She was rewarded with the gentlest of touches, his fingers tracing over her most intimate parts.
"Like this?" he whispered.
"Yes…I need…" she whimpered, pressing up, and he gave, finding a light but steady rhythm of movement over her sensitive center.
"Need," he repeated back to her, and she felt like breaking apart. What she needed was not to need Nate Montgomery, but then he shifted, his movements speeding up, her hips pushing up into him, and she could feel an orgasm coming on her like a tsunami, swallowing up everything in its path, including any resistance she might have had left, until she was drowning in pleasure and need and the smell and sound of him.
She barely had time to gasp out about the condoms in her drawer—a precaution she'd picked up after his first sleepover. At the time, she'd felt like she was jinxing things but as much as she loved Mason, she wasn't ready to repeat that mistake again. He pulled away for just a moment to look after it, then moved over her quickly, working her out of her jeans and panties like magic, and covered her mouth with his as he pressed into her with no preamble, filling his hands with her fleshy hips and angling them for more contact while she was still spiraling to the surface of her orgasm. Dropping her head back against the pillow, Layla let out a sharp breath, her fingers scrabbling against his shoulders in an attempt to anchor herself to some semblance of sanity. The pace Nate set was quick, deep, and intense, and by the time she felt like she was catching up there was already another storm of pleasure brewing, threatening to drown her completely.
Nate's left hand moved from her hip to her thigh, drawing it up tight against his waist, touching on parts of her he hadn't yet. Too quickly, she felt like she was losing any kind of control she'd had over the situation. The last two years had been a careful balance of control and good judgment, and right now, Layla had neither. Her breaths measured out in time to the friction of Nate's body touching on the most sensitive parts of her and she couldn't stop herself from letting out a low moan as her eyes slid shut.
She felt his fingers at her hairline, and heard the smile on his voice.
"It's all right, Lay. Let me hear you."
She opened her eyes to find him watching her with an intensity and desire she'd never seen, never felt so keenly as she did then. This was their first encounter multiplied by all of the time and emotion they'd shared over the last few weeks. She swallowed hard, her breath coming out in short pants she couldn't regulate. Right now, he shifted and her world shattered. Her eyes went wide and she clung to his shoulders, sobbing his name like a prayer.
*
"You keep up like that and I won't let you go back to Denver ever."
Nothing made Nate feel more like a whole man than holding Layla, warm and soft, curled into his side, after they'd cleaned up. With her head resting on his bicep, and her front pressed against his side, her fingers drew circles over his chest, down his ribs, tracing over the big scar down his side. That was a new one, courtesy of Night Train. She slid her fingers down the length of it, then back up again, pausing at the top.
"The wreck?" she asked.
He'd been enjoying the quiet intimacy—something he hadn't had in a long time—and not thinking about Denver or his failed rodeo career at all. When he first came home, it was all he could think about; how the wreck had made him feel like less of a man. But the taste of her, the sound of her, the thought of her face soft and slack with pleasure; they'd erased any thoughts he'd had about the wreck.
He blew out a slow breath. He didn't want to talk about it, but they'd just crossed another line. One he couldn't cross back over. He had taken—maybe more than she could afford to give—and now he would give.
"Yeah."
She thought he'd go back to Denver. Maybe not right away—he had told her it was for the foreseeable future—but she believed he would someday go back.
She deserved truth. He filled the silence with it.
"I'm not going back to Denver, ever."
Her fingers stopped, he felt her head lift, her eyes on him. He didn't look down. Admitting to himself he'd never go back to the rodeo was one thing, hearing it from the doctor was another, but saying it out loud to the woman he wanted, that was entirely different. Bull riding had been his entire identity for the last ten years; it was hard to speak it into life. It was admitting he had nothing to offer her. No career meant no money, no security, and no future.
"But?"
"But the doc says not to ride bulls anymore. That's what I do, I ride bulls."
