by Emily March
He’d instructed her to wear clothing appropriate for outdoor activities and bring something “nice” to wear to “dine” at an elegantly rustic place. Or rustically elegant. He wasn’t sure of the appropriate term.
He had her hooked at that.
He also had her making her way to the Angel’s Rest Boutique for something to wear. Thursday afternoon, Hannah had stepped inside the shop to find Celeste working the afternoon shift. She introduced Hannah to another customer, her cousin Angelica Blessing, who had long fire-engine-red hair and a devilish twinkle her eyes. A McBride family friend, Angelica had traveled from Texas, where she managed the bed-and-breakfast the McBrides owned in Enchanted Canyon. “I believe we met at the McBride wedding, didn’t we?”
“Briefly, yes. It’s nice to see you again.”
“Right back at you. I’m stoked to meet Bree. I’ll be the first of Boone’s Texas family to meet her. That’s buckets of fun for me. I’m also playing nanny for the weekend while you and Boone are off scr—”
Celeste interrupted in a warning tone, “Angelica!”
Her eyes sparkled, and she gave her hair a toss. “Stargazing.”
Celeste sighed and stepped out from behind the checkout counter. “How can I help you today, dear?”
“Well, I was wondering…”
“The sundress? I put it back for you.”
“You did?” Hannah laughed. “You had more faith in me than I had in myself.”
Angelica waved a dismissive hand. “That’s Celeste’s MO. I’ve seen that dress, and you’ll definitely knock Boone’s socks off. And the rest of his clothes too.”
“Angelica.” Celeste sighed.
A day later, as Hannah carefully folded the sundress, she recalled the moment she’d first tried it, and the image of herself in the boutique mirror. Celeste had told her the dress was right for the woman she was becoming.
“The woman I’m becoming,” Hannah repeated now as she placed the dress into her overnight bag. It was a hope. A promise. A vow.
The heeled sandals she packed along with the dress were pure temptation. Angelica had talked her into buying those.
She wore her favorite pair of jeans, hiking boots, and a new shirt when shortly after nine, a knock sounded on her door. She opened it to discover a road-worn Jeep in front of the cottage, and Ranger pulling at his leash at Boone’s feet. “Good morning, Hollywood. You ready?”
“Good morning, Texas. I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.” She picked up her bag from beside the door where she’d left it.
“Excellent. Here, I’ll trade you the dog for your bag.”
As they walked toward the battered vehicle, she observed, “That’s not your usual ride.”
“Nah. Took the Land Rover into Josh Tarkington’s garage for a tune-up. This is my project car. It’s fun to drive in the mountains.” She waited until they were in the Jeep to ask, “So we’re going up out of the valley?”
“We are. We’re headed for Brick Callahan’s Stardance River Camp.”
Hannah thought of her dress and heels and frowned. Had she misunderstood him? “We’re going camping?”
“Not in the traditional sense, no.” He glanced at her and added, “Nice shirt, by the way. Pink looks good on you.”
“It’s not pink. It’s watermelon.”
“Now you’ve done it. There’s nothing like the sweet taste of watermelon on a hot summer day.” His grin went casually wicked. “Hope it’s on the lunch menu. I’ll be dreaming about taking a big old bite.”
“Corny, McBride.” Nevertheless, a shiver raced over Hannah’s nerves at that.
After they dropped off Ranger at the vet’s, and while driving past the Angel’s Rest resort, Hannah told Boone that she’d met Celeste’s cousin. “I love Angelica,” he said. “She’s a hoot. She’ll say anything, and she’s often a little risqué. Yet she has a heart of gold. Tucker says she’s like Celeste’s evil twin.”
Hannah laughed at the description, but having met the woman, she could agree. For the next half hour as they drove into the mountains above the valley that sheltered Eternity Springs, he entertained her with the tale of how his family had come to inherit the Enchanted Canyon property. He painted a vivid picture of their discoveries inside the old brothel, saloon, and dance hall that they’d remodeled and opened as the Fallen Angel Inn and Last Chance Hall.
