Page 8 of A Rancher's Love
The burst of laughter from Tamara was heartfelt, and Ginny’s optimism returned. Maybe this coming back to the family fold would be easier than she’d hoped.
But she was glad to slip away a few minutes later. Away from the rumble of laughter and the sheer presence of people and back into the quiet of the winter night. Ginny grabbed her backpack from her truck and wandered slowly, taking in all the visible changes to the place she’d grown up but been away from for years.
The trailer Tamara had sent her to sleep in was a newer one, parked neatly beside the south barn. Maybe twenty-seven feet long, it looked sturdy yet cozy.
Three goats in their nearby pen watched with wild curiosity, and Ginny saluted as she passed. “As you were, fellow mischief-makers.”
She opened and closed the trailer door as quietly as possible though. No use in warning the goats they had a neighbour, or the hellions would find a way to break out and come haunt her in the night.
The trailer smelled strangely good. She’d expected the air to be slightly stale, so the unusual scent was both a relief and a mystery. Bergamot? Coffee? Those two for sure, but something else familiar that she vaguely remembered…
Tired enough to simply want to crash, Ginny stopped in the small living space to get ready. She stripped off her pants, then slipped her bra from under her top, leaving only her oversized tank to sleep in.
“Be free,” she mumbled softly, taking a deep breath to enjoy the lack of pressure on her shoulders from the bra straps. Big boobs were a pain at times, literally.“I crack me up.”
Her eyes adjusted to the pale glow coming in the window from the yard light, so she didn’t bother with turning on the overhead light. She shuffled toward the bedroom area, suddenly wary when a strange, out-of-place sound rumbled her direction.
Ginny cautiously peered around the corner.
Holy shit.
The bed indeed had sheets as Tamara had told her, but they were messed up, scrunched into semi-piles over the long, muscular form of a naked man.He lay face down, his butt on prime display. The edge of fear that had swept in vanished.
Ginny knew her mystery man.
Lying before her was Tucker Stewart, nephew to Silver Stone’s long time foreman, her older brother Luke’s companion in crime during the summers while they were growing up, and her own personal kryptonite.
What she should do was back away and find somewhere else to sleep.
What she did was stand motionless for far, far too long, simply staring.
Time had only made him more delicious. His face was mostly scrunched into the pillow, but his lips were visible. Strong and full, they parted slightly, a soft rumble an uncharitable person would describe as a snore escaping him.
She didn’t need to see his eyes to remember the pale blue shade. Didn’t need to see him awake to recall his all too brief smiles, always accompanied by a spark in his eyes, as if he were astonished that she’d pulled an expression from him other than his usual gruff visage.
Nope, memory painted plenty of pictures for the parts she couldn’t see. The parts she could?Holy mother. Tucker had packed on muscle in the three years since she’d seen him last.
Triceps defined even in sleep, his visible forearm was dusted with a faint layer of light brown hair. His big hand pressed to the mattress where his strong fingers were splayed as if ready to cup her breast.
His big,talentedhands. Ones Ginny had enjoyed feeling him run all over her. Broad shoulders that she’d dug her nails into as they’d shot together toward a sweaty, dirty, overwhelmingly pleasurable peak.
The curve of his hip teased her vision, one thigh pulled up to protect more delicate body parts. The hollow of shadow that hid his groin made her smile and lift her focus to the star of the show. His ass, the sheet shoved far enough aside to showcase every muscular dip and the straight row of dots scarring his right butt cheek.
Which was how she’d recognized him.Ahem.
She’d not only enjoyed seeing his naked ass up close and personal before, but she’d been there when her older brother Luke had given Tucker that scar. Twelve years old and pretending they were hosting a magical duel, Tucker had reacted to Luke’sspellwith determination, throwing himself backward only to unknowingly land full force on a rake.
Tucker was no longer that youngster. Nor the teenager she’d followed after like a love-struck puppy. Not even the serious young man she’d finally convinced she was grown up enough to know what she wanted—which included wild, vigorous sex with him.
Long lean lines, bare skin she wanted to touch…
She must have made a noise, because he woke. His body tightened, which did wonderful things to his ass.
He rolled. Ginny forced her gaze off the tempting bits—parts. That wasnota bit—coming into prime display, shifting to meet his eyes.
Tucker blinked, then blinked again, as a dark smolder twisted into place.
“Ginny Stone. Well, well,well. Merry Christmas to me.”
