A Cowboy SEAL's Bride

by Amity Lassiter

  “This was a good date,” she said.

  “It’s about to get better. Race you up to that tree.”

  They’d come out to a clearing that opened into one of the Baylor’s back fields. A huge live oak settled in the middle of it, its canopy of leaves branching out to create shade. Lane put heels to horse and loped off, leaving her and Gunner in the dust. She leaned forward and pushed her calves into the gelding’s side. He was responsive and quick and departed in a smooth lope to catch up. Laughter bubbled out of her, uncontrollable, until they reined up under the tree.

  Lane dismounted and started digging in his saddle bags. She’d seen him transfer things from the cooler out of the corner of her eye but had been so enamored with the pair of sorrels she hadn’t paid that much attention to what he’d put in there. She couldn’t see much from her vantage point so she stepped off her horse as well, and snooped.

  “Is this a picnic?” she asked, her eyebrows rising as she watched him dig out a blanket and containers of sandwiches, pasta salad, cut watermelon, and cookies. “But most importantly, did you do this all yourself?”

  “Yes,” he said, a bit defensively. “You know I can cook. Sort of. I didn’t grow the watermelon, though. I’m amazing but not that amazing.”

  She chuckled as he handed her the blanket and motioned for her to spread it out under the tree. When she turned back to him, he handed her the food and began loosening the girths on each horse, and removing their bridles.

  “Finn says if I take their bridles off, they’ll just hang around and graze. And come back when you holler. We’ll see about that. We might be walking back to the ranch.”

  “You mean you might be giving me a piggyback ride to the ranch?” She settled onto the blanket, stretching her legs out in front of her. She’d be sore in the morning, that much was certain. She could already feel it in her thighs. The next day was always the worst.

  He laughed, removing Gunner’s bridle, and then joined her, sprawling out on the blanket and sitting back on one elbow to watch her. As predicted, the horses wandered away, following their prehensile lips as they found the newest and greenest blades of grass in the pasture.

  “You know I wouldn’t just do that for anybody…but for you, I would.”

  “Well that warms my heart,” Miranda chuckled, accepting the turkey sandwich he’d extended to her. She took a bite and was surprised to find it delicious—well seasoned, with just the right amount of mayo. “You really did this all yourself?”

  He nodded, swallowing his mouthful. “Even the cookies. You know my mother was the queen of church social affair potlucks right?”

  “I do know that.”

  They continued the meal companionably, and when they were finished and packed up, Lane rose and whistled for the horses. Just as Finn said they would, both geldings trotted briskly back to the pair of them and stood quietly while Lane bridled them and repacked the saddle bags. The ride back to the Baylor ranch was uneventful, and after Lane made arrangements for the delivery of the two geldings and a couple of broodmares, they climbed back into his truck.

  It was barely dark, but she expected that was the entirety of their date. She was wrong. Instead of turning right out of the Baylor drive, Lane turned left and headed back toward town. He veered off on a dirt road and she knew exactly where they were going.

  As he put the truck in park looking out over the moonlit riverbed they had often visited when they were younger, Miranda felt a sense of calm take her over. With all of the turmoil Lane had brought with him, the good and the bad, the different man that he was, this…this was something familiar and comfortable. Something she could anchor herself in. The two of them, in his truck, watching the water under the full moon. He killed the engine, rolled down the windows, and unbuckled, sliding his arm along the back of the bench seat. It was all the invitation she needed to scoot on over to him, tucking herself neatly under his arm like she belonged there.

  “We had a few good years, didn’t we, ‘Randa?” Lane’s voice rumbled through his body and she felt the vibrations deep to her core.

  “Yes, we did.”

  “And we lost a lot in between.”

  That was true, too. If she had known how things would play out, she might have gone back and done the last ten years differently. Maybe she would have accepted his offer then. They would have at least had a few more good years and a lot more fun before they came to the big bumps in the road that stopped them from being together now.

  “Life happens. People change, and move, and grow. Who knows what might have happened in those years in between if we had been together all that time?” she returned, resting her left hand on his knee lightly. Ten years ago, this kind of a date might have turned out a little hotter and heavier, but for right now she was content to just sit with him.

  He closed his hand around her upper arm and squeezed her into his side. They settled into the warm silence between them in the cab for a few more minutes, perhaps both of them imagining how things might have gone differently in the meantime had they been together all along. After a few quiet moments, Lane shifted and she felt warmed metal sliding onto her left ring finger.

  Panic seized her—she had agreed to go on a date with him but she hadn’t said yes to the proposition. As well as they were getting along now and as much as she wanted a piece of Lone Oak for her own, she hoped she hadn't led him on to think she was walking blindly into his grandfather’s half-cocked plan. She looked down to find the ring he’d bought her all those years ago sitting pretty on her finger. She'd never even tried it on when he gave it to her the first time, it was a miracle it fit at all. Just a simple gold band with a little diamond, barely bigger than a poppyseed. The kind of ring a pair of kids who couldn’t afford anything different bought. She had thought about this ring more than once in the last little while and was surprised to find a crush of emotion rising up her throat. He’d kept it. She’d always known she’d hurt him by refusing his proposal, but this drove it home like a stake in her heart. Oh Lane. When she felt his eyes on her, she looked up. He was soft, intent. She knew what was coming next and she willed him not to ask again. Saying no would tear her apart.

