The moment her body began to tighten, he let go. He arched into her, letting her set the rhythm but matching it thrust for thrust. Her eyes flew open and she buried her face against his shoulder, muffling the long cry that signaled her release. That was all it took to send him spiraling over the edge. There was no way he could stop the groan that ripped from him.
She collapsed into him, burrowing close. Her slight shiver had him tugging the blanket up. Having her in his arms felt right. This felt right. Neither one of them could deny that this was powerful. Maybe powerful enough to bind them together—until affection kicked in.
He rubbed her back with long, slow strokes, listening as her breathing grew steady and she was relaxed in his hold.
“Renata?” he whispered.
“Hmm?” She glanced up at him, smiling. “You look pleased with yourself.”
“After that? Hell, yes, I am.” He grinned. “Watching you.” He cleared his throat. “Pleasing you.”
“You did. You do.” She bit her lower lip, a shaky breath escaping. “You convinced me.”
He ran his knuckles along her jaw, leisurely exploring the shape of her face. Holding her close, having her smile up at him like that, made everything fall into place. For one thing, there was this. The intensity of the fire between them was undeniable. But this, the tenderness she stirred in the sweet after, was just as intense.
Her brothers thought the world of her. His bruise seemed to satisfy them as a whole—which was a relief because his insides were still tender. They’d let him do most of the fence repairs while they discussed options on how he’d have the most luck winning her over. By the afternoon’s end, all that had been decided was he needed luck because getting Renata Boone to change her mind was something rarely accomplished.
It was more than luck he needed. But admitting what was in his heart, right now, would have her running from the room—or throwing up all over him. Right now, he was pretty damn content.
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
Nothing she was ready to hear. Instead, he shrugged, smiling slowly.
Her brows rose, a mischievous sparkle in her eye. “Dr. Carmichael.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Are you thinking sexy thoughts?” She bit her lower lip.
He hadn’t been. But now... Her simple act of biting her lower lip sent his mind on a detour. His hand slid up, slowly, along her thigh to her hip. “Sexy thoughts? As in?”
She turned an adorable shade of red, still whispering, “All the things you want to do to me.”
“You mean all the things you want me to do to you?” His fingers traced up her side, around her rib cage and up. His hand hovered, inches from her breast.
Her breathing picked up. “Maybe.”
“Has to be your bed, considering mine probably has a toddler in it.” He grinned. “What you have in mind might just take all night.”
She was smiling again. “Mine. My apartment is downstairs—out of the way and quiet.”
“Good.” His thumb brushed the hardened tip of her nipple, causing her to arch into him. “You’re noisy.”
Her hand clasped his wrist and pulled his hand closer. “I’ll bite the pillow,” she gasped. “Since this is all about what I want... Kiss me.”
He did, focusing entirely on the woman in his arms.
Chapter 12
“Check.” Renata drew a line through the Gingerbread Festival. What a festival it had been. Poor Ash might never recover. Still, he’d kept his cool, and no one—gingerbread houses included—had been injured in the judging process.
The Stonewall Crossing High School Ag Club had won. And while three long-standing competitors and previous winners had argued and questioned the decision, the judges didn’t budge. And the kids were ecstatic. She didn’t know what made them happier, bragging rights or the five-hundred-dollar prize that went to the winner. Either way, the town had been pleased when the kids’ names were called out—silencing any further protests from their competitors.
“Tomorrow is the Christmas parade and then it’s Christmas Eve, babies. Then we’re taking a vacation.” She ran her hand over the slightest swell of her stomach. “Your mom needs a vacation.”
As if the stress of the holiday season and the Gingerbread Festival hadn’t been enough, she’d had to grin and bear many a question about Ash Carmichael, her pregnancy and their impending engagement. Lucky for her, she had allies. Between her sisters-in-law and, surprisingly, the mothers, Renata had managed to escape before questioning turned truly invasive.
