I crawled into my sleeping sack so pumped I felt like I had just completed the hardest training camp the Special Forces had ever invented.

The feel of her.

My hands started tingling at the memory. I could still taste her on my tongue.

It had taken all my self-control to stop myself from pulling her over and taking her, roughly. I knew I could have. I knew she would have liked it.

My cock was still so goddamn hard it felt like it was about to burst.

But every instinct in me was telling me to not rush too much. Tonight had already been a lot. The kiss at the camp fire, and then tasting her underneath the stars.

Slow it, Starling, I said to myself. Don’t overwhelm her.

I knew Gemma, knew her as well as I knew my own hand. She was a passionate woman, but she was also a sentimental one. She wanted this as much as I did, I could sense that. But her mind might get in the way. Misguided loyalty to Jack, for one thing.

I knew women. I knew that guilt could creep into their minds and color everything. Gemma had a code, whether that was right or wrong or misplaced. But it was there.

And what about my code? The bro code, that you never, ever hit on a woman who belonged or had belonged to your friend.

I felt it, had felt it for a long time, which was why I had stayed away from here. It was too hard seeing her.

But Jack was dead. Not just in the physical sense. The Jack I knew had died a long time before he took a bullet in the desert.

I waited for the guilt to grip me. Imagined Jack’s face, contorted with rage at what I had just done. But it never came.

A coyote howled in the distance, mournful and slow. Turning over in the sleeping bag, I reflected it was probably because of the way he had treated her. The other women, the neglect.

You never deserved her Jack, I thought sadly. You had a jewel in your grasp, and you threw her away like a piece of trash.

Your loss, buddy. I am going to make that woman shine again.

My claim predates yours.

* * *

I could smell the coffee brewing as I lifted my head off the pillow the next morning. Stepping out into the cold morning air, I spotted her immediately.

She was busy, preparing breakfast and brewing the coffee. Some of the other men were already up and about. I walked away to relieve myself, then came close to the fire.

“Chilly morning,” I remarked, just to say something. Just to have her turn her head my way.

She looked up, startled. She hadn’t seen me coming.

“That it is,” she said. “You’ll need a coffee, I’m thinking.” She grabbed a mug, pouring the coffee and handing it to me.

“Much obliged.” I took it from her. Our hands touched.

Her face had turned a pretty pink. I knew it wasn’t just from the heat of the camp fire.

“Lance...” She trailed off, biting her lip.

Before she could say anymore, more men started climbing out of the tents, approaching the fire. She looked at me, as if there was something she needed to say.

But it was too late. The day had begun. We finished breakfast, packing up quickly. We were on our way again.

The day had turned hot after the chilly start. My mind was on the task, getting the cattle to Ryan’s Ranch. I started to remember all the things I had loved about life on the land.

I couldn’t believe I had been away so long.

Wyoming. The land of my childhood. The vast open spaces. The gorges and mountains.

It lay before me like a gift, one that I had squandered before. I had travelled all over the world, but there was nothing like this corner of it.

Home, I guess. It was reeling me back in, big time.

My eyes sought Gemma. There she was, alongside the wagon.

Seeing her made me realise maybe I could have it all. The home. The land. The woman.

It was like she felt my gaze. She turned, staring at me.

But her face didn’t soften. Instead, she looked troubled. She turned quickly to the front.

I felt a stab of unease.

Jack was back.

I could feel him coming between us, like a wind blowing alongside the tumbleweeds.