A Maverick to [Re] Marry

by Christine Rimmer

  “Such a long time,” she said softly, trailing her fingers back up his body to cradle his cheek.

  “It’s felt like forever,” he agreed. He’d been so lonely without her, so empty inside. Should he admit that?

  No.

  A man had to have a little pride, after all.

  “Forget everything,” she whispered, her warm breath in his ear, the brush of her plump lower lip against his earlobe. “Let the world disappear. We’ll stay here in bed and we’ll never leave.”

  “I wish.” But he couldn’t quite make that promise. “Life...interrupts.”

  “Shh.” She caught his earlobe between her teeth and gave it a tug. “For now, for tonight, pretend that it’s possible. You and me, together in this comfy bed for all eternity.”

  As a fantasy, it rang all his bells. “Yes, Miss Wainwright.”

  She guided him to face her with the gentle pressure of her palm against his cheek. “That’s more like it.” Their lips met, proving all over again that there was nothing in the wide world as good as her kiss.

  He tasted her deeply, letting himself believe that he would never have to let her go, that the promise he’d made to himself—the two of them, working it out, getting it right this time—was bound to come true.

  And when she took her lips from his to move down his body, he tried to hold her there, face-to-face with him, tried to kiss her some more. But she had other plans.

  They were excellent plans, really. She got rid of his boxer briefs and took him in her hand.

  And in her mouth.

  It was so good. Too good.

  He looked down his body at her head bobbing up and down on him, her hair caressing his belly, spilling like silk over his thighs. Bliss.

  And if he didn’t put a stop to this soon, he would lose it. He didn’t want that. Not for their first time in all these years and years. For their first time, he needed to be joined with her, needed to feel her go over the edge again before his finish claimed him.

  She made a sharp sound of disapproval as he took her under the arms and pulled her back up so they were face-to-face. Eyes low and lazy, mouth in a pout, she demanded, “What? I was busy.”

  “Too busy.”

  A slow grin tipped the corners of her red, swollen lips as she reached down and wrapped her hand around him all over again.

  “Be good,” he commanded.

  She gave a snorty little laugh. “Oh, I am. You know I am. I am very, very, very good.”

  He felt for a condom, found it and reached down to capture that naughty hand of hers. “Here.” He pressed the condom into her palm and folded her fingers over it.

  “Well, all right, then.” She brushed a kiss to his jaw. “Since you put it that way...” She got rid of the pouch and rolled the condom down over him, careful not to pinch or poke it, smoothing it nice and tight at the base.

  Once that was accomplished, she met his eyes. “I’ve got an IUD,” she said solemnly. “Double protection. We should be safe.”

  Safe.

  Not really.

  True, with a condom and an IUD, they had just about zero possibility of making a baby.

  But there were so many other ways this was not safe—not safe at all. She’d cut his heart to pieces once. And this, now?

  Talk about playing with fire.

  So what? Some second chances a man just couldn’t pass up. No matter how it all shook out in the end, he was in this with her now. All the way.

  He had one arm around her and he used it to pull her closer, bringing his mouth a breath’s distance from hers. “I’m just glad. You can’t know how glad I am to be here with you like this.”

  She whispered his name again and then they were kissing, a deep and never-ending kiss. He rolled her under him and eased his thigh between her legs. She opened for him eagerly, lifting her body toward him as he sank into her.

  Bracing on his hands, he lifted away enough to gaze down at her. She moaned in protest at the broken kiss. “Come back here.”

  In response, he pressed in deeper, but he didn’t give her the kiss she demanded. He remained braced above her. “Amy.”

  She knew what he wanted. She opened her eyes.

  “Real,” he said on a harsh breath, staring down into her heavy-lidded eyes. Her pupils had blown wide with pleasure. They looked as dark as the middle of the night. Dark and deep and shining, promising all the things he’d stopped daring to dream of.

  He wanted it all with her, wanted so much to believe that they could make it work together, at last.

