The Way To A Man’s Heart: Books 1-10

by Love, Frankie

  We just met, but somehow as he rocks against me, holding onto me, I believe he won't. I believe he plans to hold me tight. Not just now, not just tonight, but forever.

  I don't know what's come over me, these ideas of falling in love with a man I just met. But that's what's happening. That's what this is. I know he feels it too.

  "Fuck, I love this," he says, "holding you, being here."

  My heart melts because he's not talking about fucking me or filling me up. He's talking about being with me. The way I feel, the way we feel together, like we fit. I moan as he takes me, taking my breath away too. I kiss him. And he kisses me back. And he holds me tight.

  "Oh God," I whimper, knowing I'm close.

  And I know he is too because his thick cock pulses inside me so damn tight, so damn hard, so damn good. I don't want this to end and neither does he.

  He rolls me over and I straddle him. He looks up at me, massaging my breasts, and I lean down, kissing him again. His arms wrap around me and, God, this feels good. The sunlight shining on us, the sheets a rumpled mess, he and I rolling around my bed like horny teenagers. Except we're not. We're grown ass adults and we know what we want, and what we want is this.

  "I love you," he says. "Is that crazy? Is this crazy?"

  I nod. "It's a little crazy." I kiss him again.

  The words ring in my ears. I love you. Is that really possible? I don't need an answer. I know. Of course, it is, because that's all I can think.

  "I'm going to come, baby," he tells me, cupping my face with both his hands. I feel so delicate, so beautiful, as he thrusts deeper inside of me, his come filling me up, and I moan, holding tight, pressing my palms to his chest.

  "Oh, God, Logan," I whimper, knowing I'll never be the same and knowing that's probably a good thing because why would I want to go back to before once I've had this?

  Chapter Eleven

  Logan

  “Oh God,” I say as we pull apart, my hands on the small of her back, her hands against my chest. She fits there perfectly, against me, and I know she sees that. Feels that. She is right where she belongs.

  “Logan,” she whispers, searching my eyes. “Where have you been all my life?”

  “You feel that too?”

  She nods. “It’s like… your heart hears my heart… Is that crazy? You said the L word.”

  “Does that scare you?”

  She licks her lips. She’s not scared, but she won’t admit it, not yet. “I don’t even know you.”

  “I’m your open book, Lucia.” I lace my fingers with hers. “Want to quiz one another over dinner?”

  Her mouth widens into a beautiful smile — she has the most adorable gap between her two front teeth and I kiss her again. I can’t help it. I want to kiss her all damn night.

  We dress quickly, and there is no shyness between us anymore. After what I just did to her, what she did to me… fuck, any and all inhibitions was thrown out the window. Good riddance.

  She grabs a sweater and her purse, and we head to my car. I open the door for her and when I slide into my seat, she begins to tell me all about the farm. “That’s the main house, where Josie and Levi live, they’re the owners. A great couple and they treat me well. I hardly pay a thing for rent. The big garden out front here is where the vegetables grow. I deliver them in town a few days week to the shop we supply. And the barn under my place is where the cows get milked every morning.”

  “And who milks them?” I ask her.

  “Me, of course.” She laughs. “I wasn’t exaggerating about being a milkmaid. We have a small dairy in there, and I split my time between that and the fields.”

  “I’m impressed,” I say, pulling out onto the main road. “You always see yourself at a farm?”

  She unrolls the window and rests her elbow on the sill. “I don’t know, Logan. I’ve always had this idea about my life, how it would look, but right now, I feel like… like anything could happen.”

  I clench my jaw, looking at her. The evening sun shines down on her, the fresh country air filling the car, the open road. Anything could happen.

  “I know what you mean. I had an idea of my life too. And now, after working my way up the corporate ladder for fifteen years, getting to the damn top, I’m looking down trying to understand just where the hell I was going.”

  She sets her hand on my thigh. It feels right, resting there. “You’re not happy?”

