The second Grace Patterson came into view from the sidewalk carrying shopping bags, I knew something was up. She refused to go into detail, bringing all the bags around my desk and depositing them at my feet. They were from Thatcher. That was all she told me before she complimented me on my aqua-rimmed glasses and left.

All from Thatcher? I stared at the various colored bags, afraid that if I opened them, it would be like opening a part of my heart that would allow Thatcher inside.

“Where’d you get all the bags?” Miranda snuck up next to me and positioned her butt along the arm of my chair.

“Thatcher Patterson. I stayed with him last night after the fire.”

“Is Adrian still out of town?”

“Yes, but that is another discussion all on its own.”

“Have you heard from the fire marshal yet?” she asked, trying to peek into the bags. I swatted her hand away.

“Not yet. But it’s still early. There were a few guys milling around there this morning when we drove by. It looked awful. All of our stuff-” My voice caught in my throat as my vision blurred with unshed tears. Miranda pulled me into a one-armed hug.

“I’m sorry, Abby.”

“I know. Me too. Have you written about it yet?”

“I’m working on it. But I was hoping you would tell me what happened once you heard from the fire marshal.”

“I will,” I sniffed.

“Now, are you going to look through these or make me?”

“No, but you can sit here for moral support while I take a peek at them.”

“Fair enough.”

I opened the first bag which held a bunch of clothes for Thayer. Spider-Man t-shirts, Batman shirts and a few other superhero items. The second bag had a Spider-Man blanket and my heart expanded fifty-times its normal size inside my chest. That Thatcher. The man drove me insane and I bet he just knew it.

“Awfully nice of the guy, no?”

“Oh yeah, it’s awfully nice of him. I can’t believe he went through the trouble.”

“Why can’t you?”

I glanced up at Miranda, “I don’t know. He comes across sometimes like he’d like nothing better than to see me disappear.”

When Miranda didn’t say anything, I continued glancing through the packages. Bras and panties for me as well as some lounge shorts and comfy-looking camisoles. Two pairs of jeans and a couple pairs of shorts as well as some way-too-nice blouses and tank tops that I’d never find at a garage sale. All my size. That sneaky man must have gone through our clothes yesterday to see what sizes we wore. A few items were much sexier than I would have ever purchased but after wearing the same clothes I had on yesterday, which even washed, I still swear smelled like smoke, I was grateful for anything.

“I can’t believe he went through all the trouble. When’s Adrian getting back into town?”

“Well, about him…” I spoke in a hushed tone, deciding now, with the office mostly empty because of lunch, was the perfect time to tell Miranda about my situation. I explained in detail everything that happened between Adrian and I, as well as all the unfinished business between Thatcher and me. I left out Thayer and Miranda didn’t question that part, which was a relief. I wasn’t sure I wanted to explain that to anyone yet.

“And Thatcher knows this, right? About you and Adrian?”

“Oh yes, he knows. Which is why I think he’s been being so sweet to me and all. He wants his chance.”

“Are you going to give it to him?”

“I don’t know, Miranda. A large part of me wants to. But part of me is so scared that he’ll back out and come to his senses. Realize a family isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be. After my heart is involved. Like it was last time.”

“Sometimes you have to just go for it.” There was a wistfulness in her eyes as she spoke and I figured she was referring to Ryan. Their relationship had been difficult at first. Miranda still dealing with the after-effects of her wild-child youth as Lone Star’s Problem Child and Ryan being Lone Star’s Poster Child, well, the relationship had difficulties in the beginning. Knowing Miranda, I knew her to be extremely willful and one to get the job done. I no doubt expected she went after Ryan the same way.

“I tried that once and Thatcher broke my heart. I’m not completely certain I can go through another round of Thatcher.”

Miranda laughed, “Abby, something tells me going any number of rounds with Thatcher would be a good thing.”

I shivered at her implication. Yes. Even I couldn’t deny the unspoken chemistry between us. The attraction that brewed stronger than any coffee or tea I’d ever had, squeezing all of the air around us so that when I was near him, all I could feel was him. All I could smell was his vanilla smell that got my insides crying for relief. Had me wondering if he would still be the man that talked dirty to me while he was doing dirty things to me.

