Chapter 13 Emma
H eat radiates from where his fingers still rest inside me, spreading up my body like wildfire. My breath is shallow, my pulse erratic, and every nerve is lit up and buzzing. But Eric isn't moving. Instead, he's staring at me like he just committed a crime.
"You..." I swallow, my throat dry. "You have thick fingers."
The words tumble out before I can stop them, and I want to shrink into myself. Mortification claws at my chest, twisting with disappointment as he slowly—so painfully slowly—withdraws his fingers. The loss is instant, cold and unbearable.
"You’re a virgin?" His voice is tight, his body stiff as he stands and steps back.
The heat in my cheeks burns hotter, shame creeping in where pleasure had been just moments before. I press my thighs together, my bound hands curling toward my stomach as if I can shield myself from his reaction.
"How can you tell?" I whisper, my voice barely above the sound of Shadow’s distant neigh.
Eric drags a hand through his hair, cursing under his breath. "Because you were so damn tight and trembling... because you froze the moment my fingers were inside you and I… I just shouldn’t have…”
The words send another rush of warmth through me, but the look in his eyes douses any flicker of hope. Regret. Hesitation. A sharp blade of rejection slides between my ribs.
"I thought being tight would be a good thing." I reach for him, but he steps further away, like the space between us is the only thing keeping him in control.
"Damn it," he mutters under his breath. "I want you, Ems. I do. But not here. Not like this."
A lump forms in my throat, thick and stubborn. "Eric, I'm twenty-five."
"And still a virgin?" His voice is strangled.
I shrug, trying to play off the weight of the moment.
"Shadow’s been waiting for her stallion," I say softly, meeting his gaze. "Just like I’ve been waiting for my man."
His entire body goes rigid. His chest rises and falls in deep, controlled breaths. He drags his palm over his face like he’s trying to wipe away the reality of what I just admitted.
"And you think I’m it?" His voice is filled with disbelief.
"Don’t you?"
His throat bobs as he swallows. "I... I don’t know. This was supposed to be pretend, Emma. And now… Now I can’t stop kissing you. And now you’re telling me you’re a virgin?—"
"So?" I push through the ache in my chest and take a step forward, challenging him. "What difference does it make? I want you. And I know you want me, too."
I gesture toward the very obvious, very straining evidence of his arousal.
His jaw clenches. "Me fucking you in a stable for your first time isn’t the right way."
Something inside me cracks.
Before I can respond, he snatches my jeans off the hay bale and starts dressing me like I’m a doll he needs to put away. His hands are careful but quick, zipping me up and fastening my buttons like it’s some kind of damage control.
I lift my bound wrists toward him. "Untie me?"
His fingers work fast, undoing the knots he so carefully tied just moments ago. Once free, I rub at the faint rope marks on my wrists, swallowing around the lump in my throat.
His phone buzzes in his pocket. He checks it, his expression unreadable, then shoves it back without saying a word.
"Spam," he mutters, but I don’t believe him.
"Emma…" He exhales, dragging his gaze back to me. "I’m sorry, I got carried away."
I force a smile, even as painful rejection tightens in my chest. "It’s fine."
It’s not fine, but what choice do I have?
"We both got caught up in the moment." The words taste bitter.
His fingers slide under my chin, tipping my face up toward his. His dark eyes search mine, his thumb brushing lightly along my jaw.
"This isn’t about your brothers or my grandfather," he murmurs. "I want you, but not like this. You deserve more. You’re worth more."
My heart stumbles, and my mouth opens, then closes. He bends, scooping me into his arms before I can protest.
"Eric!" I wriggle against his hold. "What are you doing?"
"Your boots are covered in shit. I’m taking you home."
"You’re gonna carry me all the way home?"
"No." He smirks. "I’m gonna drive you."
With surprising ease, he lowers me into a waiting wheelbarrow.
"What the hell?—"
Before I can argue, he grips the handles and starts pushing, my legs dangling over the edge as the wheel wobbles through the grass. The ridiculousness of it all crashes over me, and laughter spills out of my chest.
"You’re ridiculous," I giggle, gripping the sides.
