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She stilled. Scanning the trees, she took in his mischief-filled eyes. “You’re on.”
Regan loved it when the scandalous side of her doctor husband came out to play. His kisses. His hands. The way he slowly undid the buttons of her shirt. How the heat of his mouth made her gasp and her nipples harden. But impaling herself as he sat on the seat and riding him languidly in the hidden quiet of the trees was best of all.
Afterwards, he drove the wagon out of the trees and back to the road. “Did that change your mind?”
Cuddled against his side, sated and still pulsing, Regan replied, “Yes.”
“Thought it might,” he said, sounding very pleased with himself.
“You’re such a humble country doctor.” She thought back on the settings of the past few times they’d been intimate. “Do you think we’ll ever use a bed again—not that I’m complaining.”
“I’ll put it on my list.”
The drive took them into an area she’d never visited before. The land was flatter, wide open, stands of wildflowers of all colors and sizes spread themselves like a carpet, while the ever-present mountains framed it on both sides. “You sure you can’t tell me what the surprise is?”
“Yes, Mrs. Curiosity, I’m sure. And no more pouting. We don’t have time to make another stop in the trees.”
“How about on the way home?”
He shook his head with amusement.
Regan was enjoying being with him. This was the first day of their new pact and she felt as though this one would last. He seemed content, too, and he hadn’t thrown up any barriers after their passionate romp in the trees. She again wondered if Spring was right about him loving her, but she was content with the present.
The wagon took the road through the open halves of a large metal gate emblazoned with the figure of a rearing mustang and the wordsSweet Heart Ranch.
“Can you tell me who owns the ranch? Or is that part of the secret, too?” Up ahead stood a large two-story cabin built from timbers that gleamed like gold in the sunshine.
“A rancher named Ed Prescott.”
“Is he a friend?”
“Yes. He and Whit and I grew up together.”
“Did I meet him at our wedding?”
“No. He doesn’t do much socializing but he’s the rancher that owns the mare with the breeched foal.”
By then they’d reached the house and she couldn’t help but marvel at the design and beauty. There was a wide front porch across the first level, and up top three small porches—one on each end, and one in the center that she assumed led to various rooms inside. “If we ever build a new place I want it to look like this one. This is stunning.”
He parked. “It is. Lots of folks are jealous of it though. They think a man like him doesn’t have the right to own and live in something this fine.”
“Why?”
“When you meet him, you’ll understand.”
A curious Regan got down from the wagon. She was still taking in the magnificent structure when a man stepped out on the porch. He was tall, dressed like a rancher, but his face and the long braid down his back spoke to his heritage. He was Native.
Chapter Fifteen
As he stepped off the porch and walked to the wagon, his eyes assessed her curiously.
Colt did the introductions. “Regan, my friend, Edward Prescott. Ed, my wife, Regan Carmichael Lee.”
“Pleased to meet you,” he said.
“Pleased to meet you as well. You have a beautiful home.” As Regan learned later, Ed Prescott was a member of the Bannock tribe, which had roots in the Shoshone Nation.
“Thank you. I hear you know your way around a Winchester.”