I didn’t need to know any of that. But I wondered. If I was completely honest, I was hoping. ‘Cause even though he didn’t think so, Thatcher sure had a way with words. My nipples hardened as I tried to get the mental image of his large hand looming above my thighs ready to entice them open, out of my mind.

“I better give him a call and thank him for all this stuff.”

“Better yet, why don’t you stop over there really quick? No one’s going to mind you taking a lunch break, especially with everything you went through yesterday.”

“Really? I’ll walk down quickly. It won’t take me too long.”

“Abby, I promise. We can handle the phones and any visitors without you. Go tell the man thanks. He did this from his heart and something tells me, he’s willing to be far more vested in you guys than you believe.”

After shoving all the bags underneath my desk, I stepped out into the bright sunlight, immediately loving the way the sun felt against my skin. As I walked the block and a half toward the feed store, I marveled at how well shop owners kept up their brick buildings along Main Street and what a great community I lived in. Mrs. Reynolds came out of the florist and stopped in front of me.

“Why hello, Abby.”

“Mrs. Reynolds, how are you?”

“I’m doing okay now that I have witnessed myself that you are okay after that terrible fire.”

“We are okay. It’s just the loss…” My voice trailed off because what could I say? It was evident what the damage of a fire could do to people and I felt awfully silly crying to Mrs. Reynolds, my middle school choir teacher, about all the things I’d lost. All of my pictures of Thayer that I was never going to get back, broke my heart into a zillion pieces. The pain was literally overbearing at moments.

“Oh dear, trust me, I know. It’s unbearable. Let me know if you need anything, anything at all, you hear?”

“Yes Ma’am. Thank you.”

“You take care of that young man of yours. I bet he’s shaken up quite a bit.”

“He isn’t as bad as I thought. But I am and I will. He’s with my mama right now so he’s in good hands.”

Dale Andrews was just getting into his old beat-up pickup truck as I got to the parking lot of the feed store. I didn’t know him all that well but I did know he lived on the opposite side of town from Thatcher, out in the country on a piece of land that used to be kept for pig farms.

“Good day, Abby. How’s Lorna been lately? Haven’t seen her at Rummy. Has she caught the cold?”

“No. Mama is doing great. She’s busy renovating her house, which is why you probably haven’t seen her at cards.”

“Hear anything about what caused that fire?”

“Nope. Not a peep.”

“They’ll figure it out soon enough. Probably faulty wiring.”

“I hope it’s only that and nothing more serious.”

He hopped into his truck and I took a shaky breath before entering Thatcher’s shop. Once inside, my eyes zeroed in on him right away. He was sitting at a stool near the main counter where his cash register was, with a pen between his teeth. Had he looked this amazing this morning when he dropped me off and I hadn’t noticed? The red in his shirt brought out his tanned skin-tone and that damn tattoo of his that hugged his body like a glove, threatened to rub me in all the right ways. His piercing blue eyes brightened up the entire image and I realized in that moment that I’d already given this man my heart.

My whole heart.

A long time ago.

What that meant for us now, I didn’t know. All I knew was that I was irrevocably in love with Thatcher Patterson and as long as I’ve tried to deny it, well, it hadn’t ever gone away. His azure eyes continued to gaze at me and standing just inside his shop, I gave myself a moment to take him all in. To soak him up like I’d just soaked up the sun.

His eyes and those crazy-long black lashes. His broad nose and high cheekbones. My fingers twitched, demanding me to graze their fingertips along his stubble and along his soft, perfectly shaped lips. I wanted to so badly. I missed him. The intimate feeling of him. The soft, loving, care-free side of him. Hell, I missed the demanding, arrogant side of him, too. Last night was a teaser really. Dipping my toes into the water to see if I wanted to jump in.

His thoughtfulness regarding the clothes – Thayer’s blanket – had me wanting to jump right in even if it’d only been a day. On some level, it’d been five years for me. Five years of wondering about him. Five years of recalling the nights we’d spent together talking and laughing and making love. Five long years of burying any ideas or thoughts about him, about us, inside of me that it’d just become the way it was.

His dimples made an appearance as his mouth turned up into that wicked grin that drove me crazy on so many occasions so long ago and I smiled back.

“Thank you for all the clothes. Your sister dropped them off a little while ago.”

“You’re welcome. I thought it would help a little, at least.”

“It helped a lot. Now, I can go home tonight instead of spending the evening shopping.”

“When you say home, do you mean my home?”

