by Ali Parker
“Seriously?” He cocked his head to the side.
“Yep. Dead serious. Going to school and helping keep the family business standing are kind of time consuming.”
Wyatt grunted. “Does this feel like a vacation? A chance to get away from it all?”
“It did at first.”
He nodded. “But it’s hard.”
“Very hard,” I said.
He rapped his knuckles on the counter and neither of us said anything for a minute. Then he broke the silence. “Do you need help? You can assign me a job if you like.”
I shook my head. “Nope. You go relax. If you even know how to do that.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I can give it a go.”
I took his sleeve, turned him around, and pushed him out of the kitchen. “Then go. Come back in an hour. Deal?”
He was still rubbing the back of his neck, and he turned back toward me with a furrowed brow. “You’re sure? You don’t need help finding everything?”
“I have a lot of experience in kitchens. I’m sure I’ll manage just fine.”
“Okay,” he said somewhat hesitantly. “One hour it is then.”
I watched him take the stairs up to the second floor, and when I heard his bedroom door close, I set to work on preparing our dinner. I’d been hit with inspiration to make a cozy roast chicken meal, and I hoped Wyatt would enjoy it.
While I familiarized myself with the kitchen, I couldn’t help but think about what it would be like if this were my kitchen too.
It was a beautiful space made for preparing big meals for bigger southern families. It was easier than I expected to imagine myself bustling back and forth preparing dinner while Wyatt finished up some last-minute work on the ranch. Our kids, which there would definitely be more than one of, would sit at the island in the kitchen, finishing their homework while I glazed the chicken.
When dinner was done, we would all meet on the back porch and sit down to a family meal, accompanied with candles and twinkle lights strung up above. Maybe there would be a dog or two snoozing under the table waiting for scraps.
Then, when night fell and wrapped itself around the ranch, we would stargaze with blankets over our laps and our arms around each other. The crickets would buzz, and the frogs would croak, and we would seal memories of family in the most special places in our minds.
I pinched the bridge of my nose to fight off the tears that were starting to form. This was nothing but a fantasy. A daydream that would never come to be. Because I needed the money. Not the proposal.
For my dad. For my real family. Not the artificial one I’d cooked up in my mind.
Chapter 9
Wyatt
After a quick shower, beard trim, and getting dressed, I sat on the edge of my bed and watched the time slowly tick by on the clock on my nightstand.
Before tonight, I would have sworn up and down that the longest hour of my life was when I came home to find Shannon packing her things and moving out, and we proceeded to discuss our breakup while she loaded her bags into the back of her Volkswagen to move to one of the neighboring ranches.
But now I was fairly certain this hour was longer.
Waiting to go back downstairs to join Piper was torture. I could hear her rattling around down there. Dishes clanged, the sink ran, and cutlery jingled every time she opened the drawer. The smell wafting up from the kitchen might have been a contributing factor to the lengthening of time.
It smelled delicious.
My mouth was watering when I descended to the first floor ten minutes before seven. I stopped in the doorway to the kitchen, leaned one shoulder against the frame, and watched as Piper bustled back and forth between the island and the sink, which she was filling with dirty dishes.
She paused when she spotted me. “Oh. Hi.”
“Hey.”
She tucked loose strands of hair behind her ears. “It’s almost ready. Another ten minutes. Tops.”
“That’s all right. I’m early. Can I help you with any last-minute things?”
Piper cast her gaze around the kitchen with her lips pursed so firmly together that a cute dimple appeared in her chin. “Actually, can I leave the salad tossing to you?”
“Is that all you trust me with? Mixing lettuce in a bowl?” I chuckled.
Her eyes widened a little. “No, I didn’t mean it like that. But it would be a great help if you could.”
Still chuckling, I went to the bowl on the kitchen counter where she had already put in all the ingredients for the salad: lettuce, spinach, cucumber, carrots, red pepper, radishes, beets, and a bit of goat cheese. A balsamic dressing and some salt and pepper sat next to the bowl. I started adding the toppings and then fetched the salad tongs to start mixing.
Piper cracked open the oven, and the rich, spicy, somewhat-sweet scent that I’d caught wind of upstairs doubled.
“It smells so good,” I said.
Piper sidled up beside me, pressing her hip to the counter. “Not to toot my own horn, but I think it turned out perfectly. I’d say it’s because of my extensive experience working in a kitchen, but I suspect it’s because of how nice your oven is.”
I laughed. “Don’t sell yourself short like that. The oven didn’t do the heavy lifting.”
She smiled a sweet, soft smile, and then the timer on the stove went off. She opened the oven, pulled out a pan loaded with vegetables, potatoes, and chicken, and set it on the stove to cool. Then she turned toward the counter and froze. “Shoot.”
“What’s up?”
She licked her lips. “I forgot to ask if you had any wine. I should have gone out—”
“There is always wine here.”
Her eyebrows lifted.
“Follow me,” I said.
I showed Piper down the hall at the back of the house, past the study and bathroom on the first floor, and to the door at the end. I pushed it open and motioned for her to go in ahead of me. She stopped dead in the middle of the room and gazed around at the shelves packed full with bottles upon bottles of wine. A counter in the middle of the room held a variety of whiskeys, rums, vodkas, and other spirits.
