The Rancher's Untamed Heart (22 page)

It felt so good, though, so achingly sweet and right, that I was not going to complain. He was so strong, so hard, and I was so past ready for him.

It didn't take either of us long to finish, we both cried out. I slipped over that edge first, and he gasped "Oh, God, Naomi," into my ear before following me over.

We held still for a moment, in each other's arms, feet hanging awkwardly off the end of the bed.

I giggled.

"We're gross," I said. It was true, if not the most romantic pillow talk I'd ever come up with. We were both sweaty and ready for a shower.

He nodded, still with his head in the crook of my neck.

"At least we're gross together," he mumbled.

I nodded.

He seemed content to be there forever, but I wasn't ready to give up the dream of cleanliness.

Besides, he was heavy. The weight of him was reassuring and warm and made my heart feel full and happy, but it made my back ache, and my back was winning.

I nudged his shoulder gently and he rolled off of me, sprawling on his back on the large bed.

"Are you ready for a shower?" he asked, still mumbling. He looked like he'd rather doze, but when I nodded. he stood up and smiled down at me, holding out his hand to help me up.

I took it and let him pull me to my feet on the floor, enjoying the worn-soft boards underneath my toes.

The bathroom was one of the rooms of the house I had yet to see. It was large and tiled with local stones, smooth and glowing gently in the light from the skylights.

The only windows were high up in the walls, but the room was bright and pleasant.

"My mother insisted on them," he said, seeing me looking up at the ceiling. "She said that she wasn't going to bathe in a cave, but she sure wasn't going to let some hand catch a peek, either."

I laughed out loud.

It was pleasant, standing there, naked, with Clint. It occurred to me to hide my body from him, to turn around and shield my flaws from his gaze, but before I moved, he took me in his arms and held me against his chest.

It was nice, even if we were both sticky from sweat.

His hands traced lazily up and down my body.

"You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," he said. "I'm the luckiest man in the world."

I blushed and shook my head against his chest.

"Nope," he said, "Don't go calling me a liar. I love every inch of this."

I was gratified, even if I couldn't see where he was getting the idea from.

"Shower?" I asked.

He nodded and gestured over at the large shower in the corner. It was a large tiled area with two showerheads and glass walls to protect the rest of the room.

"That's some shower," I said. "Did your mother choose it, too?"

Clint shook his head as he walked over to the glass door.

"No," he told me, "She never saw the room finished. My father never used the master bedroom, I had it finished last year. Did a lot of it myself, and the boys helped me."

"It's beautiful," I murmured. The room was larger than my bedroom in my apartment, definitely a luxury.

He smiled at me.

"I spend so much time grinding dirt into my hide, I can't stand not being able to get clean," he said.

We smiled at each other for a moment, lost in each other's eyes, before stepping into the shower together and getting it adjusted.

He and I had so much to learn about each other. Water preferences were just the beginning, I knew, but it was a fun place to start.

I had never done this with a partner before, but Clint and I took the washclothes in the room and slowly bathed each other, washing each other's hair and gently rubbing soap into each other's backs.

The shower was warm and steamy, and I never wanted to get out of it.

I winced when I bent to pick up a different kind of shampoo, and Clint touched my shoulder.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked.

"No," I said, not meeting his eyes.

He frowned at me.

"I'll be sore for a day, but it was worth it. Definitely worth it," I said. My laugh echoed off the walls of the shower. "It had been a while."

He winced and nodded, looking uncomfortable.

"About that," he said. "I'm sorry, I know we were going to wait on sex."

"Are you kidding me?" I asked. "Since when should you apologize for doing what we both wanted?"

"Well, we made a plan," he said.

"Plans should be kept, yeah, unless all parties change their mind. All parties had months ago, I think," I said, and grinned at him.

Clint reached out and flicked a strand of wet hair off of my face.

"I'll say," he murmured. "I could barely keep my hands off of you."

"You're officially encouraged to keep your hands on me," I said.

After our shower, we got out and grabbed towels from the pile on the edge of the tub, next to the shower. The separate tub and shower was something that I saw a lot in larger houses in this area, but still blew my mind a little.

Dry and wrapped in his soft towel, I turned to him.

“This is gorgeous,” I said, gesturing around me. “When was it started?”

