Love in Deed: A Silver Fox Small Town Romance (Green Valley Library Book 6)

by Smartypants Romance

  Her hand rests on my forearm, squeezing to signify she’s awake as well.

  “Good mornin’,” I mutter into her neck, damp from sleep. It’s warm with the two of us under cover of the blanket she made and the subzero-thermal of the sleeping bag, not to mention our bodies spooning together with my knees behind hers and my arm over her waist.

  “Morning,” she croaks, her voice sleep-rough and adorable. “It’s early.” She isn’t wrong, although how she knows the time is beyond me. My phone is face down on the crate/nightstand, and my alarm hasn’t gone off yet.

  “I need to get up,” I warn, using the excuse for more than one reason. I have an issue pressing long and swollen into her backside, and while I’d love nothing more than to relieve myself deep inside her, I don’t know where we stand yet. In addition, I need to feed the horses and start a daily routine of water, feed, and exercise for them.

  “My side is asleep.” She giggles, and I think she’s teasing me that she doesn’t want to move until I realize she’s on her left side.

  “Okay, I’ll roll you toward me and then climb over you.” Beverly’s breath catches, and I realize what I’ve said, which doesn’t help my stiff and achy cause. My other struggle is, I’m on my left side as well, and I can’t just perch myself upward with only the stump of my arm and make it over Bee without dragging my body over hers, which has all kinds of danger signs blaring at me. Her satiny nightgown has risen up her thighs in the night, and my cotton boxers aren’t enough of a barrier to prevent me from brushing where I want to brush.

  I reach for Bee’s hip and gently rotate her so that she rolls to her back. Only on the tight confines of the cot, her hip knocks right over my erection. I groan as she lands on her back with my dick projecting into her hip bone. Her eyes lock on mine. I want to kiss her so badly I can taste her lips, but I promised myself I wouldn’t do anything she doesn’t want. But I want her; there’s no denying that.

  Reaching over her, I grip the edge of the cot for leverage to hoist myself up, except the leg I intend to hike over hers, slips between her thighs, and I crush Beverly.

  “I’m so sorry,” I say, pulling back in horror while the weight of my lower body rests on her. I quickly press up on one arm, balancing only as high as I can with my left limb. The pressure wedges me against Beverly, and her eyes close. She swallows, and my nose lowers for her neck, running the tip over the dip in her throat.

  “That tickles.” She giggles, and I pull back, looking down at her once again.

  “A man would be spoiled, waking to that sound every morning.”

  Her eyes latch back on mine. “What sound?” she questions, her voice still the smoky morning gruff, and my lower appendage jolts against her. I fight back the groan.

  “Your laughter in my bed.”

  “Jedd,” she mutters, and I sense her hand fist near her hip.

  “I’m getting up,” I mumble before I do something stupid like kiss her, which is only going to lead to making love to her.

  “I thought you already were,” she retorts, and I still. My mouth pops open.

  “You’re teasing me, aren’t you?” I nudge her with the tip, wanting entrance to her, which is warm between her thighs. “You know I like a sense of humor.”

  “I thought you liked dirty words.”

  “Ah, she’s catching on,” I flirt, rubbing my nose against hers, jutting forward once again until she purrs at my ear.

  “Jedd,” she whispers, breathless and sweet, and I repeat the motion. Her hand slips over my shoulder, fingers tickling the nape of my neck, and her hips press upward. Is she doing what I think?

  “Bee,” I warn in a voice rough with sleep and restrain. “A man can only take so much. Don’t be teasing me.” I curl at the pelvis, poking back at her core, which is heating my tip.

  “I… I don’t think I’m teasing.” Her fingers tighten on my neck, and her foot slips over my ankle, running up over my calf to my knee. Fuck, this is where I need two hands—one to balance myself and the other to lift that leg higher, hitching it over my hip.

  “Wrap around me,” my voice commands and her eyes pop open. In the dim darkness, the steel color sparkles like freshly polished silver. Her leg climbs higher, looping over my hip. “Good girl.”

