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He slammed his palm against the tree. “Fuck,” he groaned, his thrusts becoming uneven. “Darlin’, I’m going to come.”
He tried to pull out of her mouth, but she wouldn’t let him.
On a strangled curse, he exploded in her mouth just as her own orgasm took her over. She shook and gasped and swallowed him down while he jolted and groaned her name over and over.
They both came down together, and when she slid her hand from herself, he tucked himself back into his jeans and gathered her up to a sitting position. Only he didn’t draw away. Didn’t say anything cute or flirty. He just sat there, staring at her, and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.
Then hugged her closer.
She breathed him in, and a weird warmth crept into her chest. She felt…calm. Happy.
“Best day on the ranch yet,” he said against her hair.
She laughed. “I’d have to agree.”
The rumble in his chest vibrated against her own.
The same chest that was getting a little warmer every time Tripp was around.
Chapter Seven
Dear Miss Gram,
We appreciate your interest in Walden’s Web Designs. However, we’ve filled the position …
Charlotte stopped reading the rejection email from one of the five companies she’d applied to before leaving the city. She shoved her phone back in her pocket and resumed her canning duties.
It had been a week.
Seven full days of peeling, cutting, and canning pears. Plus all the other chores. But at least all the canning kept Charlotte mostly indoors and away from running into Tripp. After the afternoon under the pear tree last week, she was having trouble focusing on anything other than him.
Which was why chores were welcome.
Otherwise she’d be thinking about how she wasn’t getting a full-time job that she desperately wanted—and needed—in the city. The companies she’d applied to were all massive, and if she got in at any of them, her career would be set.
And she could get back to the city where she belonged.
There was only one company left that she hadn’t heard from: her dream company. Which meant landing a job there wasn’t likely. And despite her advertisements and attempts at marketing herself, she still had no major client that would keep her freelance job afloat. How could she work for herself with no major client to bring to the table for stable income?
She shook her head and tried to focus on getting through her time in Wyoming and getting Grammy on her feet.
Grammy was moving around better. Getting into a walking cast had been a good thing for her. She could get around the house and make her own meals. Still obviously couldn’t run a farm, but she was happier out of bed.
“These look great, Charlie,” she said, coming up to give her a side hug. The cans were adding up, and after each set was sealed, she put a piece of twine with her Grammy’s tags on them.
“I’m so glad I can help. I’ve learned a ton.”
Grammy patted her hand. “Well, you’re doing a good job. You should come stay with me full time. We’ll make a country girl out of you yet.”
Charlotte scoffed at the idea. Despite Grammy being the most important person in her world, Charlotte didn’t belong in Cheyenne. Yet something about the offer made her chest ping. She glanced around. Grammy’s house felt like home. Warm. Grammy was the only real family she had, and there was something nice about being wanted. But everything Charlotte had built and worked for revolved around making herself more independent. Counting only on herself. There was safety in that.
“Tempting, but I have a job and life back in the city.”
Grammy studied her face, then smiled her kind smile. “Of course you do. Such a strong woman you’ve become. I’m proud of you, Charlie.”
That hit her hard. Plus, Grammy thought she was strong? Why did she feel the opposite half the time then? She opened her mouth to tell her Grammy how much she loved her, but the older woman rubbed her back and finished with, “Just know you always have a home with me.” Then scooted past her toward the living room,
saying over her shoulder, “We have two more days to get these jars loaded and ready to sell. There are more boxes in the barn if you need them. You haven’t lived until you’ve experienced a Cheyenne nut fry!”
