“Ia.” He curled his fingers over his watchstrap and twisted the leather over his wrist. “Perhaps you’re right.”
She reached her fingers to his. He reeled back.
Silence fell upon them as they walked toward Rose Farm.
After ten long minutes, Dylan finally said, “We have Rose Farm all to ourselves for forty-eight hours. Let’s not ruin it by squabbling.”
With an affirmative nod, she declared, “We should map out our plan of attack.”
“Why don’t we run around naked and have a chocolate spread war.”
“Oh, now I like that idea. A lot.”
“Na, you don’t like chocolate, do you?”
“But I do,” she insisted, dragging him to pick up pace. She wanted to get to Rose Farm sooner rather than later. “I really do.”
Dylan’s loyal sheep dog circled them as they hiked the trail surrounding his land.
“He’s a happy pup, kicking up the ground and wagging his tail.” Zoe laughed. She couldn’t help but join in the joy as the mutt bounced and barked.
“Yup, loves the mud he does.”
“So, Prince Farming, where’s this chocolate?” She dragged him to a jog. “I’m quite hungry.”
“Who?”
“Uh, erm. Never mind.” Zoe shot her glance to her feet, and heat rose to her cheeks. “I didn’t say anything.”
“Prince Farming,” Dylan repeated. He grinned and straightened, puffing out his chest. “I like it.”
“Good.”
He furrowed his brow and stuck out a hand. “Ugh, it feels like rain.”
“No surprise there.” She chuckled. “After all, we are in Wales.”
“Ia.”
The sky darkened, and the heavens opened.
The pup barked and sped into a nearby barn.
“Come on, let’s get out of this rain.” He pulled her in the same direction to follow the dog.
Seconds later, they were both soaked through but under shelter in a wooden barn used for storing hay and farm equipment.
“We can wait out the worst of it here.”
“Do you have towels by chance?” She leaned forward and wrung her hair out. “Or blankets?”
“Ia. A few blankets but they’re not laundry fresh.”
“I don’t care. I’m soaked through.” Zoe grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled the sodden material from her skin.
“There’s only one thing for it.” He grinned. “Strip.”
“Here?”
“Ia. The straw can be quite comfy.” He dragged blankets out from an old wooden closet and tossed one to her. “Here.”
She eyed him. “Really? So I’m not meant to ask why you conveniently have blankets in a barn?”
“Don’t you know anything about horses?”
She shook her head. “Why would I? I’m a city girl through and through.”
“’Til you came to Rose Farm?”
“Sure.” She smirked. “Who wouldn’t love it here?”
“Well, I keep blankets in the barn for the horses, but I have extra blankets just for me to use. I escape out here with a book pretty often.”
He shuffled boxes and buckets around in the closet, and pulled out an old hardback book. “See?”
“Very impressive. Who’s the author?”
“Okay.” He shrugged. “I give up. I don’t read. This has just always been here. I believe it was Mum’s. There’s a few others in there. I think she used to sneak out here, too. I come out here when life isn’t so great.”
“Makes you feel close to her?”
“Ia. In a way.”
He peeled off his clothes, and lay out a blanket and sat on a haystack before ushering her to his knee.
“Gwaelod coch.” His deep tone and lyrical accent went straight to her head like a glass of fine champagne, sending tingles to her sex. “I wanna throw you over my knee and spank you ’til your bottom is as red as the Welsh dragon. So red, I’ll need to kiss it better.”
Not needing to be told twice, she rid herself of her clothes and moved into position. Resting her belly on his lap, she wriggled her ass to taunt him into spanking her.
He roamed his hands over her curves and growled something else in Welsh before tracing his index finger down her nape.
A shiver shot through her.
“Iesu Grist, dynes.”
“In English?”
“Jesus Christ, Woman.” He brought his hand down on her ass with a light tap then again a little harder and grabbed her cheek and squeezed. “Dwi’n caru ti.”