  I rock over her, tapping against her as her lids lower once again.

  “Look at me. See that it’s me.” I want no risk of her fantasizing about Howard or any other man.

  “You’re the only man I see, Jedd.” Her other hand comes to my cheek as her hips thrust upward, and she groans. “It’s not enough.”

  She means the friction, so I quickly shift to my side and slip my hands over her belly. Hastily, I tug the silky material upward, exposing her center.

  “You’re missing panties, honey.”

  “I don’t sleep with them.”

  Fucking dripping butter. My fingers slide lower and slip into her. Her back arches, and her thighs clench. My thick digit does the work another part of me wants, but I’ll give her what she needs first. She wiggles and writhes against me, and I slide another digit into her. She’s tight and tender, unloved but not by me. I love this woman, and I’ll do what I can to set her free of doubt.

  “That’s it, honey. Ride my fingers.” She rocks and moans.

  “So crass,” she mutters.

  “I can be a lot crasser, but let’s just enjoy this for the morning.” Because once I finish this, I’ll definitely be visiting her again this afternoon, and maybe this evening too.

  “Jedd,” she whimpers, and her eyes pop open. Fear and frustration, uncertainty and unpreparedness. “I…it’s never been…I can’t…” And then she curls upward, her head coming off the bed, and she bites her lip and clamps her knees together.

  “Sugar sweet and dripping,” I mutter to her ear as she bucks and jolts, purring as she releases what she’s been holding onto for too long. She falls back and rolls her head to me. Her hand comes to my belly, stretching lower, and I quickly withdrawal my finger from her to still her hand. She freezes.

  “You don’t want this?” She struggles a bit under my grip, attempting to wrestle her hand free.

  “I want nothing more, but this is going to lead someplace I don’t think you’re ready yet.”

  “Ready?” she admonishes, her voice rising. “I’ve been ready for twenty years. Maybe even longer. That was…I’ve never…” She sits up, pushing forward, and I release her hand as I join her in a seated position; only the unequal distribution of weight pitches the cot upward. I fall back to right the rising bed, and Beverly crashes against my chest.

  “Not like this, Bee. Not in a cold barn where there isn’t enough space for us to move because move I will. Up and down that body. Over every curve and curl. I want to explore and discover and drive deep, but not at the risk of this wobbly cot flipping.”

  Beverly breathes hard, her barely contained breasts heaving and brushing against my side.

  “Okay, Jedd,” she says, pushing herself upward, and there’s another thing a man could get used to—the sight of her over me.

  “I want to make love to you. Soon,” I tell her, or perhaps it’s a warning. Be ready for me. Her eyes flicker, and she bites her lip. I smack her backside, and she yelps. “But I have horses to feed.” And I need to get out of this bed before I do risk the wobbly legs, the instability of this cot, and the temptation of giving my soul to this woman.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  [Beverly]

  By midmorning, I haven’t seen Jedd yet and I’m growing anxious, which I shouldn’t be. My face heats at how I let him touch me this morning, taking care of me without asking for anything in return. A conflict arises in my heart. What will he eventually want from me? Then I remember how he told me he wants to make love, just not on that cot.

  My entire body heats with thought, and I’m grateful for the cooler temperature as I step outside. Making love. What would that be like? Howard was more of a sprinter, wanting the race over. After several times of dissat
isfaction with him myself, I wanted the dash to be done as well.

  “Is there coffee in that thermos for me? If so, you’re an angel,” Jedd calls out to me as he meets me outside the stable. I smile, looking down at the container clutched between my fingers wrapped around the hand support.

  “And if it’s filled with something else, what am I?” I smirk.

  “Still as pretty as this morning,” he replies, and the air swooshes out of me.

  “You haven’t had breakfast, have you?” I pause, looking around him into the stables.

  “You worried about me, Bee?”

  I am, so I straighten, preparing to tell him something. Inhaling deeply, I decide to plow ahead. The worst he can do is say no, which might crush me, but I still need to speak.

  “I think you should stay in the house.”