My body heat ticked up a notch, “yeah,” I nodded, “I mean your home.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

“How was Thayer this morning?”

“He was great. He helped me move a few things, he played and he ate some peanuts. The guys came in and we all sat around like-” he stopped. “We had a good time.”

“Thanks for watching him. My mama insisted he spend the night with her since she hadn’t seen him over the weekend. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Why would I mind?”

“‘Cause you won’t see him tonight. It’ll just be you and…” my voice trailed as I realized what I was going to say. Tonight. Him and me. All alone. He stood, the metal of his stool screeching against the concrete floor as he pushed it back and came around to meet me at the door where I still stood rooted to my spot.

“After five years of watching you be married to one of my best friends, I’m finally able to spend an evening alone with you?”

“Mmmm-hmmm.”

“I love Thayer but I got to tell you, I’ve been looking forward to this moment for a long time.”

Me too. Although I didn’t dare voice it.

“Abigail Murphy, would you be my date tonight?”

“We can’t go out on a date, Thatcher. I don’t want the whole town seeing me with you. No one knows about my divorce just yet.”

“I know. I meant at home. Trust me, Baby, I don’t want to be anywhere with you except in the quietness of my house.”

I had trouble finding my voice so I did the only thing I could and nodded. Brazenly, I leaned over and placed the gentlest of kisses along his jaw, teasing my lips to high heaven as the feel of his prickly hairs caressed the sensitized skin. Soap teased my nostrils for a second, my nipples hardened and ached for his touch and my body hummed in delight at his closeness.

“What was that for?” his voice was rough and low.

“For the clothes,” I said nervously.

“Kiss me right and you have my word, I’ll buy you the moon.”

I laughed, “Someday I may take you up on that offer. But right now, I have to get back to work. You’ll be there to pick me up?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Phew. I released a long breath the second I walked out of the feed store and trudged back to work. Electric currents raced through my body as I thought about being alone with him tonight. What would happen? It was amazing how ready my body and mind was for Thatcher considering I used to be a married woman not that long ago. Was I acting foolish thinking of this? Adrian and I had never had sex and I couldn’t help it if my body was thrumming with excitement for Thatcher. He was the one and only man I’d ever had in my entire life.

I was reading too much into it. I doubt he was even thinking about sex with me any more than he was thinking about the dirt on his boots. One step at a time. Tonight with Thatcher was going to be a gift to treasure no matter what we did. All I could do was go along for the ride.

Once I got back to the office, I admired Thayer and my new clothes. Unbelievable. Not garage sale finds and definitely much sexier than anything I would have chosen. Once I got to Thatcher’s place, I decided I would put on one of these nice tops. It was a date after all.

“Did you hear the sirens? Bob and Tracey Underwood’s house caught fire.”

“No. You’re kidding me!”

“Just got word about it. I’m heading over there now. No way this is a coincidence.”

Miranda grasped her notebook tight to her chest as she ran outside and peeled out of her parking spot.

This was not good. Another fire in town? I agreed with Miranda. There was no way it could be coincidental. Fires, especially structural ones, just didn’t happen every day in Lone Star. Let alone twice in two days. In fact, a quick search on my computer pulled up an article we did on a house fire five and a half years ago. That and a few other brush fires where burning ditches had gotten out of hand.

Interesting. That year, there wasn’t simply the one house fire, but three. All within a week of each other. I printed each article out, tapping my foot as the stupid printer booted to life and spit my papers out.

Miranda hadn’t been the one to write the articles but a series of seemingly unconnected fires had burnt three homes to the ground that year. The first one occurred midday on a Sunday. The occupants, Jennifer and Terry Hesslink, had not been home when the fire occurred. They’d just gotten back from church to discover the fire department putting out the blaze. Mr. and Mrs. Hesslink’s cat had sadly not survived.

The second fire that week was on a Tuesday and happened just two blocks south of the Hesslinks and those homeowners Randall and Emily Collins, had not been home when the fire occurred either. Both had been at work and their two children, Emmalee and Randy, had fortunately been at school. The fire had started in the garage, where full gasoline cans had acted as an accelerant and the entire house had quickly gone up in flames. No one had been hurt and the fire was cited for wiring issues as the house had been built in 1938 and hadn’t any electrical updates.

