Chapter 17
“I’ve never done this before,” Windsor whispered.
He turned toward her and his face was lit by the interior light of the massive refrigerator. “You don’t have to whisper. The house is empty except for us.”
She was thoroughly enjoying the sight of him shirtless, in sweats hanging low on his hips. His narrow waist made his broad shoulders and muscled back look even wider as he raided the fridge. He turned with a glass container in one hand and a big jar in the other.
“What’s that?”
“Cold fried chicken and apple cider. Evening snack of champions.” He glanced at the clock. “It beats the protein shake I usually have before bed, and after what we just did, I need to refuel.”
He tapped a switch somewhere, and the pendant lights hanging over the island came to life with a soft glow.
Windsor watched all the fascinating ridges of his body move and flex as he unsnapped the lid of the container.
“You want some?”
Windsor’s stomach growled. “Want? Yes. Should I? Probably not.”
He reached in and snagged a piece. “Have you ever had cold fried chicken?”
She shook her head as he brought it to his mouth for a bite.
“Missing out,” he said before tearing into a piece. After he chewed and swallowed, he nudged the container toward her. “It’s organic. Fried in coconut oil. As healthy as it gets.”
“We start filming …”
“One bite.”
She stared into the container. One bite won’t hurt …
She grabbed a piece, lifted it to her lips, and sank her teeth in to tear off a bite. As she chewed, she moaned. “Oh my goodness. Like buttery chicken deliciousness.”
“Thatta girl.”
He unscrewed the lid of the jar and slid it across the counter to her. “We pressed this ourselves from apples grown on the property, and Marta canned it. Organic, unadulterated, homemade apple cider. Like drinking the nectar of nature.”
The delicious scent wafted up to Windsor’s nose. She decided to live a little. “Glass?”
“Straight from the jar works. It won’t last past tonight anyway.”
Never in her life had Windsor drunk from a mason jar, but she’d been doing a lot of new things since she’d arrived in Montana. She lowered her chicken to the container, picked up the glass, and sipped.
Sweet, tart, appley goodness filled her mouth. She savored and then swallowed. “That is amazing.”
She set the jar back on the counter and slid it toward him. He gripped the glass with one wide hand, and with a piece of chicken in the other, he swigged.
It was so real. And Windsor loved it. She could almost pretend this was just life. She and Bo, refueling after amazing sex in their palatial kitchen on their incredible ranch in this beautiful place, where life was simple and all she had to focus on was keeping her man and herself happy.
Her mind stuttered on the thought, and doubts crept in. My man? Our ranch? Where had that even come from? I’m just getting into character, she told herself quickly. But she knew it was a lie.
“Do you ever lie to yourself?” she asked him before she could stop the question from coming out.
His dark blond brows dipped as he took another swig of cider.
He put down the jar and licked his lips. He was ridiculously sexy as he stood there, in low-slung gray sweatpants, with a piece of fried chicken in his hand.
“No, as a rule, I don’t. The first person you gotta call on bullshit is yourself. Why do you ask?”
“I think I’ve had a habit of lying to myself for a long time.”
“Probably.”
She dropped her gaze to the veins of sparkling stone in the slab of countertop.
“I have a long way to go with this honesty stuff,” she said quietly.
His big hand covered hers and squeezed. “Don’t beat yourself up. How else could you have survived a lifetime in Tinseltown? You were doing what you had to do under those conditions.”
She lifted her gaze to his. “It was all I knew.”
“Would you hold it against someone else if all they were doing was what they had been taught by their parents and what everyone around them was doing?”
She shook her head from side to side.
“Then don’t hold it against yourself. You don’t deserve that either.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“It is.”
Windsor laughed. “Can I have another sip? That was really good.”
He let go of her hand and slid the jar to her.
As she took a longer sip this time, he asked, “What did you realize you were lying to yourself about?”
She set it down and licked her bottom lip the way he had. “Probably everything I’m not ready to accept.”
“Like?”
Windsor decided to be brave. “Like this. Wishing this were real life and then telling myself I was just getting into character.”
He tilted his head to the side as he studied her. “Sweetheart, it doesn’t get more real than this. You’re eating cold fried chicken in my kitchen after we just had the best sex of my life. That’s real life. Right now.”
“The best?”
He grinned. “Damn right.”
A warm glow spread over Windsor, and it had nothing to do with the fact that she could still feel him between her legs.
“I wish this could be my real life,” she whispered.
“It is,” he said. “But that’s not what you mean. You wish this could be permanent. That’s what you’re not ready to accept.” It wasn’t a question.
“How …”
“Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that out, Win. It feels good. Feels right. You here. In this house, in that giant bed. Eating chicken and drinking cider in this kitchen. We’re on the same page. You’re just getting used to it.”
He said it so easily, like it was no big deal.
But for Win, it was a whole different life.
“I have a life in LA.”
“A life you love?”
She paused and stared at him. “The only life I’ve ever known.”
“Well, since you’re already here, why not try a new one and see how it feels?”