  “I’ve been happier. I feel like I’m at this fork in the road with my life. And I always thought I’d go left, but now, I want to take a sharp right.”

  “Where will that turn take you?” she asks, as I pull onto a dirt road.

  “Right now, it will take us to the oak tree.”

  “Why?” she asks.

  “Because that tree is mine, Lucia. And I thought we might go there and have ourselves a picnic.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Lucia

  It’s his tree. I turn to him, stunned. “What, you own this tree?”

  He parks his car near my favorite tree in the whole wide world and kills the engine. “Yeah. I bought this property when it was up for auction ten years ago. Never did anything with it.”

  “That’s…” I search for the word. Random doesn’t capture it. “Kismet?”

  He gets out of the car and opens my door. Taking my hand, he nods. “I couldn’t agree more.”

  Popping the trunk, he grabs a thick wool blanket and a gorgeous picnic basket. “Look at all these goodies.”

  “Didn’t know if you preferred sweet or savory. So I got a bunch of everything.”

  “I’m not a picky eater. And this all looks delicious.” He spreads out the blanket under the oak tree and then we begin pulling out the goodies. Olives, salami, cheeses. A baguette.

  “We should have brought your bread and butter pickles,” he says.

  “Next time. Oh, and look, this is Nettle Bank Farm butter,” I say, showing him the package. “You have good taste.”

  He chuckles. Both of us thinking about the way I melted not too long ago. “I love bread,” he says. “But not without butter.”

  “Agreed,” I say, slicing the bread and slathering creamy butter on it. “For you.”

  Logan pours us glasses of wine and he makes a toast. “To butter days ahead.”

  I laugh. “Butter hand it to you, that’s pretty clever.”

  We talk about our favorite books, movies, music. He tells me about his business, how they offer bridge loans to other businesses.

  “And do you like it?” I ask.

  He shrugs, biting a slice of apple. “I don’t hate it.”

  I laugh. “That’s terrible, Logan. What would you do if you could do anything?”

  He pulls me to him and he leans back, against the tree. “Stay here forever. Just like this.”

  I smile. “I like that for you. Maybe you could trade in that fancy-pants car for an old truck like mine. Get yourself some overalls.”

  He laughs. “I said I’d stay under this tree with you, not become a farmer.”

  My cheeks hurt from smiling so much. I turn on my belly, my hands on his jeans, playing with the edge of his pink shirt.

  “And what about you, Lucia? What would you do with your life if you could do anything?”

  I blow air from the side of my mouth, a strand of my hair lifting. “It might sound a little… weird. What I want.”

  He chuckles, tucking the hair behind my ear. “Try me.”

  I swallow. “I don’t know… I mean, maybe what I want could change. Depending on who I was sharing that life with.”

  “You’d change for a man?”

  I lick my lips. Confident. “Who I am, at my core? No. I wouldn’t change that for anyone. But plans, ideas about the future? Yeah. For the right person I would pick up and go, run off to Tahiti or Tallahassee if my partner wanted that.” I shrug, dropping my gaze. “I feel like who I live my life with matters more than how we spend it.”

  “And this oak tree? Could you see y
ourself here?”

  I meet Logan’s gaze. “We just met.”

  “And that talk of kismet… was that nothing?”

  “It was something,” I admit. “I just…”

  “What?” He sits up, leading me closer. I sit facing him on my knees, the sun setting around us.

  “What I’ve always imagined for myself is in direct contrast to the life you lead, Logan.”

  “What do you know of my life, really?” he asks.

  “I know you have a daughter my age. And a son who is grown. Both married.”

  “Is this about my age?” he asks. “I turned forty this year, there’s no hiding that fact.”

  “No,” I say, adamant. “I don’t care how old you are. And God, you look way better than any man I’ve ever met.” Heat rises in my belly as I say that.

  “Then what?” he asks, his hand on the base of my neck.

  “You want my honest answer?” I ask. “You wanna know what I’ve always wanted since I was a little girl?”