“About a year before my mother died,” he said. “The rest of the house has been here for a few generations, but my father added on this master suite. Never used it, it wasn’t finished before my mother died, and he couldn’t bear to leave the room they shared.”

I winced. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s a good place now,” he said. “No need to look sad.”

“I wish I could have met your parents,” I said, suddenly. “They sound like good people.”

His smile had a touch of sadness, a little tightening of grief around the eyes.

“My mother was the best woman I’ve ever known, and if I’m half the man my father was, I’ll die proud,” he said, simply.

“What was your favorite thing to do with them?” I asked.

“I wish I could eat my mother’s tacos again,” he said. “She made them every Sunday night, and the ones I have made just aren’t the same.”

I nodded.

“What about your parents?” he asked.

“Oh, um,” I said. “We’re not as close. I wish we were, sometimes, but that’s just the way it is, you know?”

“They’re missing out,” he said, taking a robe off of a hook on the back of the bathroom door and presenting it to me, blushing a little.

It was just like the one it was hanging next to, soft-looking terry cloth with large pockets and a wide sash, only smaller, and a different color. The larger one was a deep green, and the one he was handing me was a brilliant shade of blue that I loved.

A stab of jealousy went through me for a moment. Was this robe from one of the other women he’d slept with? It was definitely too small to fit Clint, and it looked brand-new, not like a sentimental keepsake of his mother’s.

“I hope you like it,” he said. “I was going to wrap it up and give it to you in a few weeks, but I liked seeing it hang there.”

I took it, and it felt as soft and warm as the one I’d worn the one time I had stayed in a fancy hotel with a few girlfriends of mine. I’d threatened to steal that robe, but left it hanging where it was when we checked out.

“That’s sweet,” I told him. “I love it, it’s one of my favorite colors.”

“It matches your eyes,” he said. “I love your eyes. They’re the deepest blue I’ve ever seen on a real live person.”

“As opposed to a real dead person?” I said, flippantly.

He frowned a little. “Usually, in pictures, eyes like that are faked. Yours are the real deal.”

“Thank you,” I said, trying to be serious. “Thank you for everything. For the robe, and for saying such nice things, and for being good to me.”

“I want you to have whatever you want, if I can give it,” he said, face serious. He reached out and took his own robe off the hook.

“Clint,” I said, taking a deep breath.

He waited.

“Clint,” I started again, “I love you.”

He smiled at me, that slow, sweet smile that always made me melt. Looking at it spread across his handsome face was like watching a sunset from a deck chair with a glass of good wine in my hands. In moments like that, it was hard to let the worry of the rest of life creep in.

"Oh, Naomi," he said, reaching out and taking one of my hands, "Oh, Naomi, I love you too, like I've never loved a woman before."

I nodded. "This is different," I agreed. "I've thought that I've been in love before, but this is like nothing else I've ever felt. I'd give up anything for you, I think."

"I don't want you to give up anything," he said. "I want to give you everything that you want."

"What do you want?" I asked. I felt a little ridiculous. We were still standing in his bathroom, wearing nothing but matching robes and goofy smiles. The steam of our shower was still lingering on the glass and mirrors around us, and the air felt warm and heavy.

"This," he said. "I want this, I want you, I want quiet evenings at home and long showers together. I want children filling up the house and dogs around the sheep. Home-cooked dinners every night and Brandon and Will coming 'round on Sunday evenings."

I eyed him.

"How many children do you want filling up the house?" I asked.

"As many as you want to have," he said. "Two or three, maybe? We can see how we feel after that."

"Who do you want to cook these dinners?" I asked.

He hesitated. Suddenly, I realized that I was ruining this moment, this wonderful time when we’d just declared our love for each other for the first time. He’d given me a thoughtful gift, I was literally wearing a sign of his affection and devotion, and I was harping on about the future.

The future is important, but this was a moment to savor.

I stepped forward and raised myself onto my tiptoes, brushing his lips with a kiss.

“I love the bathrobe,” I said. “I love your bathroom. I love your house. I love you.”

The simple declarations felt right to say. They were all true. My concerns for the future were best left for another day.

Besides, his bathrobe had slipped open, and I could see his renewing interest in touching me. My body responded to the sight, and I took his hand and led him back to that big bed.

The future could wait. Right now I had a lean cowboy in my bed and I knew what I needed to do with him.

