Chapter 25
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
Hartley
“I can pick it up on Monday,” I tell Kellan. “Will that work?”
“It should. Let me check with Receiving. Hang on.”
I lean against the counter of Wilmer’s Supply, grinning as I watch my wife tease Burt across the store. He’s clearly enchanted by her—leaning in with stars in his eyes. Can’t blame the guy. She’s put a spell on me that I can’t break, and it’s been this way for decades.
Mira’s cutoffs and boots certainly don’t hurt.
“Monday’s good,” Kellan says, returning from the back. “I checked with Marty, and he said it should be in on Friday. We’ll call you if we get it, and you can come then or just wait till the first of the week. Whatever works for you.”
“Thanks. Appreciate it.” I tap the counter with my fingertips. “Okay, Burt. Enough flirting with my wife. I’m taking her home now.”
He runs a hand through his silver hair, his ruddy cheeks even more flushed with Mira around. “If I were only thirty years younger, you’d have a problem on your hands, Adler.” He extends a sucker to my wife. “Good seeing you again, Mrs. Adler.”
“Burt, it’s my pleasure.”
She gives the guys a wave and joins me at the door, lacing her fingers through mine and holding them tightly.
“I hate when you do that,” I say as the doors chime over our heads.
The sun is bright, and Mira slips her heart-shaped sunglasses over her eyes. “You hate when I do what, babe?”
I grin at the nickname she randomly gave me last week while we were discussing how to redecorate the kitchen.
She was curled up on my lap, showing me inspiration boards on an app on her phone.
I had two favorites but feigned neutrality.
For one, it kept her on my lap longer. And for two, I seriously don’t give a shit how she decorates the kitchen as long as she’s in it.
“I hate when you use the word pleasure with anyone but me,” I say, grinning down at her.
She laughs as we mosey down the sidewalk. “I get it. Burt’s a stud, so you have a real competitor there.” She pops the sucker in her mouth. “And he gives me candy.”
“Keep sucking on that thing, and I’ll give you something to put in your mouth right here.”
Her glasses lower and she looks at me over the top of the frames. “I think you underestimate what I’m willing to do to get your cock in my mouth.”
Fucking hell.
She rolls her tongue over the tip of the candy and smirks. “Imagine what I’d do to get your mouth on my pussy.”
I growl, making her laugh. “If I wasn’t certain that every man in this damn town would try to steal you from me if I got sent to prison, I’d bend you over the bench in front of the post office and make you walk the talk.”
She rests her head on my shoulder, sighing happily.
“While we’re here,” she says, swinging our interlocked hands back and forth, “do you mind if we run into Miller’s Market for a couple of things? You’re about out of coffee, and I want to try to make biscotti.”
“Oh really?”
“Why do you say it like that?” she asks.
“Because I’ve never heard of you being interested in baking.” I pause for effect. “Or frying. Or sautéing. Or roasting. Or grilling.”
She laughs. “I saw a recipe online, and I think I can do it. Besides, I don’t need to know how to cook because Cathy’s excellent at it. And she seems to think she’s not done her job unless we have three meals a day, plus snacks, plus a counter cake. Or two.”
“That’s a good point.”
“Do you want me to cook?” she asks, her brows pulled together.
I lean over and kiss the top of her head. Silly girl. “I don’t give a shit if you cook or not. I just want you to be happy.”
We walk a half a block in silence. A warm breeze rustles the tree branches, making the leaves dance.
It’s a beautiful day, and it occurs to me that I can’t recall the last day I spent walking down the sidewalk in town.
I’m always at the ranch, always working and staying busy, because there always seems to be so much to do.
There is so much to do. And there’ll be even more someday when I inherit Lolly’s land.
“What are you thinking about?” she asks as we cross the street. “You seem especially pensive.”
I contemplate not telling her because, while she’s much more relaxed than I ever thought she could be, there’s still a line that I’m hesitant to cross. That doesn’t mean I don’t cross it—or toe it, maybe—but I make sure to think about it first.
“I was just thinking about how I spend less time working these days,” I say.
She slows our pace. “Is that bad? Do you need to work more?”
“Probably.” I chuckle. “No, it’s fine. Everything gets done, and Bobby brought on his nephew to help pick up the slack. He needs the money, so it’s a win all around.” I take a breath and decide to go for it. “I was imagining what life will be like a few years down the road.”
We walk through the parking lot, hand in hand, and I notice Mira nibbling her bottom lip, which in this case, doesn’t always bode well.
“What are you saying?” she asks.
“Nothing, really. Just thinking that it would be nice someday to have a son or daughter who wanted to love the ranch as much as I do.”
She pulls a cart from the corral. A blast of chilly air hits us as we enter Miller’s Market and head to the produce first.
“Hey, Hartley. Mira,” Grange Sheffler says. He graduated a year before us and wound up taking over his dad’s mechanic shop in town. “I don’t care how many times I see you two together, it makes me laugh. How many years did the two of you waste?”
“Too fucking many,” I say, smiling at him.
He chuckles. “Good seeing you both.”
“You, too, Grange,” Mira says as we move on.
She chooses a bin of strawberries from the strawberry farm outside of town and places it in the cart. She nibbles her lip again, her mind elsewhere. I grab a package of dates and toss them beside the strawberries.
“Yeah,” she says, answering a question that I didn’t ask.
“Yeah, what?”
“Not now. Maybe not even this year.” A grin teases the corner of her lips. “But I think maybe I’d like to have a baby.”
I stop in my tracks, my heart short-circuiting.
She, however, doesn’t miss a step. “Maybe two, because I really loved having a sister. Especially when things weren’t so great, you know?”
My mind’s so frazzled. The only thing working is my dick.
“Three is too many, I think,” she says as if we’re discussing the weather.
She adds a bag of almonds to the cart. “And I feel like with three that you have a middle child, and you’d have to play zone defense with them.
Like what if one of them wanted to ride horses, and the others did ballet and piano? We can’t be three places at once.”
I reach out and grab her elbow, pulling her to a stop. She turns to me with the most beautiful expression in her eyes. They’re clear, a little hesitant, maybe, but the shield she used to carry when things became personal, or intimate in any way but sexually, is gone.
Thank you, God.
She searches my face. And the longer she looks, the softer her shoulders become. She finally relents and gives me the sweetest smile I’ve ever seen from her—one that I’ll file away as a core memory.
This is my girl, my wife, relaxed. Happy.
“I didn’t say that to pressure you into anything,” I say quietly. “I was just being honest about what I was thinking.”
“And that’s all I want from you. Honesty.” She drops her gaze to my bulging cock. “Well, and that.”
I pull her into me and kiss her forehead, wishing we were home so I could pull her onto my lap. I’ve always loved this woman, but the feelings that I have for her now almost feel too big to be encapsulated into one four-letter word.
She’s my world. My life. My future.
And if I’m reading her right, hopefully the mother of my children someday.
And for the first time in our lives, I don’t worry that she’ll take off and leave me behind. We’re truly together, in every way.
She loves me.
Even if she hasn’t said it, I know it. I feel it. I see it in the way she looks at me and the way she cares for me.
It’s going to be okay. I pull her tighter and smile. It’s finally going to be okay.