  He nods. “Tell me. Let me in. I know we just met but God, Lucia, I want to know your heart. Your soul. I want it all.”

  Nodding, I decide to tell him what I’ve always dreamed about. Always wanted.

  “I want to have a family,” I say. “I want to be barefoot and pregnant, knocked up five times in a row. I want a big farmhouse, like Levi and Josie have, but I want it to be mine. I want goats and chickens and I want my own garden. My own vegetables. I want to make my husband a farm-cooked meal every night. I want to make my own butter and have my man compliment me on my biscuits. That’s what I want, Logan Barton. The long and short of it.”

  He’s grinning as I finish my spiel.

  “What are you smiling about?” I ask. “That little speech should have a man like you running for the hills.”

  He laughs. “And why is that, Lucia?” he asks, pulling me into his lap.

  “Because you already did all that,” I say with a sad laugh. “The wedding, the house, the babies.”

  He pulls my mouth to his. “I may have done all that, Lucia, but I never once did that with you.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Logan

  When I drive her home, I don’t want to say goodbye. I want to stay with her, all night.

  “I have to milk the cows at three-thirty,” she says as I stand at her apartment door. “And you have work in the morning. Aren’t you the boss?”

  “I believe in love at first sight,” I tell her.

  She blinks, the moon hanging in the sky. “So do I.”

  “I meant it when I said it before. I love you.”

  “Logan… I don’t want a broken heart.” She sighs. Scared. Not quite able to believe the words I’ve said. That I would do it all over again, for her. A family, a farmhouse, the whole nine yards. There are crazier things than falling in love and making a life with her.

  “I know,” I tell her. “So it’s a good thing I don’t plan on breaking it.”

  She laughs, pressing her hands to my chest. “You asked me to wait until the end of the date to rate it. But I must say I don’t take back anything. This was undoubtedly the highlight of my life.”

  I pull her to me, kiss her softly under the stars, the dark, heavy sky. “Good. Because I’m planning on coming back for you tomorrow.”

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  Driving away from her is torture, and the last thing I want to do… but I have a few things I need to deal with in the next twenty-four hours.

  * * *

  The next morning I call my kids over to the house. They show up, no questions asked, with their spouses. It’s still crazy to think of them as all grown up, but they are.

  And I’m grateful they are easily bribed with a box of donuts and coffee.

  “What’s this about, Dad?” Billy asks. His wife Bailey is here too, and they both look worried.

  Kourtney though, is onto me. “Is this about your date last night?” Her husband Kaden hands her a mug of coffee and slips his hand around her waist. I’m so glad my daughter found a man who cherishes her the way she deserves. Apparently I’m getting all sentimental this morning.

  “Are you crying?” Bailey asks, her eyes widening.

  I blink back the tears and tell the kids to take a seat. With our donuts and coffee, I explain the situation. “Look, I know it’s sudden, but I’m asking Lucia to marry me.”

  “Wait, who?” Billy asks.

  “Lucia, Matt’s sister.” Kourtney exhales. “Dad, are you serious, you want to marry her? You just met her.”

  Billy smirks. “Did Dad give you a hard time when you married the guy you met over taco trivia?”

  “It wasn’t trivia about tacos,” she snaps. “It was tacos and trivia.”

  “I feel like this is getting off topic,” Billy interjects. “Who is she?”

  Kaden breaks an old-fashioned donut in two, dunking a piece in his coffee. “She works at Nettle Bank Farm, right?”

  I nod. “Yeah, but not too much longer. I know she wants a family and—”

  “Wait.” Kourtney’s eye bug out. “Did you already propose?”

  “No, I wanted to talk to you guys first. I know it’s a big deal. Mom’s been gone a few years and it might feel sudden to spring this on you but—”

  “You love her?” Bailey asks. Her hand is wrapped around a mug, the diamond ring on her finger my first wife’s.

  “So much. I know you four understand better than most people. When you know, you know. I know.”

