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Reece came out the front door of the house, obviously having heard the sound of the engine. He waved at everyone in the car, a big, genuine Reece smile on his face.
He was in jeans and a white undershirt that were covered in drywall dust. He went over to stand by Charlie once everyone had gotten out of the car and congregated near the hood. He put an arm around Charlie and flashed his white-toothed grin at her parents.
“Mrs. Winston. Mr. Winston. Good to see you again. Welcome to the ranch.”
Mrs. Winston gave him her characteristic once over and didn’t seem pleased, but then, I wasn’t sure pleased was an expression her facial features could actually make.
“Surely, we aren’t such a surprise that you couldn’t finish getting dressed, young man.”
Reece gave a guffaw. “You’re funny, Mrs. Winston.” He shook his head as if she’d actually been making a joke—either that or he was just really good at diffusing tension. “I was just working on installing some drywall upstairs. Come on in, we’ve got your rooms all ready.”
He pulled back from Charlie and waved them inside. But when Charlie started toward the trunk, he said, “You take your parents inside, babe. I got the bags.”
The little smile of thanks she passed him before turning back toward her parents was a small thing—but it still hit me in the gut. There were a million little communications like that that passed between partners, real partners, that I wondered if I’d ever have.
“Well, I think you guys have it from here,” I said. “I’ll check back in for the last dress fitting tomorrow.” I looked Charlie’s way. “Let me know if you need anything. My phone’s always on.”
She nodded significantly. She was staying on here at the ranch in another of the rooms we’d just managed to finish renovating—well, we’d at least gotten a mattress in there—but she’d still be sharing a bathroom with her parents.
Tomorrow was a big day. Not only was there the dress fitting, but the twin’s boss, Xavier, and his family, came into town. They were traveling in an RV so we didn’t have to find accommodations for them, just a hook up to water, which we had.
Speaking of… I needed to go double check the site was all ready, and that we had extra provisions, and that the stables were ready, because they were bringing horses—
I needed to find Jeremiah.
Behind me, Charlie’s mother was fussing about her shoes getting muddy on the walk up to the house and I felt glad to be walking away from that disaster, and then guilty about leaving Charlie alone with it. Then again, ‘it’ was her mother, not mine. Besides, she had Reece there as a buffer now.
And if this wedding was going to get pulled off, I couldn’t mother-sit twenty-four-seven.
I ducked into the barn, but there was only Buck, doing something with some rope. “Hey, you seen Jeremiah around?”
He looked up startled, his eyes widening when he saw it was me. “What?”
“Jeremiah? You know where he is?”
He just kept staring at me. I tapped my foot impatiently. “Any day now.”
“Stables,” he finally mumbled. “Think I saw him in the stables.”
I turned with a wave of thanks and headed out across the small, weedy dirt path back toward the stables.
And yep, there was Jeremiah. It was nearing the end of a blazing hot Texas day and he’d taken his shirt off as he worked inside the stables. The doors were open on either end and he had a fan on, so there was a breeze. But it was apparently doing little to cool the sweat dripping down the canyon between his muscled shoulders.
I cleared my throat and he turned around from where he’d been spreading fresh hay out in a stall.
The sight of him was even more glorious from the front. Strong, hugely wide chest. Narrowing down to his slim waist and tight, sculpted abs.
I’d just cleared my throat, but it still felt too dry.
And I realized I was standing here looking him up and down, just like Mrs. Winston had me. But I imagined the look on my face was far from distaste.
When I finally lifted my eyes back to Jeremiah’s, he wasn’t looking at me like he felt distaste either. No, his eyes were blazing.
“Wanna scratch an itch?” I asked.
He threw down the pitchfork he’d been stabbing into the straw and strode toward me. “Thought you’d never ask.”
Before I barely knew what was happening, he had me up against the wall of the stable, all his hard, hot, damp flesh pressing into me.
