Page 64 of Ethan

After they both dressed he jumped down from the truck bed and held his arms up for her. She put her hands on his shoulders, and he lifted her down, setting her on her feet in the grass.

She thought it was the most romantic thing.

They folded the blanket together and he tossed it behind the seat, then helped her in and drove them back across the dark property toward the ranch. The lights of the barn came into view, and she watched them grow closer and felt nothing but content.

It was past eight. They had the whole night ahead of them.

She didn’t need anything elaborate. No more surprises, no more starlit hillsides. She just wanted to lie next to him in the dark and listen to him breathe and wake up beside him in the morning.

Sometimes that was everything.

Once they arrived at the house he parked, hopped out, and came around to her side. He opened the door and put out his hand. She placed hers in it, stepped down, and they walked to the back door together.

Inside he didn’t slow down.

“How about we just relax for the evening?” he asked over his shoulder.

“I’d like that.”

“Come on then.” He took her hand.

He led her from the kitchen, but she stopped in the doorway of the living room and forgot what she was going to say.

It was everything she’d imagined and more. Log walls, warm and golden in the lamplight, a stone fireplace that ran floor to ceiling on the far wall with a heavy wood mantle above it. Wide plank floors covered by a large woven rug in shades of rust and brown. An overstuffed sofa faced the fireplace. The furniture worn that meant they’d been sat in for years, bracketed by two recliners. Bookshelves built into either side of the fireplace, packed full. Antlers above the mantle, a few framed photographs she wanted to get closer to.

The whole room felt like him. Solid, unhurried, and exactly what it was supposed to be.

“Ethan.” She stepped inside slowly, turning to take it all in. “This is stunning.”

“It suits me.” He moved to the sofa and dropped onto it, stretching his long legs out, watching her look around with that quiet expression she was coming to love.

She crossed to the fireplace and looked at the photographs on the mantle. His brothers, younger, on horseback. His parents at what looked like a ranch celebration of some kind. A younger Ethan, maybe sixteen, holding a trophy almost as tall as he was, grinning in pride.

She picked it up. “Is this from barrel racing?”

“State championship,” he said it without pride, just fact.

She set it back carefully and turned to look at him on the sofa.

“I love your home,” she said simply.

He held out his hand.

She sat beside him, and he pulled her against his side, then reached for the remote.

“What do you want to watch?” he asked.

They found a movie and settled in, her tucked against his side, his arm around her. She made it through most of it before her eyes started losing the battle.

He must have noticed because he reached over, turned off the lamp, then stood and pulled her gently to her feet without a word. He led her down the hall to the bedroom, pulled the comforter back, and nodded for her to get in.

She stripped off her clothes and crawled into bed.

He climbed in beside her and wrapped his arms around her. She laid her head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat slow and steady beneath her ear.

Falling in love with him had been too easy.

****