I glanced in the mirror. The dress did look stunning against my tan complexion, and it formed my modest curves like a second layer of skin, but my mom was right. It wasn't appropriate to meet his family. I had no doubt Brock would love it, but I needed something that was more me and less going out on the town.
The second dress was navy blue with white polka dots, tiny shoulder sleeves, and a flowing skirt.
Heather scrunched her face. "Cute, but not you."
Grams wiggled her head. "I agree. It's not right."
I went back in for a third dress. It was a pale yellow, above the knee, heart-shaped strapless, that was form-fitted at the waist, and then flowed outward with soft chiffon fabric.
I walked out and all three of their faces lit up. "That's the dress," Grams said.
Heather and Mom nodded. "Definitely," Heather agreed.
"You look beautiful, honey." My mom's eyes welled up with tears. She'd only seen me in a dress for three occasions—homecoming, prom, and my wedding. I stopped looking at her so I wouldn't cry, too.
"Okay, I'm buying it." I scurried back into the dressing room and took another spin in front of the mirror. Butterflies danced in my belly. I was excited for Brock to see me in it.
I knew Amy and a parade of women had gone shopping for a dress today. That was always something about women that I didn't understand—why around any special event you always found them in herds. I wanted to steer clear of my own house for that exact reason. There were far too many women screaming, crying, and dancing around there with the wedding being held in my backyard and only a day away. My grandfather and I had built a gazebo by the lake that would play host to the ceremony. The real party would start afterwards. A tent, tables, chairs, catering and a DJ were all being brought in. That was one thing the Baisdin's knew how to do well—celebrate. There was no doubt the reception would go well into the night.
All day, I thought about what Amy might wear. I couldn't wait to see her long legs and tight, little package in a dress. My groin knotted at the thought.
I ran a cold cloth over my bare back and grabbed my t-shirt and work gear. Unfortunately, I had to stop by my house after work. I needed fresh clothes, my button-down shirt, new jeans for the wedding, boot cleaner, and to see how my baby sister was faring.
I parked my bike where I could find a spot. There were cars and trucks covering the driveway and yard. Deliveries were being made, tents set up. It was chaos. My sister came running out of the house and waved her little hand in the air with a big grin on her face. She ran up to me, and I wrapped my arms around her short, little body and spun her around.
"How you doin', B? Ma driving you crazy yet?"
Bethany planted her bare feet back on the ground and huffed.
"I swear, if she tells me one more time how she wants something done, I'm going to lose it."
I laughed and patted her long, black hair as I walked inside with her. Looking around, I cringed at the mess that had become my house. Food, alcohol, flowers, shoes, clothes, and wedding supplies were scattered everywhere. I liked things neat and my sister did not. It was temporary, I reminded myself, and made a direct line for my bedroom and a shower.
When I came back out, my sister, aunt, mother, and grandmother were huddled in my kitchen talking over one another. Bethany handed me a beer when I joined them.
"We're looking forward to meeting Amy tomorrow," she said with a cheeky grin.
My mother eyed me with her big, brown, judging eyes. I tucked her short, broad-shouldered body in my arm and kissed her forehead. "Ma, listen and listen good. This is the woman I'm going to marry. Treat her well or I will disown you."
Bethany jumped up and down and giggled as my mom clicked her tongue against her cheek.
"Did you hear that, Ma? Brock wants to marry her?"
Damn straight, I did. The thought had crossed my mind several times in the last week. It wasn't the right time to propose yet, but I knew Amy was the woman I was going to spend the rest of my life with.
Grams and Mom had left to head back home so they weren't driving too late in the night. Heather stuck around and helped me figure out the details of hair, make-up, and shoes.
"I'm nervous to meet them tomorrow," I told her as I slid my foot into a pair of strappy wedges.
"Those are perfect. Have you ever even worn them?" She looked up at me from my barely used high-heeled wedges with knitted brows.