Overall, it had been a good week. The more time she spent with Curtis, the more in love she fell. His easy nature and quick smile were impossible to resist. He was a mini-Ash, all dimples and charm. And the mothers? Well, they were hysterical. She looked forward to them playing just as big a role in her children’s lives as they were doing for Curtis.
Ash did his part to make the week pretty incredible, too. He managed to sneak in at least a dozen stolen kisses, several lingering touches and one night of invigorating lovemaking, followed by whispering in her bed into the wee hours of the morning. If there had been any remaining doubts about her feelings for the man, they were gone. She loved him. Unconditionally.
And it had to stop.
But he was making that impossible.
Her desk phone buzzed. “Miss Boone, there’s a delivery for you.” Irma sounded delighted.
She glanced at the clock. Right before lunch. “Coming.” The same time, every day for the last four days, Ash had sent her a surprise. After she opened one, he’d call and they’d have lunch. When it was just the two of them, the intimacy felt real and promising. But this whole public display of whatever this was made her nervous. Was he still planning something calamitous—like he had at Archer’s ball? The pressure he was under, as an outsider, was incredible. If he buckled, could she blame him?
Yes, she could. He knew how she felt about marrying without love. And this, the presents and the lunches and the smiles and the touches, only toyed with her heart and weakened her resolve to hold out for the real thing.
Not that the surprises were in any way romantic. They were...interesting. Ash had a unique sense of humor. One more thing to love about him.
As if I needed something else.
Surprise one, a picture of a partridge badly photo-shopped into a pear tree, sat in the bookcase opposite her desk. Quirky as it was, Renata loved it.
A carved wooden ornament, two turtledoves beak-to-beak, was day two.
Her coffee cup rested on day three’s surprise: a ceramic coaster, painted with three hens in berets.
Day four, he’d sent her four wind-up birds. They hobbled around, stopped, opened their wings and made the most horrible grating sound she’d ever heard. She’d burst out laughing but vowed never, ever, to wind them up again. If she were smart, she’d put them someplace her nieces and nephews couldn’t reach or they’d be squawking all the time.
Day five meant...rings.
She paled, eyeing the box the delivery man carried into her office with apprehension. A small box. Rings. Engagements. Nausea. And...hope.
Damn you, Ash Carmichael.
Renata opened the box, fighting back excitement as she sifted through the tissue paper inside. Until she saw what he’d sent.
“Teething rings.” A nervous giggle erupted. This was good. A relief. A huge relief. So why didn’t she feel that way?
“Really?” Irma asked, peeking her head in the door. “Well, that’s... Huh.”
She held the teething rings for Irma’s inspection. “It’s the most practical gift so far.” Which was true, but that didn’t stop a knot from lodging in her throat.
Irma’s eyes narrowed, then widened. “There’s only four.” She practically ran into the office, making a beeline for the box on Renata’s desk.
Renata glared at her, but Irma was al
ready picking up the box and shaking it. Sure enough, something else was inside. The lump in her throat doubled in size as Irma smiled and offered the box back.
No. Renata eyed the box. She didn’t want to know what was inside. She really didn’t. But she was turning over the box, dumping the cotton padding onto her desk... A gold key ring. With a key on it. She blew out a slow, deep breath.
Her phone rang.
“Hello?” she asked, turning the key over.
“You get it?” It was Ash.
She cleared her throat. “Yes. Ash, thank you. But this has to stop, really. I’m not sure why—”
“You’re not curious?”
She turned the key over. “Fine. Yes. What is it?”
He chuckled. “I’m outside. Let’s go try out the key.”
“Okay. Give me a minute.” She tucked the teething rings and key ring into her purse, slipped into her coat and hurried down the hall.
“Enjoy your lunch.” Irma waved.
The urge to climb into his lap and shower him with very thorough, very passionate kisses was there—like it had been for the past four days. But he wasn’t alone. The mothers and Curtis were in the truck waiting.
