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CHAPTER 25
Callie
Luke doesn’t let go of my hand as we walk outside and take in the vast space behind the house. It’s peaceful out here, the quiet only punctuated by the chirp of birds and the pigs rooting around in their pens.
“Want me to grab the coffee?” I offer, figuring that the normalcy of an everyday ritual might calm his jangled nerves.
“I’m good.” He leads me toward the horse pasture, and I look down at my shorts and flip-flops, which aren’t exactly riding attire. As usual, he’s a man of few words, so he doesn’t tell me what he has in mind. I can feel the heaviness of his interaction with Elizabeth, so I walk next to him in silence.
We pass the paddocks, and my heart sinks a little because I love giving the horses little snacks, and he doesn’t seem to be in the mood. But I want to give him what he needs right now, so I don’t say a word.
Abruptly, he stops and turns toward me. “You’re quiet.”
“I’m letting you have some peace. I know I talk a lot.”
I expect him to agree. He’s all but outright said my blather makes his head hurt, so maybe he’ll even laugh at my ability to admit it. But his expression is serious. He shakes his head. “I’ll never get tired of listening to what you have to say. Please never edit yourself for my benefit.”
Not what I was expecting. “Um, okay.”
“Come,” he says, leading me around the side of the corral to a small barn I’ve never noticed before. When he opens the door, my eyes take a moment to adjust to the dark space, which is only lit by streaks of sun sneaking through the wood slats.
“So this is where you keep the feed and tack,” I say, looking around at bales of hay stacked to the ceiling and neat rows of hooks holding bridles and bits. Blankets protect the saddles in a corner.
I’m rewarded with one of those rare Luke smiles, and my only regret is that I can’t see it fully in the dim light. “Look who knows about feed and tack.”
“I’ve been doing my homework. Can’t open a ranch resort if I’m a ‘city girl ranch newbie.’”
“You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?”
“Should I?” I tease.
He shrugs and pulls me close. “Probably not.” Tipping my face up, he gazes at me, eyes soft. “Just like I’m not gonna let you live down that fantasy about the hot cowboy taking the cowgirl up against a bale of hay in the barn.”
My cheeks flush at the memory of that conversation, which feels like it happened a year ago. And at the idea of why he brought me to a barn with hay bales. “I’d never expect that.”
He smiles. I don’t tease him about it because his relaxed contentment comes so much more willingly now.
When he kisses me, it’s different this time.
Less hurried. Less frantic. More real.
With one hand possessively gripping my hip, Luke locks on my eyes and walks me backward until my legs come up against a hay bale. It’s itchy and probably not as comfortable as my fantasies assumed, but he has a solution for that. Never looking away, he reaches for two blankets with his other hand and unfurls them on top of the hay bale behind me. He’s like a sexy barnyard matador, and my eyes leave his only for a moment to watch his showmanship.
It’s why I’m unprepared when he sweeps his arm under my knees and lifts me so he’s holding me just like that baby cow, flush against his strong chest with my head against his shoulder.
With the gentleness of placing a feather on top of a pillow, he lays me on top of the blanket before climbing up and straddling my waist. “With that kind of finesse, I’d think you’ve done this before,” I can’t help but observe.
“Nope. But I’ve dreamed about it. Ever since that day you described that fantasy.”
“How’d you know it was an actual fantasy of mine?” I ask in one last attempt at verbal sparring before I collapse into a puddle of want and need beneath him.
He shakes his head. “Just hoped it was.”
Luke kisses me like he has no other plans for the day. Or the year. It’s slow and languid. When he runs a finger down my cheek, it leaves a heat signature.
“I can’t be near you without touching your skin,” he whispers against my lips. I feel the vibration of his voice down to my toes. All the charades are gone.
“Touch me,” I gasp.