I laughed and lifted my foot to admire the shoe. "You know I like shoes. I just never have a good reason to wear them. Tomorrow, I do."
"You should put a loose curl in your hair and go with this lip gloss." She held it up from the small pile of make-up on my bed for me to see.
"What about eyes?"
"Go light. This brown eyeliner and," she grabbed one of my eye shadow compacts, "these shades of tan."
Thankful for Heather's fashion expertise, I gathered what I'd need for tomorrow and set it on the bathroom counter and hung the dress in the closet before meeting her downstairs in my comfy pajama pants and fitted t-shirt.
I was startled to see her holding the photo of me and Darrell.
"I know you won't like what I'm about to say, but…"
My stomach clenched. I took the photo from her hand.
"Maybe it's time to put the photo somewhere else."
I tucked the picture in my arms and swallowed. I didn't want to get angry with her. I knew why she was suggesting it, but it still pained me.
"Please don't be mad, Ames. I'm suggesting it out of respect for Brock."
Clutching the photo to my chest, I thudded across the floor, and landed on the couch with a thump. I looked down at the photo. Tears welled in my eyes, and my throat constricted as I ran my thumb along his face. It brought back excruciating memories of the way he smiled when he walked into a room and saw me and the way he held me in his arms after making love to me.
My stomach knotted uncomfortably. Thinking of Darrell that way left me feeling a strange guilt, like my thoughts alone were cheating.
Being in Brock's arms was just as incredible, if not more. He always held one firm arm around me when I slept, as though I might run away in the night and he had to keep me close to ensure I didn't. Sometimes at night, he'd wake and caress along my body, stirring me from sleep and inciting arousal he was eager to satisfy. And when I walked into a room, his eyes always sparked with adoration and attraction before he took me into his arms and kissed me senseless.
I leaned my head back on the cushion and sighed, refusing to let the tears come. I hadn't cried in over a week and wanted to keep it that way.
"Will you bring me a beer?" I asked softly.
Heather giggled. "I'll bring you two."
I set the photo on the coffee table as I tugged enthusiastically on the beer.
She sat opposite me on the couch. "Where do you have Darrell's belongings?"
"Everything is in plastic containers in the basement. I couldn't bring myself to get rid of any of it."
"What if you and Brock move into together? What would you do with Darrell's stuff then?"
I took another long swallow. I knew my eyes were wide like a deer caught in headlights. "I'm not ready for conversations like that. Whatever Brock and I have, it's too new to be looking into future plans."
Even though I wasn't ready to talk about it, the thoughts had still crept into my mind—several times.
"You should probably get ready to have those conversations, Ames. Brock's practically moved in already."
A motorcycle rumbled up the driveway outside.
Heather took a swig of beer and smiled. "Speakin' of the devil."
When I opened the front door, I found Heather and Amy on the couch—Amy in her pajamas, a beer in her hand, and the photo of her and Darrell behind her on the coffee table. I was pretty sure I'd just left one group of emotional women for another, and I couldn't help the tension building in my shoulders and neck at the sight of Amy's troubled expression and sad eyes.
A smi
le lifted the corners of her mouth when she looked over at me, and my tension eased. She stood from the couch and made her way across the room. I folded her right into me and laid a deep kiss on her lips like I'd been waiting to do all day.
"Would you like a beer, too?" she asked, her eyes now glossy and soft as she looked up at me.
"Yes," I replied with a little too much enthusiasm, but I needed it after the time spent with the rowdy Baisdin women. Her ass swayed as she walked into the kitchen but I managed to pry my eyes away to join Heather in the living room. I set my bag down by the couch and leaned back into the cushions. My chest tightened after glancing at the photo. I pointed toward it before looking at Heather.
"How's she doing?"
"We were having a tough talk before you got here."
That's all Heather got to say before Amy returned and handed me a beer. I grazed her arm and then took hold and pulled her into the couch with me. Having her in my arms eased any remaining tension right out of me. I rubbed my thumb along her waist.
