Shockwaves coursed through at the feel of him entering her. He filled her so completely. Without even one thrust she was already gasping. “Make love to me,” she whispered, her tongue toying with his ear. “Make me yours.”
“You are mine.” He edged her back against the wall and started to move their bodies, letting her slide down below his hips before lifting her back up with long thrusts. Charity lifted her hips to meet him, her hands digging into his shoulders, giving her more leverage. Dev lowered his mouth to her breast and used his tongue to heighten every sensation until they completely took her over.
Charity clung to him tighter and tighter until she had no choice but to hand herself over to him, trembling with the powerful surge of emotion and pleasure and release that finally broke her apart, leaving her in pieces in Dev’s powerful arms.
Charity slipped the key into the lock and quietly turned the knob. The door creaked open and she and Dev snuck into her house like two teenagers.
The living room and kitchen still sat dark and quiet. “I knew they wouldn’t be up.” She eyed Dev. “We could’ve stayed in bed longer.”
“But then we wouldn’t have gotten in the shower.”
Oh god, the shower. Charity turned to him, stretching to her tiptoes to kiss his lips. What started out as a peck on the lips quickly escalated to include their tongues…
“Are you guys gonna do that all the time now?” Bodie asked in a bored voice. “Because you’re gonna have to warn me.”
Charity and Dev quickly separated, but it was too late. They were already busted. “Morning,” she said, trying to recover. “Dev and I thought we’d take you and Grandma out for breakfast.”
“That sure sounds better than Grandma’s pancakes.”
“I heard that,” her mother called from down the hall. “Just let me finish teasing my hair, and I’ll be right out.”
Dev looked confused. “Teasing her hair?”
“Don’t ask.” Charity and Bodie said it at the same time, and then grinned at each other. Moments like these made her think they would be okay. Bodie would be okay. She would be okay. They would figure this out.
“So her pancakes are pretty bad?” Dev asked Bodie quietly.
“Like hockey pucks,” the boy confirmed.
“Like burned hockey pucks,” Charity corrected.
“Don’t listen to them, Dev.” Tammi came storming down the hall, her tall, teased hair bobbing. She wore a leopard-print blouse that Charity was sure she’d seen someone wear on Jersey Shore, but honestly, she had never loved her mother more. Somehow loving Dev made her love everyone else better.
“You used to love my pancakes,” her mother said. “You used to beg me to make them.”
“That was before I knew pancakes weren’t supposed to be crunchy.”
Dev and Bodie cracked up, but they tried to hide it behind coughs. Charity watched them, feeling a deep sense of belonging. Bodie might not want to talk about what happened with Dev yet, but eventually they’d get there. Until then, they could laugh and joke around.
“All right, all right.” Tammi snatched up her huge purse and walked to the door in a huff. “Just you wait, Char-bear. Bodie’ll be making fun of your cooking in no time.”
“I already do,” the kid said, sending himself and Dev into another round of hearty chuckling.
They all paraded out into the morning sunlight and piled into Dev’s SUV.
“I thought we’d drive out to the diner on the highway.” As he drove, Dev rested his hand on Charity’s thigh, the simple touch filling her with a sense of belonging.
“Why?” Bodie asked.
Charity didn’t have to ask. She knew Dev didn’t want to remind him of what had happened at the Farm, but no one came out and answered his question.
“I want to go the Farm,” her nephew said. “For chocolate chip pancakes and Everly’s chocolate milk.” He leaned over the seat and grinned at Charity. “That’s where all of the locals go for breakfast, right? I’m a local now.”
“Good point,” Dev said, taking a quick turn onto Main Street.
As they drove through town, Charity pointed out the landmarks to her mother—the ice cream shop, Darla’s wine bar, and some of the fun shops Tammi had yet to visit.
“This is a great town,” her mom mused, watching the buildings pass by. “I’m really hoping to spend more time here.”