“What the hell?” I muttered. Flipping to the third page I printed out, that fire happened on a Friday. It was on the opposite side of town away from the Hesslinks and Collins houses, but had acted in a similar manner. The fire department believed the propane tank from the grill was left on and a spark from the nearby electrical panel caused the house to burst into flames. With the explosion of the propane tank and it being situated near the kitchen of the home, most of the damage occurred to all of the upstairs bedrooms, making the house inhabitable.

Did this mean anything? Was it all purely coincidental? It had to be. I hadn’t heard from the fire marshal about what happened at my place and I wanted to know more now than ever. Because what if…what if it wasn’t accidental? What if someone intentionally set fire to my home? That stirred up a ruckus in me. Who the hell would do that? Why?

Finding the number to the fire marshal, I left a message asking about my situation and if he could please call Thatcher’s cell phone or the newspaper as soon as he came to a conclusion. Maybe this new fire would further complicate what they thought they found at my place. Who knew?

After that startling find, work went by rather slowly and I all but flew out the door when Thatcher’s black truck pulled up to the curb.

“Howdy, ma’am,” he greeted me as he helped me shove all of the bags into the back seat of his truck.

“Howdy to you. Thanks for picking me up. Actually, thanks for everything. Letting us stay, the clothes, the ride to-”

“Abigail, stop. You are welcome. You don’t have to keep thanking me. I’ve got other ideas for that.” He winked, his mouth turning up in a grin that caused my lady parts to sigh.

“I bet you do. Did you hear about the Underwood’s house?”

“Sure did. You know nothing can be kept quiet in this town. Farmer Ted told me about it.”

“I just can’t believe another house caught fire so quickly.”

“What are the odds?”

“Actually, I pulled up an article about that and maybe my brain’s just going crazy, but five years ago there were three houses that were demolished due to fires.”

“That so?” he cocked his head.

“Yes. All within a week’s time. One happened on a Sunday, a Tuesday and a Friday. Thankfully, no one was hurt. Well, except a cat in one but no humans.”

“Are you thinking these were all set intentionally?”

I looked at my window as the blur of houses turned into wide open fields as we made our way to his house.

“I don’t know what to think. The articles don’t mention anything other than them being accidents. The last article, the fire that happened on a Friday, merely mentions the other two homes burning and how in a town as old as Lone Star, it’s no real surprise things like that happened.”

“Still seems a bit too much.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

He parked the truck and helped me with all the packages as we went inside.

“What are we going to do about it?”

We? “I don’t know. I’m just being silly I’m sure. I called the fire marshal but still haven’t heard a darn thing about my place.”

“He’ll call as soon as he finds something out.”

“I know. It’s just nerve-wracking. The waiting and wondering. Now, I find this and that adds to the suspense.”

“It’ll all get settled soon enough.”

He carried my bags up to my room and I followed pretending not to admire his muscular butt as it flexed above me with each step he took.

“I hope,” I muttered. “Let me change and then we can do date night.” I pushed him out of the room and shut the door, leaning against it as I fretted about tonight.

Finding a cute red halter top Grace had purchased in one of the bags, I pulled it on and eyed myself in the bathroom mirror. Wow. I did look good. The cloth was soft and smooth against my skin. I don’t know how much something like this cost, but it was much too expensive for me. If it wasn’t clearance or garage sale, I didn’t buy it. The tag had been cleverly ripped off.

Looking at my reflection, my untamed hair that couldn’t decide if it wanted to be blonde or red and this amazingly soft blouse that clung to my breasts and tied around my neck reminding me of a fifties model in a swimsuit photo, I felt refreshed and whole. Better than I’d felt in a long time.

I took off my glasses and quickly swiped my bottom lip with some lip gloss that I’d managed to scrounge from the drugstore this morning, along with a few other necessities and made my way down to the kitchen. The anticipation of what we might be doing tonight was driving me crazy. I couldn’t stand the torture, about ready to jump out of my skin.

“Thatcher?” I called.

When I didn’t get an answer, I headed into the kitchen. That is when I saw him standing in the backyard. He’d foregone his t-shirt, his blue jeans riding low on his hips. If I had my phone, I’d snap a photo to commit this image into the books. His chiseled arms, flat stomach and the hair, oh my goodness, the hair on that man! It sparsely covered his chest, trailing itself into a thin line down the middle of his abs, disappearing into his jeans. My cheeks burned at the idea of seeing where that trail of hair ended up. How that looked. His chest glistened with moisture from the heat and humidity as he wrestled with an inflatable kiddie pool.

