I don’t want to lose her. I can’t.

When I pull up to the Chap Weston Museum and Ranch, I growl to myself at the realization that it’s the grand reopening and the place is packed. There’s not a spot open in the newly expanded parking lot. I circle it twice, tapping impatiently on my steering wheel and hopin’ a slot will open up. When one doesn’t, I get tired of waitin’ and drive my truck onto the freshly landscaped grass and park it there. I’ll fuckin’ pay for the flowerbeds to be fixed. I don’t care. Right now I just want to see my Natalie.

I slam out of the truck and up the path. There’s a short line waitin’ to get in, and I push ahead of them. Someone protests but no one stops me. Inside, the place is twice as crowded, and I push past two rooms crammed full of people before someone taps me on the shoulder. “You need to wait your turn, mister,” a woman with a baby under her arm and two kids behind her tells me, giving me her best mom glare.

“I ain’t here for the tour,” I say, tryin’ to push past.

A big man—probably her husband—moves in front of the doorway to the next room, blockin’ me. He crosses his arms over his chest. “You need to stop and think about what you’re doing, sir.”

Fuck, enough with this. I’m normally the good-natured Price brother, but right now, I’m about to punch a man in the face. “And you need to move—”

“What’s going on?” a woman asks in a bright, chipper voice. Suddenly there’s a pink cowboy hat at my side, and for a flash of a second, I think it’s Natalie. But it’s only the actress I hired to do the tour. She’s dressed similar to Natalie’s old costume, her hair in pigtails. “Oh, Mr. Price!” She beams at me. “Are you here for the grand opening?”

“I’m looking for Natalie,” I tell her. “Natalie Weston.”

“Oh!” She gestures past her. “I think she’s actually helping out in the gift shop right now—”

I grab her by the shoulders and gently move her to the side. “That’s all I needed to know.” I step forward but the man’s still blocking my way, and I give him a deadly look.

“It’s all right, sir,” the actress tells the man. “Mr. Price is the owner.”

I don’t correct her. Ain’t got time for that shit. All I care about is that the man moves to the side and then I rush past him, frantically tearing through the crowded rooms and looking for the gift shop.

I can’t be too late. I refuse to think it. If I can get her to hear me out, there’s still a chance for us.

I burst into the gift shop, and to my frustration, it’s twice as crowded as any other room. People are grabbin’ up souvenirs like they’re goin’ out of fashion. The tiny cafe tucked in the corner has a huge line, and I can hear the coffee machine’s frother goin’ a mile a minute. I look around desperately for Nat, but she’s dark-haired and short and doesn’t stick out in a crowd. Is she not here? Did I miss her? Or is she hidin’ from me? The thought wrenches my heart. If I’ve lost her—

“A double mocha latte?” a familiar voice calls out, and as I look in that direction, I see a familiar arm holding up a coffee in a Chap Weston decorated disposable cup. “Double mocha latte? Who had it?”

Nat.

Thank god.

I move forward, pushing people aside. There she is, lookin’ just as pretty as ever. Her hair’s down around her shoulders and curled slightly, and she has a pretty, pale pink dress on that makes her look all peaches and cream. Her lips part in surprise as I move forward and take the coffee out of her hand.

“Hey, that’s mine,” someone says, protesting.

I put the coffee down on the counter and take her hands in mine. Her mouth is open slightly and she stares in shock at me. “Clay?”

Fuck. I’m just so glad to see her. She’s here. I caught her before she could walk out of my life again. The emotions I’ve been holding back for the last two weeks rush through me with staggering force, and I drop to my knees and bury my face in her skirts, my arms locked around her waist. “Don’t ever leave me,” I tell her raggedly. “Never, ever again.”

“Oh . . . honey,” she says softly, and her hand strokes my hair. “I wasn’t leaving. I just wanted to give you a little room to breathe.”

“I don’t need room to breathe. I need you.” I look up at her. “You’re all I’ve ever needed.”

The look on her face is beautiful to see. A tiny, understanding smile curves her pretty mouth and she strokes her fingers over my short beard. “I know it’s been a hard few days, Clay. I just didn’t want you to feel like you had to rush on my account. I know there’s a lot demanding your time right now—”

I shake my head, because this last hour or two, when I thought I lost her again, has made things crystal clear to me. Nothing matters if I don’t have her. She makes me happy. “I love you, Natalie Weston.”