“I’ve no idea what you’re saying, but it sounds sexy.” Zoe scrambled to the spread blanket and splayed her legs to invite him in. “Keep talking.”
“Zoe?”
“Yes?”
“Dawel.” He climbed atop her and closed all space between them. “Shush.”
He clamped her nipple between his teeth then flicked a tongue over her hard nub.
“Come here,” she hissed. “Come here.”
He did as commanded and met her mouth with his. Their kisses were so deep, so long, her insides smoldered. Arms and legs entwined, they lay naked, skin against skin.
Engulfed in the moment, in him, she blurted, “I’m on the pill.”
He pulled back, his wet hair dripping. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
She nodded. “I want to feel you coming inside of me.”
“Ah, hell. Zoe.”
He eased inside of her, his naked thickness warm. A growl spilled from his lips, and he slid his arms beneath her and held her tight as he roved gentle and powerful all at once. Warmth swirled in her heart and trickled to her sex. Flooded with a longing she’d never experienced before, she and her own orgasm mattered not. She only wanted for him to fill her, for him to reach the moment of complete bliss. Just to know she’d achieved that was all she desired. The tenderness shared seemed unfathomable to her, mostly because she’d willingly let it in.
He hooked his arm beneath her knee and hoisted her, pulling his length outside of her before dragging it over her clit and back into her sex.
“Come for me, Chantilly.”
His words fell upon her softly, and she responded as if on order.
Buckling beneath him, she tingled and jerked with every insertion. Heat spread and traveled down to her toes and back to her head, and her sex contracted and fluttered over his length.
Then he released her leg and spilled his fluid. Warmth spread and soothed her spent muscles.
“Fuck, Zoe, why didn’t we do that before?”
“Because what we did wasn’t any old roll in the hay. I wanted, no, I needed a tender moment to remember you by.”
“You haven’t liked the other times?”
“Heck yes, I’ve loved our casual fling. But this weekend, it may be our last chance to be together. After that, it’s all write, write, write. And I’ll be in America, and you’ll be here.”
He sighed. “You can’t stay a little longer?”
“Afraid not. I’ve got a meeting next week with that book editor.”
Propping on an elbow, he twirled her hair. “So tell me, Zoe Chantilly, why do you write?”
“Because I like making stuff up.”
“It has to be more than that. What do you get from making up these worlds of yours?”
She thought for a moment. “No one has ever asked me that before.”
“Well, I’m asking now.”
“I guess when I’m at my laptop tapping at the keyboard, I’m controlling what happens every step of the way. It may not be reality, but while I’m creating, that sense of control seeps into my real life and offers me a sense of calm. I guess.”
“A control freak. Totally. I see that in you.”
“Hey.” She punched him in the arm. “That’s not nice.”
“Is that why you studied astrology? To map out life?” He crossed his brow and puckered.
&
nbsp; “Honestly, I am shit at decisions. Astrology became a way to bring order into my very hectic teen years.”
“Zoe?” He pressed his sweet mouth around her earlobe and nibbled.
“Hmm, yes?”
“Sometimes it’s okay to make a wrong decision. How else will we learn?”
His whispers, hot against her ear, burned at her core. Damn him. He knew her deepest fears. He knew her better than anyone in her entire world.
He pulled her into his arms. “Sounds like the rain has stopped.”
Regret seeped and grew with each passing second spent in his warmth. This having a partner thing wasn’t good. It was very, very bad. Her time in Wales was only days away from being over. Dylan wasn’t meant to turn out to be the man of her dreams.
“Dyl?”
“Ia.”
“Did we cross the lines of friends with benefits?”
“So what if we did? I’m fucking loving spending time with you.” He caressed her. “Come here.”
After the rain stopped, they dressed and walked up to the house. They snuggled back into each other and slept the rest of the night cradled by the crackling fire with the pup at their feet.
“I could visit you in America. Try this sweet tea you’re banging on about all the time.”