  “Wow,” Billy says, shaking his head. “When can we meet this woman?”

  “Hardly a woman. She’s my age,” Kourtney says, clearly not warming up to the idea the way her brother has.

  “You’re enough of a woman to know what you want,” Kaden pushes gently. “Maybe Lucia and Logan do too.”

  Kourtney laughs, shaking her head. “Fair enough. Sorry, Dad. You’re right. I trust you to know what you want.”

  “You really want more kids?” Bailey asks. “Most people seem happy when their kids are all grown, happy to put the diaper years behind them.”

  “I started young. Eve and I, we had Kourtney when we were eighteen. The idea of more kids now doesn’t scare me. It excites me. Family is everything.”

  “Well what are you waiting for, Pops?” Billy asks. “Go ask the girl to marry you.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Lucia

  I’ve just finished my chores, and I’m filthy dirty from the garden. My hands need to be scrubbed, not to mention I need to cool off. The late August sun was relentless today. But first, I need to eat something.

  Stripping off my jeans and tank top, I open the refrigerator, grabbing a bottle of icy white wine. I pour myself a glass, then I pop open a jar of my pickles and take a bite of the crunchy sweetness.

  There’s a knock on the door as I’m groaning in pleasure. God, these taste so good. I push the curtains over, looking through the door, surprised to see Logan there.

  I pull open the door, not expecting him for another hour. “Am I missing the fun?” he asks with a smile. “All the moaning in here made me wonder.”

  I laugh, offering him my jar of pickles. “Not quite orgasmic,” I say, “but still pretty tasty.”

  He takes the jar and plucks one and eats it. With a moan, he takes another. “Okay, this puts the bread in my butter.”

  “I don’t know what that means, but I agree.” I smile, pointing to the wine. “Want some?” He nods and I turn my back to him and pour him a glass at the counter. “So is there a reason you came by early? I mean, I don’t mind, it’s just I have to shower still.”

  “I should have called. I didn’t want to wait.”

  “Wait for what?” I ask, turning to face him.

  But I have to look down. Because Logan Barton is on one knee.

  A black velvet box is open in his hand, and a gorgeous diamond ring is perched inside. My heart flip-flops and tears fill my eyes.

  “Oh God.”

  “A good oh God
, or a bad one?” He lifts his eyebrow.

  “A good one.” I set the wine on the table and get down on my knees, meeting him face-on.

  “Marry me, Lucia, let me knock you up half a dozen times. Let me build you a farmhouse, a big one, with a wide porch. Let me put a swing in the oak tree and push you at dusk. Give me a reason to get up in the morning that’s about more than corporate meetings. Be my wife, my lover, my heart.”

  “Oh Logan,” I say. “You mean it?”

  He takes my hand and slips the ring on my dirty ring finger and tears flood my eyes, my heart brimming with happiness. “I’m a man of my word. And I love you. Do me the honor of being my wife? Be my butter half.”

  I fling my arms around him. “God, I’m a mess,” I say. “I was in the garden all afternoon and—”

  “Then come on, baby. Let’s clean you up.”

  Logan pulls me from the floor and picks me up. I wrap my legs around him, and he squeezes my ass, carrying me to the bathroom. “In our farmhouse, we’re gonna make an extra big bathroom, you know that, right? I’m thinking a double shower, jacuzzi tub.”

  “I’ll need a big bathroom to hide in when the kids drive me crazy,” I say, laughing at the insanity of it all. The magic of it all.

  Kismet.

  Epilogue 1

  Logan

  One year later…

  I’ve been in the yard all morning mowing. When I walk toward the farmhouse, with my shirt sleeves rolled up and wiping the sweat from my brow, my singular mission is jumping in the shower to clean up.

  But I’m interrupted by the best sight in the whole damn world. My wife, Lucia, rocking our daughter Lauralie to sleep on the front porch swing. She’s singing our girl a lullaby and her voice melts me, heart and soul. All of her does though. I love my wife more than life itself.