Abby had no idea when she had fallen asleep, or even when Drake had gone to bed. He wasn’t in the room now, but he’d clearly slept in the other twin bed. The sheets were a rumpled mess, and there was a clear indentation of his head on the pillow.

Had she slept so soundly that she’d missed him crawling into the other bed? It certainly seemed like it. She stretched, luxuriating in the warmth of the flannel sheets and quilted coverlet. Her toes, fingers, nose, and ears pulsed with warmth. Sunlight streaked through the lace curtains, and she blinked out the sleep from her eyes. Her lips curled into a slow smile, the feeling of being home settling deep within her chest. She twisted side-to-side, loosening her back and stretching her neck, enjoying the slow process of waking up.

Nose twitching, she caught the faint aroma of breakfast drifting down the hall from the kitchen. Is that what had awoken her? She sniffed again, and this time a broad smile curved her lips.

Bacon!

The warm, sizzling scent brought back memories of her mother’s cooking, making the room smell like a lazy Sunday sleep-in kind of day, with a whole lot of awesome.

Maybe Peace Springs wasn’t so bad after all?

As much as she wanted to stay in bed and soak up the warm feeling, she needed to get up and greet her hosts. Swinging her feet around, a neat stack of her folded clothes caught her eye. They’d been placed on the nightstand beside her bed. Had Bert washed and dried her clothes, or had it been Drake?

A glance toward the door confirmed it was shut, but after the bathroom incident last night, she padded over and checked to make sure it was securely latched. A few minutes later, she had both beds made and had changed into her jeans. This time, she only put one shirt on, instead of seven.

Her teeth felt fuzzy, and the fullness of her bladder pinched. Opening the door, she peeked into the hallway, looking toward the living room. Male voices echoed down the hall, originating from the kitchen; the deep laughter of two men who knew each other well rumbled through the house, warming it from the inside out.

She tiptoed to the bathroom, relieved herself, and then finger-scrubbed the fuzz away from her teeth. She checked herself in the mirror, paying special attention to her ears, nose, and even her cheeks. Despite her ordeal, she’d made it through the night without permanent damage.

But she’d stalled long enough.

Drake’s voice bounced off the walls, deep and resonating, it tunneled beneath her skin and slammed into her gut, twisting and knotting into a tangled mess. When she entered the kitchen, both men turned. Drake held a spatula and stood in front of the cast iron stove. A skillet sizzled and popped as bacon crisped in the grease. Bert stood at the counter, a white and blue striped ceramic bowl cradled in his arm. He beat at the contents with a wire whisk.

“Well, good morning,” Bert said with a smile. “Sleep well?”

“I did, thank you.”

Drake’s gaze raked over her body, speeding her heart and deepening her breaths. He wore a faded pair of jeans and a t-shirt stretched across a rippling terrace of muscle. Her gaze dipped, following the narrowing of his waist and the V-cut indentations she knew were hidden under the fabric. His pants outlined just enough of a bulge to fire up her pulse again. No man had a right to look that good.

He turned back to the stove. “How do you like your eggs, city girl?”

Her veins hummed with a flickering heat, but she tried to sound nonchalant as if his presence wasn’t doing strange things to her body. “Over medium, please.” Her gut simmered with the low grunt he returned.

“Breakfast will be done shortly,” he said. “Why don’t you relax in the living room? We’ll call you.”

Having two men labor over her breakfast was a decadence she gladly enjoyed, even if she felt a little guilty snuggling into the warm leather of Bert’s couch. A few minutes later, Bert called her in. The round kitchen table had been set, and she joined them for the best eggs, bacon, and pancakes she’d ever had.

Her voice cracked, but then she cleared it. “Thank you, that was delicious.”

Bert cleaned up the dishes. “You’re welcome, little lady. Now, why don’t you help Drake with the chores. Henry won’t be around for another hour.” He walked over to a closet and pulled out a coat. “Here, you can borrow this.”

Like the loaned pajamas, the coat was decidedly feminine, and likely also belonged to his late wife, Bethany. There was a definite lack of feminine presence in the home, and she wondered how long ago she had passed. It was a shame because Bert looked like a man who would be desperately in love with his wife. She bet he missed her terribly but didn’t voice her thoughts.

“Thank you,” she said.

Drake unfolded his long, lean frame from the chair, and her eyes cut to the flex of his ass. She touched her fingers to her neck where her pulse raced beneath the pad of her finger. Reluctantly, she dragged her attention from his perfect ass. He shrugged on his jacket and turned back around.

A smile worked at the corners of his eyes. “You ready to see llamas?”