"And yet, here you are, being chauffeured like a princess," he teases.
By the time we reach the front porch, my stomach aches from laughing. He lifts me out, holding me just a moment longer than necessary before setting me down.
The scent of chili wafts through the open kitchen window, warm and familiar.
"You cooked?" I ask, inhaling deeply.
"Vegetarian chili," he says. "We can have your apple crumble for dessert. Hungry?"
I nod, aware of a different kind of hunger curling low in my stomach.
"I need to clean up and get dressed," I say.
"I’ll meet you in the back."
I rush upstairs, stripping quickly and stepping into the shower. The warm water does little to wash away the lingering heat of Eric’s hands, and the memory of his mouth on mine. I press my fingers against my lips, inhaling sharply.
I was so close.
Dressing quickly in fresh sweats and a shirt, I tie a sunflower scarf around my head, letting the ends drape over my shoulder. As I make my way downstairs, Eric is already in the kitchen, waiting.
“Dinner’s ready outside,” Eric says, his voice smooth and steady, like he didn’t just have his fingers inside me minutes ago.
I step onto the patio and stop short. The space is bathed in soft candlelight, each flickering flame caught in the gentle evening breeze. Overhead, fairy lights twinkle like fireflies, casting a warm, golden glow over the polished silverware and crystal glasses. A bottle of red wine sits uncorked, perfectly placed between our plates.
My hand flies to my mouth as a soft gasp escapes. “Eric, this is beautiful.”
His phone buzzes against the table and his shoulders tighten, tension rippling through him like a drawn bowstring. He checks the screen, lips pressing into a thin line before tucking the device back into his pocket. When he looks at me again, he forces a smile, but worry lingers at the edges.
"I hope you're hungry." He pulls out my chair, ever the gentleman.
"Starving." And not just for food.
He pours us each a glass of wine, the deep red liquid catching in the moonlight. He lifts his glass. “To a beautiful friendship and many more evenings under these stars.”
Watmth swirls through me at the thought of more nights like this. More laughter. More stolen kisses. More of him.
“Cheers.” I clink my glass against his and take a sip, savoring the smooth, velvety taste as it lingers on my tongue.
Eric watches me, his expression unreadable. But when he exhales, it’s like he’s coming to some sort of decision.
"Emma, I want to apologize."
I set my glass down. “There’s no need?—”
“Yes, there is.” He leans in. "Had I known, I never would have?—"
“—but I wanted you to.” My voice drops to a whisper. “I still want you to.”
His gaze sharpens with darkness. He tilts his head slightly, daring me. "Say it. Tell me what you want."
The low rasp of his voice sends shivers down my spine. The air between us thickens, crackling with an unspoken promise.
I clear my throat, my fingers tightening around the stem of my glass. "I want to be with you. I want you to—” I hesitate, then blurt, “I want you to pop my cherry."
His brows shoot up. Amusement flickers across his face, softening the hard edges of his jaw. "Pop your cherry?"
I giggle nervously. "Be my first," I clarify, meeting his gaze head-on.
His smile vanishes. His jaw tenses. "And what would your brothers say?"
I roll my eyes, setting my glass down. “Honestly? I’m twenty-five; it’s time to cut that umbilical cord.”
He chuckles, nodding slowly. Then he bites into his chili, chewing in contemplative silence before finally speaking.
"I get it." He exhales, running a hand through his hair. "But I’m confused. You’re in New York. I’m tied to the ranch. You’ve always been the city girl. I’m not doing this just to sleep with you, Emma. How would this work?"
At least he’s talking about it, instead of running.
“Well, for starters, we’d have to go on a date.”
“A date?” He smirks. “And would that be in Lords Valley or New York?”
“That depends on where you ask me out.”
He wipes his mouth with a napkin, eyes locked on mine. “All right. Let’s say the date goes well, and I want you to stay here—with me—in Lords Valley.”
I shift in my seat, my heart hammering as I try to contain the surge of hope. There it is—an invitation; even if wrapped in hypotheticals, it’s still an invitation. I wet my lips, choosing my words carefully.
