Page 39 of Unspoken Hearts
“Mae?” A ghost of a smile dances on my lips at his name for me. “Come on.”
Groaning, my eyes peek open to see Reid standing. One arm scoops under my legs and the other wraps around my back.
My eyes flash open. “What are you—”
Lifting me up, my hands instinctively wrap around his neck, nose filling with his manliness and freshly washed tee. Reid starts towards the staircase.
“Can’t have you sleeping down here, and you’ll need your rest for tomorrow. We’re up at five.”
I groan again, head tipping against his shoulder as his chest shakes as he silently chuckles. His arms feel like stone, carrying me with ease. Isoak up the fleeting moment of being this close to him. Body heating all over and fizzing with happiness, I’m glad I left the blanket on the couch, otherwise I might be consumed by fire right now.
Placing me on my feet in front of my bedroom door, I give him a small grin, fingers lingering longer than necessary on his top as my arms fall to my sides. “Thank you. I’ll see you at five.”
He stops at his bedroom door, glancing my way. He smiles tenderly before mouthing back, “Goodnight, Mae,” before disappearing inside his room.
Letting out an unsteady breath, my pulse continues to race in my throat, a blush creeping up my neck and cheeks as I go into the safety of my room, unable to control my beaming smile. I was ready to fall asleep on the couch right beside him, but after being carried in his arms, my body feels alive with adrenaline.
I might have been tired before, but now I’m wide awake, and all I can think about ishim.
Chapter eleven
Macie
“AndthisisPenny.She’s a Silkie. She’s my favourite,” Aspen chimes, holding onto my hand tightly. Chickens and roosters surround us in the pen as Hazel fills up the feed tub.
Dressed in a pink jacket and purple pants, Aspen points out each bird, naming them and their breed. She certainly has a liking for birds, or maybe farm animals in general? I’m not sure, but she has a good memory for a four-year-old.
I couldn’t remember all of their names, even if I worked here.
“Why is she your favourite?” I ask, crouching to her height.
Bright almond coloured eyes peer around. Aspen smiles at the birds, picking at the seed Hazel put out. Her teeth dig into her tiny lip, beaming. “She’s pretty.”
My grin widens and I nod in agreement. “She sure is. I think she’s my favourite, too.”
“Really?” Aspen half squeals before looking at her grandma. “Gran’s favourite is Carmen. She’s a sebright. She says she has pretty feathers.”
Hazel smiles down at us, dusting off her hands and coming to stop on Aspen’s other side. “Sebrights are beautiful, and she has a very lovingpersonality. We still have the ducks to see. Maybe we can find another duckling if we go have a look at the river after?”
Aspen’s light, round eyes shoot to mine, cheeks pinching high as she drops my hand and runs out of the coop in her little pink gumboots.
“Not too fast!” Hazel shouts, gently pushing me towards the wire door.
Leaving the chickens, Aspen leads us over to the duck pen where the birds are quacking away, knowing that they’re about to be fed.
“Come look, Aunt Macie.” Aspen jumps on the balls of her feet as Hazel opens the gate. “That one is Daphne. Dennis, Darla, Darren and Louie.” Aspen points each of them out.
I frown down at her, stifling a laugh. “Louie? Why not Daffy or Donald.”
Aspen shrugs her little shoulders. “He looks like a Louie, not Daffy.”
“Of course.” My tone is soft, because I know better than to argue with a little kid about something as trivial as a duck’s name. And if she likes it, then why should I dampen her spirits? “I think Louie is the best name for him.”
“See!” she squeals, dashing into the pen as Hazel grabs the bag of feed. Aspen digs her hands in, cupping them to form a pile of seed, before throwing it up in the air towards the ducks. They get to work pecking, and Aspen giggles loudly.
“Well done, young lady. You might be our best bird feeder on the ranch,” Hazel chimes, pulling her granddaughter to her side.
Aspen just giggles some more, before peering over her shoulder at me. “Macie, which is your favourite?”