“We saved what furnishings we could and used them in both the inn and the restaurant—the Saloon. We found a lot of junk, but some nice pieces too.”
“I’ll bet it was a treasure hunt.”
“It truly was. It just so happens I brought one of them along with me today to show you. It’s in the glove box. Look.”
She did as he asked and discovered a leather-bound book.
“It was inside a box along with a harmonica and a pocket watch,” Boone told her. “Jackson kept the first, Tucker the second. The journal came to me.”
Hannah opened it and flipped through the pages. “The handwriting is beautiful. A little hard to read but gorgeous.”
“It’s difficult reading at first, but once you power through the first few pages, your eyes and brain adjust, and you get the rhythm. Comprehension gets easier. The author is a woman, an ancestor of mine named Ellie McBride. In the introduction to the journal, Ellie wrote that she intended to record the stories that her father told his children about Comanche raids, outlaw deeds, and cattle drives of his youth.”
“I’ll bet it’s interesting.”
“It is, but not in the way I originally thought it would be. It turns out that the tales Ellie recorded in the journal are more often about her mother than cattle thieves and Indian raids. Adelaide Throckmorton lived quite the life. I think you might like to read about it.”
“I’d love to read it. You’ve got me curious now. Though I hope my eyes are up to deciphering her penmanship by the light of a campfire.”
“You’ll have lamplight. We won’t be roughing it at Stardance River Camp.”
“Okay, I’m dying of curiosity. Tell me about this place we are going.”
“Okay, but first, let me take care of something that I can’t seem to put out of my mind.” He pulled his phone from his pocket as he maneuvered the Jeep onto the shoulder of the road. As he thumbed through his contacts and placed a call, his gaze lingered on her breasts. “G’mornin’. This is Boone McBride. I’d like to add fresh watermelon to the lunch menu if that’s doable?”
Hannah shivered. She hadn’t experienced this much sexual tension since her teenage years, and she was glad he’d chosen the romance route, after all. She resisted the impulse to arch her back and squirm in her seat.
“Great. Perfect. Thank you.” He listened a moment, then responded. “No changes to our schedule. We should be arriving in fifteen to twenty minutes, so I think we’re good to go.”
The call ended, Boone pulled the Jeep back onto the road. He picked up the conversation as if he hadn’t just lobbed a heat grenade between them. “Are you familiar with the term glamping?”
“It’s upscale camping, right?”
“Yes. Luxury camping. I think the term evolved from glamorous camping. River Camp is a glamping resort. I’ve been up here a few times, but I’ve never stayed overnight. It’s been on my to-do list. I’m thinking of adding a glamping component to the Enchanted Canyon offerings. Utilize the ghost town as a base.”
“What’s it called again? The ghost town?”
“Ruin. It was an outlaw enclave. The brothel sat halfway along the road from Ruin to Redemption, or, vice versa, depending on your viewpoint.”
Hannah gave him a teasing smile. “So this isn’t a date, but a business trip?”
“Two birds, sweetheart. And just so you know, I definitely mean business.”
She darned sure hoped so.
At a discreet sign that read STARDANCE RIVER CAMP, he turned off the paved road onto a dirt one. She soon saw why he’d brought the Jeep. Four-wheel drive was required to get up and down and around the hill
s. She began to wonder how much “luxury” they’d find at Stardance River Camp.
When the curve of a switchback revealed an alpine meadow covered in a sea of yellow wildflowers and ringed by snowcapped peaks, she decided luxury didn’t matter. “Oh, wow. That’s breathtaking.”
“Pretty piece of land. It’s a shame Brick got to it before I set eyes on it.” He motioned up ahead of them. “We’re looking for a small sign that reads SHANGRI-LIL. If you spot it, shout out. I think we should be coming up on it soon. When you can read it, tell me which path to take.”
“Shangri-lil?”
“His wife’s name is Lili. We’re staying at their personal retreat.”
Hannah tried to place Lili Callahan. Had she met her at the wedding or the baby shower? She’d met so many people that she had trouble putting faces to names. Spying the sign he’d mentioned, she pointed toward the left. “There it is.”
