There’s an ass wriggling against my crotch. Half my brain comes awake, but the other half is stuck in the dream I was having about Haley. Without thinking, I splay my palm over her warm, flat belly and press into her. I hear a soft little moan, and I’m instantly hard.

Now I’m fully awake. And this is very real.

She quiets again, like maybe she wasn’t very much awake either, and I’m left with the scent of her hair in my nose, the shape of her backside against my front, and an ache for her that’s quickly becoming one of the worst I’ve ever had.

Maybe it’s that she keeps me mostly at arm’s length despite the fact that she wants me. I respect that as much as I’m starting to hate it. Or maybe it’s that I didn’t get my fill of tequila that first night, and I won’t be able to get her out of my blood until I do. Or maybe it’s that I know our time is limited. Very limited. In ways that Haley doesn’t even know about yet.

I wondered if her sister would tell her my real reason for being at the ranch. I’m pretty sure Hannah knows. She’s closer to her father, and she’s around more. Wouldn’t surprise me if he’s told her. Or if she’s just figured it out. All the work being done, after all this time, would be suspicious to me, but then again, maybe that’s just the way my mind operates. You don’t spend years doing this kind of work and not get a little jaded.

I’m too awake now to go back to sleep and too turned on to lie here and do nothing about it, so I move slowly and carefully to slide off the couch. I didn’t have the heart to move Haley last night. She cried quietly on my chest for a long time. When she more or less passed out, I stretched out with her and then turned to put her alongside me. I didn’t want to just leave her, and even now, I don’t want to think too much about why. Maybe especially now, in the bright light of day.

I pad over to the kitchen and search for something that might pass as breakfast. One of the lower cabinets is stuffed with a variety of MREs, ready-to-eat meals that store for a long, long time. I thought I remembered seeing them here a few weeks ago. Luckily, a couple of them are suitable.

“Nixon?”

I turn to see Haley’s head pop up over the back of the sofa.

“Over here.”

She swings her eyes and her smile toward the sound of my voice. Damn this woman, she even looks edible first thing in the morning. Her mascara has smeared a little, but it only seems to make her eyes more green than gray, and her lips are just as kissable as ever. It’s her hair that gets me, though. It’s wilder than usual, like it had a hungry man’s hands in it all night.

I grit my teeth and will my blood to stop flowing south.

“What are you doing?”

“Huntin’ for some breakfast.”

“Breakfast sounds great. I’m starving.”

Me, too, I think, but I don’t say that. I can’t handle another discussion about sex. Not until I’ve had at least two cold showers.

“Maple syrup sausage or apple maple oatmeal?”

“Either one sounds good. I’ll eat whichever you don’t want.” She gets up and walks around the couch, stopping only to stretch her arms above her head. I go completely still. She seems to have forgotten that she’s not wearing pants. That makes me wonder if she’s used to sleeping in just her panties. Or maybe nothing at all.

I glance down at the MREs and tick off five of the least sexy things I can think of.

Birthing gloves.

Baseball.

Fly fishing.

Jock straps.

Stall cleaning.

I have to repeat them in my mind three times before I can get myself under control.

“Your choice. I’ll probably eat a lunch one, too. Ravioli is the breakfast of champions, after all.”

She grins and saunters over to me. I try to keep my eyes on her face, which is gorgeous, but that’s not what’s driving me crazy at the moment. “It probably is in Italy.”

“Probably.” I clear my throat and make a mental note of the first day, as a boy or a man, that I’ve ever actually tried to get a hot woman to put clothes on rather than take them off. “How’re your legs?”

She rolls her eyes up and left as she shifts her weight from foot to foot and then stretches up on her toes. “A little sore. Not too bad. I had a great massage last night. I’m sure that made all the difference.”

She smiles, and I smile back, but she makes no move to get her jeans.

I busy myself getting the MREs ready, and I try again. “You’re not cold, are you? I didn’t stoke the fire last night. I had other things on my mind.” I shoot her a wink, and she blushes prettily.

“No, the temperature is fine. I’m sure we won’t be here that long today anyway. No sense getting a raging fire going before we have to leave.”

I nod.

Haley walks to the small refrigerator and opens it. It’s empty. She peeks into each cabinet, nodding occasionally, but making no comment. When she pivots back toward me, I jerk my eyes away.

“Something wrong?” she asks.

“Nope.” I know I sound abrupt, but what the hell? Put some clothes on, woman.

My terseness only draws her in. I just can’t win today.

Haley walks over to me and lays a hand on my arm, pausing until I look up. “Seriously, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“You’re acting weird.”

“I’m not.”

“You are. What is it? Is this about last night?”

I frown. “Nothing happened last night.”

“If you consider spilling our darkest secrets nothing, then okay.”

She doesn’t know my darkest secrets. “It has nothing to do with last night.”

“Ah-ha! So there is something wrong!” She looks positively joyous as she points a finger in my face.

“I didn’t say that. I—”

“You sorta did.”

“I didn’t. I—”

“Uh, yeah. You sorta did.”

She’s grinning, clearly feeling playful this morning, which only makes her half-dressed state harder for me to ignore. I’d like nothing more than to throw this food on the counter, grab her by her wild hair, and kiss her like she needs to be kissed. Then I’d pick her up and let her wrap those shapely legs around me while I dive into her like I need to do. God, how I need to do that!

“Why don’t you put some pants on, and we’ll discuss it over breakfast?”

I expect her to blush, to trip all over herself apologizing, or to fumble as she tries to cover her lower half, but she does none of those things. Instead, she goes the other direction. She actually teases me with it. She has the nerve to tease me.

She’s a brave, brave woman.

“Do my legs bother you?” she asks, cutting one in toward the other and rubbing a hand over her hip. “Or is it my panties?” She turns her lower body until that plump little ass of hers is facing me, and she runs her finger up under the edge of the red silk covering it. “Don’t you like red?”

I take one deep breath, then another, before I bite out my thoughts on the subject. “I actually love red. I’d love to fist my hands in red hair. I’d love to slide my tongue between red lips. And, right now, all I can think about is how much I’d love to rip red silk to shreds and eat something I didn’t find in the cabinet. So, unless you’re agreeable to all of those things happening in the next thirty to forty-five seconds, I highly suggest you cover that sweet ass of yours before I sink my teeth into it.” It’s my turn to smile. “Does that answer your question?”

She’s speechless, but she’s also hesitant. For the space of about four excruciatingly long breaths, she just stares at me, debating. I can see it. I can see that she’s thinking about my words, thinking about what they mean, how they’d feel coming to life on her skin. But in the end, she chickens out.

Slowly, Haley backs away from me and makes her way to the bed. I purposely turn away from her so that I don’t have to live with the mental image of her sliding black denim over that porcelain skin. All it would do is make me want to peel it right back off.

When she returns, I set out breakfast, and we eat in companionable silence. About halfway through, she’s sipping from her bottled water, watching me over the rim. Her eyes wrinkle at the corners, and I know she’s smiling.

We both burst out laughing.

That gives me a hard-on, too.