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He burst out laughing. “Banks and Candy’s kids probably won’t happen.”
I made a noise in the back of my throat. “Oh, it’ll happen.”
“What makes you say that?” He asked curiously.
“The fact that I watched Banks when I talked about Candy, and I could see the longing in his eyes,” I answered. “It’s going to happen.”
He patted my ass. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
I pressed a kiss to his pectoral, and curled in even closer to him.
“You can bet your bottom dollar on it,” I murmured. “And I’ll feel Candy out tomorrow when I meet with her.”
He pinched my bottom. “Go to sleep, baby.”
I did, but only after I said, very softly so he almost didn’t hear, “I love you.”
***
She lived. I’d gotten up twice in the night to check on her and eventually was able to feed her the rest of my concoction.
Not only did she live, but the next morning when Callum and I came out of the hayloft, she was on her feet and her new baby foal was feeding.
Honestly, she looked like nothing had happened to her at all.
“Hot damn.” Callum grinned wickedly. “Your pile of shit saved her.”
I whacked him on his chest and gestured to the front of the barn.
“I’m going to head back to the house really quick before I go make breakfast. Any special requests today?” I asked sweetly.
He pulled me in and laid a hot, wet kiss onto my lips before slapping my ass. “Something light.”Chapter 14I do what I want, when I want, where I want. As long as I do it before eight, because that’s my bedtime.
-Desi’s secret thoughts
Desi
We sat staring at each other for a full ten seconds.
In that ten seconds, we took each other’s measure.
Candy Ray Sunshine didn’t look like a Candy Ray Sunshine. I don’t know what I expected, to be honest. A hippie, for sure. I mean, I knew that she had a farm, and what I’d heard from Callum, she made her own soap using goat’s milk, spun her own yarn using her sheep’s wool. Hell, she even owned llamas at one point in time before she’d sold them. If that didn’t scream hippie, I didn’t know what did.
But the woman that came through the door wasn’t a hippie, not by a long shot.
She was tall, well over my height of five-foot-six. If I had to take a guess, I would say at least five-foot-ten, if not more. Her hair was long, sure, but it definitely wasn’t unruly. It was a sleek sheet of black down her back. It was so freakin’ glossy that it could definitely be used in hair commercials.
‘Maybe it’s Maybelline’ practically screeched away in my head.
Her eyes were a pale, pale gray. And her skin tone was on the darker side, as if she was of mixed heritage.
She was dressed in dark denim jeans, black knee-high boots, and the cutest little blank tank top I’d ever seen.
Then again, women with proportional bodies like Candy definitely had the ability to pull an outfit like that off.
I, on the other hand, couldn’t. Not even if I tried.
We were both standing in the empty shop, both staring at each other, and I knew she was looking at me just as I’d looked at her.
I was dressed in a tight compression tank top to keep ol’ Fred and Ethyl, aka my big ol’ breasts that refused to go down any at all, contained.
My tight workout leggings in a shade of plum were stained with sweat, and I was fairly sure my hair was a rat’s nest at best. My cheeks were still flushed, and I could feel the start of tears forming in my eyes.
“I want you!” I blurted.
Candy blinked, then grinned such a large, disarming smile that I wasn’t ready for it.
“You’ll be perfect!” I cried. “You look so professional and shit! Gosh, I can’t believe I waited so long to meet you!”
Candy’s smile got even wider, if that was even possible. And Jesus, her perfectly white straight teeth were blinding.
“You’re really pretty,” she blurted. “Holy cow!”
I blinked at the comment.
“Ummm,” I hesitated. “Are you sure you’re not seeing your reflection in the sweat on my cheeks?”
She snickered. “I’d kill for your body.”
I shook my head. “I’m delusional.”
She rolled her eyes. “Come on, don’t lie. You know you have the body that every man would salivate over. It’s no wonder Callum couldn’t stop talking about you when he brought Fern back.”
“Fern?” I asked.
“The donkey,” she said. “The one that was the reason he got hurt. How’s he doing, by the way?”
I shook my head. “He’s fine. Actually, he’s put a lot of muscle on since he hasn’t been able to run as much. His abs…”
She held up her hand. “Don’t even go there. When I think of Callum, I think of him.”
Sensing it was best not to broach that particular subject, I brought her inside and gestured to the table that was set up in the middle of the room.