Moments later, Boone pulled the Jeep to a stop at a campsite. And wow, what a campsite. The tent was made of canvas and sat on a large wooden platform with a front porch, including rockers. Hannah said, “Oh, wow.”
“Go check it out. We don’t have to stay if it doesn’t appeal.”
“Not appeal? I’d have to be crazy.” Hannah scrambled out of the Jeep and hurried toward the porch steps, passing two mountain bikes parked in a bike rack made of logs along the way. She ducked past the tent flap and gasped aloud. To the right sat an old-fashioned heating stove and to the left, a desk. Sitting in the center and dominating the space was a luxurious king-sized bed. “Okay, then,” she murmured.
In the far left corner sat a big, comfy-looking chair with a table and reading light next to it. The other corner held a bookcase. Hannah walked past the bed to peer behind another set of flaps and discovered an en suite bathroom. “Oh, wow,” she repeated.
The floor was tiled. The walls, metal. Two sinks. A commode. A separate shower, and a soaking bathtub big enough for two. What was the term he’d used? Rustic luxury.
It was fabulous.
She heard Boone enter the tent and she turned to greet him. He stood watching her across the ocean of the bed. His silver eyes burned with the kind of fire she hadn’t seen in a man’s look in, well, ever. His voice was gravelly with desire as he asked, “So, Hannah. Are the accommodations acceptable?”
Her pulse quickened. Heat flooded through her and pooled low in her belly. “They are.”
He prowled his way toward her, his gaze locked onto hers. An arm’s length away, he stopped and held his hand out to her. “In that case, Hollywood. Make love with me.”
“Yes.” She stepped into his arms. “Oh, yes.”
Cradling her face, he kissed her slowly, reverently, and with care. Taking his time, he pushed her to the very brink and she moaned against his lips.
“You taste so good,” he whispered, slipping his hands down to unbutton her shirt. “I want you.”
He slid his hands around to explore her bare skin, pulling her closer. He rested his forehead on her shoulder and inhaled a deep, bracing breath. “I don’t want to rush, but hell, Hannah. I can’t seem to help myself.”
“I can tell,” she replied, arching against his lower half and feeling just how much he wanted her. “And I want you too. I suggest we enjoy the rush.”
Her assurance was all he needed. Boone tumbled her onto the ocean of the bed and dove in after her. Together they sank beneath a wave of hunger and desire that was new and fierce and exultant.
When finally they surfaced and Hannah lay naked, panting, and replete with Boone’s large hand resting heavily on her belly, his thumb tracing lazy circles around her navel, an emotion stirred within her heart that she’d almost forgotten.
Hannah was happy.
Chapter Seventeen
Boone was exhausted.
He had an inviolable rule against falling asleep on a lover in the aftermath, but this was the first time he’d been with a woman since becoming a father. Turned out that midnight, two, four, and six AM feedings were a challenge to a man’s stamina.
But damn it, he wouldn’t fall asleep on Hannah.
With superhuman effort, he pried open his eyelids. Seeing her lying on her back beside him, smiling like a cream-drunk kitten, was worth the effort. “You rock my world, Hannah Dupree.”
“It got a little shaky for me too.”
Her soft laugh held a note he couldn’t quite place. It intrigued Boone and gave him enough energy to turn his head. “Just a little?”
A twinkle entered those gorgeous Liz Taylor violet eyes. “Fishing for compliments, Texas?”
“Maybe. I wouldn’t mind a little reassurance that I’m not imagining how great that sex was.” The truth of the statement surprised Boone. He wasn’t needy in the bedroom.
Maybe tents were different.
Hannah was definitely different.
I’m losing it. He cleared his throat and elaborated. “I’m running on fumes, and you scrambled my brains, so my judgment may be off.”
She stretched slowly and sinuously, no kitten here, but rather a sleek and powerful cat. “Your judgment is just fine.”
“Good.” His eyelids drifted closed. There was something else he should tell her, something that was vital she understood. “I didn’t plan this, you know.”
She snickered. “Yeah. Right. I have a bridge to sell you.”