  “You asking me to move in with you?” he sasses, a brow hitching.

  Am I? “I ... well…seeing as you let yourself into my home often enough without permission…” I joke, trying to lessen the awkwardness I feel and the possibility of him rejecting the idea.

  “I’m teasing, Bee. What exactly are you suggesting?” He’s stepped up to me. I miss the heat of him. The way he felt wrapped around me last night. How he nuzzled his nose into my neck. The feel of his fingers buried deep inside me this morning.

  Sweet butter on a biscuit.

  Jedd gives me a knowing look as I rouse myself from the memories. “It’s so cold in that old barn, and we have so many rooms. I’m on the first floor, but I could trade with Hannah if she isn’t comfortable with you upstairs.” Is this a bad idea? Maybe I shouldn’t ask? He’s going to say no.

  “I don’t want to inconvenience anyone,” Jedd says, although he’s fighting a smile on those damn lips.

  “I wouldn’t ask if—”

  He holds up a hand and finishes for me, “If it was an inconvenience.”

  He chuckles, and I smile, but I’m holding my breath.

  “I’d love to move in with you, honey.”

  And before I can object that that’s not exactly what I asked, he kisses me.

  “Does it hurt them? To be ridden like that?” I followed Jedd into the stable, peppering him with questions as he explains the particulars of a bucking bronco. It sounds dangerous, and I don’t know how he did it one-armed. No wonder he was a star. The women must have gone crazy for him. A warrior. A cowboy. And still so physically fit. I’d felt that strength when I sat on his lap while we were riding the tractor the other day, but even more so, I felt it last night as he surrounded me. His strong arm over me was a comfort I’d never known.

  “It doesn’t hurt,” he states, pulling me from my memories of last night, curled into him, his broad chest at my back. “Some animal activists get all up in arms, but it doesn’t make any sense for a bronc rider to hurt the horse. It’s a game of wills, not destruction. The thrill of trying to tame something untamable.” Jedd’s eyes focus on the side of my head, but I don’t look over at him as I stroke the white patch on the nose of his new Quarter Horse, Lucky One. He’s three years old, and a horse trainer tried to get him to race. He’s a worker, not a racer, though. He refused to follow rules, and the supplier thought he’d make a better rodeo horse. A little kindred spirit speaks to me with this one; there is mischief in his eyes as though he’s daring me to ride him. With my condition, I don’t think so.

  “You know horses can be very therapeutic,” Jedd states as if reading my thoughts. “Even the bucking ones can help a guy out.” Jedd reaches over to touch Lucky One, and the horse whinnies and nips, causing Jedd to retract his fingers as he hopes to keep the remaining ones he has.

  “You little...” He pauses before cursing at his new steed. “That ornery spirit will make you a winner,” he teases the beast. Lucky One has turned his head back to me, and I hesitate as I hold up my hand, the palm forward for him to inhale my scent again before I reach for his patch.

  “Dammit, I think he has a soft spot for you, Bee. You seem to have that effect.”

  “I think ornery just recognizes ornery.” I laugh.

  Jedd huffs in agreement. “Horses are smart. He senses something in you, but don’t you be softening him up. I need him tough.”

  Maybe that’s what the horse senses—a tough spirit that doesn’t want to be tied down. I’ve been down too long. It’s time to buck up, as the saying goes.

  “Did you own a horse? The one you bucked. Is that the right terminology?” It sounds dirty, and my eyes meet Jedd’s with a sly smile. I like how we think alike, even if I won’t admit my thoughts. But Jedd isn’t smiling in return. He’s been leaning on his left shoulder against the stall as we talk. He slides his body so his back supports him on the wall. Looking across the center aisle, he wrestles with a memory before speaking.

