Racing Hearts: Bennett Boys Ranch

by Landish, Lauren

  Mama looks at me and then back at Shayanne, a softness to her face that I can’t decipher. She looks out the window where Sophie and Katelyn are pulling up into the grassy drive after their day of work in town. Any minute now, all the guys are gonna come rolling in too, and we’ll have family dinner around the brand-new, big-enough-to-fit-an-army table we bought.

  Finally, Mama speaks, her voice wistful. “When James met Sophie and Mark met Katelyn, I knew they were the ones for my boys. I worried about you, though, always gone, always searching for something.” She looks back at me and I realize how much she saw, how much she always saw. “I worried you’d find your match out there somewhere and leave us. I would’ve been okay with that, if it’d made you happy.” She blinks, though, and I’m not sure that’s entirely true.

  “But you found what you were looking for right here at home.” Her smile is one of pure pride. “No, I’m not teaching Shayanne to make my fried chicken. I’m sure she’s got her own recipe, been making it for years just like her mama made it, I reckon.” To Shayanne, she says, “There are lots of things I can teach you, but I won’t mess with a good thing you’ve already got going.”

  This isn’t a stamp of approval or a welcoming into the fold. This is respect on a whole other level. As equals, as friends, as family.

  Shay’s eyes water, and she lifts her shoulder to catch the single errant tear that falls because her hands are messy with globs of flour. “Do not make me cry, Mama Louise. I already salted the chicken!” That’s my sassy spitfire, my emotional roller coaster ride . . . my woman. And I wouldn’t have her any other way.

  Chapter 34

  Shayanne

  “Let’s go, let’s go!” I know I look like a kid hyped up on sugar-crack cereal—eyes wide in my flushed face, jumping up and down like a jack in the box, with my hands clapping out a rhythmless pattern. But Luke is slower than Christmas this morning!

  Well, maybe not exactly, because Christmas ain’t slow today. It’s here!

  My first Christmas with Luke.

  Our first Christmas without Daddy.

  Our first Christmas with the Bennetts.

  It’s a big day, and I’m ready to get it rolling. If only he would get his lazy ass outta our bed. “You sure pajamas are okay? Do I need to get dressed, fix my hair, or anything?” I say, standing beside the bed. Okay, not standing. More like kicking the bed with my shins so Luke’s prone form bounces a bit.

  He rolls over, his bare chest mighty distracting from my rush to get to the main house. “C’mere, woman.” He holds wiggling grabby fingers out to me, and even though I know I should scoot back so he’ll get up, I lean over so he can reach me.

  He pulls me to him, and I let out a holler of surprise at the sudden movement. My tummy swoops, not from the movement but just from him. I still can’t believe this is my life.

  That he is my life.

  Every day, we work on the ranch, with horses and goats and soaps, oh my! And every night, we fall into bed, into each other, and a little more in love.

  He presses a kiss to my forehead, then one to each cheek, and then finally, with a sigh of relief, he covers my mouth with his. His morning kisses are the best, sweet reminders that I’m his dream come true. He told me that, word for word one morning, and I damn near lit up like a firework. Luke Bennett is better with words than he thinks he is and more romantic than I’ll ever let him know.

  Gotta keep him twisting on the hook just a little every once in a while.

  “You look beautiful, just as you are. Pajamas around the tree in the morning are kind of a tradition. We’ll do Santa gifts this morning, usually one small thing that’s just for fun, and then a big breakfast. Tonight, we’ll do the main tree with gifts to one another and dinner. So you’re good in your nightgown.”

  He looks down my body with wolfish eyes, but I’m not sure what he’s looking at so hungrily. My hair is a literal rat’s nest of tangled curls, my face is completely bare, as per usual, and my ‘nightgown’, as he called it, is really just a huge, long T-shirt that falls to my knees.

  When his eyes peruse back up, he meets mine, blue to hazel, and I wonder what color our kids will have. Our little Luke-Annes. He’d finally explained that reference, and my ovaries had nearly exploded on the spot.

  “You look perfect, but maybe we ought to brush our teeth before we go?”