"It’s simple," I say, keeping my voice steady. "As a partner at Silver Securities, I’d prioritize remote work. We’d have to upgrade the WiFi, but that’s easy. And Grandpa mentioned the Sheriff’s Office could use someone to reorganize their records, so I’d move here."
"You’ve really thought this through."
I chuckle. "A little."
His lips twitch. "So, if I’m getting this right, you also have our kids’ names picked out and the colors of our matching Christmas pajamas."
I laugh out loud, shaking my head. "You think you’ve got me figured out, don’t you?"
“Hmm.”
He leans back in his chair, studying me. I wish I could read his mind, but his expression is unreadable. When the silence stretches too long, my patience thins.
"What does that mean?" I press, my voice soft.
He sets his fork down, his expression turning serious. "I don’t want this to be a one-time thing. I don’t want to hurt you."
Something tightens in my chest.
"And shoving my fingers inside you when you’re a virgin definitely hurts," he adds. "So…"
I swallow. "So?"
His lips twitch, but his gaze remains locked on mine. "So I want to do things right."
I exhale, my pulse hammering as he reaches across the table and takes my hand. He lifts it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to my palm.
“Emma Silver,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble, “will you go on a date with me?”
My breath catches.
“A date?”
“Yes. Tomorrow morning, before we prep for the fest.”
My mouth opens and closes a few times before I manage a soft, “I’d love to go on a date with you.”
He grins. “Good.”
I lean in, lowering my voice. "I don’t want to burst your bubble, cowboy, but I’ve used a vibrator thicker than two fingers."
His smirk grows. He leans in too, closing the distance between us. “I’ve seen your vibrator, Ems, and I can assure you, it’s not the same.”
I tilt my head. “I know it’s not. I’ve seen your dick.”
His eyes darken, locked onto mine. “But you haven’t felt me inside you.”
A wave of heat crashes through me, my thighs clenching under the table as my breath turns shallow.
“Just say the word, and I’m game, cowboy.”
He brushes his lips against mine. “I’m doing this right, Ems. Date first.”
He’s killing me.
But if my dirty cowboy wants to take the tamed route—for now—I’ll play along.
The next hour dissolves into laughter and easy conversation, years of distance melting away. The stars scatter across the sky, fairy lights casting everything in a warm glow. The scent of burning wood from the chimney wraps around us, grounding me in this moment. Imagining forever here is almost too easy. Maybe because I’ve already spent fifteen years loving this man, or maybe because, finally, it feels possible.
The night eventually gives way to silence, the kind that feels safe and comfortable. When the late hour chills the air, Eric walks me up to my room, his hand resting on the small of my back, warm and steady.
At my door, he pauses. “Good night, Emma.”
I smile. My heart is so full, I can barely contain the glee. “Good night, Eric.”
I fall asleep that night with the scent of him still on my skin, the taste of him lingering on my lips, and a hope I haven’t felt in years.
* * *
The sharp buzz of my phone jolts me awake. Mom’s name flashes across the screen.
I swipe to answer, my voice groggy. “Hey, Mom.”
“Emma, sweetheart. I didn’t wake you, did I?”
“No, no,” I lie, sitting up. “How’s Dad?”
She sighs, and my heart clenches before she even speaks. “He’s not doing well, honey.”
She fills me in on dad’s treatment and my brother’s constant help. The weight of her words presses down on me, fresh guilt surging through my veins. I should be there. Every day I’m away feels like borrowed time, slipping through my fingers.
“I’ll call back later, when we have an update,” she promises.
“Okay,” I whisper, my throat tightening. “Love you, Mom.”
“Love you too, sweetheart.”
The second I hang up, my phone buzzes again—Greg.
"McMurrey figured out why the Waters’ farm is going under," he says without preamble.
I sit up straighter, pushing past the ache in my chest. “And?”
"Weekly withdrawals and e-transfers. A thousand a month goes to a ‘Bishop’ in San Francisco, and another thousand is withdrawn in cash every week, right from Lords Valley.”
“What?” My hand flies to my mouth as an image of stacks of cash falling from Eric’s bookshelf flashes in my mind.
