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Fourteen
Laney
I was stuffed into my sleeping bag with nothing but my head peeking out. I had used the shower station to clean the dust and sweat off me. When I returned, Archer had left to wash up.
I was waiting for my husband to return as if I were a Renaissance virgin on her wedding night. Irritated, I unzipped the top half of my sleeping bag. I was wearing a pink-and-black sports bra under a red-and-blue oversized T-shirt I hadn’t realized I’d taken from Archer when I left Texas until his brow crinkled as he studied the SMU logo.
Damn. I’d been sleeping in this shirt so long I’d forgotten it wasn’t mine in the first place. At least my orange basketball shorts were all my own.
I sat up and sighed. He’d return soon. And he’d take the sleeping bag next to mine, and we’d sleep together for the first time in over a year and a half.
I picked up my phone. I hadn’t missed the girls’ knowing glances when they saw the pictures of Archer from our ride. More than one picture. At least I’d managed a few solely of the countryside. But I’d done a lot of supposed selfies that happened to capture the tall, dark rider behind me. The one with his cowboy hat tipped low, looking off to the side so his chiseled profile was perfectly outlined by the sun.
Lyric’s words from when I gave her a hug before she left with Aspen wove through my brain.Just remember that Barron men can be really dense, but not all of them are clueless about what’s right in front of them. That one out there is a good example.
Liam’s a different story,I had joked since Liam had been behind me talking to Archer. The two guys had visited all night and had helped the kids on the horses.
She had scowled and rolled her eyes.Don’t get me started on how stubborn Granger women can be. You know who I mean. That guy is smitten. Don’t give up on yourself.
I hadn’t. That was why I was here.
And Archer was here too. He’d led Owen and Eli around on Bolt, negotiating their arguments like a seasoned pro.
I hadn’t thought about kids until tonight. No one had asked in Texas, and we’d never had “the talk.” I had instinctively known that without kids, we’d have a cleaner break when Archer learned I wasn’t the woman he thought he’d married. I couldn’t help but wonder if it was still like that.
I blew out a gusty sigh. No matter which way we turned, there was an obstacle. I wished our life was like our ride today. A little technical, but nothing that would make us stop.
I heard the horses nicker and a deep voice murmur. A guy talking to horses shouldn’t be so sexy, but my body flushed and my pulse raced. I knew what it was like for him to speak softly like that to me in the dark of night.
His steps crunched on the gravel as he approached. He’d kept the cheap pair of flip-flops I had bought him in Dickinson. He didn’t bat an eye when he saw the outdoor shower station. It was little more than a bathroom stall with a showerhead next to a building. Obviously, his childhood had been nothing like I’d made it out to be—him and Ansen sitting at a long table wearing cravats while servants waited on them. That was sort of how he lived as an adult, only he’d exchanged the cravats for ties.
The zipper rent through the night, and I watched the flap of the tent fall inside to reveal his powerful outline wearing basketball shorts.
“Need anything before I crawl in?”
Space. Another tent. To pack up and head home, where we’d be under different roofs. “No, I’m good.”
He set down a couple bottles of water and stooped inside. Thezherppof the zipper echoed like a drumroll in my ears.
“Think it’ll get cold tonight?” he asked as he squatted and folded his jeans and shirt. He stayed squatting as he tucked them neatly away, his powerful calves flexing and bunching.
I watched him take out his outfit for tomorrow, this routine so much like our nightly one had been as a married couple. But then we still were a married couple. “Not with as warm as it’s been.”
“A’right.”
My mouth ticked up at the hint of his drawl. He kicked off his footwear and tucked his long legs into his sleeping bag. The tops of his shoulders stuck out, but he turned on his side, hitched himself up on an elbow, and pounded his pillow into the form he liked best.
Longing tugged at my heart. I was tempted to roll over and face him like I used to. We’d talk into the night, which would often lead to sex. Many times, we’d already had sex, and we’d just talk. About our jobs. About where we should go for our next date night and the places we’d already been. About the happenings in the world. It hadn’t seemed as superficial then as it did looking back on it now. We’d both kept a part of ourselves out of the relationship in an attempt to stay the person we needed to be at the moment.
Superficial conversations or not, the nights had gotten so long and quiet without him.
I turned toward the other side. I couldn’t indulge my fantasies and then get used to the loneliness once again when he left.
“I liked seein’ you with your friends,” he said quietly.
“I never had that, you know. Friends. Not real ones.” I would’ve been ashamed to admit this to Archer when we were first married. It was natural to tell him now.
“I knew y’all weren’t super close, but you didn’t consider them friends until recently?”