Someone in the crowd “awwws.”

Nat’s smile grows wider, radiant. “I love you, too, Clay Price. I always have. I’ve been waiting for you to say that, you know. I think I’ve always been waiting for you.”

I get to my feet and cup her face, bending so I can give her a kiss. I claim her mouth with a fierce, possessive locking of lips, showing her just how damn much she means to me.

“This is a very sweet moment,” someone nearby says, “but can you guys do that somewhere away from the counter? I’m trying to make coffee here.”

Nat pulls away, her eyes shining. “My bedroom’s upstairs, remember?” she whispers.

“Say no more.” I lock my hands under Nat’s hips and lift her into my arms. She gives a little scream of surprise and flings her arms around my neck, pressin’ her tits near my face. Takes everythin’ I have not to plant a kiss on ’em, but there’s dozens of people watchin’ us right now. I push my way through the crowd, toward the back of the house where I remember the stairs are, my woman in my arms.

It isn’t until we’re up the stairs that I set Natalie down. A glance toward the far end of the hall shows the double doors of Chap Weston’s rooms are closed, and I half wonder if my girl’s gonna head down there like she did last time, and talk to her daddy. I want to tackle her into bed, but I know the nurturer in her always wants to make sure that everyone’s doing okay, even her asshole old man.

But she doesn’t even look in that direction today. She puts a finger to her lips and opens the door to her room, then tugs me inside.

And . . . wow. I remember sneakin’ into Nat’s room once as a teenager, back when we were datin’ for the first time. I remember that everything was pink and white and girlish, like she was five years old instead of sixteen. Now, seven years later, I’m a little startled to see that it hasn’t changed a bit. Nat still has a ruffled white canopy bed and pink walls. There’s a fluffy white throw rug on the floor, delicate white dressers, and a chest covered with worn stuffed animals off to one side. It still looks like the room of Shirley Temple instead of a grown woman.

“Uh,” I say softly.

“I know,” Nat says, and moves to my side. She buries her face against my chest. “It’s a hideous room. But my dad thought I was a little girl—emphasis on ‘little’—until I graduated. I was going to change it, but then there wasn’t time, and then when there was time, there wasn’t any money. So . . . yeah.” She slides her hands around my waist. “I hope it isn’t too much of a boner killer.”

“Ain’t nothin’ that could kill the boner I have for you,” I admit. “Though this might be close.”

She giggles, and the sound is so sweet and lovely that it makes me ache all over again. Just bein’ in her presence makes me hard. God, I love this woman.

“Maybe just close your eyes,” she murmurs, and tucks her head against my chest again.

“Nah. I’d miss out on gettin’ to look at you.” I smooth my hand down her silky hair. “I thought I’d lost you. Thought you were gone for good.”

“Absolutely not. Remember that our contract states that I’m at your disposal.”

That fuckin’ contract. “I’m sorry I made you sign it. I shoulda came to you and just asked you out on a date, like a normal person.”

Her hands smooth up and down my back, the soft motion both soothing and erotic all at once. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t have my share of normal people in my life. I probably wouldn’t have understood the question.”

I chuckle.

“I wouldn’t have left you,” she tells me in a gentle voice. “Never. I’ve actually been scared for the last few weeks that you’re the one tired of me, and I’ve been wondering how I’m going to cope when you send me away again.”

“You crazy?” I tighten my arms around her, wonderin’ how I’m gonna manage to get this dress off her without distractin’ her from her thoughts. “I’ve been in love with you all over again since you kissed me in the limo and let me know how mad you were about it.”

“I’m glad you say that,” Nat admits with a sigh. “Because I’ve been in love with you all over again since the beginning, and I thought I was being too clingy.”

“You were?” I frown. “You cried after we had sex.”

“Well, yeah,” she admits, and pokes my side. “You rather ungraciously pointed out that you’d paid me to have sex, and here I was all in love with you again, and it made me feel guilty.”

I groan. I probably did say that. “I’m not real smooth with words, Nat. You might have noticed that.”

“I might have,” she teases. “You might have also noticed that I tend to not ask questions, and then I get my feelings hurt without telling you how I truly feel.”