Jake awoke slowly, his mind still half-dreaming. His thoughts were filled with visions of Marty. Marty comforting his niece, Marty smiling as she handed him his bowl of ice cream. She looked like a young Ann-Margret, her skin flawless, her hair shining. The little-flowered sundress she'd had on last night accented the color of her eyes, making them even more turquoise, and it skimmed perfectly over her slender curves.

He could still smell the subtle hint of sandalwood that seemed to surround her, soft yet tantalizing, provocative. He felt his dick throb at the pictures his mind conjured up. He could imagine her sprawled on his bed, hair tumbling freely, shimmering around her naked shoulders. He could almost feel her hands stroking his skin.

And he could feel his lips on her flesh, tasting its sweetness, exploring every nook and cranny of her body.

Stop—he had to stop. Today was Lane's wedding day and he didn't have time to lay around dreaming about Marty Donahue. The wedding was being held in Nashville, a good hour's drive away. Time to get up and get on the move. He rose reluctantly and headed to the shower, still enchanted by the dreams he'd been experiencing before he fully woke.

 

Jake was gone by the time Marty went up to the house. The kids were there with Nora and Joe, and the little ones were who Marty wanted to see, anyway, she reminded herself.

"Hi, guys," she greeted the twins, who were busy playing Candyland in the upstairs loft. "I thought we could talk more about your rooms. Have you thought about what kind of paintings you want?"

Both children had ideas. Marty ended up taking each one into their rooms and having a long talk about exactly what she should do. Bonnie wanted a fairy garden, complete with fairies and flowers. They talked about colors and Marty did a couple of quick sketches, both which met with Bonnie's approval.

Brody, however, didn't have such cheerful thoughts.

"I want cops. Cops coming to arrest my daddy for killing my mommy." His words startled Marty. Really? This was his fantasy come true?

He looked at her solemnly, his face pulled into a frown. "Because it reminds me that Daddy won't ever be able to hurt us again. He's in jail."

Marty's heart strings were tugged by his dark tone. Little boys shouldn't have to have such depressing thoughts.

"I'm going to be a policeman when I grow up," he confided, looking at Marty almost defiantly.

"That's wonderful, Brody." She swallowed a lump in her throat. "How about I make you a mural of policeman doing good things like riding bikes and horses or playing ball with kids?"

He thought the idea over seriously. "No Daddy?"

"No Daddy. Just happy stuff. It will still remind you that they dealt with your daddy and that he can't ever hurt you again, but I hope it will make you think happy thoughts, not sad ones."

He tilted his head, considering her words, then finally agreed. "Okay. No Daddy."

Marty smiled with relief. It would still be a challenging mural but not near as dark as she had first imagined it.

"You're going to love it," she promised, pulling the little boy to her for a quick hug. His arms wrapped around her waist and her heart melted. She was quickly falling in love with these kids and that was dangerous. She was only here for six weeks.

"So, how about you and Bonnie show me around outside a little bit? I haven't got to see much yet."

"Have you seen the orchard?"

"Nope."

"Or the horses?"

"No, not the horses, either."

"Well, come on then. You've got to see the horses." He grabbed her hand and tugged her towards the door.

"Let's get Bonnie," she reminded him.

"Okay, but let's hurry."

 

They spent the next few hours wandering around the grounds of the farm. They roamed through the orchard, the trees laden with ripening fruit. They snatched a handful of sweet grapes from the vine and took off their shoes and waded barefoot in a creek that tumbled past the fruit trees.

Then they headed to the corral and checked out the horses. They were beautiful animals, sleek and shiny. Marty noticed a chestnut mare who was accompanied by a young foal with three white socks prancing around her. Several other horses grazed contentedly in the pasture, a couple of them approaching the fence to greet their visitors.

It was like an enchanted forest as far as Marty was concerned. The air was ripe with scents of flowers and fruit, a gentle breeze wafting the perfumed air softly around her. The sky was sapphire blue dusted with fluffy white clouds meandering across the satin surface. There was an air of tranquility, a feeling of peace that stirred her soul.

She was surprised how drawn she was to this place. She'd lived such a nomadic lifestyle for so long she rarely thought of settling down in one spot. She thought she might always be a drifter.

But there was something about this place, this farm, that meshed with her soul. It was such a peaceful dwelling, untainted by city traffic or pollution or garbage on the streets. It was like a haven away from crowds and noise. If somehow, someday, she were to ever settle down she hoped it would be someplace like this.

The artist in her yearned to paint the tranquil scenes surrounding her, to capture the peace and serenity on canvas. She'd always specialized in murals, but now she felt a hunger to capture these vistas, to preserve the horses and the deer and the rabbits in still life.

She shouldn't be having these thoughts. There was no way she would ever make her home at Misty Melody Farms—no way she could stay in one place. Hell, that's why she did what she did, moving from one place to another. There was a restless spirit in her. A gypsy's soul.

Maybe she was more like her father than she thought. He'd always been on the road, a happy wanderer, traveling the country.

But that's where the resemblance ended, she reminded herself. He'd been a party animal, a social butterfly. She'd always been more of a loner. She didn't make friends quickly, the party scene had never appealed to her.

But being around these kids was different. It felt natural, right. And so did the farm. She'd never felt as immediately at home anywhere as she did here.

Well, that was just something she'd have to get over. Misty Melody Farms wasn't her home…and it never would be.