“Maybe.”
He nuzzled into her. “I love....”
Oh, my stars, I’m in trouble now.
He cleared his throat. “…spending time with you.”
Chapter Sixteen
Present Day, August 1, 2015
“I have to get the call. It might be about my book.” She squeezed past him, careful not to brush against his hard body decked out in a supersoft shirt she’d enjoyed snuggling against on several occasions. “I can’t believe I’ll be working with an actual New York publisher. Beats the tiny astrology dating column I used to write.” She grabbed the phone and hit Answer Call before scurrying out the kitchen, through the tiny living room and into the only bedroom in the cottage.
It was Rachel Stanford.
She closed the door and exchanged hushed pleasantries over the phone with the only other person who’d read her fiction work.
“Zoe, your article has sparked a lot of interest in your fans.”
“I have fans?”
She heard Rachel’s smirk over the phone in her tone. “You bet. And they’re hopeful you’re off on some sweeping romance in the rolling Welsh hills after reading your piece.”
“Ha. Doubtful.”
“Are you yanking me? The man in the picture by the farm, the sheep farmer who looks like a younger Gerald Butler, he’s got your heart. It’s obvious. You are in love.”
“I am?”
“I’m right, aren’t I? He’s your Prince Farming. The one from your novel? You used him as inspiration for your hero.”
“It’s possible.” It really is possible.
“So let me postpone the publisher meeting so you can stay a while longer. Enjoy him.”
“Enjoy him? What is he, a peach cobbler?” He was untamed and wild, and a sexy beast for sure. Underneath the swoon, he was the most considerate and loyal man she’d ever known. “If I stay, I risk everything. My heart is in debt up to my ears with hurt, and I’ve three ex-fiancés to prove it. And besides, since when did I put a man before work?”
“What star sign is he?”
“You’re not turning the astro books on me, Rachel. He’s a true Leo, through and through. But so were Alex and Cody and….Every one of my would-be grooms was a Leo. No more astrology love matches for me. I’m done with all that. Better to go with the gut than some mathematical sum and statistic.”
“Statistics bullshit? You and I both know there’s something in the stars. Besides, you sound happy when you talk about him. Woman, admit it. You’re already in love. Maybe I should get my ass on a flight to Wales and give you a hand toward this farmer.”
“No, no. You’re right. I think I do love him. But…” She sighed. “But that’s usually when I find fault and push them so far back they run from me.”
“Stay where you’re at. I’ve a sinking suspicion you’ll never find a catch like him in Georgia. Heck, it was miracle you found him at all with your heart-behind-walls attitude. Can’t you forget those other men? Forget why it might fail. Focus on making it work and on your book.”
Zoe rose and straightened. “No. Dust off my keyboard because I’m coming home. My travel visa is out soon, so I’ve no choice.”
“If you signed a contract for a follow-up article, I could get you a temporary work visa and afford you a few more weeks, I’m sure.”
“But….”
“I know, I know. I tried my best, I swear. But your romance book will be a smash hit. I feel it in my bones.”
“Romance?”
“Uh-huh. Your book is romance, right?”
“No, it’s a murder mystery.”
“Are you kidding me? It’s obvious she’s falling for the police officer. And who could blame her? He’s so macho and protective yet passionate and oh so caring. Oh my goodness, the scene where he carries her through a thunderstorm. You had me gushing, and then, when they reached the abandoned house, I was fanning myself.” Rachel let out a heavy sigh, and Zoe imagined her swooning. “Looks like you found your Zoe zing. I’m feeling the love and the lust. Go you.”
Zoe listened to the praise, trying to make sense of it all. Did she love Dylan? Or was it simply that he’d helped her find a way back to herself by allowing her freedom to enjoy closeness without the pressures Alex or the others had put on her shoulders?
“I think perhaps your Welshman is serving as quite the inspiration. If I were you, I’d explore him and use this time to finish your book. Trust me, this is your calling. Those pages were so good.”
