Chapter 20
Lunch And Longing
I wake slowly, groaning at the bright sunshine already streaming into the room.
I slide my hand across the bed to Heath’s side, momentarily confused to find it empty and cold.
Then I remember he had to leave early for the ranch this morning, but not before burying his face between my thighs and giving me another orgasm that had me screaming his name so loudly, I’m pretty sure the whole town heard.
I ease out of bed and stretch my arms overhead, keenly aware of how deliciously sore I am. Heath didn’t take it easy on me last night, bending me in positions I’d forgotten existed. As my belly gets bigger, the fewer we’ll be able to do, so I’m glad we’re taking full advantage while we can.
I’m freshening up in the bathroom when my phone lights up with a text.
Heath: Morning, hellcat.
Charlie: Morning, baby daddy.
Heath: How are you feeling?
Charlie: Like I was thoroughly fucked last night.
Heath: Means I did my job right.
Charlie: I see humility isn’t your strong suit.
Heath: Never claimed it was.
I let out an amused laugh, shaking my head. I’ll never get tired of our flirty banter. Even before we slept together, the sexual tension had always been there, simmering just beneath the surface and growing stronger with every jab, every playful insult, and every stolen glance.
Heath: Looks like your glucose is a little high. There’s an avocado and smoked salmon omelet waiting for you in the fridge.
Charlie: Keep spoiling me and I’ll never let you leave. *wink emoji
Heath: I’m not going anywhere.
I crave his reassurances more than he knows. I might sound like an insecure broken record, but whenever he offers them, it feels like a soothing balm. A way to distract from the reminder that even the sweetest promises can be broken.
I shove aside my negative thoughts, not willing to let anything ruin the incredible night Heath and I just shared.
I check the fridge, and true to his word, there’s an omelet on the top shelf, neatly wrapped in plastic. Beside it is another plate labeled “Lunch” in Heath’s handwriting, holding a chicken salad sandwich and a side salad.
As I reach for my breakfast, I notice Heath’s lunchbox on the bottom shelf. He’d been so focused on preparing my food that he must have forgotten his own.
It makes me realize how little I’ve done for him since we found out about the baby, and how rarely I’ve shown my appreciation. I’ve mostly just grumbled at every thoughtful gesture, constantly pushing back against his efforts instead of meeting him halfway.
I might be tired and queasy most days, but my shop is right downstairs and during slow periods I get to nap on my favorite couch.
All things considered, I’m lucky to have that kind of flexibility while growing a whole human.
Meanwhile, Heath runs one of the most successful ranches in the state—all while patiently dealing with my intense mood swings and nonstop complaining.
He’s quickly become the person I go to when I’m having a bad day or need someone to talk to, but it occurs to me that I’m not sure he has anyone he can lean on in return.
I don’t even know how he’s managing things now that Walker left to become sheriff, or who’s been helping him.
We weren’t exactly on good terms before, but I should have asked him about it since then instead of being so consumed with my own problems.
That ends now.
If we’re ever going to have a real chance at making this work, it can’t be one-sided.
I have to step up and put in the effort, or one day I’ll wake up, and this could all be gone, and I’d only have myself to blame.
I’m not willing to let something this good slip through my fingers, and that starts with showing Heath I’m just as invested in him as he is in me.
I’ve got the windows rolled down on my SUV, blasting old-school George Strait and minding my own business, when I cruise past Silver Saddle’s country store. I do a double take when I spot Ethel and Earl making out like teenagers on the front porch.
I throw the vehicle into reverse and lean out the window. Ethel’s got one leg hooked around his, her hand fisted in his suspenders, going at him with what looks like a whole lot of tongue.
I do the only rational thing and snap a photo, sending it to the group chat.
Backroads & Bad Decisions Group Chat
Charlie: Look who’s back at it.
Charlie sent a photo
Wren: I thought they broke up last week.
Briar: They did. Earl tried proposing again, and Ethel smacked him with her purse.
Charlie: That must have been their version of foreplay. He’s got her pinned against the porch railing as we speak.
Briar: Good thing the cabin guests are all out exploring until dinner.
Charlie: At this rate, they’ll still be going at it tonight and everyone will get dinner and a show.
Birdie: Poor Earl. He just wants to put a ring on it.
Briar: Too bad Ethel is as stubborn as an old goat.
Wren: Definitely has his work cut out for him.
