by Susan Fox
Rose’s voice broke into his thoughts. “You found someone to feed the cattle and horses?”
“Yeah. Ted Williamson’s going to go over.”
“Did you call your parents?”
“No. I’ll wait until Miriam wakes up.” He wished his mom was here now, though. He could use one of her hugs. The phone just wasn’t the same.
Thinking of his mom’s health, his parents’ move, all the changes over the past months, he asked quietly, “Do you think it was too much for Miriam? Us moving to the ranch and all?” He’d vowed to protect his wife, and he’d failed.
“She’s not like your mother, Wade.” Her voice was even. “She’s strong, she’s always been healthy.”
His mother was strong-minded and loving, but physically frail. Back in the fall she’d had a really bad spell and the doctor said the climate was too harsh for her. That’s when his folks decided to retire early and move to Phoenix.
“You and Miriam always knew Bly Ranch would be yours,” his mother-in-law went on. “It just happened a lot sooner than you expected.” She stifled a yawn and rested her head against the back of her chair.
“A hell of a lot sooner.” His pa wasn’t even sixty yet, and Wade had figured that it’d be another twenty, thirty years before he and Miriam would take over Bly Ranch—and that they’d inherit it, clear title.
“It was the only thing that worked for everyone.”
“Yeah.” His parents had had to finance their move and buy a home down south, not to mention anticipate their living expenses for the rest of their lives, so they couldn’t afford to just give the ranch to Wade and Miriam. They’d given them half, though. Using the down payment he and Miriam had been saving for a house in town, the two of them had obtained a mortgage. A hellacious mortgage that’d have them pinching pennies for years to come.
Rose’s voice broke into his musings. “Last time I spoke to your mom, she said she was feeling so much better.”
“I know. It’s great.”
“She said they’re both learning golf.” She closed her eyes and this time a yawn did escape.
Wade yawned, too, trying to fight against his exhaustion so he’d be awake when Miriam opened her eyes. “So I heard.” He couldn’t picture his hardworking rancher pa on a golf course. But his father would do anything to look after his mom. That was what husbands did for the women they loved. Wade reached for the foul coffee, took another sip. It did nothing to combat his weariness or his sense of guilt.
In a drowsy voice, Rose said, “Miriam loves the ranch.”
“I know.” He’d close his eyes and rest them for just a second.
“She was so excited about moving out there last December.”
“She was.” He smiled as a memory came into his mind.
Wade unlocked and opened the front door of the log ranch house. On this crisp December afternoon two weeks before Christmas, the sun glinted off the snow, making sparkles that matched up with Wade’s mood. Anticipation—not just of the next moments but of the years ahead—coursed through him. He hoisted his wife, heavy winter coat, boots, and all, into his arms.
Miriam laughed. “Really? You’re going to carry me over the threshold?”
He gazed at her, even more beloved than on the day he’d married her eight years earlier. Miriam was everything to him: vital, cheerful, loving. “You got an objection, Mrs. Bly?”
She beamed at him. “Not a single one, Mr. Bly.”
An impatient girlish voice from behind them said, “Hurry up. I want to get changed and go riding.”
“Hold your horses, Jessie,” he said. This was momentous and he wanted to savor it. Bly Ranch—his childhood home, his heritage—was all theirs. Well, theirs and the bank’s, with a mortgage so huge he didn’t even want to think about it. And he wouldn’t, because everything would work out. It always did, for him and Miriam.
Look at Jessica, their seven-year-old. No, they hadn’t planned on having kids until much later, but she’d come along anyway. And they’d hit the jackpot with this beautiful girl who had his chestnut hair and brown eyes, and her mom’s plucky spirit and generous heart.
He wasn’t much of a guy for speeches, but he said, “Okay, family, this is our new home.” Pride and love made his voice a little rough. “We’re going to look after it and each other, and it’s going to be good to us.”
He took a booted step across the wooden frame. The front door was used only for special occasions. Normally, everyone went in the back through the mudroom, shedding boots and coats on the way, but if ever there was a special occasion, this was it.
Carrying Miriam, he walked into the front room, wood-paneled and cozy. Quiet now, after the past couple days’ bustle of moving. The fire he’d laid an hour ago, before they left to pick up Jessie at his in-laws’ place, just needed a match.
He tilted his head and kissed his wife, then slowly let her down.
“Can I go riding now?” Jessica demanded.
Their daughter loved to ride. Sun, rain, or snow, and there was lots of snow in the middle of winter in the Cariboo. She was a skilled rider and a natural with horses, and she’d been going out on her own for the past year.
Miriam glanced at Wade. “They’re forecasting more snow tonight.”