"How'd shopping go?" I asked before taking a drink.
Heather's face lit up and Amy's eyes sparkled. Apparently, it had gone well.
"She found the perfect dress." Heather grinned.
I was tempted to have her try it on for me after Heather left, just so I could take it off.
Heather looked at us and then set her beer on the coffee table. "I need to get going. It's getting late."
Amy stood to hug Heather. I waved good-bye and they walked out the door. Amy came back a moment later. She walked over to the couch and looked down at the photo of her and Darrell. I could see the different emotions transitioning over her face and I was about to reach out for her, but stopped when I saw her reach down. She held the frame close to her chest.
"I'll be right back," she said quietly.
She walked to the basement door, behind the stairs, and disappeared. I took several tugs of beer and waited for her to come back. Several minutes later, she still hadn't returned. I went to investigate and found her leaning over a plastic container, full of a man's belongings. She was holding a shirt and crying quietly into it.
My chest tightened uncomfortably at the sight of her distress and heartbreak, but that wasn't the only emotion I felt. To my own surprise and shame, I was jealous. She'd obviously come down to put the photo with the rest of Darrell's belongings—belongings I didn't know she still possessed—and got overwhelmed by the memories of him. I wondered if she would ever love me as much as she loved him or if she were capable.
I came up behind her and slowly took her in my arms. She leaned into my chest and quietly composed herself. "I'm so sorry. I feel like all I ever do is cry around you. I came down here to put the photo with the rest of his things. It was more difficult than I expected."
I stroked her hair and tried to soothe her even though I was struggling myself. My eyes roamed over the multiple containers. It was shallow of me to feel jealous, but I couldn't help wanting to be her man, the only man. I wanted the love she held for him. I pulled my emotions together and kissed her head.
"That means a lot to me, that you would do that." I pulled her chin up so I could read her eyes. "But I don't want you to do something you aren't ready for. I don't ever want you to resent me for—"
She put her hand up to stop me.
"Brock, I would never resent you. I brought the photo down here because I wanted to. I want to move forward with you."
There was pain and concern in her eyes for me and for how I felt. As foolish as it was, I needed to see that. I needed to know she wanted me, wanted us.
I claimed her lips and pulled her tighter against me. I wanted her then, but it wasn't right, not next to his belongings. So instead, I lifted her and carried her upstairs where I laid her on the couch beneath me and stripped us out of our clothes as her eyes filled with desire.
I let Brock rest while I went out to the barn and got the feed put out for the horses. Last night, putting the photo of Darrell and me away had been harder than I thought. As soon as I opened the containers, the memories flooded me. I touched Darrell's shirt and instantly missed him and his warm and affectionate touch. The tears flowed out of me, and I did my best to control them. I was so tired of crying, especially in front of Brock.
He'd come down to check on me and found me exactly the way I didn't want him to. I could see the internal struggle and discomfort on his face. Guilt pummeled my gut. I knew I needed to start looking forward, and that's what I was trying to do. He just caught me at a very delicate moment, but as usual, he put his feelings aside and offered me comfort. The man was too good to me. There were times I felt guilty for how good of a man he is. My broken and messed-up heart was still holding me back when he was all-in.
I truly wanted to move forward with him, but for every few steps forward, something always knocked me back a step. Today was a day of love and celebration and I wanted to embrace it.
I headed back to the house and found Brock making breakfast. I admired his backside in his gray lounge pants. He looked over his shoulder, caught me staring, and grinned as he tilted his head for me to come to him. I think he had my body trained at this point. The slightest curve of his finger, head tilt, or whisper of words, and my body responded to his demands, willingly and hungrily.
He pawed my ass and pushed me against the counter. His large, solid frame covered me as he planted his lips on mine. When his lips parted, my head tilted toward him, still wanting more. He reached around me to grab the plate, and I pouted. He laughed, bit my lip, and pulled it between his teeth.
"Don't get me started, gorgeous. We can't be late. I have to walk Bethany down the aisle."