“Hi, everybody.” She climbed into Ash’s truck and reached back to squeeze Curtis’s foot. Curtis squealed in reply.
“Let’s go.” Ash chuckled before turning the truck and heading back down Main Street.
“Guess I can’t ask where we’re going?” She glanced his way.
He winked. “You can ask.”
She shook her head, grinning like a fool.
“Set us straight, Renata,” Nancy Carmichael said. “Is the big parade tonight or tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow,” she said, playing peekaboo with Curtis over the back of her seat. “You ready to meet Santa Claus?”
Curtis’s little feet kicked and he babbled with great enthusiasm.
“I thought so,” she agreed, wiggling his little foot and smiling.
“It’s awful cold. We’ll have to bundle him up so he doesn’t catch pneumonia.” Betty said. “He doesn’t have much in the way of winter clothing.”
Which reminded her. “I meant to tell you earlier—Kylee and Annabeth have boxes of clothes for Curtis. And toys. If you don’t mind hand-me-downs?”
“Why would I mind?” Ash asked, his deep voice making her insides melt a little more.
They’d left town and were heading toward her family’s ranch—but he passed the gate and kept right on going.
“That’s where we met,” he interrupted Betty and Nancy’s back seat debate on which laundry detergent irritated Curtis’s skin and pointed out the window.
Renata looked past him at the stretch of fence line. He was right. She could never have anticipated how much that dreamy-eyed photographer would change her life.
“There?” Betty asked. “On the side of the road? Were you hitchhiking?”
“My rental truck broke down,” he explained. “Renata rode up on her horse and rescued me.”
She laughed. “Is that what happened?”
He shot her a look. “I like my version.”
“Whatever happened, it turned out just fine.” His mother reached forward to pat Ash on the shoulder. “My son is smiling again. What more could a mother ask for?”
Renata’s heart thumped against her rib cage. He did seem happier—maybe. Or was that what she wanted to see? Still, he winked when she glanced his way. That wink, that smile, kicked up the molten burn only Ash Carmichael stirred. She was so distracted, she didn’t realize where they were until he’d parked in front of Gruber House. He sat back, watching her.
“The key?” she asked.
He nodded. “Signed everything this morning.”
The mothers were already climbing out of the truck, taking Curtis with them, but Renata didn’t move. “Ash. Why are you giving me a key?”
“I’m hoping you’ll want to spend a lot of time here. I like the Lodge and I respect it’s your home, but it’s not my home. And, honestly, I can’t imagine raising Curtis and the twins there.” He cleared his throat. “Space, I think you said? Plenty of that here. And a home. For whatever happens next.”
Her happiness fizzled. We—he and Curtis and the twins. She was welcome here, anytime, but the Lodge was her home. Last time he’d mentioned this place, he’d teased her about the kids they’d have in the future. Not this time. Instead, he was following her rules and using her terms. Space. Whatever happens next. None of that had to mean something bad. Something like Ash finding his soul mate and moving into her dream house to have the half a dozen kids he’d teased her about. Talk about going to extremes... Her overactive imagination had doubled since she’d gotten pregnant—which only amped up her emotional seesaw.
“We should probably open the place up before they freeze.” He pointed at the mothers, leaning over hedges to peer inside.
She nodded, climbed out of the truck and opened the front door. Betty and Nancy took off, opening doors and shouting back and forth about every little detail. There was good reason to be excited. Everything was pretty...perfect. The more she saw, the easier it was to envision living here, and the harder it was not to cry. She carried Curtis upstairs, peering into each room she passed. It was the last room on the left that made her pause.
A nursery. The palest mint green with detailed white trim. Massive windows and a wide window seat peered out into the overgrown garden behind the house. Beyond that, the pastures, a small fruit orchard and bare grape vines promised an incredible spring view. Sitting here, in a rocking chair, singing lullabies and reading books.
“What do you think?” she whispered to Curtis.
