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He laughed, the rare sound music to my ears.
“Baby, I love you.”
I gasped and he rushed to continue.
“No, don’t say anything back. Please don’t. I’m not sayin’ this to get anything from you. I just need you to know it. I didn’t even know what love was until I met you, Eryn. And I’ve been a fool for trying to deny it this whole time. Yes, I want to fuck you until we’re both breathless and satisfied, but I want so much more than that. I want us. And it’s okay if you’re not there yet or we don’t know what that looks like yet. We can figure that out. But I want you to know, I’m never going to hold back or lie to you again.”
As Gray’s words washed over me, I knew that I wanted the same. I wanted him in every possible way. But I obeyed his wishes and kept quiet. There would be time for my own confession later.
For now, I kissed him, slow, deep, and with all the meaning in the world.
19
Eryn
I didn’t hate Gray Anderson after all.
20
Gray
The next morning, I woke with the weight of last night's confession sinking into my chest like a branding iron. Eryn Blake, socialite, heiress, influencer—whatever the fuck that meant—had wrangled a confession from me. I’d told her how I felt. Open and honest, like I’d never been before.
Love? I had no idea what it was. Not the kind that I meant now. Sure, I loved my family. I loved the horses and this land, this ranch. But romantic love was something I’d never understood.
I still didn’t understand it. But fuck, I was in it. Head over heels. Full stop.
“Dammit,” I muttered to the silence of my room, raking a hand through my short hair. It was still a mess from sleep, not that it mattered much. There wasn't anyone to impress out here on the ranch—except, apparently, Eryn. She’d managed to do what no storm, drought, or ornery stallion could: unsettle me.
The way her body felt against mine, the way I could drive into her, claim her, like no one else . . . it slayed me. By the time we’d gotten back to the stables, it was dark, and despite craving her body again, I knew she was tired and sore from the ride. Well, all of the rides.
I’d wanted her to stay with me, but she refused, saying we should take it slow. And now that I’d admitted my feelings, I wasn’t so sure I’d liked the idea of that. But I wanted to respect her wishes.
So I’d taken her home—next door, which was still wild to think about—and made her promise to prop a chair against the door since she still hadn’t had the damn lock fixed.
That was the first task on my agenda today.
I stood and stretched, muscles pulling tight from a long day in the saddle. And yeah, fucking Eryn made me use muscles I’d forgotten I’d even had. So I was a little more tender than usual. Not that I’d ever admit it.
I needed coffee and I needed water.
But before I could settle into my usual morning routine, the sound of an engine broke through the quiet, and I frowned at the unexpected intrusion. I strode to the window, pushing aside the curtain just enough to see a familiar dust cloud trailing behind Mama's beat-up truck she refused to part with, as it approached the house.
“Son of a bitch,” I swore under my breath. It was too early for visitors, even if those visitors were blood.
By the time I'd thrown on a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt, the front door was swinging open and in came the two most formidable women in my life: Mama and Gran.
“Gray Anderson, don't you look like you've been wrangling ghosts instead of cattle,” Gran declared, her keen eyes missing nothing as she swept into the room, her silver hair slicked back.
“I don’t work with the cattle,” I said, like always, and like always, no one cared.
“Morning, honey,” Mama said, pushing past me and into the kitchen with a bag of groceries in her arms.
“Morning, Mama, Gran,” I said, my tone resigned but warm. They had this way of turning up unannounced, their meddling ways wrapped up in the best intentions. “I would have carried that in for you.”
“Oh I know, but this isn’t heavy and I’ll need your help later.”
Uh oh.