My eyes remained locked on his solid, chiseled torso as he carried our plates to the dining table. Memories of the way he'd loved me with that body sent a trickle of arousal over my limbs and buried itself deep within my sex. He rounded the corner and winked at me. No doubt, my heated cheeks revealed my passionate inner thoughts.
My feet woke up and followed him and our breakfast to the dining room. Just as I expected, my plate was next to his and when I tried to take the seat next to him, his strong hands nestled over my hips and gently slid me onto his lap. I giggled before his lips covered mine and snuffed out the sound.
I placed a hand on his chest and pulled away as my breath grew heavy. "Can't be late, remember?" I eyed him playfully.
His grip tightened on my ass, adjusting me over his growing erection. "I don't want to imagine how difficult it's going to be keeping my hands off you once I see you in your dress."
"Speaking of…we really do need to hurry and get ready. I want to put loose curls in my hair and that will take me a while."
His eyes sparked with apparent interest as he bit into his breakfast. "You're going to make it tough on me, aren't you?"
"Make what tough?"
"I'm going to have to fight off every single man at the wedding while also tending to my brotherly duties."
I laughed. "You don't have anything to worry about. You're the only man I want."
He stopped his fork on the way to his lips and set it down and stared at me.
"What?" I crinkled my nose.
He kissed my cheek and squeezed me against him. "It feels good to hear that, really good."
Wanting to add to his happiness, I kissed him, long and soft. We finished our breakfast while discussing the itinerary of the wedding. We had to arrive early, so I dumped our empty plates in the sink and rushed up stairs to get ready. I kicked him out of my room so I could surprise him once I was completely dressed and done-up. He got ready using the first floor bathroom.
Once my make-up was glossy and sparkling—my hair in thick, wavy curls, and my legs shiny and smooth—I donned the dress and strappy wedges. I cracked the door of my bedroom and heard him walking around downstairs. My stomach did a loop-the-loop as I crept along the floor. He heard me coming and walked toward the steps.
As soon as I heard the steps creak, my stomach jumped around
in my gut. I knew she was going to look stunning, but my imagination didn't do her justice. Her long, smooth, shiny legs met my eyes first and I was instantly glued, desperately awaiting what followed. My eyes trailed up her bare thighs to a dress that had been made for Amy's slender, toned, curvy body. If any color was a perfect representation of her, it was that yellow. Her long, light-brown hair hung in waves over her shoulders. Her smile was wide and shy, anxiously awaiting my reaction.
If my hard-on and bulging eyes weren’t clear enough, I didn't think stuttering over my words would be any better.
"What do you think?" She did a little spin and the bottom of her skirt lifted, baring more of her naked thighs.
A low growl escaped my lips. "Baby, you look gorgeous, like the damn radiant sun. I'm screwed."
Her face lit up and she giggled.
"Come're."
I pulled her in close to me, gripping my hands around her tight ass, and pressed my lips against her glossy, berry flavored ones. My fingers slid up the soft fabric, lifting it off her thigh and found their way to the satin panties beneath. Her pleasured moan filled my mouth and it took every bit of my self-control not to strip us both out of our clothes. Her hands held steady on my shoulders as my other hand took hold of her thigh, hugging her leg around my waist.
I caressed between her folds, pulling eager breaths from her lips. My body tensed with arousal. I ached to be where my fingers were. A mixture of gratitude and disappointment filled me when she slowly pulled away from my kiss and touch.
"Brock…" My name escaped in a breathy whisper.
"I know, baby. We need to get going, but you feel and taste and look so damn good."
I released her leg and she adjusted her dress and the panties I had ardently brushed aside. She lifted her hand and wiped her gloss off my lips. My brain couldn't think of anything other than having that lip gloss covering several parts of my body. She seemed to sense my lascivious thoughts because she grinned and winked at me.
Fire On The Farm (Second Chance Cowboy Romance) Page 11