  I cry out, covering my mouth with one hand and his with the other. “Oh, my God, is it bad this morning? It’s you, not me,” I declare, daring him to disagree. “My breath smells like roses and sunshine. No, like mint and lavender.” I don’t think he understands a word I’m saying because I’m mumbling into my palm, but I feel his lips smile against my other one, and then, he licks me.

  I move my hand from my mouth, letting him see my evil smirk for one second before I smear my wet hand over his face. “Ahh! Gross. Move your ass, woman! We’ve got places to be.”

  He bumps his hips, setting me right on the floor with both of us grinning like loons. We aim for the bathroom in the hallway to brush our teeth. Maybe some mouthwash too, I decide.

  Halfway there, we meet sleepy-eyed Sophie and James. They’d stayed out here in the ranch house last night so we’d all be close to Mama Louise’s for morning festivities. Thankfully, they’re both dressed in pajamas too, Sophie in maternity yoga pants and a tank and James in flannel pants and no shirt, which makes me feel a little more comfortable about my attire.

  Sophie has a laughing smile on her face, and her hands are resting on her humongous belly. I meet her smile, both of us so, so happy.

  James smirks at Luke. “Let me give you a tip, brother. Never, ever say ‘gross’ about anything that happens in the bedroom.”

  Oh, my chee-sus and crackers . . . they could hear us.

  And if they could hear our silly antics this morning, they could probably hear us last night too. We weren’t exactly quiet when Luke was teasingly calling me Mrs. Claus and telling me he was gonna ‘eat all my cookies’.

  My cheeks burn pink and hot, embarrassment rushing through my body.

  But Luke is calm as ever, giving his brother a shrug as he throws an arm over my shoulders. “Hey, man, you do it your way, and I’ll do it mine. Ain’t getting no complaints.”

  “Teeth!” I blurt out and then realize that sounds like I’m adding to their conversation. Which I’m definitely not. “I mean, I need to brush my teeth.” I skedaddle the rest of the way down the hall and shut the door behind me.

  I can hear the deep timbre of Luke’s laugh. “Guess I’d better go apologize for embarrassing my woman. You go ahead and head over to Mama’s. We’ll be along shortly.”

  Oh, God. How can I be embarrassed, turned on, and really excited to go open presents all at the same time?

  But when the bathroom door opens and Luke steps inside, only one of those emotions takes center stage. “Get on the counter for me, honey. I want my morning taste of your sugar.” At least he keeps his voice down, though right now, I don’t know if I’d care if he shouted it.

  He’s got my panties pulled to the side and is three slow licks in when I hear the front door open. James’s voice calls out, “Make it fast, lovebirds, or Mama will be hunting you down.”

  I should be flushed with embarrassment again, but the only thing bringing pink to the surface of my skin is my need for Luke.

  “Better make it quick, I guess,” he rumbles into my core.

  With that decree, he sucks my clit into his mouth hard and batters it with his tongue. He knows my body, knows that’ll send me flying fast, and after only a couple of seconds, I plunge over into bliss. My hips buck off the counter, and I hold on to keep from falling, even though I know he’d catch me. He locks his arms around my hips, hands fastened tight over my mound to hold me to him for another lick, and then one more, making me so sensitive.

  While my pussy is still pulsing, he stands up and guides me to turn around. I bend over the counter, and he shoves my panties down my legs before lining himself up with
my opening. I watch him in the mirror, see the need lining his face as he watches his cock disappear inside me. “How’s the view?”

  His eyes tick up to mine in the mirror and stay. “So fucking sexy, beautiful. So fucking mine.”

  His fingers dig into my hips, letting me know that he’s about to unleash on me. Once upon a time, I’d been nervous about sex with him, not because of anything he’d done but because it was my first time and I wanted him so badly. But he’s shown me that there’s nothing to be nervous about. We fit together perfectly, every time.

  I nod, biting my lip. He thrusts deep and hard, slamming into me over and over. I lift to my tippy toes, letting him have all of me and taking all of him. “Fuck me, Luke. Give me a creamy white Christmas.”

