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She sat as he poured their wine. Smiling as he eagerly dug into the roast, the tightness in her stomach eased.
"I'm sorry about earlier, Ford. I guess I was having a very long pity party for myself, and I apologize."
"I understand. It's over, let's move forward."
Nodding, she twirled her fragrant pasta on her fork and scooped it into her mouth. Not bad for a thrown together dish. "Why don't you live here? This is an amazing kitchen with the most outstanding view. Plus, all of the special wood and memories of your dad. I don't understand."
Swallowing his food, he sipped at his wine. "I have to settle some personal things before I can live here again. But, it'll happen."
"I hope so. I mean, I hope so for you." They finished their meal while chatting about the mountains, his parents, and his siblings. She told him about her sister, Delaney, and brother, Cord. It was nice.
"Let's take our wine into the living room and sit in front of the fire. It'll start getting chilly in a little while. As soon as the sun begins setting, the weather changes here."
He leaned before the fireplace and expertly started a fire, which she had to admit was impressive. Watching the muscles in his back strain and stretch as he moved was exciting. She tightened her thighs to stem the wetness as she watched him. Waylon never had this effect on her, and it was mystifying.
He moved to sit on the sofa next to her—it was cozy. The only light in the room was from the fire and the light above the stove; the soft glow and glasses of wine made her tummy feel funny. Relaxing for the first time in weeks, she let out a sigh.
"It's nice, isn't it?"
"It sure is." She laid her head back on the sofa, and her eyes drifted closed. The next thing she knew, she felt like she was floating on a cloud. With leather and wood scent of man and firm arms around her, she'd never felt so safe in her life. She lived in the mountains with a view so beautiful, it could make a stone cry. She felt loved in a way she'd never felt in all her forty-two years. The loneliness of her life peeled away, and she knew what life could be like.
Chapter14
He had to admit she was a beauty. Thick auburn hair and those eyes of green reminded him of a fresh spring morning. So fresh and full of promise. She felt light as a feather as he carried her to the bedroom he'd had his sister decorate for him. He'd scoffed when she came up with the dusty sage color, but he had to admit, it worked.
Laying Megan on the bed, he bent down to remove her shoes. A little moan escaped her lips, and he looked up to see her eyes on him. "Sorry, I guess I fell asleep."
"That's okay. It's been a long few days, and I'll bet you didn't sleep much the last couple of nights."
She chuckled. "No."
He set her shoes on the floor next to the bed but stopped and stared into her eyes. Her hair fanned across the pillow and the green of her eyes blended with the sage of the comforter. Totally beautiful.
Without thought, he leaned down and kissed her lips lightly—thinking just a little peck would be enough to hold him over. Since he'd kissed her earlier, he'd replayed that kiss in his mind a million times. Her lips were soft and molded to his perfectly. When her breasts pressed against his chest, he tried remembering a time when a woman felt that good against him, but he couldn't recall such a feeling.
Pulling back so he didn't get carried away, he was shocked when her hand wrapped around his nape and pulled him down for another kiss. Fuller and bolder this time, his body responded. He cupped her face between his hands as he tilted her head slightly to fit his lips perfectly to hers. His tongue slid along hers, and when she whimpered, his heart raced.
His fingers itched to touch her body, feel her soft breasts fill his hands, and without thought, he slid a hand down to cup her. Just as he thought, she filled his hand as if she were made just for him. Her soft hands sifted through his hair, her nails lightly scratching his scalp. It sent a shiver down his body, and his breathing grew stilted.
Pulling back, he lay his forehead against hers.
"Wow," she whispered, and he had to agree.
"I better let you get some rest. You have to deal with my sister tomorrow. She's a force all on her own." Smiling to add levity, he stood to his full height, but her hand caught his.
"Thank you for making sure I'm safe. I haven't said it, but I do appreciate it." A soft smile spread across her lips, and his heart practically stopped at the sight of her.
"You're welcome." His voice cracked; he cleared his throat and took a step back. Better to have some distance. But the second her hand fell away, he felt lonely. "Sleep well, Megan."
Closing the bedroom door on his way out, he let out a deep breath. Picking up the fire poker, he jabbed a few times at the logs still emitting a soft glow. Sparks flew up the chimney, and he watched them rise until he couldn't see them anymore. He was in over his head here. Somewhere along the way, she ceased to be a woman who needed help and became a woman he was deeply attracted to and wanted. When he'd walked in from the garage after having his pity party, the smell of a freshly cooked meal and her standing in his kitchen hit him hard. It was the sight he'd always longed for in this house. At one time, he thought that person would be Tamra, but she turned out to be someone different from what he'd thought. She'd hated this house, hated living here, hated him, hated everything, including their son, even though she pretended to care about Falcon when it was convenient.
Megan was embroiled in some shit that he didn't even know the extent of, and on top of that, the drugs. He had no inkling that she used or ever had used, but she had a connection, and he wanted nothing to do with that.
He'd try and get a good night’s rest and deal with digging in to where Bobby Ray and Waylon were in the morning. Turning toward his computer on the desk in the corner, he checked the security system, then quickly browsed his emails. Nothing of huge importance about his case, but a quick note from Falcon.
Dad, things have been quiet here most of the day. We assume the insurgents are planning something, but we're ready. We sent out more balloons this morning and found a few of them in the pot fields. Other than that, hope all is well with you. Aunt Emmy sent me a giant box of cookies, which I'll admit didn't make it very long. My buddies and I devoured them. She should have opened a bakery.
Anyway, I'll call when I can, but in the meantime, I love you, and things are quiet here in Kandahar.
