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I feel a little shiver of pleasure go through me at the thought of my husband. The way it has every time I’ve thought it, or said it, in the past few weeks.
I prop my shoulder against the doorframe of the barn and watch as Torin brushes his horse, murmuring softly to her. I take in the way the soft blue flannel moves over his broad shoulders and muscled arms. Along with the way the worn denim hugs his ass, hips, and thighs. I even like the beat-up brown cowboy boots on his feet. These are the same ones he sent in the photo when we were texting.
This isn't the first time I've seen him dressed for ranch work, of course. But it never fails to make a hot swirl of want go through me. He doesn’t look like a prince right now. He looks like a hot guy who works with his hands for a living. Not a guy who can use those hands to simply sign a piece of paper and make policies that affect thousands of people’s lives.
Every time I think too hard about who he really is, it makes my heart pound. But I’m not sure if it’s anticipation of the amazing things he can and will do. Or if it’s nerves.
Being here on the ranch together makes it easy to forget where we really are.
What we really are.
We've been here for almost two months, getting the farm up and going, and enjoying our honeymoon.
We’ve been very much enjoying our honeymoon.
We haven't left the ranch since we came here after arriving on Cara. We’d spent two days at the palace, getting to know Torin’s family, getting a tour of the palace and grounds, and getting a crash course in How to Be a Princess. But those lessons were cut short when Torin got frustrated, packed up our bags, and Jonah drove us to The Rogue himself.
We’re not entirely alone. There are plenty of staff. The ranch runs at full capacity even when Torin isn't here. There's a ranch manager named Finn. There are also several ranch hands as well as a young woman named Marnie who is the housekeeper and cook for the guys. She also takes care of the main house when Torin is here.
Jonah and Linnea are here too, staying in Jonah’s house on the property. Jonah is here for security and Linnea has appointed herself our public relations director.
But we spend plenty of time alone.
Wonderful, sexy, sweet, often-naked time alone.
The first two indoor farm buildings were completed within three weeks, a feat that is still amazing to me, but which Torin noted proves what money, influence, and determination can accomplish.
The plants all arrived the very next day. Because we planted mostly mature plants and trees, most of the crops are already flourishing. But we want everything functioning well and producing abundantly, along with having the entire newly hired farm staff fully trained before we start inviting people to visit.
The final farm building has only been complete for about two weeks now. We have two additional buildings ready to go but they’re empty, waiting for later expansion. We’ve started with small crops that will be the most impressive. Things that Cara has never grown fresh, and things that will really emphasize how amazing having indoor farms will be. Coffee, avocados, citrus fruits, vanilla bean plants, even a few tropical flowers simply because they are gorgeous and will make an impression.
All of this has been a great excuse for us to hide out.
We've been supplying Linnea with plenty of candid shots of us around the ranch, at the farm, and just around the house. Shots of us cooking together, cuddling on the couch, shots of Torin's arms wrapped around me from behind, kissing my neck, a shot of him dipping me back after dancing in the kitchen. Lots of shots and captions that are meant to show the people of Cara that their prince is happily married to their new princess.
It seems to be working. Our posts get an incredible amount of interaction. Sure, there are plenty of people who want to see us out in public, but for now they’re content with knowing we’re enjoying one another on our honeymoon.
"You're such a good girl," Torin murmurs to the horse. He pats her a final time.
"I’ll bet you say that to all the girls you play cowboy with," I say.
He pivots to look at me. "Hey, princess.” A slow, sexy smile curls his mouth. “I do actually,” he says, pulling off his work gloves. “But I promise you’re my best good girl."
I push off the doorjamb and walk toward him, carrying the basket full of the surprise I've brought to show him.
"Damn, green rubber boots never looked so good," he says, letting his gaze rake over me from head to toe slowly.
We’ve had so much sex. So much sex. In all different rooms, on all different surfaces, in all different positions. And yet, his eyes on me can fire my blood in an instant.
"Hang on." He pulls out his phone, holding up a hand to stop me.
I stop, balancing the basket on my hip, and give him a quizzical look. "What?"
He snaps a photo of me. "This is definitely going on socials."
I look down at myself and laugh. I'm wearing shorts with the boots. Even though it’s August, it only gets into the upper fifties here during the day—cold for a born and bred Louisiana girl—but the farm buildings are hot and humid. Just the way I like it. I have dirt streaked on my legs and my arms. I'm wearing only a green tank top and my hair is pulled back in a ponytail. I look like I've been working in a garden all day.
"You can't post that."