She glanced over her shoulder at me. “How come you never showed me this on the tour?”
“I didn’t want you to think I was an alcoholic.”
She giggled softly. “I wouldn’t have thought that. How long did it take you to collect all of this?”
“I didn’t, actually. It’s all my father’s. He and my mother had their love of wine in common, and whenever they went on a date, they would buy a bottle to commemorate.”
“That’s beautiful. Are you sure we should be drinking them? You don’t want to save them?”
I shook my head. “No. It’s not a particularly fancy collection. Most bottles in here average at around twenty dollars. What do you feel like? Red? White?”
“Red will pair better with the meal.”
“Malbec? Merlot? Shiraz? Cabernet?”
Piper hummed thoughtfully. “I think a Malbec would be perfect.”
“Malbec it is,” I said, moving to the back wall to pull out a dusty bottle with a white label and a tractor on the front. I waggled it back and forth in front of Piper, who slipped out of the wine cellar and walked up ahead of me back to the kitchen.
I tried to remain gentlemanly, but I couldn’t help admiring her ass in her tight jeans.
Once we were back in the kitchen, I rummaged in a drawer for a corkscrew.
Piper clasped her hands together. “I’m quickly going to run upstairs and change. I’ll be right back. Did you want to sit inside or out?”
“Up to you.”
“Out it is.” She smiled. Then she hurried out of the kitchen and up the stairs.
She was only gone a few minutes, and in that time, I poured us each a glass of wine and brought them outside to the table. Then I brought the salad and cutlery and napkins and met her back in the kitchen.
It took me a second to find my voice when I first saw her. S
he was plating the chicken and vegetables and potatoes, and her new outfit was even more figure flattering than the jeans. Her pants were black, tight, and high waisted with gold buttons on the hips. She’d paired them with a pair of black, sparkly, strappy sandals and a long-sleeved, low-cut black shirt tucked into the pants. Every curve was on display, as were her perky cleavage and elegant décolletage.
I swallowed when she turned toward me with a plate in each hand. “Ready?”
“Yes.” I nodded.
I’d hoped, wrongfully, that sitting across the table from her would help with my physical attraction to her. After all, I couldn’t see her lower half anymore. But it didn’t help. Not even a little bit.
Her eyes were bright and twinkly despite it being full night outside. The only light was that cast by the moon and the single porch light, which wasn’t very bright at all. Her hair was down and soft and curly, and I wondered dimly what she smelled like.
She passed me the salad, and I scooped it onto my plate before taking my first bite of chicken. The explosion of flavor upon my tongue was a delightful surprise, and I closed my eyes to savor the taste. When I opened them, Piper was watching me.
“Do you like it?” she asked.
“It’s delicious.”
She smiled, looked down at her plate as her cheeks turned pink, and shimmied closer to the table. “Good. I’m glad.”
While we enjoyed our meal, we talked about our day at the farmers’ market. Once I was stuffed to maximum capacity, I leaned back in my chair and sipped my wine. “I’m glad you had a good day. I wasn’t so sure you’d be interested in something like a market.”
“I loved it. Honestly. It’s a nice change of pace here. You can clearly see how hard everyone works, but you can also see how much they value their time with family and neighbors. The sense of community is really strong, and that’s something I’ve never felt in New York.”
“Never?”
Piper shrugged. “Maybe in school. But aside from that, no.”
I’d grown up on this ranch. The idea of growing up in the big city was completely foreign to me. Just being in New York for the Casanova Club events in December had been enough time for me to figure out the city was not where I wanted to be. Too many people, cars, buildings, concrete, and noise.
“Would you ever want to live somewhere besides New York City?” I asked.
Piper didn’t hesitate to answer. “Sure. I mean, it would depend on my family of course.”
“Of course.”
She smiled and picked up her wine glass. “Do you ever think of living somewhere else?”
It would have been easy to lie. To string a few words together that were vague enough for her to think I’d be willing to walk away from this ranch for the right reasons. But there was nothing I would give this ranch up for.
Not even love.
And there was no sense in being dishonest. If it jeopardized my chances with her and she favored a guy who lived in a posh penthouse, then so be it.
I swirled my wine around in the glass. “No. This is home to me. If I’m lucky enough to start a family of my own someday, I want it to be right here.”
Piper sighed and gazed out at the ranch, the barn, the outbuildings, and the bunkhouse. At the fields cloaked in darkness and the treeline on the other side of Cherry Road. “If I grew up here, I would never walk away from it either. The memories you must have…” She trailed off and leaned forward to rest her chin in her hand. “Why wouldn’t you want to recreate those with your own family?”
And just like that, I knew I was doomed. Inevitably, truly, absolutely fucking doomed.
This girl was making a home in my heart, and I’d only had two days with her. If the rest of the month continued like this, it was going to be impossible to say goodbye to her and let her go spend the rest of the year with the other bachelors.
The other bachelors. Damn them.