  But whatever happened in the end, right now, she was with him, her body soft and welcoming beneath him.

  “Real,” she agreed, surging against him.

  The rest was a tangle of limbs and breath and seeking hands. He didn’t know the things he said. She answered him in kind, pleading words, tender, too—and sometimes words of hot demand. They didn’t really matter, the meaning in the words, the wildly whispered promises.

  Only she mattered, her softness and her urgent sighs, her skin to his skin, her body holding him, owning him, taking him deep. Her scent like honey and citrus and roses and musk.

  He held out against his climax, somehow, waiting for her, moving in her slowly, until she caught her ride to the finish, rocking faster when she needed a swifter, harder rhythm.

  When she cried out, he stilled in her, pressing deep as her body pulsed so perfectly around him. Braced up on his hands again, he looked down at her. He watched her slow glide from the crest to afterglow.

  Only then did he move again, propelling her into another rise.

  That time, he went with her, to the top of the world and over. They rose together.

  And together, they fell.

  * * *

  “I should go,” she whispered.

  He settled the covers more snugly around her. “It’s two in the morning. Give it up. Spend the night.”

  “But Eva will—”

  “Don’t you even start worrying about Eva.” He brushed the hair back from her forehead and dropped a kiss there. “She knows where you are and she’s happy that you’re here.”

  “Hmm,” she said, which told him exactly nothing.

  “Hmm, what?” He kissed her temple. She had so many good places for him to put his mouth.

  She snuggled in closer. “Hmm, I think you might be right.”

  “You know I’m right.” He kissed the side of her nose. “Now, go to sleep.”

  She yawned. “Do you provide breakfast?”

  “Why? You hungry now?”

  “No. I just wondered. I mean, you said it yourself. You used to be a guy who didn’t stick around for breakfast.”

  “Used to be. Which means those days are over. Plus, if I don’t stick around for breakfast, where would I go? This is my house.”

  She laughed. “Now you’re confusing me.”

  “Let me make it crystal clear.” He pressed his lips to hers. “Stay.”

  * * *

  In the morning, Amy woke to the inviting smells of fresh coffee and frying bacon. The clock on the nightstand said it was a little after seven.

  She shoved back the covers and pulled on her panties. Too bad her red dress, tossed in a wad across the bedside chair, was nothing but a bunch of wrinkles.

  In the bathroom, she used the toilet and rinsed last night’s mascara from under her eyes. There was toothpaste in the drawer by the sink. She used her finger as a toothbrush.

  On the hook behind the door, she found a dark blue robe. It smelled like Derek’s piney aftershave and was about three sizes too big.

  Still. It was better than her wrinkled dress.

  Derek, shirtless and barefoot in jeans that rode low on his narrow hips, was stirring scrambled eggs at the stove when she entered the kitchen from the central hallway. She had a few seconds to admire the gorgeous, hard curve of his shoulder and the sculpted muscles of his chest and belly before he glanced over and saw her.

  His leaf-green gaze ran over her, stirring
up sparks, hot little flares of sensation, reminders of all they’d done the night before. “You found my robe. It looks good on you.”

  She flapped the ends of the too-big arms at him. “Perfect fit.” She shook her head. “Maybe I should have thought this through more carefully, though. I’ve got nothing but last night’s rumpled red dress to wear back to Sunshine Farm. Talk about your classic walk of shame.”

  He turned off the fire under the eggs. “We’ll figure something out.” And then he was coming for her, his bare feet silent on the wide planks of the kitchen floor. He caught one of the sleeves she’d flapped at him and pulled her close. “Let’s try this again. Say ‘Good morning.’”

  “Good morning.” She gazed up at him, her heart aching in the best kind of way. To be here in his house, on a sunny Saturday morning, bacon and eggs and coffee waiting, his big hand brushing slow and lazy up and down her arm, thrilling her even through the thick terry cloth of his robe, his eyes for her alone. It was her own most impossible fantasy come true.

  “Say, ‘I had an amazing time last night, Derek. I can’t wait to do it again.’”

