Chapter 20
20
Whit Bowman
M y headlights shine a narrow path as I drive down the long gravel road leading to the house. I’m exhausted beyond belief after the day I’ve had, and I haven’t been this happy to be home in a while.
Not that this is my home , but it’s the closest thing I have to it for the time being, so I may as well learn to appreciate it.
Every couple of days, I stop by my actual house when I get off work. One, to have some alone time before I have to head back to the ranch and face Conrad, but two, so I can check on everything there and make sure nothing is out of order. If I wasn’t so damn tired tonight, I would’ve done that, but I just don’t have it in me.
Pulling up in front of the barn, I’m surprised to find Conrad’s truck gone. He’d mentioned cooking dinner, and I was looking forward to it. The dinner, that is. I wonder where he’s at. A sense of relief floods my system, knowing that I’ll get to dodge having to face him for another night. We have yet to talk about what happened in the barn on Saturday, but that’s been a relief. I just don’t know what to say.
My mind is a mess.
My heart feels tattered.
And my nervous system is in overdrive.
I know it’s because I need to face this already. Avoiding problems isn’t in my nature, but I’m terrified about what’s going to come from discussing it with him. What happened was a mistake…or at least, that’s what I keep telling myself, but nothing about it felt wrong. Just like the night of Sterling’s party, every single thing about our encounter felt like coming home. It felt like a weight off my shoulders. Like I could breathe for the first time in entirely too long.
But what does that mean?
After I grab my briefcase and the plastic bag filled with my barf-covered cardigan, I climb out and head inside, unsure of what I’m going to find when I get in there. If Conrad is gone, does that mean Nana is too? Do I have the house to myself? The lights are on, so I’m sure that’s not the case.
I walk through the front door, setting my briefcase on the bench as I toe off my shoes and shrug out of my coat. It’s bitter cold tonight, and I’m pretty sure we’re supposed to see snow by morning.
“You’re home,” a voice, that very much does not belong to Nana, says, startling me.
Head lifting, my gaze darts over to Conrad, where he’s standing in the entryway to the kitchen. He’s in the same clothes he was wearing earlier when he stopped by my clinic, but unlike before, there’s no hat atop his head, and he’s barefoot.
“I didn’t think you were home,” I murmur. “Where’s your truck?”
“Nana borrowed it,” he says, spinning on his heel, heading back into the kitchen. “I told you I was making your favorite. Would you like a glass of wine?”
He remembered that it’s my favorite.
Swallowing thickly, I nod. “Sure, thank you.” I follow after him. “Borrowed it to go where?”
“You’re never going to believe it.” Conrad grabs a glass out of the cabinet, throwing me a look over his shoulder. “She went to have dinner with Roger.”
“Shut up.” I chuckle. “Like, a date?”
Conrad huffs a laugh. “Fuck if I know. Sure sounded like a date.”
Pulling out a chair at the counter, I sit down just as he slides a newly filled glass of wine and a plate piled high over to me. After he grabs himself a beer out of the fridge, he takes the seat beside me with his own plate. I bring the glass up to my lips, letting the sweet liquid invade my senses as I take a drink. I needed this.
“Do you know if she’s been with anybody since your grandfather?” I ask, setting the wine on the counter and glancing over at him. The steak and pasta smells so good, my mouth waters as I lay the napkin on my lap and pick up my fork. I can’t help the groan that comes out of me as I take the first bite. “Holy shit, Conrad, this is so good.
Turning my head, I find him watching me with his lip quirked. Heat races through my body at having his eyes on me like that. “Thanks,” he murmurs before adding, “And I have no clue.”
I snort. “You know nothing about that woman, I swear to God.”
“Why would I talk to my nana about her dating life?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I muse. “Maybe to see how she’s doing, find out if she’s lonely, or I don’t know, Conrad, maybe to just make simple conversation with your only living relative.”
“Okay, okay.” He chuckles before taking a drink from his beer. “No need to lecture me. And for the record, you’re right. I need to be better about keeping in touch with her.”
My heart thuds as I replay what he said. His agreeance is surprising, and I don’t quite know how it makes me feel.
“Did you two have a blast shopping this afternoon?” I ask, changing the subject.
Conrad grumbles, and I can’t help but laugh. “That woman knows how to spend money, let me fucking tell you.”
“Did you buy anything?” I ask, but already know the answer. It’s confirmed when he turns his head and looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“No, I did not buy anything,” he grunts. “There was nothing for me in those shops. It was a bunch of useless junk that nobody needs.”
For as long as I’ve known Conrad, he’s been so painfully cheap. He’ll wear his boots until they’ve damn near got holes in them. Same with his jeans. It’s always been a whole production to get him to spend any amount of money on anything other than necessities for the ranch. I know it’s just all he’s ever known.
Ranching isn’t exactly known for all the money it makes. He was raised to be frugal, which I can respect about him. Conrad may be many things, but irresponsible, he is not. He has a strong, smart head on his shoulders, and running this ranch successfully is all he’s ever known. It’s in his blood.