“I’m not sure.” Tears stung Zoe’s eyes. Had she really found her passion, her talent?
“Just call me tomorrow, let me know what you decided to do.”
They said their goodbyes, and she ended the call.
Now her life was heading in the right direction with a book deal, she should be happy to return, shouldn’t she?
Now all she had to do was to find a way to push Dylan away. This was the part she usually had no trouble with. With Alex, he’d wanted to change her. All she had to do was make it clear she’d be ditsy forever. With James, he hadn’t wanted a family, so she’d talked about babies until he fled. And Terrance. He’d been her first escapee. She’d pulled the biggie—pregnancy. Of course, she wasn’t pregnant, but it had gotten rid of him as fast as could be.
But with Dylan, the only reason she could find not to be with him was distance. She had a feeling that excuse wasn’t going to cut it. Her heart belonged to him now.
What to do?
Her phone buzzed with the arrival of a text message.
Alex: Come home. We’ll work it out. Missing you.
Chapter Seventeen
She slipped the phone into the inside pocket of her nylon yoga sweater and made her way to the kitchen to face her very own Prince Farming.
Dylan had pulled off his thick knit and sprawled it across the back of a kitchen chair. Clad in a shirt clinging to his muscular arms, he filled the french press with boiling water from the kettle then set the lip atop to let the coffee brew. He turned to catch her gaze in his and smiled sheepishly.
“You made coffee?”
He nodded. “Thought I’d make myself useful while you were on the phone planning your escape.”
A sigh escaped her. “That’s not fair.”
“I guess not, but I hoped you’d set roots here. Not for one minute did I think we’d part like this.”
“It had to end sooner or later. I don’t belong here.” She forced a slight smile, shimmied to him, and cradled his hands in hers. “I long to sip sweet tea in the sweltering Georgia summer and can’t wait to get back to the chaos and madness of Atlanta. To eat real burgers, and, gosh darn it, I ache for my
comfy southern home complete with the cliché wraparound porch. And I miss lattes so bad. Dolgellau is quaint and all with its rich history and wonderful, larger-than-life characters… and you…you are wonderful. But home is home.”
Dropping his gaze, he said, “You’ll be missed around here, and not only by me.”
She peeled from his hold and sat on the rose-printed window seat, and stared beyond the glass to look upon the little slice of British countryside heaven.
“I’m lucky to have gotten to know this wonderful village and your darling family. Mostly, though, I’m lucky to have met you.”
He sat beside her, his thigh pressing against hers. “Ia, I’m glad our paths crossed, love.”
Warmth emanating from his body pushed against her and taunted her to snuggle against him, to find comfort in his arms. She battled deep within to find restraint; it’d be cruel to show endearment before leaving. She still needed to leave, didn’t she?
Hell if she knew anymore.
But she did know one thing. Three hard-to-shake ex-fiancés under her belt had taught her false hope is a terrible thing. She couldn’t lead him on.
“Your heart is capable of love, Chantilly.”
“All good things must come to an end,” she said bluntly.
“No, no they don’t. This, us, we are at the beginning of something amazing, Zoe. You have to let me in. Let Dolgellau in.”
Winds howled around the wee cottage she’d called home for the last three months and whipped at the pretty blossom tree. Sodden pink petals scattered the ground, and puddles grew in divots. Inside, the wood-burning fireplace crackled, and the warm nutty aromas of a pot of coffee brewing filled the air. Cozy. Like something straight out of a Hallmark movie. She swallowed hard, then voiced in a matter-of-fact tone, “I have to go soon.”
“I can drive you to the airport.” He breathed in for the longest time. Finally, he said, “So we have more time together.”
“I bet the coffee has steeped long enough. It’s been five minutes, at least.” She scooted forward to rise, desperate to escape the awkward subject.
He leaned toward her and brushed her bangs behind her ears, his touch lingering longer than she preferred.
Before the Rain Page 10