  “I love you, Miranda Davenport. If I’m honest with myself, I never stopped. And these last couple of weeks have only reinforced that. It has nothing to do with granddad’s letter and everything to do with the amazing woman you’ve always been—even more now than you were before if that’s possible.”

  “Lane, I—”

  “I know you have reservations. So let’s say this isn’t an engagement ring, but a promise. A promise that now that life has thrown us back into the same place, as crazy about each other as we’ve ever been, that we give it an honest try. You don’t have to marry me tomorrow, but say you’ll consider it. That you'll let me make an honest woman of you…eventually, and it won’t have anything to do with that damn ranch. Sooner is better; I want to start our lives together, but I’m not going to rush you. I know we can be happy together, I can wait until you figure it out.”

  She pressed her lips together, still conflicted, but lifted her hand to look at the ring again. This meant Lane believed in them, whether she did or not. He wasn’t an unreasonable man, she'd discovered that much in the last couple of weeks. So maybe his belief that they could work together, that they could be together without her hurting him was enough for both of them for the time being.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay?” His voice lifted with excitement, like he’d been holding his breath and hadn’t expected a favorable response.

  Looking back to him, she reached across herself with her right hand and touched his jaw.

  “Okay. We’ll try.”

  —ELEVEN—

  There wasn’t a thing that could have made the night more perfect, Lane thought as his headlights swept over the mailbox for Lone Oak. Then he felt Miranda’s fingers squeeze his knee. She was tucked up under his arm where she belonged, and he kept checking just to make sure that pretty little
ring was really on her finger.

  “Turn in.”

  He glanced down at her, raising a brow.

  “Don’t look at me like that, just turn in,” she repeated. “I’m not ready to say goodnight yet.”

  He wasn’t, either. Lane turned the truck into the driveway and pulled up in front of the cabin, pressing a kiss to Miranda’s forehead before he climbed out and helped her out of the truck. Kit met them at the door, her tail wagging furiously, and then scooted out into the dark past them to do her business.

  “Go on and make yourself comfortable, I’ll be right in.”

  Lane watched Kit’s form in the darkness, then whistled and the dog came loping back up onto the porch. He scratched her ears and smiled, speaking lowly. “She’s wearing the ring, Kit.”

  Maybe she could understand him, but even if she didn’t, the dog looked up, her mouth open and long tongue hanging like a smile. He pushed the door open for her and was surprised to find Miranda not in the main part of the cabin. His bedroom door was open and a soft light spilled into the hall. He followed it to find her perched on the edge of the bed. She was still fully clothed but just the idea of her plus bed was enough to send his mind spiraling out to all his options. It was an invitation. He went to her, holding out a hand, and helped her to her feet.

  She drew in a quick breath when her eyes met his, and he reached to touch her jaw, tipping her mouth up for easier access, and kissed her with all of the wanting and desire he’d been holding back since that night she’d slept on his couch. Her fingers found purchase at his waist, tugging his t-shirt up and breaking the kiss only long enough to pull it off over his head. When their mouths clashed again, her palms spread over his pecs, down his abs, her fingers heading for the button on his jeans.

  He stopped her to level the playing field, moving her hands so he could pull her tank top off over her head. She was wearing some fancy patterned scrap of lace underneath, and when she undid and wriggled out of her jeans, he saw the bottoms matched the top. He held her out at arm’s length for a moment, using a hand on her shoulder to turn her once so he could take everything in. In a lot of ways, it was the same body he remembered from ten years ago, but in a lot of ways it had changed. She’d filled out in places he didn’t expect, her hips and waist curved more, her breasts were fuller; all of it just as spectacular as he’d thought she’d been at 18. He let out a reverent breath, and then pulled her to him, starting with his mouth at her collar bone and then following the line of her bra strap, over the swell of her breast as he slid his fingers through the band on the back to work the hooks loose. She spilled out and he caught the bounty with his mouth and his hands while her fingers dove into his hair. Just a little bit of pressure and she was laid back on the bed, stretched out with her thighs pressed together modestly, but the rest of her on full display for him.

  He breathed a prayer of gratitude and shed his jeans before following her down to the bed, covering her body with his. There was so much to touch, so much to taste, he didn’t know where to begin. Miranda dropped her head back on the pillow and offered it all to him.

  ~

  She’d thought it would be hard to separate ten-years-ago Lane from today-Lane, but the minute he’d taken off his shirt and she’d seen what all that long, lanky young-man muscle had become, it got a hell of a lot easier. And the masterful way he kissed her with no hesitation and clear intent, then tasted all the most sensitive parts of her, as if it was the best thing he’d run his tongue across. Right now, that tongue was running across her navel, moving lower, while his fingers tugged away the panties she’d meticulously picked to match her bra. It was a small luxury she allowed herself even though nobody had seen all of that in years. By the way his eyes had widened when he’d turned her around, it was a good guess that it had impressed him at least a little; if her maturing body had been a disappointment, the matching set was at the very least a distraction.

