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“Oh shit,” she breathes, shoulders trembling.
Immediately my jacket is off, and I’m wrapping it around her.
Mariam smiles up at me. “I’m not cold, but I’ll take it. It smells like you.”
I tug the jacket tight around her and drag her forward until our faces almost touch.
“And just because we’re dating and going back to my place, I’m still not expecting sex,” I remind her.
Her cheeks, nose, and chin bloom with heat.
“Good,” she says, arching a brow.
Someone’s stomach rumbles, and she blushes deeper.
“Told you we should have grabbed something to eat before the movie.”
Mariam’s eyes dart all over my face. “That wasn’t me; that was your stomach. So let’s go. I want to see if Jesse J Ranch lives up to the hype.”
I kiss her on the nose and then buckle her into my truck, waving off her protests to my chivalry.
After I close the passenger side door, I frantically text Dominique.
Me: Got any date-worthy food lying around? Last minute, sorry.
Dominique: On it, boss. You’ll have something worthy of our new pastry chef.
The chef ends the text with a wink emoji, and yeah. I’m probably going to give her what she wants.
If possible, I’m sure Mariam can handle running the bakery and keeping Jesse J Ranch supplied with pastries. Hell, I’ll hire help for her on my dime if necessary.
But wait. Don’t be so pushy, I tell myself.
Mariam can do what she wants as long as it doesn’t get in the way of her dreams.
That, I’ll never allow.
ChapterTwelve
Mariam
It’s about five p.m. when we arrive, entering through a tall stone arch on a gravel path that leads up a steep green hill. At first, it looks like nothing more than a long driveway of some sprawling farm or ranch, of which I’ve seen a hundred in my time growing up in Utah and while living in my new hometown of Darling Creek.
However, when we crest the hill, the property that spreads out in front of me is like something out of a movie—and not one heavy on CGI. Rolling green hills are dotted with groves of trees, small lakes, ponds, and cabins. Several roads branch off, marked with signs pointing to the ski lodge, the band shell, the fishing pond, and the disc golf course.
Oh my god.
This man is…rich. Isn’t he? How could he not be?
How elite was all that cattle he sold off to turn this place into a hospitality ranch, anyway?
Well, his money’s not any of my business. It’s crazy trying to wrap my head around what’s happen to me. This is my boyfriend. He owns a frickin’ ski lodge and a whole…I don’t even know what you call this. A compound? A resort?
I stare at him more closely as he winds the truck around the hills and valleys, studying his profile. Am I sure Jesse is not, in fact, a celebrity, and all that stuff he told me about himself on the way over here wasn’t bullshit?
Jesse and I swapped stories about our childhood on the ride from Bozeman to the Jesse J Ranch. I’d told him about my upbringing in Utah and how I’d left the LDS church when I couldn’t stand the pressure anymore. I still talk to my parents and siblings once a week, and we get together at Thanksgiving and Christmas. But I’m definitely the black sheep of the family. Plenty of devout cousins, my grandparents, and old high school friends no longer speak to me. But I’m happy with my life in Darling Creek and have been made to feel welcome by everyone. Until I decided to bid on the town’s most eligible bachelor, that is. I don’t say that part out loud.
Unlike me, Jesse grew up here, raising cattle with his grandparents and his dad.