"There must be something else you can do," she said, her voice soft, tentative. She didn't know what rodeo was like, and she was trying to be positive. Sure, they were talking about this rodeo school thing, but who knew if that would even pan out. Was that something he could bank his future on? What if there was no demand?
"You trying to get rid of me?" He craned his neck to look down at her now, raising a brow. She caught him looking a second too late, pasting on the playful smile only after he'd seen her features shrouded in quiet thought. He sighed, lowering his head back down to the pillow, curling his fingers against the soft curve of her hip. Touching her comforted him. "That accident gave me a fractured spine and a lacerated liver, among other things. It was four days before I came to. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't get back on a bull. Not in this lifetime. And I don't want to. There's nothing for me in Denver, Layla. My ranch, my home—that's all gone. Three Rivers is my home. Noah and Finn are putting the wheels on the rodeo school. It might pan out—but if it doesn't, I'll find work somewhere else. Maybe I'll sell hammers. I saw the hardware store was looking for a clerk."
Her warm hand smoothed over his shoulder, down his side, pausing over that big scar she'd found earlier—they'd said it was from surgery, but he didn't remember it. He was being a big cry baby to have thought his whole life was over just because he couldn't ride bulls anymore. Layla did a lot more with a lot less, and she seemed happy. He wanted in on that.
"It will work out exactly the way it's meant to work out."
He lifted his head to look at her again. Her eyes were soft, and she put her fingers in his hair when their gazes met. "Do you believe that?"
"No," she said with a little laugh. "Not always. But it helps me sleep at night when things get hard. There are things in this life we can control and there are things we can't. You can't control your injuries, but you can control how you move forward from here. You can make yourself happy, whether it's teaching rodeo or selling wrenches."
"Hammers," he corrected her.
"Hammers at the hardware store. Or fixing my cupboards. Or harassing your Nan. I think you can be happy here in Three Rivers."
There had been a time he would never have imagined that. But being here with her made him believe he could.
—TWENTY-NINE—
Nate woke several hours later, after the most restful sleep he'd had in ages, and carefully extracted himself from the tangle of Layla's limbs. She stirred, only slightly, and he pressed a kiss to her lips before he slid out of the bed and pulled on his jeans. He glanced at the baby monitor on the bedside, but he didn't hear anything. It wouldn't hurt to check. Being happy in Three Rivers meant Layla and Mason, and he'd missed the kid last night. He made his way quickly up the hall to the nursery and found the baby on his back with a big smile when he poked his head over the rail of the crib.
"Hey, buddy." He spoke quietly, worried the noise over the monitor might wake Layla. "You wanna get up?"
He'd seen Layla get him up and going for the day a half dozen times, he felt reasonably confident he could do this. Reaching down into the crib, he grasped the child under the arms and picked him up, immediately noticing the heavy diaper. He hadn't accounted for that.
"Okay…diaper first, then breakfast, right?"
Keeping up a steady stream of conversation half to himself and half to the baby, he located a fresh diaper and wipes, and carefully laid Mason on the change table, unsnapping his onesie.
"Score," he muttered to
himself when he discovered the diaper was only wet. Careful to keep one hand on the baby at all times because he was pretty sure their natural instinct was to roll off of changing tables at any opportunity, he cleaned Mason up and secured the new diaper with minimal trouble, then found a fresh undershirt, t-shirt and pair of pants. None of it really matched, but it was on top of the basket of clean laundry in the corner, so it worked in a pinch. He was pretty sure Layla would be more appreciative of the chance to sleep than dismayed about the wardrobe choices.
He picked Mason up again, holding him upright against his chest and headed for the kitchen. Halfway there, he felt a warm, wet spot growing in the front of his t-shirt. When he held the baby out, the smell gave everything away. "What the heck, dude? Isn't that what diapers are for?"
He heard Layla's soft chuckle from the doorway of her bedroom. "Did you put his penis up or down?"
"What kind of a question is that?" he asked, as Layla crossed the floor and took the baby into her arms, cradling him on his back to avoid contact with his soaking wet outfit.