I spent the next week mostly at Clint’s ranch, rising with him before dawn to get into the office on time. The days were long, but the nights spent in his bed were worth it, and waking up to his smiling face and lean body were a hell of a lot better than waking up to the cold ringing of my alarm clock.

He was still the man I’d met on the first day. Clint would never not be grumpy, and sometimes distant, and terse when he was working on something.

The moments of sweetness, though, more than made up for the times he wasn’t any fun to be around. Besides, when that happened, I could always take a long walk by myself, or read a book, or go bother Brandon and Will.

On Thursday evening, after the rest of the hands had gone home, and Clint had disappeared into his office, I wandered into the barns to look at the sheep.

I did originally get into my line of work because I love animals, after all, and I found sitting in the dark with them, listening to their sleepy sheepy grunts and their restless settling and resettling, soothing.

I even loved the smell. Not of a small, dank sheep barn, of course, but a big, open, well-ventilated one like this brought enough fresh air in that it smelled earthy, rather than awful. The smell of animals, the undercurrent of manure, the sweetness of the hay at my back, it all combined into a smell like home for me.

I lay back against a hay bale, breathing in the scent, trying not to think about work or Clint or Sarah or the hay poking through my shirt. I was determined to relax.

Unfortunately, loud voices from the other end of the barn kept me from doing that.

I sat up quickly, but relaxed when I recognized Brandon and Will. I knew that I should sneak out the entrance this end of the barn, but I couldn’t help but be curious about what they were talking about.

I know, shame on me.

“I can’t leave, you know that,” Brandon was saying. He sounded frustrated. “Clint is counting on me to stick around a while longer.”

“Clint is counting on you for a lot, isn’t he?” Will shot back. “Must be nice, I wish I could say the same.”

Brandon sighed gustily.

“That’s not fair,” he said. I had to strain to hear him over the sheep noises when he wasn’t practically yelling.

“You’re my partner,” Will said. “You’re the man I love, and I wish I could count on you to do what I want, not just what Clint wants.”

I couldn’t see them, but they were quiet for a moment.

“He’s been through a lot, and Naomi seems great,” hearing my name, I ducked down further, hoping they wouldn’t see me, “But I don’t want to count on her sticking around to keep Clint together. You know he wouldn’t do well alone out here.”

"I know that, but Brandon, he's a grown-ass man. It is not your job to make sure he's okay. It's your job to make sure you're okay, and it's your job to make sure I'm okay, and, Brandon, I'm not okay," Will said. I could hear the pain in his voice as an almost tangible thing.

I winced. Will was a great guy, and Brandon was too, and I didn't want either of them to be unhappy.

Brandon's voice came again, immediate and gentle. "I want you to be okay. What can I do? Do you really need to get off this ranch?"

It was hard to make out what Will said in reply, and I didn't try. This was too personal, and I was feeling bad about my decision to eavesdrop.

There was a few minutes of murmured conversation then, one that I could only speculate about. I hoped it was good.

I wished I could disappear. Unfortunately, I didn't see any way of getting out without them seeing.

"Can we go back to the house soon?" Will said, a little more loudly.

"I do need to check these sheep," Brandon said, his voice full of regret. "I told Jack I'd do it for him so he could go out tonight."

I heard a thump.

"I can wait," Will said. “I’ve sat less comfortable places.”

There was a silence for a few minutes, only broken by the soothing sheep noises that I had come to hear, and a few worried bleats from whatever sheep Brandon was checking on.

"What do you need, Will?" Brandon finally asked. "Do you need the city, or do you need a job like you had? Don't a lot of people work online now? Can we stay on the ranch if you find something online?"

"Huh," Will said. He didn't sound so angry any more. "Yeah, I hadn't looked at that. There might be some writing positions I could take from here, at least most of the time. The commute wouldn't be too bad if it weren't every single day. I just need to do something with my brain."

"I know you do," Brandon said. "I want you to. I love your brain. I love you. I want you to be happy, and I hate that you aren't."

"I know, and I'm sorry I snapped at you earlier," Will said. "You leaving this ranch would be as unfair as me staying as a hand. It just looks like what we need isn't fitting right now."

I heard a few footsteps.

"C'mere and give me a hug," Brandon said. "I love this ranch, and I love Clint, but I'd give both up for you. If you can't find something to do here, we'll get a different place. Maybe halfway between the city and here? Would that work okay for you?"

