Home on the Ranch: Texas Wedding

by Sasha Summers

  Fisher smiled. “She’ll make you work for it.”

  He nodded. “That’s fine. I can be just as stubborn as she is.”

  “Oh, I seriously doubt that.” Fisher clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You’re going to need reinforcements. Free tomorrow?”

  His nod was slow.

  “Come to Archer’s refuge tomorrow. Six o’clock.”

  “Now you’re going to help me?”

  “Not just me.” Fisher’s grin was hard. “Our brothers.”

  The Boone brothers? He’d seen the looks on their faces tonight—he knew none of them were sold on this. “Why?”

  “My father gave you my mother’s ring, which tells me how much he wants this marriage.” His jaw clenched. “I just rattled your skull and cracked a rib and you’re still standing. That can only mean one thing. You love my sister. And, dammit, I want my sister happy.”

  Fisher’s words hung with him throughout the next day. Love wasn’t part of this. It couldn’t be, he wasn’t equipped for that. His heart wasn’t healed yet—neither was he. But, even after a day learning the fine points of the patient management system used by the veterinary hospital, Fisher’s words remained. And when Ash headed to Boone Ranch and the horse refuge at precisely six o’clock, he wasn’t sure how to feel or what to expect. He parked his truck in front of the business offices and followed the directions Eden gave him to the stables.

  He walked past several horse stalls, appreciating the setup. Horses peered over their stall doors, ears swiveling and nostrils blowing—welcoming him. He paused, eyeing an especially fine brown buckskin with a white blaze on his nose. The horse seemed to be checking him out, too, bumping Ash’s chest with his nose.

  “Hello to you, too,” he murmured.

  “On the market for a horse?” A man asked, watching the horse with interest.

  “Maybe.” Hell yes, he wanted one. He missed having a horse, having a place of his own to ride out and explore. Now, well, he had the land and the house. About all he was missing was a horse. He’d need to check out the stables at Gruber House first. Make sure they were safe and sound. “Looking for Archer Boone.”

  The man nodded. “This way.”

  Ash followed him through the barn and beyond to a yard where saddled horses waited.

  He braced himself. He knew how Fisher wasn’t sold on the marriage, but the rest of them? Well, he was about to find out. He stood his ground. He didn’t relish the idea of the other Boones taking shots at him, but he was hoping it wouldn’t come to that.

  Archer frowned. But he was always frowning.

  Hunter was openly sizing him up. Not aggressive so much as assessing. He could respect that. They didn’t know him well.

  Ryder. Well, Ryder Boone looked ready to beat the shit out of him. Eager, almost. If their roles had been reversed, he’d probably be in the same boat.

  “Glad you came.” Hunter broke the silence, his gaze zeroing in on the humdinger of a bruise Fisher had left on his jaw. “After last night, well—”

  “You were going to propose?” Archer asked.

  “I was.” He cleared his throat. “I am.”

  Archer’s gaze narrowed. “She doesn’t want to marry you?”

  He had to admire the man’s straightforward attitude. “No.” No point dragging this out.

  Ryder chuckled. “Well, that was easy.” He turned back to tightening the cinch on his saddle. “No one, and I mean no one, is going to get our sister to change her mind.”

  “Dad wants this.” Fisher didn’t bother pretending he felt the same.

  “Dad’s wrong.” Ryder glared at Ash.

  “This wouldn’t be the first time you two didn’t see eye to eye.” Hunter smiled at his younger brother.

  “He brought her home last night, carried her inside and—after he stood there and took that from me—he tells me he wants to marry her.” Fisher spoke with grudging admiration. “I might have even cracked a rib or two.”

  Ash nodded. “Might.”

  All four of them faced him then. They loved their sister deeply. Up until now, it had been their job to protect her. But now?

  “You want to marry her?” Hunter asked.

  He cleared his throat. “Yes. Very much.” Admitting the truth felt good.

  The brothers exchanged a meaningful look. But he couldn’t tell if it was a good look or a bad look.