“No, I mean it. I had no intention of falling on you like a ravening beast the moment we arrived.” Ravening beast? Where did that come from? “I promised you romance. I keep my word. I have a whole day of romance planned.”
“I’m sure you do.” Hannah rolled onto her side and up onto her elbow. “No worries, Boone. For one thing, the ravening beast thing worked for me, and it was most definitely romantic.”
“Good.” Boone relaxed. Sleep was a siren calling to him, and he valiantly fought the song. “That’s good to know. You’ll like the rest of what I have planned. I’m confident of that.”
“I’m excited.” She snuggled against him and lay her head atop his chest. He trailed his thumb up and down the valley of her spine. “Boone?”
“Mmm?”
“I don’t want to ruin any of your plans, but I’m feeling awfully lazy right at the moment. Do we have time for a little nap?”
A nap.
She wants to take a nap.
I have found the perfect woman.
“The schedule is flexible,” he murmured and drifted off.
Boone slept hard and woke to find the bed beside him empty. He sat up, dragged his hand down his face in an effort to scrape away the cobwebs, then shook his head like a sleepy old hound dog and took stock. His clothes lay strewn across floor and furnishings where he’d flung them in his haste to get naked with Hannah. His duffel now sat beside her quilted overnight bag on the bench at the foot of the bed. She’d brought in their things.
He wondered if she’d even napped or if that had been a goodwill gesture on her part. His exhaustion must have been obvious. He snorted with disgust. Some stud you are, McBride.
He rose, scooped up his clothing and duffel, then strode into the bathroom, where a damp towel and the scent of lemon shampoo informed him that she’d bathed. How the heck had he slept through that?
“Damned shame,” he muttered as he switched on the water. They could have practiced water conservation and shared. Of course, it probably would have killed him, but like they say—what a way to go.
A few minutes later, bathed and refreshed and feeling like a new man following his—Boone checked his watch and groaned—ninety-minute nap, he exchanged text messages with Angelica about Bree. He then exited the tent in search of his date. He found her down by the creek, where a wooden glider was perfectly positioned to watch the sunset while listening to the music of water babbling over the stone. Hannah stood lobbing pebbles into the white foam.
Boone’s heart went thunk-a-thunk at the sight of her now interposed with the memory of the way she’d risen above him on the bed, her cheeks flushe
d with passion, the rosy nipples on her full breasts hard and damp with moisture left by his mouth. She’d changed from her watermelon-colored top into one the color of a coconut-blue Popsicle.
His mouth watered. Wonder how soon he could coax her back into bed?
“Hey, Hollywood,” he said as he approached. “I’m sorry I zonked out on you. I wish—”
She turned and met Boone’s gaze. He halted abruptly in his tracks as all thought of sex evaporated like mist. Her eyes were big blue pools of sorrow, and she had tear tracks on her cheeks. “Honey? What happened? What’s wrong?”
She gestured toward the glider. Boone spied Ellie McBride’s journal lying on the seat. She said, “It’s heartbreaking.”
Crap. Had he made a tactical mistake here? The journal wasn’t supposed to make her cry.
Boone’s cousin Jackson swore that the harmonica that had come to him from the treasure box they’d found in Enchanted Canyon had played an important role in his romance with Caroline. Tucker said the same thing about his watch and his relationship with Gillian. Therefore, Boone didn’t doubt that the treasure box journal had a role to play for Hannah and him. His instincts had told him that this was the right time to share the story of Adelaide Throckmorton. Had he been wrong?
Maybe. Maybe not. Whatever the reality, he hadn’t wanted to make her cry. He’d brought her to Shangri-lil for the sex she’d requested and the romance he’d promised. Not tears.
Well, nothing to do now but attempt damage control. He would try to tease Hannah from her tears.
“C’mere,” he said, clasping her hand. He tugged her over to the glider, sat, and pulled her down beside him. “I’d come looking for you intending to wax poetic about our interlude,” he said, draping his arm over her shoulder. “Now I think my nap blew the mood. I don’t know what it is about you, woman. You somehow manage to take sandpaper to my suave, and yank the deb right out from beneath my onair.”