There would’ve been a time that Charity would’ve cringed to hear her mother say that, but now she turned around and smiled. “You’re welcome to visit whenever you want.” Bodie would need as much family in his life as he could get. More than anything, she wanted to create a support system for him. Actually, she wanted to create a support system for them both. “And I was thinking maybe you could travel to some of my events with us this summer,” Charity said to her mom. She’d need the extra help keeping an eye on Bodie while she competed.
Her mom’s eyes got all teary. “I would love that.”
“Here we are.” Dev pulled the truck into the parking lot at the Farm. For a brief second, Charity wondered what everyone in town would think when she and Dev walked in together like a couple, along with her mom and nephew. Surely news about Melody had traveled fast. But then again, she didn’t care what everyone thought. Ty, Mateo, and Levi might give her a hard time about her new relationship status, but her friends would be thrilled.
Her mom seemed to admire the exterior. “I didn’t notice what a cute little place this was before.”
“Wait until you taste the food.” Dev came up behind Charity and wrapped her in his arms. They walked inside like that, and she couldn’t stop smiling.
“This time I’m definitely getting the pancakes,” Bodie said.
“And the chocolate milk,” Charity added.
“Hi there!” Everly greeted them with a look of happy surprise. She winked at Charity, clearly telling her she wanted to hear about this later. “Table for four?” she asked, grabbing the menus.
“I like the sound of that.” Dev brushed a kiss on Charity’s cheek. “Table for four.”
Epilogue
I wish my mom could be here.”
Charity dabbed at the tears that had been well on their way before Bodie had gone and mentioned Melody. “I know, Bodes.” She gave him a hug strong enough for two moms. “She wishes she could be here too.” Melody had been sentenced to six years in a minimum-security prison. They’d gone out to visit her four times over the last year, and it truly seemed like her sister had changed. For one thing, she’d been sober since she’d been arrested. And for another, she’d started working in the kitchen, managing to send some money to Bodie every month. She and Bodie kept in close touch, writing letters and talking on the phone every week. But Charity knew it still hurt not having her at his first barrel racing competition. Melody would miss the rest of Bodie’s childhood, his young adulthood. But Charity would be there. She was there for everything—even for chaperoning the middle school dance last winter, much to his embarrassment.
Bodie slipped on his cowboy hat. “Do you ever get nervous before a competition?”
She had to laugh. “Every time.”
“What do you usually do about it?”
“You really want to know?” She figured she should warn him. No one had ever heard about her pregame routine, mostly because she’d always been too embarrassed to talk about it.
“I think so?” He didn’t seem sure, but at least her embarrassment would distract him from his own nerves.
“I throw up,” she blurted.
He gave her a grossed-out look. “Seriously?”
“Yes. When I get nervous I get nauseous, and I throw up.” It never failed. “And it makes me feel better. Every time.”
That clearly didn’t sound appealing to Bodie. “I hate throwing up.”
“Me too, but I don’t have much of a choice.” In fact, she was so nervous for him, she might have to visit the bathroom before he mounted his horse. “You can come up with your own pregame ritual
, though. Maybe something a little less disgusting.”
“Like what?”
Hmmm. She tried to think of things that would get the adrenaline going. “I don’t know. Maybe fifty push-ups? Or burpees? That’d warm you up for sure.”
He shook his head. “Push-ups aren’t really my thing.”
“How about—”
“How’s it going back here?” Dev made his way to where they were standing just behind the bleachers at the Topaz Falls Rodeo Grounds.
Resisting the urge to answer for him, Charity looked to Bodie. It still killed her how much he’d grown in one year. He was nearly as tall as she was now. He’d likely pass her by in the next few months. But he looked so different. He smiled more. He dressed like a cowboy. He’d developed a passion for horses and racing very similar to her own. And, while they still butted heads on a regular basis over things like phone time and friends, they’d both learned a lot about what it means to be a family.
“It’s okay,” Bodie mumbled. His face had paled a lot like hers did before a competition. Maybe he had some of her in him after all.
“Bodie’s feeling the nerves, so we were trying to figure out what he could do for a pregame warm-up ritual.”