Why hadn’t I fought harder for him back then? When you love someone as much as I did him, you would think a person would put up more of a fight. But I didn’t. I just let him go. I took his word for it that he wasn’t ready for a future with me. With our son. I’d been so hurt and angry at him that I had no will to fight for what I wanted. I simply let him go. Never seeking answers about what he wanted. Why he did what he did.

Watching him fill the inflatable pool with blankets and pillows – still not comprehending what he was doing – I struggled with the idea that he’d changed. It takes a lot of change to run from a family to wanting a family and I wasn’t sure Thatcher had made that change. He said he had. But I’d believed in him before and look what happened.

Enough’s enough. I pushed away the negative thoughts, wanting to enjoy a great evening with him. This wasn’t a lifetime commitment. We weren’t doing anything that constituted a relationship by any means. Just go with the flow, Abby.

I stepped out onto the patio, bending down to pick Spider-Man up on my way toward Thatcher.

“What are you making?” I asked, not looking at his nakedness. Far away was amazing. Up close was pure torture.

“A reading spot,” he responded matter-of-factly.

I eyed the set-up warily. Wouldn’t be the worst spot. “For who?” I asked.

He stopped whipping one of the blankets in the air long enough to answer, “for us.”

“For us? We’re going to spend our evening reading?” Was this exciting? I’d never read with a man lying next to me. Adrian was never interested in reading and when I read, he’d either already gone to sleep or wasn’t home. To have a hot-blooded man next to me, each reading our own book, well, I don’t know if I would be able to concentrate.

“Not our entire evening, Cupcake. Just a little while. I plan to keep you awake all night with…stuff.”

My stomach damn near floated away at that. “What kind of stuff?”

“You’ll see soon enough, Abigail.” Finished with his reading spot, which I did want to test out, he smacked his hands together. “Dinner. You hungry?”

“Yes. But I’m making dinner for us. Do you like lasagna?”

He followed me back into the house and I deposited Spider-Man back into his habitat. Once I washed my hands, I began fumbling through his cupboards looking for the ingredients I would need to make dinner. Thatcher leaned against the sink watching me as I began to work.

“I didn’t tell you outside, but you look sexy as fuck in that get-up.”

“Thank your sister. I’m not used to these kinds of clothes.”

“Why not?”

I shrugged, “I can’t see spending a lot of money on things like this. Clothes, toys – things that get old far too quickly.”

“You look as good as you do now, I’d have to disagree with that sentiment.” He’d moved behind me, almost pressing into my backside as I readied dinner. “You look good enough to eat, Abigail.”

His lips skimmed along the crease of my ear and he shifted forward, his solid body pressing heavily into mine with his manhood snug against my butt; he pulled a glass from the cabinet above me.

“Just saying,” he whispered into my ear again. The tingles in my body were trying to convince me to turn around and capture him but just like that, he was gone.

“I can’t stand here and not help, what do you want me to do?”

“You could make a salad,” I suggested even though my mind was coming up with all of these other delicious things he could do. To me.

It went on like this for a while – he and I comfortable in the confinement of the kitchen, sharing each other’s space. Adrian and I always respected each other’s space. Every now and then, he’d make dinner or I would but we never did it together. There was always a respectable, mutual line drawn between us two that divided us. It was that thin line of love and Adrian and I were never in love with one another so that line was never crossed.

Thatcher, though, it was as if we understood each other. Knew where to stop and start – where I began and he ended and this past day, it sort of felt like there was no end. Our line just merely ran from him to me and back again.

“Thank you for making dinner,” he said to me, once he’d gone back for seconds.

“Thank you for the clothes and the place to stay. Temporarily,” I felt the need to add.

“No problem. You ready for the next part of our date?”

“Does it involve our reading spot?”

“Not yet, cupcake. We have so much more to do before then.”

“Like what?”

The corner of his mouth turned up, “It’s a surprise.”

I raised my eyebrows at him, “How can it be a surprise when I’m right here with you?”

“Finish eating and we’ll head out.”

“Fine.”

