The Rancher's Wife

by April Arrington

  Amy’s leg tensed. His tender caress penetrated her jeans, slipped beneath her skin and danced in her blood. It rushed higher and filled her chest with a sweet heaviness. The same sweet welling of heat that bloomed when Logan held her, his heart beating beneath her cheek.

  Amy closed her eyes and squeezed the saddle horn tighter. She wished that feeling could last. Wished she could carry it with her, possess it forever and never feel alone.

  “Just once,” she whispered, clarifying at his confused look. “We’ll race one time.”

  That would be enough. Then she could set this longing down and move on. Let Raintree go. And leave Logan, along with the girl she used to be, behind.

  She straightened, tossing her hair over her shoulder and re-centering her seat. “How about we up the stakes, though? You win, I muck the stalls. I win, the hat’s mine?”

  Logan’s mouth twisted, his tone hesitant. “Don’t know about that. A man should never be parted from his hat.” He tapped the brim with his finger. “And this is a damned good one.”

  She laughed. “So, you know you’re gonna lose.”

  He knuckled the Stetson up an inch, narrowing his eyes and smiling. “Didn’t say that, babe.”

  Amy’s heart tripped in her chest. Logan’s flirtatious gaze seared over her, heating her skin. How many times had she wished for that look from him over the years? And to get it now...

  A man stays with his family.

  How she still wanted that. Wanted Logan at her side every day. His child in her arms.

  His child. Amy froze. Dizzy spells for a week. Feeling off. Her hand touched the flat plane of her belly. How long had it been since...?

  She’d arrived home on Thanksgiving Day and she and Logan had made love the night after. Her mind scrambled to count the days, which quickly added up to weeks. Three weeks. Almost three weeks to the day since they’d—

  No. Her shoulders slumped, a heavy weight settling over her. There was no need to worry on that account. There was next to no chance of it. What had the doctors said after she’d lost Sara? Her chances of conceiving were—greatly diminished. Highly improbable. And, in the event of a successful conception, pregnancy was...inadvisable.

  Amy swiped the back of her hand over her forehead, whisking away cold beads of sweat. Placental abruption. Stillborn. Hemorrhaging. Scarring. Cold clinical terms for something so horrifying.

  No. It was highly unlikely. It had taken several times for her to get pregnant before. They’d only been together the one time and she’d been late more than once over the years. But never this late.

  Amy’s stomach churned, her palms growing sweaty. She didn’t know which emotion railed at her more. The paralyzing fear of possibly being pregnant. Or the overwhelming pain of never being able to conceive.

  A frigid wind swept through, masking the sun’s fading warmth. A streak of adrenaline shot through her veins and shook her limbs, the urge to bolt hitting her hard.

  The endless acres before her beckoned, the dormant ground unobstructed and ripe for the taking. Amy tightened her legs around Lightning. He jerked his head, drawing to a reluctant halt.

  Lightning wanted to run. So did she. More than anything.

  “Whatcha say, handsome?” Amy asked, combing her trembling fingers through Lightning’s coarse mane and striving for a calm tone. “Want to show him up?”

  Amy lowered her torso, lightened her seat and clutched the reins. The command from years ago bloomed in her chest, rose to tickle her tongue and escaped on a panicked whisper.

  “Fly, boy.”

  Lightning heaved forward, hooves pounding over the ground, spraying up dead grass and clumps of mud. Amy moved with him, staying steady and centered. The stallion’s powerful lunges stirred excitement in her veins. It buzzed in her blood, strengthening her posture and dancing on the surface of her skin.

  Each foot of distance brought back her balance and soothed her senses, reminding her of how she used to feel. Brave. Carefree. Alive.

  She hooked the reins around the saddle horn and rose up, firming her grip with her thighs and stretching her arms out to catch the rush of wind with her palms. Cold air licked through her hair, teasing her neck and slipping beneath the billowed back of her shirt.

  The throbbing gallop of Logan’s stallion sounded at her side. Amy glanced to her left. Logan leaned forward, his muscular thighs hugging his horse’s middle, his powerful build steady, keeping pace with her.