I heard Will's laugh, although it sounded a little muffled. Maybe against Brandon's shirt?

"Yes," he said, "We can both have a horrible shitty commute in a place we hate. That's pretty fair."

"Come on, I'm trying here," Brandon grumbled, and Will replied, something low and sweet. There was no anger or frustration in either voice now, and I was glad. I didn't want them to be at odds with each other.

Partially, that was out of friendship and concern. I'd grown to respect and value these men and to hope that they liked me and wanted me in their lives. Brandon and Will were good men, good friends to Clint, and good company.

Of course, partially, it was selfish. My nights laughing on the porch with them and listening to their stories were becoming regular events to treasure, and, more importantly, I knew what they, particularly Brandon, meant to Clint.

Brandon was the brother that Clint had never had, he was the last person on the ranch who could sit around and talk to Clint about his parents. He needed that, he needed that sense of family and connection, and I was afraid of how my taciturn lover would handle another blow.

Hell, Clint mentioned Brandon being on the ranch almost immediately when he began to talk about the future.

I wondered a little why I wasn't jealous of their bond, but I supposed that it was no different to a boyfriend having a close family member.

Brandon wasn't a threat to my relationship with Clint, he was just another part of my man's life.

Like the ranch, I supposed.

I could easily get jealous of the time he spent working on the ranch, the long hours, the constant worry and attention... but he was clearly making me a priority too, and I understood valuing your job.

I also understood that the ranch was more than a job to Clint. It was his life. I may not have known him for more than for months, but I was already pretty sure that losing this place would kill him. He might walk and talk, but that spark inside him would be gone.

After all, it had been in his family for generations.

It all came back to family for Clint. Family and the ranch were what he talked about more than anything else, and a few tender moments had showed me that he was aching for a little family of his own to fill up the house.

Did I want to make that for him?

Lost in my own thoughts, it took me a few minutes to realize that the only sounds were once again the sheep. It appeared that I was alone in the barn, but I sat there in the dust and hay for a while, staring into space, before I went to find Clint.

I was unsettled for days after I heard Will and Brandon fight.

Finally, on the next Tuesday afternoon, I decided I had to talk to someone. Walking out of the office to my car, I fished my phone out of my bag and called Sarah.

“Hey,” she said. “I’m bored.”

“Good, I need to talk. Can I come over?” I asked.

She agreed, and I was walking up the sidewalk to her little house in fifteen minutes.

I knocked and she let me in.

"I need to hug this baby," I said, after giving my friend a gentle hug in greeting.

She rolled her eyes. "Says you and everybody. Babies are like crack. Go ahead, take her, she's awake."

Sarah pointed at the booster seat covered with yellow stars that was perched on the floor by the couch.

I went over and unbuckled the little girl, pulling her out of the seat and into my arms. Her head smelled like baby, which was so weirdly appealing that I leaned close and just breathed her in.

"You're so right, " I said. "I'm sniffing her like a crack addict. This is ridiculous."

"Told you so," she said.

"I think I want one," I said. "I'm going crazy about this guy, I want to have his baby."

She laughed and clapped her hands. "Come on, bring her into the dining room. We'll have a snack, I'm starving. You have to tell me everything. You've been holding out for months, spill!"

I spilled.

While she ate grapes, I told her everything, from how Clint and I met to his surly moods and his kindness. I told her about his dead parents and his relationship with Brandon, and Brandon's with Will.

Somewhere in my story, Katie started to fuss in my arms and I passed her to her mother, who pulled her cowl neck shirt aside to nurse her, with surprising modesty.

By the time I got to his "house full of kids" desires and my fears that he wanted me to be more domestic than my nature would allow, an hour had passed.

"We started having sex, and it's amazing, but I am afraid that I'm not the woman he wants to marry. I only sometimes want one kid, a houseful sounds like a nightmare," I finished.

"What do you want?" Sarah asked. She'd been unusually quiet, letting me say my piece with minimal interruptions.

"I want Clint," I said immediately. "I want to live out there with him, but I don't know if I want to only do that. A housewife, me?"

"Look, our jobs aren't going to save the world or make anybody rich," she said bluntly.

I winced.

“I think it’s important,” I said.

“That’s not what I said. It’s pretty vital that someone does this job, but let’s be real here, it’s not vital that that person is you. You’re good at it, but the skills aren’t that unusual.”