We finished our meal in silence and I helped him clean up the kitchen. Our bodies brushed against each other as I washed the dishes and he rinsed and I was so foolish because I didn’t realize how much I was missing being married to a man I wasn’t attracted to and in love with. I was repeatedly mentally kicking myself over and over for my desperation of not wanting to be a knocked up single mother. It was a choice I made at the time, I couldn’t go back.

There was no reason to be dwelling on that now. It’s just this idea of a real attraction with a man who was equally attracted to me, it was fresh and exciting.

I flinched as he flicked water into my face.

“What was that for?”

“What are you day-dreaming about?” he asked in a rough voice.

“Oh nothing.”

“Tell me or I’ll do it again.”

“No,” My heartbeat sped up at the thought of telling him the truth. That I wanted him so badly I ached with it. Even when my mind didn’t completely trust him.

More water sprinkled my face.

“Tell me.”

“Get out of here!” I cried. I pulled my hand out of the water and flicked as much water as I could into his face. Which was a lot. It dripped down his mouth and stubble and the collar of his shirt was partially wet.

“You’re asking for it now,” he grumbled.

I shrieked and tore out of the kitchen with Thatcher hot on my heels water dripping from my hands. I ran toward the stairs hoping I could make it to the sanctuary of my room but I was no match for him. His wet hands slid around my waist, taking me down along the stairs and I turned into him as he stumbled on to me.

“What were you thinking about?” his wet hands began tickling my sides as I thrashed against him, trying to get away.

“I’m not telling,” I managed between laughs.

His hands were all over me, tickling the skin along my ribs and the insides of my thighs. He was large, overpowering me with his body as he tortured me with his fingers. I squirmed and struggled, still trying to get away when suddenly his thick thigh intruded between my legs, pushing up against my sex and his hot mouth was over my nipple biting into the red cloth. I arched into him, my almost-dry hand tugging his head into my bosom so I could revel in the feel of him a moment longer.

I rubbed shamelessly against his thigh set between my legs while his reverent mouth sucked and bit into my breast. The position was perfect enough that I could have an orgasm any moment. I had no shame. Only desire. Aching desire for this man, a man I hadn’t had in such a long damn time. His teeth bit into my nipple, tonguing me through my top and before I knew it…

“You’re making me come,” I whimpered.

He didn’t speak, just pressed his thigh into me a little harder allowing me the chance to ride my orgasm through. He pulled away, a savage, hungry look in his eyes as he glanced about my body. His lips glistened as his tongue darted out and swiped at his bottom lip. His breathing was heavy as was mine, remnants of my unexpected orgasm. Oh, my God. My first real orgasm given to me by a man and not myself – not my toy – in five long and lonely years and neither of us were even naked. My cheeks heated at what I’d just done. At how desperate I must look to him sprawled out on the stairs like this.

His hand came down to the bulge in his pants and he blatantly adjusted himself as I watched, turning my desperation even further into need.

“You look like a fucking Goddess right now. Don’t be embarrassed,” he whispered before standing and pulling me to my feet with him. “Your wild eyes are fucking killing me. My cock…”

I looked down at the large bulge in his jeans and saw the wet spot on my shirt and it was hard not to be embarrassed by what I’d just done. What I’d let him do. About how desperate I was. How insane I probably seemed to him.

“I wasn’t imagining that we would do this tonight.”

“We’re not,” he replied.

We’re not? Hurt weaved through my heart at his confirmation, even though it’d been my thought to begin with. Did he not want to do…some of what we’d just done?

“Oh,” I said.

“Let’s go.” He stalked off and after releasing a deep breath, I followed behind. What got up his butt?

“Where are we going?” I asked, following him outside.

“For a ride.”

He collected a large bag from his garage and two black motorcycle helmets.

“Put this on,” he demanded, his voice still tight with anger. Disgust, maybe? I didn’t know what his issue was and that irritated me.

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“No. Not until you tell me what the hell just happened. I thought,” my voice trailed, “I thought you wanted to kiss me?”

“I didn’t just kiss you.” He dropped the bag on the four-wheeler and folded his arms across his chest causing the muscles in his forearms to flex.

“I know. I meant, well, not kiss me, per se, but you know, what just happened inside. You’re acting like you’re mad at me.”

His dimples came out in full force as he grinned. He found me amusing. Perfect.

“What happened in there Abigail? Say it.”