He was sound asleep in her arms. She buried her nose against his glossy black curls.
This, all of this, was everything she’d ever wanted. Well, most of it.
Was it too late to tell him she’d marry him? To settle for what he would give her versus what she truly wanted? He’d do it, she knew he would. And she’d have him, forever. But the thought of trapping him in a loveless marriage... No, that was wrong—for both of them.
* * *
Seeing her in the nursery, holding Curtis close... If the words hadn’t clogged up his throat, he’d have told her how he felt. Loving her wasn’t a choice. It was a truth. A truth he worried she wouldn’t believe.
“What do you think?” His voice was gruff, hoarse.
She turned, facing him, and his heart clamped down—hard.
“It’s a great house.” Her eyes darted away. “Just like I remembered it.”
Something was wrong. Her smile wasn’t quite right. With Renata, her smile lit her up from the inside. It was warm and real, making her eyes shine and his burdens ease. The exact opposite of how he was feeling now, when her smile was tight and forced and her eyes were pointedly avoiding his.
“What’s up?” he asked, stepping forward.
She shook her head.
“Why won’t you look at me?” he pushed.
She rolled her incredible blue eyes and stared at him. “Happy?”
The sheen in her eyes was a kick in the gut. Hell, no, he wasn’t happy. What was wrong? “Renata—”
“I need to get back, Ash,” she cut him off. “The parade is tomorrow—”
“I know.” He sighed. “And I know, from Irma, that you’ve checked and rechecked every tiny detail.”
Her gaze fell from his. “I still need to get back.” She shifted Curtis, her nose brushing his dark curls. “Please.”
She could dodge him now. The excited chatter of the mothers was growing closer anyway. And Curtis needed his nap. But she couldn’t avoid him forever—he’d make damn sure of that. “Fine. But we’re getting you something to eat.”
She glared at him. “Someone had a ham and cheese kolache delivered to the office this morning.”
<
br /> He glared right back. “A kolache you should have eaten for breakfast.”
“Ash...” She broke off, sucking in a deep breath, meeting his gaze. “We need to talk.”
A coldness seeped in, starting at the top of his head and descending slowly southward. “Talk.” He forced the word out.
She pressed her eyes shut. “Fine. Please stop. Please.” She buried her nose in Curtis’s hair. “I know you’re going to be a good father—you already are. But you? And me? We both know we’re playing with fire acting this way.”
He stepped closer, hating the gulf widening between them.
Her gaze darted to his. “I’m pregnant. My emotions are in overdrive. By the time I’ve sifted through what I’m feeling, it’s changed.” She swallowed. “Being attracted to me isn’t a valid reason to marry me. Getting me pregnant isn’t a valid reason to marry me—no matter what you or my father think. Only love, Ash. We both know there’s no way a person can fall in love so soon.” Her posture stiffened. “Just, please, stop with the presents, the lunches, the...gestures. All of it. You’re sending mixed signals.”
He had to try. “I wasn’t trying to—”
“You are. The whole town thinks you’re courting me.” She shook her head, her voice rising enough for Curtis to stir. “But we both know you’re not. I’m not sure why you’re doing what you’re doing. Maybe you’re feeling the pressure from...everyone. Maybe you still believe I can’t do this on my own—”
“I never said that.” His hands rested on her shoulders, needing her warmth to chase off the coldness that seeped into his bones.
“Maybe...” She swallowed. “Maybe it’s because of your wife?” Her eyes met his. “I’m healthy, Ash. I’m going to be fine. I know you’ve been to hell and back.” She cleared her throat. “What’s happening here is different. It’s not real. It’s based on heightened emotion and wildly out-of-control desire. It can’t end well. It would be nice for us to stay friends while we’re raising our children.” She stumbled over the last words. “This needs to stop before people get hurt.”
What the hell could he say to that? How could he argue?
Home on the Ranch: Texas Wedding Page 14
