Page 48 of Wild and Wanted

This intrusion from the real world had her wondering how much of herself she’d given away. Had her remembering that whatever was happening here, it wasn’t the real world.

‘I told her I’d call in fifteen,’ she said hesitantly as she pushed to her feet, one hand still absently clutching the edges of her shirt together.

He watched her steadily for a moment before also pushing to his feet, walking the two paces that separated them, his boots a muffled pad against the floorboards. Smiling down at her, he eased her grip off her shirt. Stevie’s breath hitched as slowly but surely – his eyes never leaving her face – Clay redid each button.

‘There,’ he murmured once the last one was fixed in place.

Lifting a hand, he stroked it from her cheekbone to her temple, pushing back strands of hair that had fallen forward, his gaze roaming her face. ‘Can I see you tomorrow?’

Stevie could no more have denied him that request than written the score for an Italian opera. No matter how much this didn’t make sense, she wanted it anyway. ‘Yes,’ she said on a whisper.

His slow smile spread warmth from the pit of her stomach to the follicles of her hair. ‘I’ll text you,’ he murmured.

‘Uh huh.’

‘Be careful on the ladder.’

Stevie nodded dumbly but the truth was, she felt so light and airy and giddy, she could have flown down from the loft. Which was pretty much what she did.

14

CLAY

The next morning at six on the dot, with the ache in his balls taken care of in the shower last night Clay entered the ranch house kitchen with a spring in his step. He’d gone to bed with the satisfying sounds of Stevie’s climax playing on repeat and the scent of her in his nostrils.

Not to mention the knowledge that he’d been the one to introduce her to her first non-solo orgasm. It had been his name on her lips as she’d bucked and panted and cried out and whatever happened in her future, he would always be a part of her story.

In short, he’d gone to sleep feeling like king of the fucking world.

‘Good morning,’ he said in general greeting to the usual suspects helping themselves to his mother’s breakfast buffet. ‘It’s such a nice day out there, the mountains look amazing this morning.’

Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at him, the room falling silent. Clay looked around at the perplexed expressions, his brow furrowing. ‘What?’

‘Umm… who are you and what have you done with my son?’ his father asked.

Determined not to let their scepticism bring down his mood, he said, ‘What? I can’t be happy?’

‘Of course you can, darling,’ his mother said, also regarding him curiously. ‘You just haven’t shown much inclination to be so.’

Which made him feel like a right prick. God, he must have been awful to be around these past months. That had to change – Stevie or no Stevie. He was a grown adult and taking out his career misfortune on his nearest and dearest, who only wanted the best for him, just wasn’t on.

‘Well, I figured it was probably about time I pulled my head out of my ass.’

‘Past time I’d say,’ Dev quipped.

‘Yeah,’ Kirby agreed. ‘We were about to corral you in the yards, hog tie you and dip you in the water troughs until you agreed to stop being such a douche.’

Clay would have liked to see them try but… he got the sentiment. ‘It’s good to have you back, son,’ his father said, clapping him on the shoulder.

Oddly moved by his father’s words, Clay nodded and said, ‘Thanks, Dad.’ He wasn’t sure he was back, that he’d ever be the carefree Clay of old, but Stevie’s presence, knowing that she had lost so much more than he had, made him feel a lot less sorry for himself.

Their gazes held for a beat, the steady faith glowing in his father’s eyes as comforting now as it had always been even if Clay had chafed against it in his more reckless years. ‘Come on,’ he said with one quick last squeeze before dropping his hand. ‘Can’t let your mother’s food go cold.’

Clay chuckled. That was a sin punishable by cold leftovers at dinner time. Piling up his plate, he sat down opposite his parents, digging in with gusto. Apparently, his appetite was back.

‘This is good, Mom,’ he said after his first taste of perfectly cooked crispy bacon and perfectly runny egg.

She blinked as if startled at the compliment then her face broke into a smile. ‘It’s good to see you eating again.’