  “Yeah,” she answered, thinking of his kisses, of how right it felt to be with him again, at last, in the most intimate way. “That’s true. I can’t wait.”

  He clasped the arm that he’d been stroking and pulled her in closer. His lips covered hers in a slow, perfect kiss. When he lifted his head, he turned for the stove again.

  She stared after him, bemused. Happy, she thought. Right in this moment, I’m as happy as I’ve ever been.

  “You hungry?” He picked up the pan full of eggs.

  “Very.” She glanced toward the breakfast nook. He’d already set the table.

  “Pour yourself some coffee and let’s eat.”

  * * *

  Her phone, left on the central island the night before, rang as she was loading the dishwasher. Derek set down the plate of leftover bacon and got it for her.

  It was still bleating out a ringtone when he handed it over. She looked at the display. “It’s my mom.” Stepping to the end of the counter, she put the phone back down and returned to her task. Derek hadn’t moved. She probably should say something. “She’ll leave a message.”

  “You don’t want to talk to her.” It wasn’t a question. His gaze was locked on her face, reading her much too easily, the way he always had.

  She opened the dishwasher, stuck in a plate and straightened. “All these years and they never told me that my dad went after you to convince you to call it off with me. I don’t want to talk to either of them now. Not till I’m ready to brace them with the fact that I do not appreciate them keeping the truth from me—and don’t even try to tell me that she might not know. Maybe she doesn’t know. That’s not the point. If I talk to her, I’m bringing it up and I’m not ready to get into it with either of them yet.” As she grabbed the other plate, her phone buzzed from the end of the counter. She had a voice mail.

  Derek stepped up close, gently took the plate from her and set it back in the sink. “Think about it. It wasn’t a bad thing he did. He loved you and he wanted to make sure you had the best kind of start in life.”

  “He should have told me what he did—if not that very day, then later. He’s had years to cop to it. And he’s never said a word.” She turned and picked up the plate again.

  That time, he didn’t stop her.

  When they finished cleaning up the kitchen, he led her to the bedroom, where he found a Zac Brown Band T-shirt and an old pair of jeans for her. “The shirt’s too big and you’ll need to roll up the jeans,” he warned as he handed them over.

  “They’ll be great, thanks.”

  He bent enough to brush a kiss across her lips. “I’ve got to meet up with Eli and a couple of my cousins in an hour. We need to move some cattle and burn out a ditch or two.”

  “Darn. I was kind of picturing us spending the whole day without a stitch on.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck, his expression rueful, the beautiful muscles of his arm flexing so temptingly as he moved. “Sometimes there’s no upside to ranch life.”

  She went on tiptoe and kissed him again. “Tonight, then?”

  He hooked his arm around her waist and brought her up hard and close. “Yes.” The kiss he gave her then curled her toes and practically set her hair on fire. When he finally let her go, he asked, “How are we doing on the party supplies?”

  “We’ve got everything we need, so at least the shopping part’s done. But we still have signs to make and decorations and such to pull together before the big push next Saturday. We’re talking several hours of crafting.”

  “Crafting.” He faked a scared expression, all wide eyes and hanging mouth. “Now, there’s a word to strike terror in the hearts of men everywhere.”

  “If you’re not going to help me, I’ll have to get Eva to pitch in.”

  It took him a moment to realize she meant that as a threat. “Wait. I get it. She’s the bride and having the bride pitch in on the bachelor party would be wrong. Am I right?”

  She reached up and patted his warm, beard-scruffy cheek. “Give that man a gold star. So I was thinking that a couple of hours an evening should do it.”

  He had that look men get when women sign them up for things they’re just going to have to endure. “How many evenings?”

  “Well, how about we start with tonight and see how it goes? I would bring the stuff we need and we can put it together here, if that works for you.”

  “Two hours of crafting? Here? Tonight?”

  “I’ll bring takeout,” she coaxed.