  I’ve gotten a little looser with the dirty talk too, though he’s still loads better at it than me. Get it? Loads. I crack myself up.

  “Fuck, Shay.” His voice is strangled, his eyes still locked on mine. “Yes,” he hisses, and I feel his heat fill me. His head tosses back, the cords in his neck popping out as he groans his release.

  He sags, his head lolling to the side as he recovers. “Guess we’d better get going, huh?” he says. I can see in his eyes that he’d just as soon take me to bed and hide away for the day.

  I whimper when he leaves my body, and he hands me a tissue from the box on the counter. “Thank you,” I say. “You’d better wash your junk, too, or everyone’s gonna know what we’ve been doing from the smell of sex surrounding us.”

  He grins the cocky boy smile that I love. “Honey, they already know what we’ve been doing. We’re late, for sure.”

  Shit!

  Not my first Christmas! I want to make a good impression. Not that any of them have given me an indication that I need to. We’ve been welcomed into the family like long-lost cousins. But this is Christmas!

  I shove Luke off me and turn into a whirling dervish of get-ready. My hair goes into a knot on my head, teeth are already brushed, fresh panties on under my gown, socks and boots on.

  “Let’s go!” I yell, but Luke’s already standing at the front door.

  He looks good, his flannel pants tucked haphazardly into boots and a coat over his T-shirt. I look down at myself, worried. “Are you sure?”

  His eyes lick down me, from my messy bed head, to my pink cheeks, to my Carhartt coat over my T-shirt nightgown, to the white athletic knee socks, to my dirty Uggs. “You’ve never looked more gorgeous, Shayanne. You’re the best Christmas present I’ve ever woken up to.”

  My heart melts into a puddle of goo again. “I love you,” I say breathlessly.

  “I know. It’s hard not to,” he says fake-sadly, shaking his head.

  * * *

  He’s right. Everyone knows why we’re late. But other than Brody giving Luke a bit of a stink eye, which Luke answers with a grin, it seems okay. Though that’s probably because everyone’s fussing over Sophie.

  She’s due any day now and has basically taken to sitting in the closest chair and having people wait on her hand and foot. She says she feels bad about it, but I think she secretly loves it. Who wouldn’t?

  Plus, I think she’s really uncomfortable, given the way she’s pressing on one side of her belly. I raise an eyebrow in question and she says, “Foot in my rib. I think this one is gonna be a soccer player. Or a drummer, maybe.”

  I watch, fascinated as her belly morphs and shifts before my very eyes. It’s cool and weird and gross, and I wanna feel that one day too. But not yet. Luke and I have still have a lot to learn about each other, even more to do, and an actual list in my notebook of places he wants to take me before we settle down with a baby.

  Though it’s only been a couple of weeks since the big family merge, things are going well and looking even better for the future.

  The herds combined well under Mark and Brody’s watchful eyes, and they’re developing some grunting shorthand of conversation that only they understand. Peas in a pod for sure, according to James, who has been working with them when he’s not taking care of Sophie.

  Bruce and Bobby pretty much do the same thing they’ve always done, except they report to a different table for dinner each night. Bobby even asked us if we’d all come down to Hank’s to watch him perform on New Year’s Eve when they have an open mic.

  Luke’s working with his horses, making calls to check on his charges and scheduling next spring’s breedings. Our next trip is almost a month away. We’re going to Kentucky, which will be a checkmark on my new map of the fifty states. The goal is to check them all off together, and Luke says he can probably get a client in most of them. If not, we’ll go just for us. And there’s no timeline, so if it takes us forever, that’s just fine.

  With Brody being busy with the cattle, I’ve taken over caring for my newly expanded goat herd. My goat soap business is all mine now, from milk to bathtub. And it’s going great. I had to do two more batches of the holiday scents for the resort, and Sophie’s spent some of her downtime helping me research an Etsy shop. I never thought I could do that, and honestly, Daddy would’ve never let me. But now, I do whatever the hell I want and grow my business my way.