"You have to point it down or else he just pees all up the front of him," she said, eyeing Nate's wet t-shirt. "And you."
Just when he thought he might have had half a handle on taking care of babies, something he never dreamed he would have to think of. If he was on this team, he still had more to learn than he could anticipate.
"Huh…learn something new every day."
"Take off your shirt," she said, disappearing into Mason's room. He did as he was told, following her in. It took her a quarter of the time to clean the baby up, dress him in something he could wear in public, and turn around, trading the baby for his crumpled up t-shirt. He shook his head in awe and she flashed him a grin. "It was a good try, Nate."
"You do have a few months and some kind of preternatural instinct over me."
She held up his shirt. "Guess you're staying for breakfast."
With his free arm, he grabbed her around the waist, tugging her close. He brushed his lips over hers, and she squawked.
"Morning breath!"
"I don't even care," he said with a laugh, laying a firm kiss on her before releasing her. "You know what I think? I think I should probably keep a change of clothes here."
She raised a brow. "Isn't that a little serious?"
"Didn't I tell you last night I wasn't going anywhere?" He followed her into the kitchen, where she strapped Mason into his chair and started making cereal for him.
"Yes, but…" He could hear the hesitance in her voice a mile away. If she didn't trust when he said he wasn't going to be running back to Denver, that he was making a conscious choice to be here with her and Mason, he would just have to show her, over and over, with his actions, until she believed him.
"Shh," he hushed her. She didn't look happy about it, but she stopped, ducking back toward the laundry room down the hall. He went for the coffee maker, firing it up before he moved on to the fridge for eggs and bread.
While she fed the baby, he cut holes in the middle of the bread, toasting it in a pan before cracking an egg into it. It had been a while since he'd done much cooking, but if the only way he could contribute to the household was to cook meals and take care of the baby, that's what he'd do.
"What on earth is that?" Layla asked, peeking over his shoulder as she brought Mason's dish to the sink. He was assembling everything on plates, and had added cucumber and orange slices for garnish.
"Nan used to make it for us when we were kids. 'Egg in the hole', she called it. Silly…but still my favorite breakfast."
"That's sweet," she said. Nate smiled when he felt her fingers slide over his sides, coming to clasp together over his bare abs, her front pressed to his back, her warm body so close he couldn't help but think of last night. Craning his neck, his lips caught her forehead, but only because she was tall enough for it. So this was what they meant when they talked about 'domestic bliss'. "You know, I could get used to having a shirtless personal chef."
He laughed, picking up the plates. "Isn't that a little serious?"
She swatted at him, then let him go, picking up the coffee mugs and following him to the table. They were just getting seated when he heard a rumble in the yard.
*
Layla froze with a cucumber slice in her mouth. Nate looked confused.
"You weren't expecting anyone, were you?" he asked, leaning back in his chair to see who had pulled in.
"No. Kerri is coming at four to keep him while I go to Danny's, but…" Even as she said it out loud, she knew who it was. Her first instinct was to tell Nate to hide, but there was no use in that—they didn't have time, and then her mother was knocking on her door, and if she had even basic observation skills, she saw the giant, tanned, half naked cowboy sitting at her kitchen table with her. There was no way out of this one.
She got to her feet, icy dread slowing her steps, and pulled the door open. Immediately, Rhonda peeked around her, obviously taking in the sight of Nate sitting perpendicular to Mason. Too close for comfort. Maybe he was right; he did need to keep a change of clothes here.
"Hey sweetie," Rhonda drawled, in a sugary voice Layla had never heard before.
"Mom," Layla steeled herself with a deep breath and stepped out of the door. Not letting her mother in would have worse consequences than letting her in, so she made the only choice she felt like she had. "I wasn't expecting you."
"I was in the neighborhood today and thought I'd stop by."
No doubt she'd done a drive by and seen Nate's truck in the yard. That was the only reason she'd stopped in.