  “Dammit,” Ryder bit out the curse. “We’re going to need more beer for this.”

  “You have no idea what you’re attempting.” Archer crossed his arms over his chest. “Our sister is a force of nature.”

  Ash nodded. He knew. Oh, he knew. It was one of the things he liked best. Damn. Since he was telling the truth, maybe it was time to accept that his feelings for Renata were turning into something...more.

  “Let’s get to work,” Hunter said, his jaw set with determination.

  This would soon be his family—Curtis and the babies’ family. Maybe, with her brothers’ help, he’d stand a chance at convincing Renata how good it could be between them. To do that, there needed to be less space between them and more time spent together. Preferably alone.

  Chapter 11

  Renata took the last bite of her gingerbread cookie and sat back in her chair, staring into the dying embers of the fire. It was after midnight and she was sneaking milk and cookies like a little girl. She smiled, wrapping the embroidered blanket tighter around her legs and relaxing against the side of the high wingback leather chair.

  It was nice to pretend, for a little while longer, that all the fuss and fervor that had become her life didn’t exist. The Lodge library was her personal oasis. The book-lined room was deserted and quiet, both things she craved at the moment. The Christmas tree, all lit up and decorated, was an added bonus.

  Her eyes had popped open to a new day—a day full of choices. Choosing to let a tow truck repair her truck. Choosing to stay here versus escaping to Fire Gorge. Choosing to call in sick so she could delay the several dozen interrogations she’d have to suffer through when she went to work. And choosing to stay in her room no matter how hard her father or Clara tried to change her mind. It wouldn’t last forever, she knew that. But she deserved twenty-four hours.

  Once the nausea and vomiting stopped, life would be easier. She hoped. “Growing babies is hard work, guys.” She’d played the digital recording of her babies’ heartbeats several times through. The sound was oddly soothing. And the little blips on the screen? They were real. They were hers. They were pure goodness. And she was beyond excited to meet them. “Not too early though, okay?” She’d been reading her pregnancy book. When she wasn’t freaking out over all the things that could go wrong, she was amazed at what was happening inside her body. No wonder she was so tired all the time.

  “We have the parade and the Gingerbread Festival soon. It’s our job to make sure everything goes off without a hitch, okay?” She looked down at her stomach. “Your momma knows her way around an event, don’t you worry. And when it’s all over, we’ll slow down, take naps and relax.”

  “Renata?” Ash’s voice startled her.

  She pressed herself into the corner of the chair and froze. Ash was the last person she wanted to see. If she stayed super quiet, he’d go away. That was what she wanted, wasn’t it?

  The door slid open.

  Dammit. She tensed, far too excited that he was here. What about the whole wanting space thing? Not that she actually wanted space. The door shut. Had he left? Disappointment welled.

  The thump of boot heels crossing the wooden floor had her smiling. Widely. The sound was muffled now—because he was beside her, on the thick hand-braided carpet.

  “You’re still here.” His voice was low. Deep. Enticing.

  She bit her lip to fight her smile. But that didn’t stop her heart from thumping.

  “No Fi
re Gorge?” he asked.

  She shook her head, worried her voice would give her away.

  “I’m glad.” It was almost a whisper.

  She glanced at him. Even in the dim lighting, his smile managed to knock the air from her lungs. “You are?”

  He stared down at her just long enough for her bones to begin to melt, then crossed to pull the leather settee in close and sit. “Talking to the babies?”

  She blinked, nodding—willing her thoughts and her body to behave. She should tell him to leave, remind him of the whole space request thing... Why did he have to look like that? All manly and desirable and capable. Her dreams reminded her regularly of just how capable he was. In great detail.

  His grin was a thing of beauty.

  This needed to stop. Immediately. “Ash.” She liked saying his name. “Ash.” Already said that. “I came in here to sit in the dark, for some peace and quiet.”

  “I can be quiet,” he said, turning to face the fire and leaning back against the other arm of her chair. “And peaceful.”