As we eat, the conversation flows easily, and it feels… nice. Like I can almost pretend that no time has passed. Before the death of his parents, we used to eat together like this every night.
“Looks like it finally started to snow,” he murmurs as we finish up, tipping his chin toward the kitchen window while taking our empty plates to the sink.
“How long has Nana been gone?” I ask, before finishing off the wine in my glass. The real question I want to ask, but can’t put a voice to, is, how long are we going to be alone tonight?
“She left not long before you got home.” Conrad stands and stretches his arms over his head. I hate the way my eyes automatically drop to where his shirt lifts, showing off the dark, fuzzy happy trail he has leading underneath his jeans. Clearing my throat, I stand too, wanting to pour myself another glass. “I’m going to start a fire.”
“Okay. I’m going to get another drink,” I murmur awkwardly.
Stopping in the entryway, Conrad looks over at me. “When you’re finished, can we talk?”
Shit. “Uh, yeah. Sure.”
He smiles before he leaves the kitchen, and it makes my heart race. I don’t know if I’m ready for this. I don’t even know how to process what happened.
And so much happened.
The possessiveness that radiated off him in thick waves.
How he tied me up.
The way he kissed me. How he touched me.
Reaching for the wine bottle, I pour myself a very generous glass, downing a large sip, before taking a deep breath and topping it off.
It doesn’t help.
My palms are slick with sweat and my pulse roars in my ears as I pad toward the living room on shaky knees.
Conrad is kneeling in front of the fireplace as I sit down on the couch. I can feel the heat from the fire already, and it puts my tense shoulders slightly at ease. After he’s seemingly satisfied with it, he stands and sits beside me, not close enough that he’s touching me, but enough that my pulse spikes all over again.
Neither of us says anything for a moment, both of us just watching the fire. The heat, the crackling, all of it is so soothing. There’s not much more I love than a nice fire while it snows outside.
“The ranch is going to look beautiful by morning,” I murmur, wishing suddenly that I could replace my glass of wine with a hot cup of cocoa instead. “Everything covered in fresh, untouched snow.”
Conrad sits back, an arm slung across the back of the couch. “You always loved the snow, haven’t you?”
I smile softly at him as I nod. No matter how many winters come and go, I don’t think I’ll ever tire of seeing a Copper Lake snowfall. “There’s such a peacefulness that comes with it,” I tell him, my voice hushed, like if I talk too loudly, it’ll all go away. “A tranquility in the way everything quiets. The way the world slows as the white kisses everything in sight. I love it.”
“I would love to see the snow through your eyes,” Conrad hums thoughtfully.
My lips twitch, but I don’t say anything. Instead, I grab my wine and take another sip while my heart thunders behind my ribcage.
“Do you remember the first time it snowed after you moved into the loft?” he asks, glancing at me with something akin to nostalgia coloring his features.
It doesn’t take but a second for the memory to come back to me, my lips curving into a wide-toothed grin. “Of course,” I reply with a small chuckle. “I’m surprised you do, though.”
He chuckles gruffly. “How could I forget? You made all of the horses their own hats, and insisted my father and I help you put them on before getting started with chores for the day.”
I can’t help but laugh. “To this day, I still can’t believe I talked you two into that.”
Getting Henrik and Conrad to agree to anything outside of what was normal business back then was a fat chance, and I’ll never forget the look on Henrik’s face when I presented them with the cardboard box stuffed full of colorful, knit hats made specifically for the horses.
“My dad always had a soft spot for you,” Conrad murmurs. “Even if he never would’ve admitted it. He did more for you than he ever would’ve done for anybody else.”
“Besides your mom. That man would’ve moved mountains for her had she asked.”
Huffing out a breath, he says, “Yup, he would’ve.” A comfortable silence settles between us as we watch the fire burn and crackle for a few minutes. The air is thick, and I know it’s coming, but I still tense up all the same when he finally says, “We should talk about the other night.”
Something not quite a laugh comes out of me as I keep my eyes trained on the fire. “I don’t know if I’m ever going to get used to this new, into-talking-about-things version of you.”
“Yeah, well, what can I say,” he mutters lowly before taking a swig from his beer can. “When you lose something that means the world to you because of your lack of emotional intelligence, you kind of find a way to figure it out, even if it’s too late.”
The organ in my chest skips a beat as my gaze darts over to meet his, feeling like the breath has been stolen from my lungs. My mind blanks, and my mouth dries. I don’t even know what to say back to that. Words simply don’t come to me.
Thankfully—or not-so thankfully—Conrad continues, so I don’t have to. “I don’t want you to tell me that Saturday night was a mistake or that you regret it. I don’t want you to shut me out or say it can never happen again. And I definitely don’t want to keep walking around, pretending like it didn’t because I haven’t stopped thinking about that night since, or any other night with you.”