"Good morning, Mrs. Sullivan." She sensed Nate's body at her back and turned around to see he'd pulled Mason out of his seat and was holding him on his hip, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. As if he knew he was this kid's father and this was a totally normal, completely complete family.
A Cheshire cat-like smile twisted her mother's mouth, and she practically purred when she saw Nate.
"Good morning, Nate. I'm surprised to see you here so early, and…" she trailed off, one brow raised at his broad, bare chest.
"Nate just stopped by to help me peel the wallpaper in the bathroom…and then Mason had a little accident. So I'm washing his shirt for him."
"Is that so?" Rhonda asked.
"Yes, ma'am," Nate replied. He glanced down at Mason. "You wanna go see your grandma, kiddo?"
"Why don't you come in, mom?" Layla asked, since Nate had already crossed that particular line.
Rhonda started to protest, not stopping for long Layla was sure, but Nate had already foisted the baby off onto her and he was giggling and cooing and her mother hugged him close for a second as he appealed to what mothering instincts she still had. Layla ushered everyone into the living room. It was moments, brief as they were, just like this, that made Layla long for a conventional relationship with her mother again…but Rhonda reminded her all too quickly why she couldn't when she turned her shrewd gaze back to Nate.
"So, Nate," she began, settling on the edge of the loveseat with Mason on her lap, appearing to turn at least half her attention toward the child, though Layla knew better. "How long are you planning on hanging around?"
From the opposite end of the couch, Layla glanced back at Nate. The whole situation was absurd, his bare chest and feet distracting. He appeared completely unruffled. She supposed when you looked that good, you were probably comfortable half naked.
"Oh, the foreseeable future. I'll be settling in and looking for work." It was too much information, and Layla could almost see her mother's brain working. She pinned Layla with a brief, contemptuous look, before turning back to Nate.
"Riding bulls isn't paying the feed bill anymore?"
"No, ma'am. Doc Fields said I had to quit if I wanted to see thirty on my own two feet."
"Well that's a shame. That was a pretty good living, wasn't it?"
Nate shifted, clearly uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was going, and Layla bounced to h
er feet.
"Would you like a coffee, mom?"
Rhonda shifted, then got to her feet as well, handing Mason to her.
"Actually, like I said, I was just in the neighborhood, but I've got to be going."
"Well, it was nice of you to drop by. Just give me a ring next time and we'll have lunch ready."
A brief smile flitted across her mother's features, but died almost immediately—fleeting, like most of her mother's good moods; existing only until she started scheming again.
Nate rose and bid her mother goodbye and they both stood, a little shell-shocked, in the living room as Rhonda left the house and got into her car.
"Your mama…"
"Don't trust her. Whatever you do."
—THIRTY—
Layla paced across her porch, worrying her lower lip. She still owed Rusty for the repairs on the car, and she couldn't afford to miss this shift at Danny's—right in the middle of Three Rivers' Community Pride day, when downtown would be busy as ever. Because of the timing, Nan was busy manning the Ladies' Auxiliary table, which left her exactly one option for Mason…that option was pulling into her driveway in his big diesel truck right now.
She'd even debated calling her mother, but that would have been worse. Nate had spent so much time with Mason by this point; she had no reason to worry. But she did, because it was her nature. And it wasn't even really about the level of care the baby would get—he was a pretty easy kid to get along with these days, and Nan was really only a phone call away. It just felt like if they spent time alone together, Nate would decipher her secrets. It wasn't like he was going to somehow convince Mason to tell him he was his father; the baby was miles away from speaking, though she did get the occasional 'mumumum' out of him—no, he just might have the chance to look a little longer at the shade of the baby's eyes, or the bridge of his nose, or the curls growing in his hair, all of which looked more and more like Nate's every day.
She watched him climb out of his truck and heard an excited squeal from Mason. Judging by the big smile on Nate's face, neither of them was going to be too sorry to be spending the day together, and that was enough to make Layla sigh with relief. That was one issue she didn't have to worry about leaving the two together.
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