His raven black hair fell across his brow, and he finger-combed it back into place. The scar drew her attention, the ragged line extending over the left side of his face. It must have been a painful injury, and she wondered how he’d gotten it. His eyes pinched, perhaps noticing her focus on the disfigurement.

She cleared her throat. “I’d love to.”

His eyes locked with hers. Strange how much power radiated from those depths. She wished she could see his pupils, but they were indistinguishable from the dark rims of his irises. Drake dipped his head and opened the back door, sweeping his arm outward. She took his lead and stepped into the chilly morning air.

Overhead, the deepest blue greeted the day. And over the ridge, the sun began its steady climb skyward. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Not a single speck from the storm of the previous evening. And it was warmer than she’d expected.

Her breath wasn’t visible, and her hands didn’t ache from the cold. Beneath her feet, wet snow crunched. She’d found her sneakers drying by the fire in the living room. Bert’s hospitality was beyond thoughtful. They’d be wet again soon with the melting snow, but Abby no longer feared hypothermia. As far as her eye could see, a blanket of white covered the ground. It sparkled under the morning sun, glittering with the light of a million gems, and took her breath away.

“It’s beautiful here.” She fought against the urge to spin in a circle, arms stretched wide, taking in the scene.

Drake’s hard gaze locked on her face. “Beyond gorgeous.”

Her cheeks heated. He wasn’t talking about the farm.

“Come.” He turned toward the barn.

She followed him in companionable silence broken only by the crunching of snow beneath their feet. At the barn, he unlatched the massive doors, then put his back into sliding them on their rails until a narrow opening appeared. As she passed beside him, the heat of his breath seared her skin and made her shiver. Her breath fled as she pried her gaze from his eyes to take in the dimly lit interior of the barn.

Musk. A deep, animal smell. The pungent aroma of dirt, hay, and what had to be llamas assaulted her nostrils. A low hum vibrated the air. Abby cast her gaze left and right until she realized the sound was coming from a pen to her left.

“What is that?” she asked.

Drake chuckled. “Llamas humming.”

“They hum?”

“Yes, and you should hear the males orgle.”

Had he made up that word?

“I hate to ask what an orgle is,” she said.

“Llamas hum when they’re happy. The males have a unique alarm call when they perceive danger, but when they breed, they orgle.”

“Orgle?”

“Yes, but it’s not breeding season, just the humming for right now.” His eyes crinkled at the corners. “I bet you’re dying to hear a llama orgle now aren’t you?”

He stepped close, towering over her, causing a tingle to spark in her chest and an ache to build lower down. Her entire body was painfully aware of his overwhelming presence. The timbre of his voice was both smooth and hypnotic, drugging even, because she found herself tipping back her head, her mind slipping, and her eyes closing as he leaned down.

His breath disturbed the air above her cheek, and she held still, paralyzed by what might happen next.

He touched a knuckle to her chin, tilting her head back. His voice grew tight, hoarse, and needy as he searched her face. “What are you doing to me, city girl?”

“I’m not…” But her heart lifted at this unexpected turn of events.

“Shh,” he hushed, as he brushed a finger over the fullness of her lips.

Her eyes widened, and her lips parted in breathless anticipation when he caged her in, backing her up against the barn wall.

“I’m not a gentle man,” he said with a growl. “When I see something I want, there’s very little to stop me. Tell me no.”

Her heart sputtered as his brick-hard body moved closer. He was everywhere all at once. The press of his body. The heat of his breath. The low rumble of his voice. Caging her in.

His breath rustled her hair as he dipped his head, not for the kiss she desired, but to nuzzle her neck. He hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her against his body. She let her gaze flit, bouncing from the ceiling, to the dark depths of the interior of the barn, until it finally settled on the stubble of his jaw.

He threaded his fingers through the length of her hair, grasping the strands, as his lips lowered to hover, a kiss away. His need whispered through her, potent, powerful, and raw. Then he shifted, touching their foreheads together as if he had all the time in the world to let this moment hang between them. His fingers glided to her neck, as he rocked his hips forward.

“You need to say no.” His gruff tone caught her off guard. “Because I don’t think I can stop if you don’t.”

What did she want? She didn’t know anything about Drake, except their connection grew stronger with each beat of her heart. The seconds lengthened. He had saved her from certain death, but was she ready to hop in bed with another man so soon?

One of her reasons for coming to Peace Springs had been to make a fresh start. To leave the pain of broken promises and flying fists behind her, where they couldn’t hurt her anymore. She had no intention of jumping into another relationship.

Her answer hovered on the next breath. And she didn’t know what she would say.