  She wasn’t feeling remotely peaceful at the moment. The exact opposite was more like it. Her stomach growled.

  “Hungry?” He glanced over his shoulder.

  She sucked in a deep breath to ease the flutter in her chest. “I’ve had three gingerbread cookies and a large glass of milk. I’m covered.”

  “That’s not a meal.” He was frowning now.

  “I’ll be happy if I can keep it down.” She sighed, noting the deep blue tones the firelight brought out in his dark hair. If she wanted, she could run her fingers through the ebony silkiness. It would be easy. Natural, almost. She fisted her hand. She did not want to. Who was she kidding? She really, really did.

  “I’m sorry this has been so hard on you. Eventually, that will stop. You’ll have cravings and get round.” He turned, resting his elbow on the seat cushion—next to her. He was too close, crowding in on her. And she liked it. “It’s a good thing, considering.” His tone was velvet.

  “Considering the babies.” The babies were his motivation. Not her.

  “You feeling okay?” he asked.

  It was an innocent enough question, but it reminded her of the doctor’s appointment and how he’d reacted—how worried he’d been about her health and the babies. “Can I ask you a question?”

  He nodded.

  “Did your wife have a hard time with her pregnancy?” The question hung in the air. But it was out there. No way to take it back. Even when she saw the telltale tick in his jaw muscle.

  “She was miserable through the entire pregnancy.”

  Part of her didn’t want to push but...part of her really wanted to know about the woman he’d been married to. “What was her name?”

  He pushed out of his chair and crossed to the fire. The library fell eerily silent as he stared into the low-burning flames. All she could do was sit and stare at him. His rigid posture gave away his struggle. “Shanna.”

  Shanna. The mother of his son. His wife. Renata couldn’t begin to imagine what she was like. Or how horrible it would be to lose the person you’d chosen to spend the rest of your life with. All she could do was sympathize with his grief. Her father had been distraught when her mother passed. It had taken him years to pull himself together. Meeting Clara had restored some of the pluck to his step and the sparkle to his eyes, but he still missed her mother.

  Ash turned, his face cast in shadows. “Shanna was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer right after we discovered she was pregnant.” There was no emotion in his voice. “She held on as long as she could, determined to meet him. But...she went into labor at thirty-three weeks.” He sounded so empty, too hollow. “She went into a coma, and died a few months later.”

  Tears filled her eyes, the injustice of his words pressing in on her. And his pain? There was no escaping it. She was up, tripping over her blanket to get to him. Without hesitation or thought, she wrapped her arms around him, offering comfort he hadn’t asked for but needed all the same. His arms slid around her waist and he held her flush against him, close enough to feel the rapid thump of his heart and the ragged hitch in his breath.

  “She did get to meet him?” It was a whisper.

  He buried his face against her neck and breathed deep. “Yes.”

  She sniffed, wiping her tears away but never letting him go. They stood, wrapped up and silent. The only sound was the crackle and pop from the fireplace and the steady thud of his heartbeat beneath her ear. She tried not to respond to his scent or the stroke of his hand along her back. Tried not to respond when his fingers ran through her hair. But when his nose traced along her neck and a shudder racked his body, there was no mistaking what was happening.

  “I didn’t come here to be seduced,” she whispered. “Not this time.”

  His chuckle was low and breathy. “I didn’t come here planning on seducing you.” His lips brushed the shell of her ear. “But here we are.” He tilted her head back, cradling her cheek in one hand. “And there’s nothing I want more.”

  This close, it was impossible to miss the angry color along his jaw. “What happened to your face?” She knew, before the words were out, she knew. What the hell were they thinking? They were grown men, for crying out loud. “Which one of them—”

  “It doesn’t hurt. And, honestly, I deserved worse,” he interrupted, pressing a soft, clinging kiss against her lips. “I knocked up his sister.” His gaze fell to her lips. “And enjoyed doing it.”

  That look. That kiss. “You did?” She smiled.