Dev’s eyes lit with an idea. “Know what I used to do before a big game?”
“What?” her nephew asked hopefully.
Her hot deputy held out a brown paper bag. “I always ate one of my mom’s chocolate chip cookies.”
Bodie took the bag from his hand. “Always?”
“She brought me one before every game. And today she made some for you.”
“Really?” The kid dug his hand into the bag and looked as touched as a fourteen-year-old boy could.
“She wanted to wish you luck,” Dev said. “And I used to swear that her cookies had magic powers. Seriously. Once I bit into that doughy goodness, I felt like I was eight years old again and nothing scared me.”
Bodie looked thoughtful. “That’s it. That’s what I want my pregame ritual to be.” His face broke into a grin. “Eating cookies. But I can’t do it with you two standing there watching me.”
“Oh. Sorry.” Charity gave him a quick hug and even a kiss on the cheek. “You’re going to kill it out there today. Seriously. You’ve worked so hard, Bodie. I want you to try to enjoy it.”
“I will.” He all but shooed her away.
“We’ll be watching right at the fence,” Dev promised.
Charity still couldn’t believe how quickly those two had bonded. Dev had been wise about giving them space, but he’d also stepped in and had been like a mentor to Bodie, taking him fishing and even inviting him to poker once in a while. Bodie liked to joke that he was friends with a bunch of old guys.
“Good luck.” Dev gave the kid a salute and they walked into the arena.
Charity had to keep a tight grip on his hand to hold her own nerves in check. “I remember my first ride. God, I threw up like ten times before I walked out there. Gunner thought I had the flu, almost didn’t let me compete.”
“Bodie’s ready for this.” Dev led her to their seats in the very front row. “A few months ago, I wouldn’t have said that, but you can see the confidence in him.”
Charity leaned her head on his shoulder. “That’s thanks to you, in part.”
He eased his arm around her. “But mostly thanks to you.”
“No.” She turned to him so he could see her emotion. “I’m always tempted to baby him. Protect him. Shield him. You’re the one who challenges him.” Like when Bodie had talked about joining the basketball team, but then chickened out two days before tryouts. Charity had consoled him, telling him he didn’t have to play basketball. Truthfully, she was worried he’d get made fun of since he’d never played on a team. But Dev had taken him down to the gym and they’d spent the whole day dribbling and shooting until he felt comfortable enough to walk out onto the court. And he’d made the team.
“He needs both of us then. The protector and the taskmaster.”
“He does. He really does need both of us.” Her heart pounded the way it had for months, ever since she first decided what she wanted to do. It had taken a long time for her to build up the courage, but she was finally ready. She reached under her seat for the shopping bag she’d brought along. “I have something for you.”
“Yeah?” He tried to get a peek into the bag.
“Yeah.” Not keeping him in suspense, she pulled out the tattered coil of rope and handed it to him.
He inspected it with confusion muddling his eyes. “It’s a lasso.”
“It was my first lasso,” she corrected. “I got it when I was twelve. That’s when I knew I wanted to ride.”
“And you’re giving it to me because…?”
The question didn’t offend her. It wasn’t your average everyday gift. “It’s my most prized possession. And you’re the most important person in my life.” She moved in closer, her heart pounding, but also soaring. “You’re the only person I’ve ever loved with my whole heart. The only person who has given me security and space because you know I need both.” She clasped her hands in his, feeling them steady with surety. “I never thought I would fall in love, Dev. But I did. I am. It’s pathetic. I wake up in the morning and think about you first. Before I think about anything else.”
He grinned. “That’s because of how I wake you up.”
She whacked him playfully. “Even when you’re not in my bed. I want to be with you. Always. I know the lasso might not mean much to you, but it’s everything to me. And I want to give you everything. All of me. I want to marry you.”
Though they’d been dating for a year, they’d never talked marriage. There had been so many other things to figure out with Bodie. And Charity knew why Dev never brought it up. He didn’t want to push her. Didn’t want to make her feel too confined. He was so good that way.
