“Mirabeau?” Harmony’s eyebrows are so high, they almost disappear into her hairline.
“Don’t,” I warn. “We should be heading back.” I stand and walk to the door to begin pulling back on all my outer layers.
“You don’t want to stay for lunch?” Reba asks.
“I left something cooking at home. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay and to borrow some lights. Thank you, though.” Harmony joins me by the door. When she’s redressed, we say our goodbyes and step outside. The wind feels colder than our ride over. She shivers next to me.
“Do you want to ride home behind me. I’ll cut some of the wind. You’d be warmer,” I offer.
“Okay. Mirabeau,” I sigh as I take Joe’s reins in my hand and swing up on Hoss. Reaching down, I pull Harmony up behind me. Reacher races around us in the snow. I whistle for him, and we start back to the ranch.
Harmony scoots as close to my back as possible before burying her face in my coat. Her arms wrap around my waist. I slide them inside my coat to help keep her hands warm.
Just the feel of her hands on me, even though there are multiple layers of clothes separating us, is enough to make my heart race. My mind drifts to thoughts of her heart pressed against me as we fight our way through the snow. My body heats at the feel of hers tucked against mine. This is going to be a very long ride.
seven
HARMONY
That wasthe longest ride ever. I know it was the same distance coming back that it was going, but something about being snuggled up behind Beau made me want to be home snuggled up to him on the couch. He kept me warm the entire trip with his strong, taut body. Of course, my mind ran wild the entire time about the shame of having so many articles of clothing separating us.
“Are you hungry?” He wraps his elbow in mine and lowers me to the ground in front of the house. “It should be ready. If you want to dish it up, I’ll put the horses up.”
“Sounds good.” Sounds domestic.
When I push open the front door I’m hit with the most delicious aroma. Quickly, I shed all the outer layers and head for the kitchen. Sitting on the back burner simmering away is a huge pot of stew. I stir it with a spoon sitting on the spoon rest and find meat and so many different vegetables, I don’t understand where he found some of them.
This meal is going to need some biscuits. Finding the ingredients, I mix some up and pop them in the oven. They’realmost done when the door opens, and Reacher comes bounding into the kitchen. He sniffs the air before flopping down on his pillow.
“You made biscuits,” Beau announces, bending down to peer into the oven.
“What? You’re kidding,” I tease in fake shock. He rolls his eyes at me. They’re done, so I pull them out of the oven while he dishes out the stew. We settle at the table to eat.
“So,” I say, drawing out the word. “Are we going to talk about the elephant in the room? Mirabeau?”
There’s a growl from the other side of the table. He meets my gaze with a scowl. I beat my eyelashes at him until he sighs. He stalls by shoveling a massive spoonful of stew into his mouth. It’s so hot, he has to drink about half of his water after. Finally, he caves.
“My mom was a history buff; especially Texas history. My brother got William Travis, hero of the Alamo. I, however, got saddled with Mirabeau Lamar. He was the second president of Texas. Couldn’t name me Sam Houston after the first president and hero at San Jacinto. Nope. I got Mirabeau.”
“Did they announce your entire name at graduation?” Now I’m just trying to rile him up.
“I told Principal Hamby I’d burn the school down if he did.”
“I don’t know. Mirabeau has a nice ring to it.”
“Only a few people know my full name. They’ve been sworn to secrecy on penalty of death.”
“You mean women don’t scream Mirabeau in ecstasy?” He sets his spoon down and studies me for a minute.
“I’ll make an exception for you,” he growls. This conversation went sideways fast. What is wrong with me that I can’t stop making veiled sexual innuendos? Or in this case, not so veiled ones.
“I think I’ll just stick with Beau,” I stutter.
“As long as you’re screaming it, I’m good either way.”
“Honey?” I say, snatching up the little bear off the table.
“Yes, sweetheart?” he teases back.
