Page 43 of Long Hard Fall

He took off his boots and coat. “If you have the pipes that cat does, I’d be impressed.”

“No. I can draw, I can’t sing.”

“Makes two of us.”

He ran through the shower, keeping the heat down until it was nearly too cold to stand. He’d never needed much to be in the mood, but playful banter with Abbi was the biggest turn-on, one he’d never known he had. Hell, anything Abbi did seemed to send blood to his groin. Smile, laugh, cook, fall in the mud, didn’t matter. He was primed for her.

For the first time, he wondered what her dating history was. Were they two peas in a pod, or was she the type to settle into a long, serious relationship? Another topic that didn’t matter to him. As long as all the men were history. He wasn’t his dad, but he certainly wasn’t his mom and wouldn’t tolerate a partner who stepped out and lied.

Was he thinking long-term with Daniels’s sister? Maybe. Would Daniels have approved? Maybe not, but he’d only seen the young and dumb Reno.

He threw on clean clothes and found Abbi standing by the dining room table. She perused the pictures on the china cabinet he’d inherited from Gram. And by inherited, he meant that no one else wanted to pack up and lug the thing anywhere so it’d stayed with him.

She glanced at him over her shoulder; her gaze heated. He wore his church outfit—black jeans and a striped button-up shirt—even nicer than what he went to the bar in.

“You guys all look alike. How many cousins total?”

He pulled out a chair for her to sit in. “Ten. Dillon and Brock are only children. There’s me and Sissy. Aaron has two younger brothers. One’s still in high school and one’s in middle school. And Travis has one brother and a sister. He’s Sissy’s age, and she’s a couple years younger than Travis and travels the world for work.”

She sat down and started dishing up their meal. He held back a grin at getting waited on. It seemed like if he cooked, he served her and if she cooked, she served him.

“Must’ve been fun growing up, having all those cousins around,” she said.

“Still is. We get together all the time, but not everyone can make it anymore.”

They dug into their food and fell into easy chatter. He talked about his family and she described summers at her grandparents’.

She placed her silverware on her plate and pushed her hair out of her face as she eyed the dish with the meatloaf, potatoes, and carrots. “We can throw the whole thing in the fridge. I already did the dishes, so it’s just the plates for cleanup.”

He sat back. His stomach was full and content, his taste buds were alive with the best dinner he’d had in a long time, and his only concern was relieving the steady pressure that had built since the previous night when he’d held her in his arms.

“The dishes can wait.”

She nodded, glanced at him and paused. His expression must clearly state what was on his mind. Could she read in his eyes that he wanted to strip off that adorable college sweater of hers and lick every creamy inch of skin?

She pushed away from the table and sauntered toward him. Leaning down to his ear, she whispered, “And just what should we do all night?”

He snaked his arms around her waist and dragged her onto his lap. “I’m going to help you remember what we did together the first night we met.”

Her pupils dilated. She wiggled on his lap, a motion that felt too good. She draped her arms around his neck; he finally had her where he wanted her. He pressed his lips to hers.

She tasted of dinner and the Abbi he’d become addicted to. Her unique flavor of life and woman, mixed with the seasoning of her excellent meatloaf. His rancher’s heart was securely roped.

Before his erection grew too uncomfortable, he hugged her to him and stood. She released his mouth to gasp at the sudden movement, but he only smirked. She held on while he carried her to his bedroom. Briefly, he’d thought of veering off into the guest room that she’d slept in, but having her in his bed was more temptation than he could refuse.

Inside, he set her down and lifted her sweater over her head.

“Do you remember when I first stripped you down?” He tossed the top to the floor. Her breasts filled out her pink lacy bra. He considered leaving it on. But no, it’d have to be replaced with his hands and mouth.

Her breath hitched and her hands landed on the clasp to her pants. “No. Yes. I remember being really excited.”

The corner of his mouth hitched up. “Excited is a good start. What do you feel now?”

“Needy,” she panted.

Oh yes. Him, too. He placed his hands over hers and undid her pants. Then he squatted to slowly drag them down, flaring his hands over her satiny skin. Her body rippled under his touch and he glanced up at her. Her luminous gaze stayed on him, but she stood still.

She stepped out of her pants. When she was back on both feet, he pressed a kiss to her belly. A soft puff of air escaped her.

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