Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
“You’re pretty special, Mr. Adler,” I say, smiling at him.
“You’re pretty spectacular, Mrs. Adler.”
He nuzzles his face in the crook of my neck, making me giggle.
“How about you pick me up and carry me to bed?” I say, as he plants kisses up my neck and across my jaw.
“Then what?” he asks, breathing the words against my mouth.
His eyes are dark and hooded, and I know whatever I request, he’ll deliver. But instead of asking for something like I normally do—oral or doggy style—I ask for something new. Something we’ve done before but have never named.
“Then we can make love,” I say, studying his eyes.
The smile he gives me—soft and sweet—shows me he hears my declaration of love even though I didn’t say the words.
He stands with me wrapped around him, and carries me to our room. And we make love, even if I haven’t said those words to him.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN
Mira
“Mira Adler reporting for duty,” I say, standing in front of Betsy Barn.
It takes a second for Hartley to appear at the loft door. He stands high above me, shirtless, his body glistening with sweat. If I wasn’t already married to him and considering having his babies, I would be now.
Holy fuck.
He takes off his gloves, grinning down at me. “What are you doing out here?”
“I don’t know. I missed you, and it’s a pretty day, so I thought I should put in some elbow grease around this ranch. You know, crank some wrenches. Mend some fences. Throw some … stuff.”
“Hay?” he asks, amused.
“Yeah. I was just seeing if you knew the lingo.”
He leans against the wall, crossing one foot over the other. “I thought you were working today.”
“What good is it to be a freelancer if you can’t freely lance?” I ask.
“So you put on the shortest shorts you could find, half a top, and a pair of boots to work with me?”
I smirk. “Something like that. By the way, Blackbird Ranch doesn’t employ any females except Cathy, right?”
“Why?”
“Because a girl could get pregnant just looking at you. And you are mine.”
He takes a bandanna from his back pocket and wipes it over his face, his wedding band prominently on his finger. I can’t see his tattoo, but I know it’s there.
“Get your sexy ass up here,” he says.
My boots press into the hardened earth as I move through the open doors, and I’m instantly hit with a blast of nostalgia. Scents of weathered wood and dust fill my nostrils as I make my way to the ladder. I spent so much of my teenage years out here, filling these walls with music and laughter. All this time later, I’m back.
And hopefully I’ll be on my back in a few minutes.
I give the ladder a shake, knowing that Hartley wouldn’t let me climb it if it weren’t safe, but checking, nonetheless. Sunlight catches the diamond on my left hand as I make my way to the loft. Just like every time I look at it, I feel like I’m glowing from the inside out.
“Give me your hand,” he says when I reach the top. He helps extract me from the ladder and gets me safely to my feet.
“Wow,” I say, turning in a circle. “You’ve done a lot of work up here. It’s looking great.”
“It’s mostly been Bobby. We’ve had so many heifers calving this spring that I haven’t had a lot of time to get over here.”
I walk to the opening that looks across Sugar Creek. The trees are bright green, swaying in the breeze. Now and then, I notice a sparkle from the creek in the distance.
“That’s the spot,” I say. “That’s where your land meets ours.”
He wraps his arms around me from behind. “You mean, that’s where our land meets the rest of our land.”
I hum, resting my head against his chest. “I need to go to Lolly’s today. She wants me to go into the attic and look for pictures of her and Pops. Her texts included a lot of acronyms that I once again didn’t understand, and I’ve learned my lesson not to ask for explanations.”
He chuckles, his chest vibrating against me.
“So I’m not sure why she wants them,” I say. “But I’m sure it’s going to take forever.”
“Then let’s order out for dinner. Or let’s go somewhere. You’re going to be dirty and tired, and so am I.”
My heart swells for this man.
My mother used to have a picture on the wall in our living room with a Bible verse. It described what love is and what it isn’t. It’s a checkbox to Hartley’s soul.
He’s patient and kind, humble and forgiving. Most of all, he never fails.
I’m never going to fail you, Hartley. Not if I can help it.
I smile to myself as I realize that there’s no internal pushback to that thought. My stomach is calm, my brain happy. My heart beats steadily, as if there’s no other option.