The numbers paint a troubling picture, each withdrawal another crack in the ranch’s foundation. My stomach knots. Whatever’s happening, I’m going to figure it out.
"You want me to repeat it?" Greg asks.
“No, I got it. Do you have an address for this ‘Bishop’ in San Francisco?”
"I'll text you."
"Thanks. Anything on the Huntz property?"
"Still waiting on the deeds. I’ll let you know when I have them."
I hang up, my thoughts swirling into chaos. A thousand a week could break any ranch. And yet, Eric doesn’t seem like the type to mismanage money. Where the hell is it all going?
Movement outside draws my attention to the window, and my breath catches when I see Eric ride Dash across the open field. His bare chest gleams under the morning sun as muscles ripple beneath his golden skin, each flex and shift of his body a perfect display of strength and control.
"Wow."
I press my forehead against the cool glass, my breath fogging up the surface.
The memories of last night flood back. His hands on me, the way he kissed me like he needed me, and the way he said I was worth more, rocks my heart with palpitations. His rejection had stung, but as I watch him now, I finally understand. He didn’t stop because he didn’t want me. He stopped because he wanted me too much.
My phone buzzes again with Greg’s text and Bishop’s address.
I have two pressing mysteries now: the ranch’s missing money and Eric’s careful distance.
And my father, slipping away while I sit here pretending I have time.
I shake off the thoughts. Worrying won’t change anything—not about Dad, not about Eric, not about the ranch. But what I can do is make sure this place stays in Eric’s family. After learning the ranch could be auctioned, I started the paperwork, setting things in motion to protect the Waters’ land. If everything goes well, they’ll never have to worry about losing it.
"Get a grip, Emma," I mutter, forcing myself away from the window.
Because today isn’t about spreadsheets, or missing money, or heartbreak. Today is about my first real date with Eric.
I pull out a fall dress, rich in warm golds and deep burgundies, the perfect match for the autumn air. I curl my hair into soft ringlets, twisting a sunflower scarf into my ponytail.
He asks about you every day, Emma.
Mom’s words whisper through my head, and the curling iron trembles in my hand.
At exactly nine, Eric waits for me on the porch. God, he’s beautiful. Dark jeans hug his muscular legs, and a crisp white shirt stretches across broad shoulders. His leather boots gleam under the morning light, but it’s the sunflower in his hand that steals my breath.
"Good morning, beautiful." He leans in, pressing a kiss to my cheek as he tucks the flower into my fingers.
"Good morning." I can’t stop smiling. "I saw you let Shadow out with the herd."
He brushes his thumb down my cheek, his touch featherlight. “She deserves another chance for not killing you.”
My stomach tightens, the warmth of his gaze pulling me deeper into this thing between us.
"It makes me very happy," I say softly. "Thank you."
His eyes darken, his fingers lingering for just a second longer than necessary.
"So, where are you taking me, cowboy?"
He reaches for the scarf in my hair, untying it with a smirk. Before I can react, he wraps it around my eyes.
"It’s a surprise. We’re taking Suzy."
I laugh but let him guide me toward the car. The old truck rocks and sways as Eric drives, his fingers tracing soothing circles over my hand. Ten minutes later, he takes a sharp turn and parks.
"Almost there," he murmurs, amusement lacing his voice.
He helps me out, his grip steady as he leads me forward. The ground changes beneath my feet from packed dirt to soft grass. The crisp scent of autumn fills the air, mixed with hints of wood smoke and something rich, something golden.
Then he removes the blindfold and my breath catches.
Sunflowers.
Thousands of them stretch in every direction, their faces tilted toward the morning light. Some stand taller than me, their golden petals shimmering in the breeze. The field feels alive , a vast, undulating ocean of gold.
"Eric, it's beautiful."
He smiles. “Better than a cornfield?”
Before I can answer, he turns and heads back to the truck. I watch as he opens the tailgate and lifts out a large wicker basket, then pulls a rolled-up blanket from behind the seat. There’s something so rugged and sweet about the way he handles everything with care, as if it all matters—because it does.