Piper cleared her throat and began collecting the dishes. I got to my feet to help, and we carried everything into the kitchen, where she turned on the sink to start washing dishes. I sidled up beside her, grabbed a towel, and offered to dry.
She passed me the first plate, and I ran the towel over it before putting it away. “Tomorrow is a pretty heavy work day,” I told her. “So I thought you might want to spend some time on your own. You can borrow the truck if you want to head into the city or township. I can give you directions. There’s a cute coffee shop and used bookstore about a fifteen-minute drive from here.”
“Can I help you instead?” Piper asked.
I arched an eyebrow as she handed me another plate. “Are you just offering to be nice?”
She giggled and shook her head. “No. I want to help. I want to see what it’s like to live on a working ranch. I’m not opposed to hard work.”
I licked my lips. “It’s not just hard work. It’s back-breaking, palm-blistering, fall face first into your bed by four in the afternoon sort of work.”
She grinned. “Sounds like a good way to tone my arms.”
I laughed. “All right. I won’t stop you. We start bright and early. Five o’clock.”
“Five o’clock?” she asked, a hint of incredulity to her tone.
“Yep. Bright and early. We’re up before the sun around here.”
She nodded like she was trying to wrap her head around it. “Okay. I can do five o’clock.”
“I hope you’re not offering because you feel obligated.”
She smiled. “I promise I’m not. I want to know. And I want to spend the day with you.”
“Yeah?”
Piper turned off the sink and turned toward me. She plucked the towel from my hands to dry her own and then hooked it on the oven handle. “Yeah.”
She rested her hand on the counter and, without thinking, I put my hand over hers and closed the foot and a half of space between us with a small step toward her. She tilted her head back to look up at me, and her lips parted as she inhaled sharply.
“I’m glad you’re here, Piper.”
Her eyes slid slowly back and forth between mine. “Me too.”
I could smell her shampoo now. Roses and lavender.
Piper inched a little closer, and her eyes wandered down to my chest, where the top two buttons of my shirt were undone.
I reached out to rest a hand on her waist, and the touch made her gasp ever so softly. Then I was leaning in, cupping her cheek with my other hand, and pressing my lips to hers.
Her kiss was warm and soft and gentle. The taste of wine lingered on her lips, and her hands moved up to the collar of my shirt, which she gathered in her fingers and held on to as she pressed herself firmly up against me.
I broke the kiss and rested my forehead against hers. Piper’s eyes were still closed, her lips still parted, her fingers still wrapped tightly in my shirt. “We should slow down,” I said.
She nodded ever so slightly. “Probably.”
“We have a lot of time. And I don’t want to rush this.”
“Right,” she whispered. Her eyes fluttered open.
I could have stared into the dark depths of her beautiful gaze for hours.
Chapter 10
Piper
The field was awash in golden pink light. The blades of grass rustled and whispered against each other in the summer evening breeze, and flower buds of whites and purples bloomed in little clusters. Above, the sky was beginning to twinkle with the first stars of the evening, which looked like glittering pinpricks in a canvas of dark blue.
I gazed up at the sky as the breeze picked up the hem of my white dress and billowed it around my legs. My hair blew across my face but didn’t tangle.
And then he was there. He smelled like hay and leather, and the spurs on his boots jingled softly as he walked around me, running a finger along my lower back, hip, and stomach until he stood in front of me.
Wyatt Brewer.
He brushed the hair from my cheeks and drew it back, securing it against the nape of my neck in on
e hand. His other hand moved under my chin, and he tilted my head back, forcing me to look up at him as he bowed his head to kiss me.
He tasted like honey.
I melted against him, and he let my hair tumble back down around my shoulders as he wrapped an arm around me and held me to him. He was strong. I could feel the restraint in his muscles as I ran my hands over his shoulders, wishing he and I were both naked, wishing I could feel the hot press of his flesh against mine.
“What do you feel?” he asked.
The sky darkened further still, casting his face into navy shadows.
“Safe,” I whispered.
Another kiss. Just as sweet and patient as the first.
And a third. This one was insistent, almost desperate, and I yielded to him as he slipped his tongue between my lips and explored my mouth with eager curiosity. Wyatt held me closer, tighter, and with graceful ease, he took me down with him to the grass and laid me down on my back.
Our lips never parted.
I drew him down to me by his shirt and held him there as he ran a hand up my thigh to slip it under the hem of my dress. I bent my knee, drawing my shin up his calf to hook my leg around his.
He moaned softly into my mouth, and the sound of it sent butterflies fluttering around my stomach. He inched my dress up higher. Higher. Over my hip and up to my navel. And then he made me wait.
I arched my back to lift my hips up, pressing them into his thigh in a silent plea for him to keep going. To touch me.
He didn’t make me wait for long.
He slid the tip of his finger into the waistband of my panties and drew it from one hip to the other. The sensation made me flinch, and goosebumps broke out all over my skin. He flattened his hand upon my stomach and moved it to the side to grip my hip, giving me a firm squeeze.
When he started inching his hand back down to the sweet spot between my thighs, I unhooked my leg from his and let my legs fall slightly open in welcome invitation. He gently pinched my bottom lip between his teeth before breaking away and trailing his kisses down the side of my neck.