  He smiled. “That all you got, babe?”

  Amy laughed, a rebellious energy she hadn’t felt in years firing through her body. The wind roared by her ears, her heart pounded and a sweet sense of freedom overcame her. She renewed her hold on the reins and gave Lightning permission to charge faster. They regained the lead, sprinting a foot ahead and swallowing up the spacious fields before them. Logan remained hot on their heels.

  Lightning stretched his legs in long, galloping leaps following a familiar path until they crossed the edge of the open field. He slowed to a walk as they came to a cluster of trees lining a rushing creek and carefully maneuvered between them until they reached the bank.

  “Good boy,” she crooned.

  Amy kissed Lightning’s sweaty neck, drew him to a halt and glanced over her shoulder. Logan stroked his horse’s neck and eased up beside her. She examined his devilish expression, narrowing her eyes on the sexy curve of his smile.

  “You held back and let me win.”

  Logan chuckled. “Are you implying you couldn’t have outrun me otherwise?”

  “No. Just making an observation.”

  “So, considering that, I get to keep my hat.”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I’ll have to think about it.”

  She swung her leg over Lightning’s back and hopped down, watching as the stallion walked to the creek and began to drink. Logan followed suit and led his horse over to join Lightning.

  Amy turned, eyeing the scattering of trees and noting one in particular. She sighed as she surveyed the solid strength of the oak tree. Its impressive shape and towering height was familiar and stirred an ache in her chest.

  She winced, absorbing the rush of embarrassment. It was the same tree Logan had leaned against when she’d first kissed him. It had taken every drop of bravery she’d had to touch her lips to his all those years ago. To risk so much for what she knew would be so small a reward.

  She’d loved Logan just as strongly then as she loved him now. There was no need to fight it or run from it. It just was. She had to accept it as something she could never change or leave behind.

  Amy walked over and leaned against the oak’s trunk. She closed her eyes and absorbed the whispering rush of water from the creek and the rough bark at her back, allowing herself to imagine, just for a moment, how different things might have been if she hadn’t lost Sara. If she hadn’t pushed Logan so hard. If she’d given him a chance to love her back.

  She felt fabric sweep past her shoulders and a strong heat drew near to her chest. She opened her eyes to find Logan leaning close, his dark eyes on her mouth and his muscular arms braced against the trunk on both sides of her.

  Her belly fluttered as his lips parted, his head dipping.

  “Wanna give it another try?” He tapped his mouth with the blunt tip of his finger.

  Amy shook her head, heat racing up her neck. She pressed her palms tight to the tree behind her, digging her fingers into the uneven crannies of the bark.

  Logan’s gaze left her mouth and traveled over her face. His lips tipped up at the corners.

  “Come on, babe,” he whispered, taking one of her hands in his and holding it to his chest. “Try me.”

  She pressed her lips together, stilling as his eyes darkened and returned to her mouth. The heavy throb of his heart beat against her palm and coursed down to her wris
t, coaxing her pulse to join its rhythm.

  “Let’s make a better memory,” he urged. “One we can enjoy remembering.”

  God help her, she wanted that. Amy sighed, closing her eyes and touching her mouth to the rough stubble on his cheek. She nuzzled her nose against his skin and breathed him in, savoring his masculine scent. He pressed close and slipped his fingers underneath the ring hanging from her neck.

  “Friend, lover, husband...” His husky voice tickled her ear, sending thrills over her skin. “Call it whatever you want.” He nudged a leg between hers and lifted his head. “I’m yours, Amy.”

  Her palms tingled. She wanted nothing more than to hold on to him. To find comfort in his strength.

  She slipped her fingertips under the brim of his hat, weaving them through the thick waves of his hair, and parted his lips with hers. A low growl throbbed in his throat and he explored her mouth with gentle sweeps of his tongue. His knuckles brushed her cheek, skimming her shoulders and uncurling to secure a grip on her hip.

  Heat speared through her and traveled low, making her ache with need. Seeking a distraction, she burrowed her fingers further into his hair and dislodged his hat, swooping up his Stetson and settling it firmly on her own head. It sat a little loose and knocked against his forehead as he kissed her.