I swallowed, the spot between my thighs still throbbing, still begging for more.

“Hmmm, Abby?”

“The nipple biting.”

“Nipple biting,” his eyes darted to my uncomfortably hard nipples, “and the what?”

Why did nipple biting sound so good coming out of his mouth? That slow, definitive drawl that matched the movement in his eyes, had me upside down. His gaze drifted over all of me like the tunes of a slow country song. I was upside down and annoyed.

“You want to hear it? I thought you were the dirty talker? Fine. The unexpected orgasm, okay? You’re acting angry.”

“I’m far from angry. I’m tormented.”

“Tormented?”

“It’s no fucking secret that I want you Abigail. I hadn’t planned on that tonight. That, Christ, that was not my intention. But I liked it. More than liked it. You saw my cock, how hard you made me. Adrian never gave you an orgasm. So, by my calculations its been about four years and seven months, roughly. In fact, I can remember it down to the day. We had sex at that little apartment I rented on Fourth Street. We’d just come back from watching The Hunger Games at the movie theatre.”

I swallowed because those were the good days. And I remembered. And he remembered. I couldn’t believe he remembered that. It stuck in my throat right now because he ruined us after that. Not much later, I found out I was pregnant.

“I see you remember, too. Anyway, it was a good idea to stop just now. I could think of better ways to give you an orgasm. Let’s just leave it at that.” He backed away, giving me some breathing space.

“Oh and one more thing. I am the dirty talker. When the time is right, I’m going to talk dirty to you all night long. Because you will sleep with me, Abigail. It’s only a matter of time.”

I rolled my eyes at his cockiness. Dang it. He was right. I didn’t trust that the man was ready for a family but I trusted his bedroom skills and I couldn’t lie to myself that I didn’t want to experience any of that.

Again.

Soon.

He knew it, too.

“What’s the helmet for?” I asked, changing topics entirely.

“We’re going four-wheeling. Come on.”

Not too long after our frank discussion on sexual intent, Thatcher and I were flying through the river bed near Pepper Ridge, me holding on for dear life on the back of his ATV. We’d thrown on a few articles of clothing in addition to our motorcycle helmets Thatcher insisted were necessary for safe off-roading. My long sleeves and pants were a little large over my clothes, but I wasn’t about to be stabbed or scratched by a tree branch with the way he was driving.

I gripped his hips, my body pressed as tightly as I could into his broad back as we zipped and weaved through the shoreline of the river, over rocks, through shallow pools of water and eventually, up through the thick layer of trees where ATV paths had been previously carved out from other ATV enthusiasts.

It was exhilarating and freeing and it was amazing how knowledgeable he was with all of the paths and dirt tracks around the hills. We hadn’t spoken since we’d started our journey and when he slowed down, coming to a stop not far from the water’s edge, I was anxious to tell him how exciting this was.

“You having a good time?” he asked as he pulled his helmet off.

“The best! I’ve never done this before, Thatcher. I was nervous at first when you came around that big drop but then it opened up and the views, oh my gosh, are just amazing. Oh, my gosh, I’ve - why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re happy. I haven’t seen you happy. Not like this.”

I could feel myself blushing beneath his appreciation and I got lost in the moment. The shallow river moving enough that the lapping sounds swirled in my ears. His direct gaze was enough for me to look away from him. I haven’t experienced fun like this in so long. My life with Adrian was centered around Thayer so when we did fun things, it had always been for my son. One time we did a tank float down this same river, not too far up from where we were. Thayer had had a great time.

I’ve never had this heart-racing rush from doing anything this exciting before. And apparently, it showed. They say the truth can look a person dead in the eye and until that person is ready to face it, they don’t necessarily see it. And my truth was that these past five years with Adrian wasn’t about me living. I quickly catalogued any moments where I’d done things for me, where they’d been about me and I couldn’t come up with a single thing.

Dang pathetic.

His rough hand turned my chin making me look at him.

“Hey, it’s a good thing, right?”

“It’s a good thing.”

“Then where’d you just get lost to?”

“What are we doing Thatcher? Don’t get me wrong, this is the most fun I’ve had in so long. But seriously? The last five years of my life have been about watching the days go by. Instead of me taking life by the reins, I’ve been letting it drag me along. Now, you’re suddenly in my life and I’m getting mixed up.”

“About what?”

“About us.”