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“Rory?”
I blinked at Beau’s voice, and his squeeze on my hand pulled me back to the present.
“Did I say something wrong?” he asked. “You looked…concerned there for a minute.”
I shook my head, plastering a smile on my face.
“No, I’m fine. Let’s go. I’m starving and I want to get something to eat before you have your filthy way with me.”
I released his hand, nudging my horse into a trot. With the picnic basket tied to the back of his saddle, Beau couldn’t go much faster than a walk, so he was forced to lag behind. I reached the clearing first, guiding my horse through the thick pines. While Beau caught up, I did my best to clear my head. Dismounting, I let my horse wander and graze.
I couldn’t deny that the thought of afternoon sex with Beau sounded like heaven on earth. Every time he touched me, my body lit up like a firecracker and I craved him more than I did before. But was that all he wanted? Just sex?
By the time Beau showed up, his mouth was set in a firm line with no trace of his charming smile from earlier. After climbing off his horse, he unhooked the picnic basket. When he passed it to me, I took it, but he didn’t let go.
“Are you all right, darlin’?”
I faltered at the soft concern in Beau’s voice. He really did care about me, no matter what his intentions were. I hated that I kept worrying when I should be having my fill of fun with him now.
Since I didn’t answer right away, Beau set the basket aside and grasped my chin between his thumb and the knuckle of his forefinger.
“Talk to me, Rory,” he said. “Something has been on your mind for a while. What is it?”
I glanced down, sliding my arms around his middle to steady myself.
“Am I…a fling to you?”
Beau blinked. Confusion flashed across his face, followed by bewilderment. Then a muscle flexed in his jaw.
“No. You’re not. I swear.”
I nodded, tracing the outline of the buttons on his shirt one at a time with my fingertip.
“I can’t do flings, Beau,” I said.
“Sweetheart, I know that.”
I love you sat on the tip of my tongue. It was too soon. Too early. But I wanted to say it, I wanted to tell him, even if it sent him running for the hills.
“Look,” Beau said. “I’ll prove it.”
He pulled a scrap of paper from his back pocket. It was stained with coffee mug rings and wrinkled.
“You have me thinking of the future, Rory.”
Beau handed the paper to me. In thick, scratchy pencil lines was the layout of a house—two bedrooms, a kitchen, a living room, a dining room, a nursery. Off to one side of the house was a small square with a scribbled label: garden.
“Beau.” I couldn’t take my eyes off the paper. “What is this?”
“It’s our home, darlin’.”
My gaze darted up to his face. A small, gentle smile spread across his lips that made my heart ache.
“I’ve never wanted anything like this with anyone else,” Beau went on. “The thought never crossed my mind. With you, it’s all I can think about, every minute of the day.”
My vision blurred until the pencil lines grew hazy. After one date, Beau had sketched out a house for us, complete with a garden and a nursery for our family. He scrubbed the back of his neck.
“I didn’t mean to show you any of this yet. I was going to save some money first. Then look into getting land. Or talking to my boss. He might allow us to build on a portion of the ranch. But then I talked to my ma about you in the middle of the night and I couldn’t get the idea of that house out of my head so I put it on paper—”