  “You doubt that?” His brow arched. “Let me convince you.” Between the fire in his eyes and the burn building in her belly, it was hard to hold his gaze and breathe. He wanted her. She ached for him. All that was left was to kiss him.

  So she did.

  His fingers tightened in her hair, a soft moan spilling from his chest as his lips sealed with hers. On and on, his kiss clung and deepened. When his tongue dipped into her mouth, she swayed into the wall of his chest.

  Need crashed into her.

  Her hands had a mind of their own, trailing down his chest to free his shirt from the waist of his jeans. She wanted to touch him. Her fingers slid beneath the fabric to stroke the muscles of his abdomen. He shuddered, his skin contracting beneath her caress.

  “Your hands are cold.” He said against her mouth, laughing and arching away from her touch. His gaze swept over her face, a slight crease dipping between his dark brows before he reached for her again. Suddenly, Ash was urgent. Frantic. Impatient. His hands slid beneath her sweater, skimming the skin along her waistband and driving her wild. Need ruled him—and Renata welcomed it.

  Ash had lost control. The minute he’d pulled her scent deep into his lungs, the red flag had popped up. But having her in his arms, soft and giving, was too much to resist. Hell, he didn’t want to resist. He wanted to explore every inch of this woman, to love her until she fell apart, then do it all again. Knowing she felt the same—well, he was rock hard and hurting.

  He let her go long enough to lock the large wooden door, but even that seemed to take too long. When he turned back to her, she stood before the glowing embers in the dying fire. He swallowed at the sight she made. That long blond hair of hers fell heavy down her back. Her jeans clung to her like a second skin. Only her bulky cream sweater left anything to the imagination. But he had no problem filling in the blanks. For weeks, Renata Boone had been waiting for him in his dreams. Now she was here, flesh and blood and wanting him.

  “Ash...” Her voice wavered, uncertain, even as she held her hand out for him.

  He kicked his boots off on the way to her, fingers unbuttoning his shirt as he went. She followed suit, sliding the sweater up and over her head and tossing it aside. Her navy bra was a stark contrast to her creamy skin. He wanted to push the straps aside to explore the full roundness of her breasts until she was wri
thing beneath him. Her gaze locked with his, wild-eyed and flushed, for him.

  Once he reached her, clothes were flying. Her bare skin against his rocked him to the core. He lost himself in her, the silk of her skin and the scent that had haunted him since the night he’d first held her close. The nip in the air had him dragging her chair closer to the fire and warmth.

  She smiled and pushed him back before climbing into his lap, straddling him.

  He ran his fingers along her shoulder and chest, watching the dancing shadows flicker across her smooth skin. A long lock of hair fell forward, resting in the valley between her bare breasts. She was beautiful. Soft. She made him ache. When she bent to press her lips to his, his hands tangled in her hair—holding her close. But not close enough.

  With a little groan of frustration, Renata arched into him. When her nipples grazed his chest, Ash bit off a curse. She braced her hands on his shoulders, broke away from their kiss and smiled down at him.

  All he could do was stare. Hair tousled, eyes glazed with passion, lips parted... He knew what it was to love her, knew how it felt, and when she arched her hips and welcomed him deep inside her warmth nothing compared. His head pressed back against the chair as his lungs emptied. All that mattered was the feel of her, tight and hot, around him.

  His hands gripped her hips, holding her in place once they’d fully joined together. “I need a minute,” he ground out. Otherwise, this would be over way too soon.

  She shook her head, tilting her hips ever so slightly. “Ash.”

  It was a plea. One he couldn’t ignore. His hands traveled up her sides to cradle the weight of her full breasts. The hard, tight peaks ached for him—so he bent forward to draw one, then the other, into his mouth. With every stroke of his tongue, she moaned a little harder, her grip on his shoulder a little tighter.

  And every time she thrust onto him, he had to bite back a curse. Slow and hard, over and over, she didn’t stop. Her head fell back so her long golden hair brushed his bare thighs. He captured a handful, tugging her close so he could bury his face between her breasts.