My throat feels tight, like it’s closing up on me. “But how can it be anything other than a mistake?” I ask, unable to look at him.
“Nothing that feels that good between us could ever be a mistake.” There’s a fierceness behind his words that brings goosebumps to my flesh. “Can you really look me in the eye and tell me the other night didn’t alter something inside of you?”
I look up, feeling like my skin is ablaze as I take in the desire and the utter truth looking back at me. “Well, no, but that doesn’t exactly change anything either, Conrad.”
“But it could,” he replies, reaching out a hand and placing it on top of my thigh, the touch searing into me. “I’m not the same man I was when we were married, Whit. I’ve spent years looking inward at myself, working on myself, bettering myself. I own up to everything I did that led to our divorce. You were there for me, and I shut you out, and I can never, ever take that back, or say I’m sorry enough. You were there for me, but you also needed me to be there for you, and I wasn’t. I failed you, baby, and I know that. But that isn’t me anymore, and all I want is for you to see that, and to let me show you how sorry I am.”
The pressure building behind my eyes is almost too much. My throat aches, and the tip of my nose tingles, emotion I don’t think I’m ready to feel clogging my throat. “Conrad…”
I can see how true what he’s saying is; Conrad has changed. He isn’t the same man he was when we got a divorce, but the idea of facing that reality and opening myself up to him terrifies me. Shoving him away and never allowing us to talk about anything real is the one way I can think to save myself from getting hurt. I know if I let him in, if I admit to him how the nights we’ve shared mean something to me, when all is said and done, I’ll want to be with him, and that is a crippling realization after the heartbreak I went through four years ago.
Coming to terms with this takes my breath away. It clutches at my chest like a vise.
Reaching up, he cups the side of my face, his hand warm and rough and everything I want to melt into. “Please,” he breathes. “Don’t say no. Not yet.” As his thumb gently caresses my cheek, I can’t help but lean into the touch. His dark eyes drop down to my mouth before coming back up, and it’s like I watch it happen in slow motion, yet I’m paralyzed in place, unable to stop it. Not that I want to.
His full, soft lips brush up against mine, the scratch from his beard lighting my blood on fire as his tongue sweeps inside, licking and claiming and savoring. In the matter of seconds, Conrad manages to quiet my mind and relax my body with nothing more than a kiss and a firm hand anchoring me in place.
I mold against him like clay, giving in to the rapture his attention brings. Leaning my head to the side, I allow him to deepen the kiss, and it’s so easy to remember how I fell in love with this man in the first place, all those years ago when I was just a lost, confused, and hurt teenager. It’s easy to remember why he was my comfort, my safety, for so many years.
When Conrad kisses me, it’s like nothing else matters. Nothing else exists when I’m here, in his arms. We’re so lost in this moment, in the taste and feel of one another, that the outside world vanishes.
“Oh, boy, sorry to interrupt!”
In an instant, reality crashes back into me, and I jump back, my hand coming up to my mouth, brushing over my lips. Conrad and I both turn, taking in his nana standing in the entryway. We were so enthralled with each other that we must’ve completely missed hearing her come in.
My heart pounds so fast, I can hardly breathe, and I know my cheeks must be a bright shade of pink.
“Um…uh, hi,” I squeak as I stand up and brush down the front of my sweater. As soon as I do, it hits me like a freight train that I very much have a raging erection, and I sit back down just as quickly. “How was your dinner?”
Wearing a knowing grin, she looks between Conrad and me. “It was lovely, dear. I would ask how your evening has been, but I think it’s pretty clear.” She giggles, and I want to die. I want the ground to open up and swallow me whole. “Well, I’m off to bed, you two lovebirds. Goodnight.”
We both watch her disappear down the hallway. Conrad is the first to break the silence. “Whit…”
“Conrad, don’t.” Turning my head, I look at him, and all I want is to dive back into his arms and let myself feel without boundaries, but I can’t. Not when I’m not thinking clearly. Not after everything he just said. “I can’t do this tonight. I need to… I need to think, and tonight, after I’ve had the day from hell, isn’t the time to do that. I’m not saying no, but I can’t right now.”
I don’t miss the disappointment etched in his features, but he nods. “Okay, I understand. Let’s just go to bed, and we can revisit this later.”
Conrad stands, and I let him lead me to our bedroom— his bedroom. My mind is spinning a mile a minute, and unfortunately for me, I’m not as lucky at finding sleep as he is. No, I lie awake all night, thinking about everything there is to think about Conrad and me. Our beginning, our end, and absolutely everything else in between.
Coming here was supposed to be a favor. It was supposed to be something I easily do, and then go home. Go back to my life again. But the longer I’m here, the more I worry that there’s no way I’ll be able to go back to how it was before. More than that, I worry that I’m not as over my ex-husband as I’ve been telling myself that I am.
This is so much more than I bargained for. I can feel my resolve slipping by the second, and a large part of me wants to let it, to lean into Conrad, despite how much I like to pretend I don’t.