“Mommyy.” Jessie drew the word out in a protest. “It’s not tonight yet.”
“Take Whisper,” he told his daughter. “She’s good in snow. And watch the sky,” he cautioned. “If you see clouds the color of your horse’s coat, you head straight back. And promise to be careful.”
“I’m always careful.”
Yeah, right. Jessie was a tomboy. But she’d never done herself any serious damage. Scrapes and bruises were part of life in the country, and they toughened you up.
“Even if the sky’s still clear, be back by four, no later,” Miriam added. “You know how quickly it gets dark at this time of year.”
With their daughter gone for an hour or two, he’d have time alone with Miriam. What better way to celebrate their new home than by making love?
Perhaps his wife was thinking the same thing, because she squeezed his hand and shot him a mischievous smile as Jessie took off up the stairs, her ponytail bouncing, to change into riding clothes.
“I’ll light the fire,” Wade said.
Miriam shook her head. “Later. I have other plans for right now.”
“Oh, yeah? Will I like those plans?”
“Guaranteed.” She peeled off her coat and tossed it over the back of the big couch his parents had left behind when they moved. Next, she unbuttoned his coat and he obligingly shrugged out of it and let her heave it on top of hers.
“This is going in a nice direction,” he said, as they both took off their boots and lined them up on the hearth.
“And it’ll continue.” She stepped close, so their jean-clad hips touched. “Crossing the threshold is one big step. The next one’s making love in the master bedroom.”
He slipped his arms around her. “Thanks for not calling it my parents’ room.”
She grinned and looped her arms around his neck. “It does feel weird, doesn’t it? But it’s ours now. Thank God they took their bed.”
“You can say that again.”
She glanced around the living room. “The house doesn’t feel like ours yet, but it will.”
They, together with his pa and a bunch of friends, had loaded some of his parents’ stuff into a U-Haul and moved Wade and Miriam’s belongings from their tiny rental house. His old family home was now a mishmash and he thought it looked nice. “It will.”
“I hope things work out for your folks.”
“Me, too.” This morning, his parents, along with the ranch Border Collie, Shep, had headed off in their new Honda CR-V, towing the U-Haul, on their way to Phoenix. He’d really miss them, but he sure hoped that his mom’s health improved, and that his pa found something to keep him busy.
Wade rested his hands on his wife’s shoulders. “And now we own Bly Ranch.” He st
ill couldn’t quite get his head around that fact. “Us and the bank,” he amended ruefully.
“We can handle the mortgage,” Miriam said, stretching up to kiss him.
He took his time enjoying her soft lips. “You bet we can.” There was no question. Together, they could handle anything.
They broke apart when Jessica hurried down the stairs. “I’ll be back by four. Bye!”
They called good-bye as she headed for the kitchen. A couple of minutes later, the mudroom door slammed.
“Alone in our new home.” Wade smiled down at his wife, thinking how pretty she looked in figure-hugging jeans and a tan sweater that matched her hair. “Someone mentioned the bedroom?”
“That would be me.” She took his hand and they headed up the stairs.
His grandparents had built the house and, though his parents had modernized the kitchen and bathrooms, the place still had a rustic, comfy feel. It had always felt like home, and now that’s exactly what it was. Home for another family. His family. Yeah, it was starting to sink in and feel right. Really, this was good timing. Better to take over the ranch when he and Miriam were young, strong, and full of energy rather than when they had gray hair.
Holding hands, they walked down the hall to the end, the big corner room. The largest window faced out on what in summer was a peaceful meadow where the ranch horses grazed and played, but now was a field of pristine snow.
He glanced around the room. “Hey, you’ve been busy in here,” he said. Yesterday, she and her friends Connie and Frances had spread tarps over everything and painted the room sunny yellow. This morning, he and the guys had moved his parents’ furniture out and his and Miriam’s in. At that point, his wife had kicked him out.
Now he saw that she and her girlfriends had set the room up in a completely different layout than when his parents had occupied it. There were lots of personal touches, too. On the dresser, alongside a Christmas cactus with vivid red blossoms, sat their wedding photo and the photo of them in the hospital with Jessica the day she was born. The cushion his mother-in-law had cross-stitched rested on the rocking chair where Miriam had nursed Jessie and would one day nurse their other babies. The painting they’d bought on their honeymoon—of an aspen grove in early morning light—hung on the wall facing the bed. His wife’s Dick Francis mystery novel and alarm clock were on one bedside table, his clock radio and change jar on the other.
Yes, it was their room now, not his parents’. There was only one more thing they needed to do, to make sure of it.
He turned to Miriam, who smiled and said, “I love you, Wade.”
