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“I could take a pretty good guess,” I said, taking her hand in mine. I felt bad about her ever-increasing budget, but damn she was sexy discussing all these improvements. Once again, I was in awe of this woman and her multitudes.
“So what brings you by?” she asked, squeezing my hand.
“I've been thinking about last night,” I began, my voice quieter now, laced with a vulnerability I rarely showed. “About what I said . . . and what it means for us.”
Eryn turned to face me, a small furrow forming between her brows. “Gray, you don't have to feel pressured into anything because of what you said. I understand if it's too soon or if you’ve changed your mind?—“
I cut her off with a gentle touch to her lips, silencing her words. “Let me talk, woman. You wanted me to open up, well now I’m open.”
She laughed, kissing my finger and pulling it down to hold my hand in hers.
Taking a deep breath, I met her gaze, letting her see the depth of my feelings. “I'm not good with words, but when I'm with you . . . It's like everything inside me settles, like the chaotic storm in my head just stops when you're around. You’re sunshine in a place that’s been dark for far too long.”
Her eyes softened, and she stepped closer, her hand reaching up to cup my cheek. “Gray, you have no idea how much your words mean to me. To know that I have that effect on you, that I can bring light into your world . . . it means everything to me.”
I leaned into her touch, savoring the warmth of her hand against my skin. “I’ve never been good at this kind of thing. Talking about feelings and such. But with you, it's different. It's like I can't help myself.”
“And you don't have to,” she whispered, her breath mingling with mine. “Just be yourself, Gray. That's all I want.”
“Good. So no more hidin’ or worryin’ about what others think. You’re my woman and I’m gonna kiss you whenever I damn well please, even if it’s in front of your whole fuckin’ crew.”
She laughed at that, but her face turned coy. “So I’m your woman, huh?”
“Mmmhmm. After last night? You best believe it.”
“Don’t you think you should ask me?”
“What, like all official? You wanna wear my letterman jacket?”
“Maybe I do,” she laughed.
“Alright then, Eryn Blake. Will you be mine?”
“Okay yes,” she said, her eyes twinkling in the sun.
“Good, ‘cause Mama and Gran have got plans for you tonight.”
“Oh I know. They were here at seven on the dot to invite me over.”
“You sure you can handle the Anderson women?”
She smirked, kissing my cheek and waltzing away, swinging those hips that made me wild.
She turned back and grinned. “I can handle anything.”
* * *
After returning from Eryn’s, I stood in the silence of my house, observing the open floor plan. It was a space typically reserved for quick meals eaten over the kitchen counter and boots kicked off after a long day on the ranch. Tonight, it would see laughter and conversation, the kind that had become scarce since Dad passed.
I glanced around, noticing dust bunnies in the corners and the disarray of my belongings. My hands, more accustomed to the reins of a horse or the grip of a ranch tool, now picked up old magazines and straightened cushions. The annoyance of being volun-told into hosting buzzed at the back of my mind, but there was an undercurrent of something else—anticipation, maybe even hope.
I couldn't deny the way Eryn brightened every room she entered, her laugh infectious, her spirit undeniably warm. In contrast to my own grumpy nature, she was a ray of sunshine in the sometimes-overcast world of Red Downs Ranch. And I wanted her here, sharing this space, infusing it with her light.
With a sigh that felt like surrender, I set about preparing the house for the evening. I dusted the shelves, lined with family photos and rodeo trophies, and placed fresh wildflowers in a vase—a touch I knew Eryn would appreciate.
Moving to the dining area, I unfolded the linen tablecloth and spread it across the table, smoothing out the creases. The china, rarely used since it mostly held memories of dinners with my late father, clinked softly as I set it down. Each place setting was meticulously arranged; even the silverware was polished. I might not have been thrilled about playing host, but if I was going to do it, it'd be done right.
Lastly, I dimmed the lights and lit a few candles, their flickering glow casting a warm ambiance through the room. It was a small touch, but the kind of detail that could turn a simple dinner into a memorable night.
