening, and then looking up at the ceiling, tightening my jaw against the insanely strong impulse to just fuck her hard and fast until I inevitably came about ten seconds later. No. I had to hold off.

She felt so good, so perfect. The feeling of her ass against my belly and the way she was rocking back against me were almost too much.

"Slow down," I breathed, grabbing her hips and slowing her down myself when she didn't listen. "Blaze, it's been awhile. I'm going to fucking blow if you don't slow down."

I shouldn't have said that. Because when I said it, she turned to look at me over her shoulder again, her expression adoring. "I want you to come, Jack. The only thing I want in the whole world is to make you come."

I looked away and pulled out, knowing I had about three seconds to do so before it was too late.

"Nooo," Blaze moaned. "Jack, no. Please – Jack – please."

"Don't," I half-laughed, half-pleaded. "Blaze, stop that. Stop sounding like that! Fuck."

But she didn't stop, so instead of sinking back into her snug warmth where I knew I wouldn't last, I reached around and pushed a single finger down around her clit. Not over it, just around it, grazing it. Blaze moaned and bucked her hips back against me. I kept going, never quite touching her where she most needed it, just drawing little circles around the most sensitive part of her until her breathing was getting ragged and her whole body was tightening.

"Jack!" She sighed, digging her fingers uselessly into the countertop. "Jack oh my God, please! Jack – I – I –"

"You what?" I asked, enjoying being the one in control. "What is it, babe? What do you need?"

"You know," she panted, "Jack, you know what I –"

I pushed into her at that exact moment, exhaling heavily at the way her voice rose to a higher pitch and then died away before she could finish what she was saying.

She was there almost right away, I could feel it – the way her back started to arch at an even more extreme angle and the first little pulses of her orgasm squeezed against me.

"I love you, Blaze," I groaned as the first big wave of orgasm tightened her around me and there didn't seem to be anyone else in the world except her, and her pleasure, her sweetness.

"I –" She said, her voice catching in her throat. "I – Jack. Jack! Jack!"

I knew she was trying to say it back to me, but I loved how unable she was to do anything other than cry my name out, over and over.

"Fuck,' I said, my eyes closing involuntarily as the release crept up and exploded out of me, before Blaze was even finished. I yanked her back against me, holding her there, desperate to fill her with every single drop.

I seemed to come forever, wave after wave of bliss, all centered on and caused by Blaze Wilson. When she could talk again – barely – she turned around and grinned at me.

"I love you, too, Jack. And I missed you. Although I guess you've figured that out by now, huh?"