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Fisher nudged Waylon closer. “About what?” he asked.
“He’s really good,” she said, patting Waylon’s neck.
Fisher’s attention wandered beyond her, making her turn around. Hunter, his wife, Josie, and Eli were heading over from the barn to the corral.
“Nice to see you, Kylee,” Josie said, smiling brightly. “Shawn looks great on Trigger.”
Kylee nodded. “He’s loving it.”
“We thought we’d stop by. They’re playing a movie on the courthouse lawn tonigh
t.” Hunter said. “Eli really wants Shawn to come.”
“Can he spend the night?” Eli asked.
Hunter smiled. “We’d like to invite Shawn back to the house for an overnight, too, if that won’t interfere with any plans.”
She paused. Shawn had never spent the night away from her—ever. But maybe he should. If he wanted to, she should let him. It was all part of a normal childhood, wasn’t it? Sleepovers, bowling with friends, having a good time.
“If he wants to,” she agreed, trying to sound like it was no big deal.
“I’ll go ask him,” Eli said, already heading across the corral to Trigger and Shawn.
“You two want to join us?” Hunter asked.
“Or Fisher could make her dinner.” Josie glanced at her husband. “Give Kylee a break. Archer’s helping your dad at the Lodge, so it’ll be a break for you, too, Fisher.”
They all laughed then.
She and Fisher, alone. No interruptions. Just the two of them. They’d had a few stolen kisses but they were rarely alone. The last thing Kylee had expected to feel was anticipation. But she did. At the same time, she didn’t want to presume that Fisher wanted—
“Sounds like a plan,” Fisher said.
Twenty minutes later the horses were in their stalls, Shawn was packed into Hunter’s truck and Kylee was standing in Fisher’s living room. She’d spent some time here during the last week, when Shawn was riding. That Fisher had built the stone-and-wood house with his family made it even more impressive. With its vaulted ceiling and a carved wood mantel over the fireplace against the back wall it was both homey and dramatic. They’d played some cards, eaten some incredible stew and biscuits Fisher had made for them, enjoyed toasting marshmallows in the fireplace with the rest of his family and were still working on a huge puzzle of a herd of galloping horses. In one short week, she had come to love being here—with Fisher.
Her fingers traced the intricate wire frame of a table lamp. The bold black steel looked like recycled wagon wheels, horseshoes and other farming implements.
“Archer does that,” Fisher nodded.
“He made this?” she asked, bending to study the metalwork.
“When he’s not avoiding people or healing animals, he’s welding furniture out of cast-off farm and ranch equipment.” Fisher shrugged. “Can’t accuse him of being lazy.”
She smiled. Lazy wasn’t a word she’d apply to any of the Boones. “Your family is incredible. Must be nice to be a Boone.”
He nodded. “It is. I’m lucky, they’re good people.”
She nodded, immediately caught up in the pull of his green eyes. It didn’t seem to matter that a couch and two tables lay between them, their connection was undeniable. The more time they spent together, the stronger it became. Especially when they were alone, like they were now. She wanted to go to him...but she couldn’t move.
He did. He came closer, and his hands settled on her shoulders, his thumbs trailing the ridge of her collarbone. How could such a light caress make her breathless? How could such a big man look at her with such tenderness?
“Kylee.” Her name rumbled from his lips.
“Fisher,” she said, her hands clasping his forearms. His heat filled her, warming her until her stomach was molten and heavy and aching.
“I’m going to kiss you.” He was still asking for her permission. And her heart melted.
She nodded, running her hands up his arms to grip his shoulders. The cotton of his shirt did little to cover the expanse of his shoulders. His shoulders were thick, as was the rise of muscle along his neck. He was a strong man, a man who could be considered dangerous.
