Page 36 of Live, Ranch, Love

“Wyatt,” Aurora whispers. She must lean closer because I suddenly get a hit of her bright, citrus scent.

“Yep?”

“You’re not breathing.”

“Right,” I finally sigh out, shaking my head a little. I’m practically panting now as I take in a few more gulps of air to compensate. Heat crawls across my skin, over the back of my neck, as I try to push the embarrassing fact that I literally forgot how to breathe because a woman just touched me from my memory.

And that I can hear Aurora’s breathy little snigger at such.

She must think I’m such an idiot.

I’m about to open my eyes and end this uncomfortable moment when whatever meditation she’s playing starts talking, telling me that I am capable of anything I put my mind to. Sure.

“I didn’t think people spoke in meditations.”

“Only some, but I prefer them. I find it helpful to have someone’s voice guiding me and reassuring me.”

It kind of makes sense for her really—the number of times I’ve heard her give herself little pep talks, like when we were riding for the first time the other week and before the meeting we had today, suggests she likes to talk things through. And like that time when she confessed everything she was feeling on the porch swing after our night at the bar. Watching her face brighten and body soften as the tension disappeared with each sentence was pretty relieving.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I find myself saying.

The meditation pauses and when I open my eyes, Aurora’s still stood between my legs, looking down at me with promising hazel eyes and copper waves tumbling over half her face. It’s going to take a lot more effort than I first thought to remove myself from this position with the soft energy holding us so close together.

“I’m surprised you haven’t got your phone out, snapping secret photos of me,” I jest, trying to change the mood.

Aurora rolls her lips with a bashful smile, bringing my attention to where they’re all shiny from her strawberry coloured lip gloss. Damn, I wonder if they taste like strawberry too?

Nope, I shouldn’t be thinking about that.

“Anyway,” I laugh, “you’ve missed your chance because believe me, that’s the first and only time you’ll ever catch me meditating. I think I’ll stick to riding.”

She tucks some of her hair behind her ear as she asks, “Riding?”

“Yeah, that’s how I clear my head.” And it’s exactly what I plan on doing once I leave this house, because there’s no way I’m going to be able to focus for the rest of the day when all I can think about is her hands against my chest, trailing down my stomach.

fifteen

Aurora

“Iknow I’ve already thanked you, but I’m so grateful for this!” Cherry squeals, wrapping me in a tight hug, swathes of black hair almost suffocating me. Though I just tighten my arms around her because I’ll happily lap up the love.

“You do realise I was the one who suggested you to her, right?” Wyatt scoffs from where he’s carefully pouring creamy peach paint into several trays for us.

Honestly, it was kind of sweet how Wyatt immediately thought of Cherry, looking for ways to help her out. Even if he likes to play his usual act of indifference, I see how much he cares for her. I hadn’t realised until she told me the other day that he helps pay for materials for her college course when her money doesn’t stretch far enough.

It makes me realise even more why having the ranch is so important to him. No wonder he was so annoyed about me wanting to sell the place.

Still, Cherry’s plans for the guesthouses are a bit more complicated than whatever Auntie Grace quickly put together, so to keep everything on schedule, we’re all chipping in when the contractors aren’t here. Like painting the walls that were going to stay wooden but have now been plastered. But we’ve kept some with feature walls of the original wooden panelling, to create a light yet rustic feel.

And that means spending my weekends and evenings with Wyatt, as well as my daytimes.

Not that it’s a problem, really.

It’s just that I’m having to work a little bit harder against my healing ego, and not look too far into each time Wyatt smiles at me, flashing those dimples, instead of his usual scowl. Or give too much thought to the way my core heats each time he accidentally touches me. Or let the deep, husky voice saying I’ll find a way to ruin you, Princess stay in my head for too long.

I’m sure it’s just another challenge the universe is sending me—a test to see how well I’m concentrating on what really matters.

Like healing and focusing on me.

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