He returns and spreads the blanket over a patch of soft grass, smoothing out the corners before placing the basket in the center. Then he glances at me, a flicker of unease in his eyes.
"Hope you're hungry," he says, his voice betraying a slight edge of nerves.
I lower myself onto the blanket, my heart swelling as he unpacks the basket. The golden pancakes drizzled with syrup, fresh fruit, and a cheese platter so artfully arranged it looks like something out of a magazine, make my mouth water. A bottle of wine catches the morning light.
I arch a brow. "Wine for breakfast?"
He shrugs, opening it with ease. "I’m nervous. It’s been a while since I’ve been on a date. Come to think of it, I’ve never been on a first date.”
I blink. “Never?”
He smirks, pouring us each a glass. “Before yesterday, I never found the right woman to ask.”
Eric’s boyish smile melts me, turning my insides into a puddle of warmth. As he pours the wine into plastic cups, our fingers brush. The simple touch sends goosebumps racing up my arms. The morning sun kisses my skin as we settle into conversation, and I find myself watching him more than I should. As Greg’s call burns in my mind, I search his face, scanning for any hint that he knows about the missing money.
But I push it all down. Not now. Not here. I won’t ruin our first date with talk of financial ruin and unexplained withdrawals.
"I appreciate your concern about last night," I say, lifting my cup and tapping it lightly against his. "But I can’t exactly go around broadcasting my virginity to every man I date. I honestly fail to see the issue."
His eyes darken, gaze locking onto mine like a predator honing in. "Don’t you realize I was about to take you last night?"
The bluntness of his question jolts me, sending a rush of heat through my body as memories of his hands, his mouth, and his heat pressing into me, come flooding back.
"Why do you think I let you touch me?" I whisper, challenging him.
He grunts, but his mouth curves into a smirk, a wicked gleam lighting up his eyes.
I press on, needing him to understand. "I wanted you to fuck me."
"As irresistible as that sounds, darling," he murmurs, voice dropping into a thick, seductive drawl, "you’re not ready for me."
Frustration flares in my chest, but before I can argue, he shifts, eyes narrowing. "Besides, I have questions."
I sit up straighter, biting back a sarcastic response. I have questions too. About the mysterious cash withdrawals, about Huntz, about the future of this ranch. But I hold them back. Right now, I want to know what’s on his mind.
"How has no man locked you up in a castle and claimed you as his?"
The answer is simple, but I’m not sure how he’ll take it.
"I'm not obsessed with you or anything," I start, already regretting my word choice as his brows knit together.
"But?" he prompts.
I take a breath. "I may have liked you for a very long time."
His eyes search mine. "How long?"
"Long enough to dress as a cowgirl every Halloween since my sixteenth birthday," I confess, my face burning. "Every Easter and Fourth of July barbecue, I saw you and just knew you were the one. I knew I had to wait for you, and so I…saved myself."
Understanding dawns in his eyes, and the intensity of his stare is almost too much.
I take another breath, summoning the last of my courage. "I may have more than liked you for a while," I murmur. "To quote Bella, I am unconditionally and irrevocably in love with you."
Silence stretches between us as my confession hangs in the air, trembling and raw. For years, this truth has been mine alone, fragile and untouched. And now, it’s his .
His brows furrow. "Who's Bella?"
"Just a movie reference," I mumble. "What matters is that I've loved you for a long time."
His expression shifts from surprise to tenderness, then uncertainty. I hold my breath as he works through whatever war is happening inside his head.
"I want to tell you I love you back," he finally says, voice rough with honesty. "It feels right, but… Emma, I’m not sure what I’m feeling. This is new. You’re new. For so long, you were just my best friend’s little sister, and I was always single. This is uncharted territory for me, but now…" His eyes burn into mine, and my stomach tightens. "Everything’s changing so quickly."
The air between us crackles as we inch closer on the blanket, the weight of every touch, every look, heavier than before. He leans in, brushing his lips over mine, and the world quiets. The kiss is slow and thoughtful, filled with promises I can’t quite name.
As we pull apart, his thumb traces my lower lip.
"We’re engaged," I remind him softly.