  His deep chuckle rumbled. He smiled wide against her mouth, his teeth bumping her lips. Amy grinned, savoring the delight in his eyes and cherishing the abandon in his unrestrained laughter.

  “That’s my favorite one.” He drew back, pinching the hat and centering it on her head. “I should’ve known better than to risk it with you.”

  Amy’s grin slipped. It was a teasing statement. Benign and meaningless. But it managed to cut.

  Logan winced. He framed her face with his warm palms and kissed her forehead.

  “Hey,” he whispered. “This is a better memory, yeah? A good one.”

  She nodded, closing her eyes as he claimed her mouth with the softest of kisses. He rubbed his hands up and down her arms in brisk movements and smiled.

  “It’s getting cold. Let’s head back for the bonfire so you can show off your trophy.” He tapped the Stetson and grinned. “I know you gotta be chomping at the bit to gloat to Dom.”

  Amy thumped the brim of the hat and beamed, slowing her speech to her best hick drawl. “A girl’s gotta lay claim to her bragging rights, sir. Ain’t my fault you held back.”

  “This time.” He laughed, turning to amble away toward the horses. “I might not on the next run. So you better hope you remember everything I taught you.”

  She dragged her palms over her jeans and ducked her head. That was the biggest problem. She couldn’t forget. Any of it. The good or the bad. They were impossible to separate.

  Logan whistled. Lightning left the creek and trotted toward him.

  Logan turned, stretching out his upturned palm. “Come on. Let’s head home.”

  She placed her hand in his, skin heating at his touch, and mounted Lightning. Logan smiled and left to remount his horse.

  Amy eyed the wide expanse of land barely visible between the tangle of trees. A strong wind swept across her overheated skin. It rushed through the long strands of her hair, jerking them over her shoulders and in front of her face in wild arcs.

  Lightning stomped, his muscled bulk shifting beneath her as he shook his head, ready to take off again. Amy rubbed his neck and murmured soothing words. The wind whipped with greater strength, causing the trees to sway, limbs to dip and the swift current of the creek to intensify. Even the ground trembled with excitement beneath her as Lightning took a few impatient steps.

  Amy inhaled, chest rising and shoulders lifting. The moment was so familiar. Raintree as it had been. Alive and exciting.

  Logan laughed. “You look all of nineteen again in that hat.”

  Amy opened her eyes to find him at her side.

  He swept a strand of hair over her shoulder and his tone deepened. “Ready?”

  She nodded, nudging Lightning and undertaking a relaxed pace across the grounds. The wind continued to push at their backs and the festive Christmas lights draping the fences of Raintree’s front yard peeked out from the dark stretch of land before them, guiding their way.

  Amy squared her shoulders and pushed Logan’s Stetson down firmer on her head. Raintree’s call grew louder. It beckoned with each sweep of cold air, twinkle of white lights and creak of their saddles. She glanced at Logan, returning his smile with a more cautious one.

  Even now, she could feel the girl she’d been unfurling inside, stretching and waking up. Wanting nothing more than to keep riding straight into the warm embrace of the main house and stay in this beautiful place. Needing so much from it and from Logan. Wanting everything despite the cost.

  Amy pressed a trembling palm to her midsection, smoothing it hard over the flat plane of her belly. This dance with Logan was dangerous. He and Raintree belonged to the rebellious girl she used to be. Not the honorable woman she’d grown into. She had to remember that. Because she wasn’t sure if there was room inside her for both.

  Chapter Eight

  Logan pushed away the cup of “eggnog” Jayden held out and smiled politely. He had lived long enough to learn the value of self-preservation, and any concoction the twins offered was suspect.

  “No, thanks, buddy.”

  Logan glanced at the massive cypress tree, glowing with white lights. The annual Christmas tree lighting had become a crowd favorite at Raintree. Guests and locals alike turned out every year to help decorate the tree and huddle around the warmth of the festive bonfire.