  “I didn’t own him. You get what you get and whoever stays on the longest wins. But a bucking horse has a flank belt strapped to him, like I told you. It doesn’t hurt. In fact, if it did, a horse actually won’t buck because of the pain. They’d stand still with fear of moving. Some damn activists, as I mentioned, can get their nose in a snit. They hadn’t been able to prove PAFRA was hurting any animals, so they went after individuals, stating our spurs weren’t meeting standards. All cowboys have spurs on their boots, but when broncing or riding they should be dull, so again, no harm will come to the horses. The spurs are even inspected. A particular...shall we say person...went after me. Had it out for me, I guess, and made a claim I’d harmed a horse by my spurs. I would never, ever do such a thing,” Jedd states with heartfelt sincerity. He rolls back to perch on his shoulder and reaches up to the beast to prove his tenderness, only Lucky One snaps at him again.

  “Dammit.” He chuckles without humor. “Anyway, the evidence proved otherwise. In fact, the evidence proved more damage than any spur could have done to an animal. The horse died. The rodeo blamed me.” His sadness fills the entire stable. “They didn’t revoke all my titles, but they stripped me of the ones I’d earned last season. PAFRA did what they could to go easy on me, but they didn’t want the trouble. I don’t fault them. I fault—” He stops short, and I turn my head to him.

  “Who?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” He squints at my hand stroking down Lucky One’s nose. “What’s done is done. PAFRA couldn’t take me back. I hung out a bit, working where I could, mostly helping out with animal care and giving advice on broncing. That’s when I got the idea to just hang up my boots and assist others in learning the challenge.” He smiles with pride. “I’d really like to help veterans once I get up and running a little better.”

  The thought of more people around the farm worries me, but then again, if they are all like Jedd—even-tempered, tender—and trying to do good for others, a few more bodies might not be a bad thing.

  “Can I ask you something?” And I hold my breath, waiting out Jedd’s answer.

  “Shoot.”

  “Why here? Why my farm? I know you mentioned you were from these parts, but you never said where specifically.”

  Jedd rotates to his back again and tips his head against the stall. This makes the ball cap he’s wearing tip up a bit on his head.

  “Where I’m from doesn’t exist anymore. But this Valley is home to me, and I was ready to come home. I just needed a reason.” He turns to face me, and his cap falls back into place. “I found my purpose.”

  I swallow at the intensity of his dark eyes, the sharp edges of his jaw, adding to the earnestness of his comment.

  “Why my land?”

  “Why not? You have lots of unused space. It’s beautiful.” His eyes zero in on me. “What’s not to love? It’s perfect.”

  I have to disagree. It isn’t perfect—the rotting barn, the old house, and the overgrown land—but it was beautiful in its own right. However, the gleam to Jedd’s eyes hints he doesn’t mean my pastures are the beautiful parts.

  Can he love it here indefinitely? Will he want to stay? Will he continue to grow and expand his dream,
or will he get bored? He’s already told me he had a nomad heart. Can his heart allow him to plant roots in one spot? Or will he need to sow his seed, like Howard? I don’t like the thought, and something in my expression must give away my negative feelings.

  “What is it, Bee? What’s that pretty head thinking?”

  “Just wondering what you want for breakfast,” I say instead of offering my concerns. The glimmer in his eye turns to a full spark as his gaze roams down my body. I shiver. I want to give in to that look, to the appraising perusal, the hungry stance.

  Forgetting what a certificate says regarding my marital status, am I free enough to open myself to Jedd?

  “I’ll take whatever you give, Bee. Remember that.” He leans forward, kissing my neck and nearly getting nipped by Lucky One, and we both laugh. It feels damn good to laugh. His eyes narrow on me as he addresses the feisty horse.

  “Damn horse. You might be named Lucky One, but I’m warning you now, I’m the only one getting lucky with this woman.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  [Beverly]

  “You did what?” Hannah shrieks, hardly holding back her astonishment.

  “I asked Jedd to move into the house.” I stand at the kitchen sink washing dishes, fighting the pull to look out the window and search for him. Now that he spends more time in the horse stable, he’s harder to view, but when I see him walking toward the house, a solitary man, my heart leaps to my throat with relief. I need to let go of this fear. The one of him leaving us behind. I need to trust him, and I vow I’ll try.