Chapter 37
Chapter thirty-seven
Everett
It takes us a full hour to clean up. We take our time in the shower, lazily rinsing ourselves clean, and then we sit in towels, talking quietly and holding hands before we eventually dress and head out to the back porch.
All of Ruth’s friends—and her brother—are waiting out there for us.
She points out everyone as we reach the open bifold doors.
Amie and Maisy are in the pool, splashing each other and laughing.
Maisy is sitting in an inflatable ring that looks like a giant donut, with big, heart-shaped sunglasses on her face.
Cam and Jay are comparing something on their phones, while Paloma—the chaotic redhead I’ve heard so much about—lies beneath a flowering cactus, snapping photos.
The blonde curled up in the swinging bench seat, e-reader in hand, is Katy, and there’s a yellow Labrador curled beside her.
“Wondered when you two might emerge,” Katy says with a grin and a wrinkle of her nose. She pokes out her tongue between her teeth. Paloma jumps up, taking the four steps two at a time, waggling her eyebrows at me.
“This must be Cowboy Daddy,” she says to Ruth with a wide smile, before turning to me. “I’m Paloma.”
I’m not quite sure whether to laugh or cry at the nickname Ruth’s friends have bestowed upon me, but before I know it, I’m preening a little. I offer Paloma my hand, and say, “Most people just call me Ev.”
“I prefer Cowboy Daddy,” Lo says cheekily.
I’m not quite sure how to respond to that.
Luckily, I don’t need to, because Maisy barrels across the porch, droplets of water flying from her like a dog shaking after a swim, and crashes into Ruth’s legs.
She clips one of mine in the process, hugging my left leg and Ruth’s right one together and grinning up at us, sunglasses crooked on her face.
Ruth swings the girl up onto her hip, so she’s almost face to face with us, and removes the sunglasses entirely.
Maisy’s eyes are a bright, piercing shade of green, and they’re dancing with the kind of zest for life only a three-year-old can have.
“Aunty Roo, Daddy said you were busy. That why you not come outside to play.” Ruth’s face reddens adorably, and I fight the smirk that threatens my lips. Ruth only hesitates for a moment, flustered just briefly, before she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear.
“Daddy’s right,” Ruth says. “Uncle Ev and I were busy. He had to unpack all his clothes, just like we did when we got here. Remember?”
“You help?”
“I helped,” Ruth says. A rhythmic thumping starts up, accompanied by a gentle vibration around my feet, and I look down to see the Labrador wagging its tail, slapping it against the wooden boards of the porch floor.
A small snort comes from behind the dog, and I judge it to come from one of the two men who are watching us with interest.
It’s probably not the one who is still glaring at me.
Jay and Cam stand when Amie makes her way over—having taken the time to dry off and throw on one of those little dresses that look like doilies—and they wait patiently behind her as she greets me and takes her daughter from Ruth’s arms. Maisy immediately demands to be put down, and rushes over to her father.
Within seconds, Cam is out in the mid-afternoon sun, kicking an inflatable beach ball.
The only person I haven’t officially met yet is Katy.
She steps towards me, brushing a hand over the dog’s head on her way, and then reaches out to wrap her arms around my neck in a hug.
Her embrace is warm and soft, comforting, like my mom’s—and my senses are flooded with a familiar scent.
Oranges. The way Ruth smelled the first day we met.
The scent that drove me wild in my dreams until her vanilla perfume drowned it out.
I inhale, a shallow breath just barely filling half a lung with air, and when Katy releases me, she has a wide grin on her face.
It doesn’t match the scowl on her boyfriend’s face, as he looms behind her, towering over both of us.
He must be over six feet; legs a little apart, thick, muscled arms folded across his broad chest. If I hadn’t grown up staring bulls in the face on a daily basis, I might be intimidated.
“This is Pup, by the way,” she says, gesturing towards the dog. “He’s Jay’s assistance dog.” I think of Jay’s injury, and now that Katy has mentioned him, I remember Ruth telling me that Jay had been matched with a service dog.
I’m about to ask for permission to greet Pup when Maisy rushes over and grabs my hand. She immediately leads me to Jay and grabs his hand too.
“Unca Jay, Unca Evvy, you play!”
I guess we have our marching orders.
Jay and I spend the next hour with Cam and Maisy in the sun, kicking the beach ball around.
Pup joins us briefly, and Maisy is thrilled with her canine playmate.
She’s cute as hell, and clearly adored by all of her honorary aunts and uncles.
And when she blinks up at me with earnest eyes, her stuffed dinosaur in one hand and a book in the other, I can’t help but fall a little bit in love with her, too.
“Katy smells like oranges,” I say later, when we’re finally alone. Ruth’s head snaps around to catch my eye. “You—you smelled like oranges the first time we met. I dreamed of that smell.”
“You dreamed of my best friend’s perfume?” Ruth asks with a wry smile. She sits on the edge of the bed beside me, wrapping her body around mine and resting her chin on my shoulder.
“Only because I thought it was yours,” I admit.
I tip my head until it meets hers and close my eyes, exhaling slowly and completely.
My mind and body both begin to finally relax after a day of functioning at full speed.
It only hits me now how exhausted I am from a day that began before dawn with ranch chores, followed by a drive to the airport and a two hour flight.
Two world-rocking orgasms took it out of me, too.
Add in meeting a bunch of new people, one of whom hated me on sight, and several hours spent running around and playing with a three-year-old spitfire, and I could fall asleep standing without even trying.
“I borrowed her jacket that time,” Ruth explains. “She drove me to the airport and I realised halfway there, I hadn’t packed one. She had that blazer on the back seat. It’s a bit big on me, but it’s so soft and comfy.”
“And it made you smell like oranges.”
“It made me smell like oranges,” Ruth confirms. “I don’t smell like oranges anymore.”
“No,” I agree. Sweet vanilla, and just a hint of espresso.
“You smell like mine.” I push her down onto the mattress, covering her body with my own and capturing her lips in a kiss that’s neither bruising nor tender, just somewhere in between.
The happy medium kind of kiss, I guess. Our tongues slide together in a perfectly choreographed dance, and I tangle my fingers in Ruth’s hair, still spent from earlier, and content to just kiss her and enjoy this closeness.
In a lot of ways, it’s this closeness I crave the most when we’re apart.
Just being with her. Holding her, kissing her.
Don’t get me wrong—sex with Ruth is like nothing I’ve ever known.
She is the sun, the moon, and all of the stars; she sets my soul alight with a simple glance—to say nothing of what her touch does to me.
But this soft intimacy, this togetherness… this is what feels like home.