Now he was staring at her, his eyes so full of kindness and wisdom and love.
Charity wrapped her arms around his waist. “Will you marry me? So we can be together always? So you can be a bigger part of Bodie’s life?”
She’d never seen Dev cry, but those were definitely tears in his eyes. “Hell, yes. Let’s get hitched, baby.” He held up the rope. “Do you want to lasso me or something? To make it official?”
Ha! He wished. “Maybe later,” she murmured, going in for a kiss. “Actually, definitely later.”
Right at that moment, the loudspeaker crackled. “Next up, Bodie Stone riding Macho!”
Charity broke away from their kiss and they both whooped and hollered, waving at Bodie like two crazed fans.
Her nephew completely ignored them, but under the shadows of his helmet, Charity saw him smile.
The best way to spend Christmas is in the arms of a cowboy!
Don’t miss the next story in Sara Richardson’s Rocky Mountain Riders series! Please turn the page for a preview of A Cowboy for Christmas.
Available Fall 2019!
Chapter One
Everyone had their dirty little secret, and Darla Michaels fully intended to keep hers under wraps.
She cinched the belt on her trench coat, pulled a long brunette wig over her black hair, slipped on her Jackie O sunglasses, and then climbed out of her cherry-red Mercedes Roadster, which she’d parked across the street just in case anyone she knew happened to drive by.
You’d think traveling an hour and twenty minutes—two towns away from her home in Topaz Falls, Colorado—made for a pretty safe bet that none of her friends or acquaintances would find her out, but one could never be too careful.
What if someone she knew back home had to make an impromptu Target run? Glenwood Springs would be the first place they’d come. They would likely take this very route, which meant they would inevitably recognize her car, because—hello—a cherry-red Mercedes Roadster stuck out like a sore thumb among the burly, big-tired, four-wheel-drive SUVs and diesel pickup trucks that typically cruised these mountain roads. But that was okay, because even
if someone did happen to drive by and see her car, they wouldn’t know where she’d gone.
For all they knew she could be shopping in one of these fine boutiques right here along the main drag. They’d never in a million years suspect she’d gone into the dingy basement of the nondescript brick building across the street. And that was good, because whatever she did, she had to make sure her life back in Topaz Falls never intersected with her purposes here.
After a quick visual scan of the street, Darla made her way across and ducked into the building through the glass door, which had been splattered with slush from the last early-season snowstorm.
Once she stepped inside, the space’s familiar warmth brought a soothing comfort—the feel of the threadbare carpet beneath the soles of her boots, the hum of the old rickety furnace churning out heat. The first night she’d come here, she’d sworn it would be a one-time thing, but somehow, eight years later, here she stood yet again, getting ready to attend her eightieth meeting with her bereaved spouses’ support group.
Before marching down the steps to join the others, Darla quickly removed the coat, then the wig, then the sunglasses, balling them all up and shoving them onto one of the cubby shelves the community center had built for children to store their belongings. The disguise was only for the outside world, not for this little posse she’d become part of.
When her husband had died nearly ten years ago at the age of thirty, there were all these steps she felt she had to take. Step one: make a ridiculously expensive and impractical purchase. Hello, Mercedes Roadster.
Step two: get a new job that would completely dominate all of her time and thoughts. Three weeks after Gray’s funeral, she’d decided her job as pastry chef at an upscale restaurant in Denver wasn’t nearly consuming enough, so she’d taken the insurance money, moved three hours away to Topaz Falls, Colorado, and started the Chocolate Therapist—a wine and chocolate bar on Main Street. Which had indeed dominated all of her thoughts and time.
Then there was step three: attend a bereaved spouses’ support group. She’d found the group two towns away, lest anyone in Topaz Falls get the idea that she was still a poor, grieving widow who needed extra pity and emotional support, and had attended that first meeting only with the intention of crossing it off her list, a kind of Look! I did it! I checked off all the boxes! I’m a healthy and happy widow. But…well…for some reason she chose not to examine too closely, she hadn’t quit coming yet.
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