"Fake-engaged," he corrects, but his eyes glint with something unreadable. "When I propose— really propose—it'll be special. More than just a train ride to Lords Valley."
My breath catches. The same cowboy who swore he wasn’t the marrying type is now talking about a real proposal?
Before I can respond, he reaches inside the picnic basket and pulls out a small box, setting it in my hands.
"It can’t be an engagement ring. I already have one," I tease, my heart pounding.
"It’s not. Open it."
I lift the lid. Nestled inside is a delicate gold anklet, with a tiny sunflower charm dangling from its chain.
“Eric, this is beautiful.” I run my fingers over the delicate sunflower charm, my heart swelling. “Thank you.”
He takes the anklet from my hands and nods toward my foot. “May I?”
I slip off my flat, resting my foot on his knee. His fingers are warm and steady as he fastens the anklet around my ankle, his touch sending tiny shivers up my leg. The fit is perfect, like it was always meant to be there.
His gaze shifts, his playful smirk fading. “Emma, there are things we need to talk about. Things I should have told you before we got this far.”
A knot forms in my stomach. “Like what?”
He exhales, glancing at the field of sunflowers, their golden faces swaying in the breeze. “First, you should go see your father right after Harvest Fest.”
My heart clenches. “The day after tomorrow?” My voice is barely a whisper.
Dad. Reality slams into me, pulling me from the sunflowers and this moment of peace. He doesn’t have much time left. The thought is unbearable.
Eric nods. “I think you’ll regret it if you don’t.”
I swallow hard. “What about your grandfather?”
“It was his idea.”
"I know," I murmur, barely holding it together. “He told me the same.”
Eric squeezes my hand. “And I’m coming with you.”
Shock ripples through me. “But what about the ranch?”
“Derek and Blake can handle things for a few days.” He pauses, his grip tightening. “And I need to talk to your brothers anyway. About us.”
I shake my head. “Eric, there’s no need?—”
“I’m not asking for permission,” he cuts in, his voice firm, “but I need them to understand that you’re mine.”
I’m his.
The words settle over me, warm and heavy, wrapping around my heart like a hug.
Before I can respond, his expression darkens. “There’s something else.”
He hesitates, and for the first time since I’ve known him, he looks…afraid.
“A lawyer from LA, recommended by your brothers, is mailing my grandfather’s documents to New York,” he says. “Caroline used to live in Lords Valley.”
The name clicks in my memory. “Caroline… An ex?” The word tastes bitter on my tongue.
He exhales sharply. “No, but we had a casual relationship while I was in the army. When I didn’t want more, things…turned ugly.”
A muscle ticks in his jaw. I reach for his hand, urging him to continue.
“When I refused a relationship, she threatened me. Said if she couldn’t have me, no one could. Next thing I knew, false assault accusations were filed, my military career was over, and my name was dragged through hell. She’s been blackmailing me ever since.” His voice is tight with controlled rage. “If my grandfather found out… I just… I can’t let that happen.”
My stomach knots, anger curling in my veins like smoke. “Your grandfather trusts and loves you,” I say, gripping his hand. “Nobody can change that. And don’t worry about Caroline. I can handle difficult people.”
His lips twitch, the corner of his mouth tilting into something almost amused. “You think you can handle Caroline?”
I squeeze his fingers. “If you handle my brothers, I’ll take care of her.”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “All right. Deal.”
The wind rustles through the sunflowers, whispering around us, wrapping us in something that feels bigger than just a field and a secret. Two battles lie ahead—facing my dying father and saving Eric’s ranch. But right now, in this golden oasis, we have each other.
His fingers trace my jaw, tilting my face to his. “For what it’s worth, none of my kisses were pretend,” he murmurs.
A slow smile tugs at my lips as I press them to his. “Neither were mine.”
His forehead rests against mine, our breaths mingling. “We’re just beginning, aren’t we?”
“Yes.”
“Then why does this feel like so much more?”
I don’t answer, because deep down, I already know. Somewhere between the fake engagement and real kisses, between family secrets and whispered confessions, between my love and his growing feelings, we’ve stumbled into something real. Something worth fighting for.