  He guided a swatch of her hair behind her ear and then skated the back of his finger down the bridge of her nose. “I’ve got some steaks. We’re good for tonight.”

  “Steaks would be excellent.”

  He took her hand, pressed a key into her palm and folded her fingers over it. “Now you can come on in whether I’m here or not.”

  Was a key too much, too soon? “I don’t know if I feel comfortable taking—”

  He stopped her with a finger to her lips. “Between the saddlery and the ranch, I’ve always got something going on. If you get here before me one of these nights, I don’t want you having to wait on the porch.”

  It was thoughtful of him, really. And to keep arguing would just be making a big deal of it. “Okay. Um, thanks, then. What time works for you tonight?”

  “That’s the thing. I could be back here at two or three—or it could be later.”

  “Six?” she suggested.

  “That’ll work for sure. And after the steaks and the crafting, you’ll stay over?”

  She kissed him again. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  * * *

  Eva was lying in wait for her at Sunshine Farm. “Nice T-shirt. I never made you for a Zac Brown fan.”

  “I love the Zac Brown Band. ‘Chicken Fried’ is my favorite song—and aren’t you supposed to be at Daisy’s?” Eva worked at Daisy’s Donuts, sometimes serving customers, but mostly producing an endless array of totally amazing baked goods.

  “I’ve been cutting back my hours lately, what with the wedding and everything. Today, I’m off.” She grabbed Amy’s arm. “Come in the kitchen. We need to talk.”

  Amy tried to hang back. “I need to put my wrinkled dress away. And a shower would be so nice.”

  But Eva just took the red dress from her, plunked it on the entry table and kept on pulling her toward the other room. “This won’t take long.” About two seconds later, Eva had her sitting at the table with a full mug of coffee. “Jumbo caramel-banana-nut muffin?” She set a plateful of them on the table.

  The nutty, caramel-banana scent was amazing. Amy took one. Who could resist? “Oh, Eva.” She moaned in pleasure at the first bite. “They’re still warm.”

  “Enjoy.” Eva gave her a dessert plate and a fork, pulled out the chair beside her and plunked down into it. “And tell me everything.”

  Amy sipped coffee and gobble
d her muffin and explained the basics. “Derek and I are going to be spending some time together, that’s all. Just for while I’m here. I mean, we have the party to plan and—”

  Eva let out a musical trill of laughter. “Oh. Right. You spent all last night together working on the bachelor party. You must be exhausted.”

  Amy groaned. “Fine. We’ve kind of...reconnected.”

  Eva tipped her head to the side with a puzzled frown. “Reconnected. That sounds a little clinical, don’t you think?”

  “You don’t like reconnected?”

  “No, I do not.”

  “Well, all right, then. What should I call it?”

  “Oh, let’s see. How about fated forever lovers reunited at last?”

  “Eva Rose, you are a hopeless romantic.”

  “And proud of it, too. Tell me more about this ‘reconnecting’ you’ve been doing.”

  “Well, I mean, we’re going to see where it takes us. Because we still get along.”

  Eva scrunched up her nose as though something smelled bad. “You ‘get along’?”

  “Yes, we do.” Amy sipped her coffee and ate more of the delicious muffin.

  “Ugh.” Eva threw up both hands and plopped them back into her lap with a loud slapping sound. “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to tell me?”

  “Eva, I love you. But this is private, you know?”

  “Private is fine,” argued Eva. “I won’t tell a soul. Come on. Please. You have to give me something. I’m your friend forever and I’m dying to know what’s going on.”

  Amy relented—marginally, anyway. She did trust Eva and she hated disappointing her. “Well, I’m going back to his place for dinner tonight.”

  Eva’s frown vanished. “Okay, I love the sound of that.”

  “We’ll spend a couple of hours putting props and decorations together for the party. We’ll be doing that pretty much every night this week—at least, until we finish the job.”

  “And of course, you’ll be staying over at Derek’s place afterward. I mean, it’s just a bad idea for you to drive all the way back here when you’re all worn out from making party decorations.”