  The group of guests had dwindled down on account of the late hour and most of them had retired to their rooms for the night. Only family remained, along with a few hands who were finishing off the last of their sweet desserts or beer on hay bales used as makeshift seating. Logan spotted Amy silhouetted in the bonfire’s blaze, recognizing the familiar shape of his Stetson atop her head.

  He grinned. The only time she’d removed it since their ride several hours ago had been when she’d let Kayden climb onto her shoulders to hang a cloth angel on a high branch of the Cypress tree. And, even then, after lowering Kayden to the ground, she’d scooped the hat up and put it right back on.

  “But you ain’t had no eggnog yet.” Jayden stepped on top of Logan’s boots and thrust the cup closer to his face.

  Logan frowned and examined the liquid. The flickering light from the bonfire blazing several feet away enabled him to make out the white liquid filling the lower half of the clear mug. It looked safe enough. But the thick, red film floating on top turned his stomach and called for hesitation.

  He twisted his lips and glanced at Amy. She had her back to him, sharing a laugh with Cissy, Betty and Traci. At least, she wouldn’t witness him being a heel.

  “Nah, I think I’ll pass.” Logan lifted Jayden off the tops of his boots and set him back on the ground.

  Dominic and Pop shifted at Logan’s side, cocking their heads and leveling disapproving frowns on him. Well, hell. He’d get no support from them.

  “Come on.” Dominic nudged Logan. “Don’t want to disappoint the little fellas, do you?”

  Logan sighed and surveyed the boys. Jayden and Kayden stood side by side, blinking up at him with wounded blue eyes.

  His stomach dropped and he shifted uneasily. Nothing stripped your defenses better than kids.

  He rubbed a hand over his brow then reached for the cup. “I’m not that big on eggnog, fellas.”

  “But it’s good.” Kayden smiled. “We made it special, Uncle Logan.”

  That, he believed. The strong scent of spices wrinkled his nose as he lifted it to his mouth. He hesitated, holding the cup to his lips.

  “Please try it,” Jayden said. “Just one taste?”

 
Logan’s mouth twitched. Whether it was from laughter or distaste of what he was about to put in it, he wasn’t sure. But he proceeded, tossing back a healthy swallow of the goop.

  A flash of heat engulfed his gums and scorched a path down his throat, choking him. He spewed the last globs of it out of his mouth and doubled over. His eyes watered and tears coursed down his cheeks as he gasped.

  “Lord, have mercy, Logan.”

  Betty approached, her shocked voice barely rising over the gales of laughter from Pop and Dominic. A hand slapped his back, pounding hard, then shook his shoulder.

  “Get it all out, son,” Pop chuckled.

  “What in heaven’s name have you done to him?” Betty pressed against his side, clutching a glass of sweet tea and peering into his face. “You okay, Logan?”

  He snatched the glass from her hand and tossed it back in one gulp. The cold beverage masked the fire coating his throat, allowing him to catch his breath.

  Dominic winked. “He just had a taste of the boys’ special brew.”

  “Oh, Dom.” Betty clucked her tongue. “I told you to throw that stuff out.”

  Logan sucked in a lungful of cold air and glared at Dominic. “You mean to tell me you knew what was in that?”

  “Of course he did,” Betty said, taking both glasses from Logan’s hands. “The boys used up every bit of my cayenne powder making this gunk. They thought it was cinnamon. Heaven knows what else they put in it.”

  Dominic held up his hands and adopted an innocent expression. “Easy now, big bro. I only knew because I got talked into trying it, too.”

  Logan choked back a laugh, stretched around Pop and grabbed a handful of Dominic’s shirt. “You little shi—”

  “Language, boys,” Cissy admonished.

  The rest of the ladies had arrived. Traci covered her mouth as a fit of giggles overtook her and Amy smiled a mile wide. Cissy, however, shoved between the men and rose to her toes, prying Logan’s fist from Dominic’s shirt.

  “Not in front of the little ones.” Cissy smoothed her hands over Dominic’s collar and the corner of her mouth kicked up. “Besides, my husband looks especially nice tonight and I’d like to keep him that way.”