  Miranda let out a long breath when Lane slid his palms along her thighs, opening her to him, and then boldly touched his tongue to her hot flesh, frustratingly moving away to circle his target before moving back in for the direct contact she craved. She couldn’t stop herself from pushing her hips up into him, but he kept her firmly rooted to the bed. She sucked in a quick breath and dropped her head back as he finally stopped teasing, drawing her into his mouth and working at her with tongue and the gentlest of teeth. His tongue was soon joined by his fingers and it wasn’t long before Miranda found herself breathless, her head spinning, as he pushed her toward climax.

  “Lane…” she hissed out just before he tipped her over the edge, and she couldn’t piece together a coherent thought until she felt his warm body moving over hers, covering hers, anchoring her in the moment. His fingers hooked under her knee to draw it upward and make a space for himself between her legs. He tipped back just long enough to catch her eyes, seeking her approval. Miranda reached between them and closed her fingers around his erection. His eyes slid shut with a groan as she touched him, stroking his hard length lightly before she angled it toward her, and then he shifted his hips and filled her, pushing his face against her neck and letting out a hot breath there.

  He was still for a moment, and Miranda took it to relish the feel of him; all man, none of that eager, but unsure boy she remembered. She pressed her cheek against his, closed her eyes and stroked his hair—no, he wasn’t the eager boy she remembered, but this was Lane, and she loved him. Had maybe never stopped loving him. Maybe they’d been meant to come back together now. Maybe this was how it was supposed to be.

  Finally, he turned his face into her neck and nipped, then shifted his hips again, moving inside her so deep and slow she was almost disappointed when she felt another orgasm already rising. She did everything within her power to slow it down, but he shifted back, and with a lazy smile, slipped his hand between them to stroke her to finish. He followed not far behind.

  ~

  Before the nightmares, it had been habit for Lane to wake at 5am. With or without an alarm. Tonight his body tensed with anticipation of a flashback, but none came, though there was a heavy weight against his side just like every time that Kit woke him from a nightmare. He breathed out slowly, then opened his eyes to find Miranda nestled against him where Kit would have been, her red hair splayed out across the pillow. She breathed evenly, her eyelashes fluttering softly in her slumber. If someone had told him a week ago he’d have Miranda Davenport in his bed again, he’d have called them a liar. But here she was, and it had been every bit as good as he remembered. Lifting his head to look past Miranda, Lane found Kit sitting by the other side of the bed, her soulful eyes turned onto him as if to say ‘she’s in my spot’.

  There had been no nightmare. Kit hadn’t had to crawl on top of him to pull him out of a moment he didn’t want to be in. And he couldn’t help but think that might have had something to do with Miranda being there. It was the only thing that had changed.

  The last year had been tough. As the dreams intensified, he went from being able to catch a couple winks when he had a bed partner, to not being able to sleep at all, to declining sleepovers altogether. It had earned him the kind of reputation he wasn’t after, so eventually, he’d just stopped trying. It had been months since he’d slept with anyone, in any sense of the word.

  There was something more comforting about having Miranda in his bed than just the lack of dreaming last night. He sure as hell hadn’t come back to Lone Oak expecting to pick up where they’d left off ten years ago, but it felt good. Right, even. Their bodies fit and moved together last night as though no time had passed between them. He’d been happy enough to be able to come and start a new life in the town he’d loved since childhood, but this was a bonus. Sure, she’d hurt him ten years ago, but here they both were now, unattached, and in the same place. He was as ready as he’d ever been to put down roots in Three Rivers and it was pretty clear at this point that she was, too. Maybe they hadn’t been meant to be together then, but they were now t
hat they’d circled the sun a few more times. The people they were now might have been more compatible than the people they’d been a decade ago.

  He had never really been a big believer in fate or destiny, but it seemed funny that things would end up this way. Especially after her refusal had been such a blow to his ego and his world.

  Lane let out a slow sigh, and closed his eyes. Normally, he would get up and start his day, but she wasn’t a 5am waker, so he could wait. He raised a brow at Kit and willed her to go lie down. Amazingly, she seemed to get the message as she let out an exaggerated sigh, crossed around the foot of the bed and took up her spot on the floor near the door, guarding his back.

  He’d really struggled to pull things together since the mission that had sparked his PTSD. Some days were worse than others, but it seemed like things were finally beginning to settle into place, and it made him happier than he expected.

  —TWELVE—

  “Hang on!” Miranda told the knocking at her front door. She was up to her armpits in flour, baking cookies for Tessa Baylor’s FFA club to sell at the weekend’s rodeo. The girl had been the longest resident she’d had as a foster child, and even though she’d been adopted by Finn and Lily last year, she still visited with Tessa on a fairly regular basis at the insistence of her parents. Where she would have thought to have stepped back, they welcomed her in with open arms. And it was nice; sort of what she imagined having a daughter of her own would feel like.

  Miranda wiped her hands on a tea towel as she headed for the door, not bothering to peer through the blinds before she pulled it open. On the stoop, Lane smiled like a kid in a candy store with his dad’s credit card.