  My hope is to get the online shop up and running before spring and summer fruit seasons hit because I know I’ll be super busy then. I’m expecting my carrot cake, strawberry jam, and blackberry cobbler sales to be just as high as my pumpkin pie figures since I’ve already signed a contract with the restaurant at the resort for those.

  And I’m really excited for a new recipe I found—watermelon mint agua fresca. It’s supposed to be delicious on its own, or even better with a kick of tequila. I think the folks out here are gonna go nuts over a lemonade alternative, and I’ve already sourced gallon jugs for delivery. Bruce teased me that instead of being the milkman, I’m gonna be the watermelon woman for the summer. Delivery on demand. He was kidding, but I kinda hope he’s right.

  It’s like I’ve found the best of both worlds in a way I’d never dreamed, a thriving business right here at home, where I can take care of my family, but also, a way to see beyond my little corner of the world.

  And all with the man I love beside me.

  Mama Louise comes in with one more present and carefully slips it under the tree. “Sorry! Santa must’ve gotten lost when he delivered that one.”

  The smile on her face says she’s up to something, but I’m not sure what. We’ve gotten really close over the last few weeks, and she’s shared lots of stories about ‘back in the day,’ as she calls it, when Pops was alive and they were friendly with Mom and Daddy. I know she’s trying to help me remember the good times, and I’m thankful for it. I’m not as furious at Daddy as I was, but there’s still a good chunk of bitterness at how everything played out, even if this does feel like home now.

  “James, will you do the honors?” He nods and gets up from Sophie’s side to pass the presents out.

  One by one, we go around the big circle of our blended family, tearing into paper, ripping open boxes, and digging into bags. I don’t know if Mama plays Santa by herself or the boys helped her, but everyone has something they happily exclaim over.

  Last but not least, it’s my turn. I pick up the box from the floor in front of me and Luke says, “Careful, it’s fragile.”

  I look back and ask sassily, “How do you know? I thought Santa brought it?”

  James makes some comment about Luke being Santa enough for my cookies, and Sophie smacks him. But they both grin and laugh as I blush.

  Carefully, I lift the lid to find . . . a teeny, tiny, pink pig.

  “Oh, my God, you got me a PIG?” I scream, eyes jumping from Luke to the pig, Luke to the pig. I don’t know whether to hug him or the pig first.

  The pig wins.

  I scoop the tiny critter out of the box where it makes a snorting sound that’s not quite an oink.

  Luke laughs as it curls up under my chin and my eyes water. There must be something in the air because I am not crying over a pig. An adorable,
snuggly, snuffling pig of my very own.

  “Why do I get the feeling I’m about to get kicked out of my own bed?” he rumbles, but it’s good-natured. I think.

  “No, we’ll put her between us,” I say, not caring at all that I’ve got a sappy smile on my face and my eyes are still watering. “Wait, is it a her?”

  Sophie nods. “You remember that client of Doc’s with a miniature pig she kept feeding people food? Well, she got better, learned about her animal, and bred a litter not too long ago. That’s one of Bacon’s offspring.”

  Like a lightning bolt through my mind, I know her name. “Bacon Seed, that’s what I’ll call her. Cute, right? Because of her momma.”

  Everyone freezes, eyes wide in shock, and then a raucous laughter busts through the room. “Bacon Seed?” Brody says, wheezing because he’s busting a gut so hard. “Only you, Shayanne. Only you.”

  I nod, curling Bacon Seed in closer and petting her little leg down to her hoof, which I’m going to paint pink like toenails. I might not be girly in the least, but my pig is definitely going to be.

  “Who’s my good girl?” I coo to her. And then I pitch my voice high, answering for Bacon Seed in the princess-y snooty voice I’ve already assigned to her, “Well, that would totes be me, obviously.”

  She’s such a diva already.

  Everyone wants to pet her, but I make them come to me because I’m not letting her go. Except for Sophie. I get up and go over to her so she doesn’t have to move because I’m a good friend like that. Especially since she helped get me a pig for Christmas.

  Chapter 35

  Shayanne

  Two days later, we’ve finally finished all the Christmas leftovers. No more turkey sandwiches for lunch, no more sweet potato casserole, and no more cinnamon apple pie.