Why are there so many parallels between Ethel and Earl and Heath and me? Ethel and I both love some good gossip, and once we’ve made up our minds, good luck changing them. Our men, on the other hand, are singularly determined to make us theirs in more ways than one.
Hold up.
I just referred to Heath as my man.
Calling him my husband is one thing—just a legal title on paper. But claiming him as mine stirs something territorial inside me, and I finally understand why he’s been so possessive and hell-bent on making me his.
I put the SUV back into drive and roll through the ranch, eyes peeled for Heath.
I’d checked with Briar earlier, and she thought he’d be out in the south pasture.
My stomach keeps doing little flips, which is ridiculous since it’s not like me to be nervous.
Then again, I never thought I’d be the girl who brings her husband lunch.
The ring on my left finger, a reminder of our whirlwind marriage, catches the bright afternoon sun, sparkling every time I turn the wheel. God, it really is so beautiful.
As I near the turnoff into the south pasture, Heath comes into focus with his hands planted on his hips, sternly wagging a finger at Petunia.
Peaches and Daisy are standing nearby, watching unfazed as they graze.
They’re the three musketeers—wherever Petunia goes, the other two are never far behind.
And down the fenceline, Heath’s horse is tied to a weathered post, lazily swishing its tail, watching the drama unfold.
Heath’s so immersed in his scolding that he doesn’t hear my door shut or my footsteps as I approach. With his lunchbox in hand, I move closer, biting back a laugh when I overhear him.
“Petunia, I know you were the mastermind behind this jailbreak. These two dimwits couldn’t find their way out of the barn without you.
” Heath motions to Daisy and Peaches, who are too busy grazing to pay him any mind.
“I’ve been searching for you three for over an hour.
I swear to god, I’m this close to dropping you off at the butcher with the next load of steers if you keep this up. ”
“Now you know how it feels, having to search the whole ranch for someone,” I pipe up, unable to contain my laughter. “And you wouldn’t dream of sending Petunia to the butcher. She’s your pet, and Birdie would skin you alive if you even tried.”
Heath spins around, his eyes widening when he spots me, quickly turning into a crooked smile.
“Hellcat, what are you doing here?” He glances down at my stomach. “Everything okay?”
I roll my eyes. “Can’t a wife surprise her husband at work without you immediately assuming something’s wrong with me or the baby?”
“Damn, I’m addicted to hearing you call us husband and wife,” he murmurs as he draws me in for a kiss. “I’m sorry I assumed the worst. The last two times you showed up, you told me you were pregnant and then proposed, so I’ve started bracing myself for big news whenever you stop by.”
I pull away and extend his lunchbox toward him. “Unless bringing this by counts as a major announcement, I’m just here to feed my baby daddy.”
A flash of heat darkens his gaze. “That was mighty thoughtful of you, but you didn’t have to.”
I tip my chin. “I wanted to.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re here.” His eyes crinkle at the corners. “Why don’t we sit in the back of your car and get out of this damn sun?”
“What about Petunia and her friends?”
“Found themselves a nice patch to graze on.” He gestures toward them, shaking his head in amusement. “They’re not going anywhere until I corral them back to the barn, and that’s guaranteed to be a pain in my ass.”
“You still going around claiming Petunia’s not your pet?” I tease.
“She’s not,” he grumbles.
I hold up my hands, biting back a grin. “Whatever you say.”
I’ve quickly learned that Heath has a soft spot not only for Petunia, but also for animals in general.
He might run a traditional operation, but he does it with far more compassion than most. All the cattle are well cared for, with regular check-ups, plenty of space to roam, and gentle handling from start to finish.
The way Heath manages his ranch speaks volumes about his character.
He could have tossed Petunia aside or sent Peaches and Daisy back with Birdie once the whole illegal rescue mission debacle was over, but instead, he kept them here.
Despite all his complaints, it’s clear he genuinely cares about them.
The same goes for the stray cat behind my shop. He’s gone out of his way to create a safe spot for him and buy him an endless supply of canned tuna. He hides behind a gruff exterior but has a heart of gold.
Heath helps me into the back seat and slides in beside me. He sets the cooler on the center console in front of us, pulls out a chicken salad sandwich wrapped in parchment paper, and offers me half.
“Don’t make me eat alone,” he says when I hesitate to take it. “There’s plenty of food.” He nods toward the lunchbox.
“Twist my arm, why don’t you,” I say with a playful laugh, accepting the sandwich.