Page 101 of When the Smoke Clears

Only about three feet separates us in the living room as we take final stock, but it’s too much. I grab a belt loop in each pointer finger and tug her toward me. “And what fits?”

Her grin is salacious. “Are you referring to furniture?” she replies, her voice low.

I chuckle. “I am. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“No fun.” Her fingers toy with the hem of my tee. “I guess I thought it would look a lot like what’s at your place. Beautiful woodwork, dark leathers, rustic, and…sexy.”

My eyebrows jump. “Sexy? Explain.”

“Okayyy…” She draws out the word, a blush coating her cheeks as she averts her eyes. “Like the bed, for example. Imagining your hands working to create it—whew!” She fans her face playfully.

A laugh bursts out of me, and I grip her pants tighter as it consumes me. “So I need to make everything for our house?”

“Could you do that?” she asks eagerly.

“The whole house?” I laugh again. “Sure, but it may take a few years considering my lack of free time.”

“Ok, so not everything. But at least a few things.”

“Yes. I’ll make whatever you want.” She practically glows in my arms and fuck if I don’t fall in love all over again. I capture her mouth in gentle kiss. Her hands slip under my tee.

“Should we give it a send-off?” she asks, returning to her low, seductive tone.

I kiss her again. “You’re insatiable.”

“I don’t think anyone who knows you would blame me.” My cheeks burn and her eyes widen again. “Oh my God! You’re blushing. Well, shit, that’s adorable. I’m definitely letting you fuck me on the couch now.”

“Letting me?” I ask, to distract from the rare reaction.

She hikes an eyebrow at me.

It’s not like I’ll turn her down. The couch isn’t the best I’ve encountered, but having my way with her on it is still enjoyable. Plus, she’s loud enough that I’m pretty sure the neighbors get a proper send-off, too.

The drive from Austin is relatively quiet for the first half. Then Maci adjusts in her seat and studies me carefully.

“What is it, Firecracker?” I say through my smirk, squeezing her knee where my hand rests.

“I need to tell you something.”

Some men might get nervous over words like that, but I don’t. I trust Maci completely. Whatever she’s about to tell me isn’t going to be a bomb on us; it’s just important to her and she’s trying to warn me and gauge my response.

I hate that she thinks people won’t support her when she shares something big. I try to rectify that every day. It’s just going to take time.

“I’ve been trying exposure therapy on myself.”

When she says it that way, it sounds like a trial drug she found on the black market, not a way to heal her mental state. I wonder if she thinks because I’m a rancher that I’ll have something against therapy.

“How’s it going?”

She picks at her jeans with one hand while tangling her fingers in mine with the other. “Slow.” She stares out the windshield.

Maci hasn’t been to Ruthie’s since the incident with Colt. I’ve been thinking on how to help, and I have a few ideas. Some are bound to be a little more uncomfortable than others.

“You haven’t been to Ruthie’s yet,” I conclude.

“I sat in the cul-de-sac. I’d like to go onto the property; I just haven’t made it that far.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” I keep my tone light, even though I only half-expect her to accept my offer.

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