“I love you, too, honey.” Gazing into her beautiful face, he reflected, “You know, when we got married at nineteen, it kind of felt like we were playing at being grown up. Now it’s real. A ranch and a kid. It doesn’t get more grown up than that.”
Her eyes sparkled and the corners of her mouth curved. “Then let’s have grown-up sex.”
“Twist my arm.” Before she could do that, he reached for the hem of her sweater and hoisted it upward.
The fabric cleared her face and she grinned. “Hey, just because you’re married to me, that doesn’t mean you get to skip the foreplay.”
“Never,” he vowed. “But foreplay’s more fun when we’re both naked.”
“Can’t argue with that.” She unhooked her bra before he could reach behind her to do it, and then she was naked from the waist up.
He gazed in appreciation. She had a firm, compact, curvy body. So beautiful. In summer she always had a tan, but the past months had faded her skin back to its natural creamy shade. A flush colored her cheeks, and her dusky nipples had tightened into buds. Her curly, shoulder-length hair was the sandy brown of cottonwood, her eyes the blue-gray of an October fog settling like a quiet blanket over the hills. “You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said honestly, knowing he’d say the same thing ten, twenty, fifty years from now.
Her lips, naturally pink and full, curved. “That’s not a bad start on foreplay. But I thought you were going to get naked. ’Cause I know you’re the handsomest thing I’ve ever seen, Wade Bly.”
“Hey, whatever my wife wants . . .” Quickly, he peeled off his clothes as she stripped off the rest of hers.
“The handsomest,” she said, “and the sexiest.”
The chill of the room made them shiver and quickly slide under the covers. As they met in the middle of the bed, body heat against body heat made a sharp contrast to the cool sheets. He wrapped his arms around her, felt the soft press of her breasts against his chest, and sighed with pleasure.
They’d started dating when they were thirteen and first made love when they were sixteen. As teens, sex had been a new, amazing thing. Now, after years of marriage, it was a regular part of life, yet it was still pretty damned amazing. They knew each other’s bodies so well and there was a whole other level of intimacy. When they were together, naked, nothing else in the world existed. Miriam was his world. She was the only woman he’d ever made love with and he couldn’t imagine wanting anyone else.
He tugged a wayward curl off her face, touched his lips to hers, stroked down her side and the womanly curve of her hip.
She hooked her leg over his, pressing against his growing erection, and squeezed his ass. “Sex in the afternoon. I like it.”
“Me, too.” It was a rare treat, what with their jobs, Jessica, and all the chores it took to keep a family going each week. Usually, sex was snatched in a heady, breathless rush first thing in the morning before the alarm went off, or savored with lazy intensity at the end of a busy day after their daughter had gone to bed.
“This feels luxurious.” She stretched, her whole body rippling like a cat’s. “Decadent.”
“I’ll show you decadent.” Wade pressed a kiss to the pulse point along the side of her throat, then the secret spot behind her ear that made her moan. Her familiar scent of crisp apples and sunshine made him smile against her skin. Sliding down under the covers, he made his way, with kisses and caresses, to her breasts, so full and firm, the skin soft and delicate under his lips. He licked around and around her areola, sucked her nipple, teased it with the tip of his tongue. She tasted just the way she smelled, all sweet and fresh.
Her breathy little moans and the way her fingers thrust through his hair to cup his head were all so familiar and such a turn-on.
He was hard now, his body urging him to enter her and drive toward release, but he ignored the demand and took his time kissing her smooth belly and tracing from memory the silvery stretch marks and faint scars from her C-section. Miriam bemoaned them, but to him they were a reminder of how miraculous her body was. It had carried their child—and would again.
Oh, man, it was a good life, being with Miriam.
He ran his fingers through the soft brown curls at the apex of her thighs, feeling the firm flesh beneath and smelling the distinctive, womanly scent of her arousal. His tongue traced the familiar, ever fascinating path between her legs to lick until she whimpered and her body tensed. Then he sucked her taut little bud and she surged against him in climax.
Bringing Miriam this kind of pleasure was a total high.
Before the spasms faded, he rose above her and slid into her, making her gasp and clutch at his shoulders. Her body sheathed him and pulsed around him in a hot, slippery, sensual embrace that made him swell even more.
Their bodies found an easy, erotic rhythm. Then, as the tension built too high inside him, he slowed to the tiniest of movements and touched his lips to hers. Her tongue flicked into his mouth, tangled with his, and she gave a breathy, sexy little laugh.
Then she raised her butt, changed the angle, challenged him to meet her pace as she pumped her hips. “So good, Wade,” she murmured.
“Oh yeah,” he answered fervently. It was such a basic, primal act, two bodies mating, yet each time was unique and incredible.
