Chapter 33 #2
“The Yellowstone Ranch, and Rip’s gonna officiate.” Harper rolls her eyes because she just can’t help herself, and Ava’s eyes widen in warning. “The fucking Hendrix Ranch, Chad. What do you think?”
“I don’t want to get married amongst the cows,” Chad says, shaking his head. “We need a proper venue that doesn’t smell like shit and make us look like rednecks.”
“Oh, ranch weddings can be gorgeous, and not at all rustic looking,” Charlie begins, but Chad’s shaking his head, glaring at Ava, who’s light has completely died. She nibbles her lip, her eyes downcast, and this is not the Ava I know, who’s quick witted and has an answer for every damn thing.
“No ranch wedding,” he insists.
“What ever happened to men thinking about the wedding their fiancée has dreamed about since they were a little girl?” Harper asks the room, and Chad rounds on her.
“She’s not a little girl,” he replies. “She’s a grown woman, a professional, and I have my eye on politics, so we will have an elegant wedding in an appropriate venue, next year.”
“February,” Ava says. “I’ll wait until February. It’s after the holidays, unless you consider Presidents’ Day or Valentine’s Day to be holidays that might interfere with your busy schedule.”
“Now you’re being—”
“Watch it, Chad,” I say, smiling sweetly.
“Fine, February.” He huffs out a sigh and then shakes his head and pulls Ava in for a hug. “I’m sorry, baby, I’m not trying to make you feel bad, but I can’t do it so soon. And I want you to have a gorgeous venue with all the bells and whistles. I don’t want you to settle.”
I think she already is, but I manage not to say that out loud.
“Okay, we can talk about venues.” Ava turns to Charlie and forces a smile that I absolutely hate. “Is it possible for you to find out what’s available that month?”
“Sure, I’ll make some calls and put together a list of what’s available on which dates, and we can go from there.”
“Thanks.” Ava turns to us. “Sorry this took a turn I wasn’t expecting.”
“Hey, we’re here for you,” I remind her, ignoring the douche canoe altogether. “No matter what.”
“Come out to the ranch and see Tucker,” I say to Harper as we leave Ava’s place. Charlie already left for her next appointment, and Ava and Chad are . . . talking.
“Yes, please,” Harper says with a grin. “I’ll follow you out there. Maybe I can talk him into cooking me something delicious.”
“I think that’s guaranteed,” I reply and hop in the car.
Fifteen minutes later, we’re parked and climbing out of our cars, and when we walk inside, I find Tucker standing in the kitchen, staring in the fridge.
“I brought you a surprise,” I tell him, and when he turns to see Harper standing with me, the baby in her arms, his eyes soften and he closes the fridge. First, he stops to kiss my lips, then pulls both Harper and Belle into a gentle hug.
“How are you guys?” Tucker asks.
“We’re good. Maybe a little tired, but figuring things out. Do you want her?”
My man immediately takes the baby, and once again, my ovaries do the hula. Because his biceps look like that when he’s holding a baby, and Jesus Christ on a cracker, it appears my child bearing years are not over.
“What’s for dinner?” Harper asks.
“I was just thinking about that,” Tucker replies. “Are you staying?”
“Hell yes, and I want something extra good. Ooh, can you make your spaghetti?”
“Sure.” He smiles over at me. “Do you like spaghetti, Duchess?”
“Are there people out there who don’t? There are carbs involved. Of course I do. Want me to make some fresh sourdough French bread?”
“This is the best day of my life,” Harper says, and then glances at Belle. “I mean, aside from you, baby girl.”
It’s a fun afternoon, with all four of us in the kitchen.
I bake while Tucker cooks, and Harper chats with us.
We have Belle lying on a cushion on the countertop so she can listen, but she really just sleeps through it all.
This precious baby has me wrapped around her itsy-bitsy finger.
Which I can’t resist nibbling on every time I walk past her because, despite being swaddled, she keeps pulling her right arm out of the blanket.
Just as we’re getting dinner on the table, Blake arrives from his shift at the clinic. He’s only back at work a couple days a week, but when he walks in and sees his baby, you’d think he’s been away for a month.
“I kind of love how smitten you are,” I say to Blake as he smooches on Belle’s bald head. “It’s very sexy. And super adorable.”
“Call another man sexy again, Duchess,” Tucker says calmly before kissing the top of my head. “And see what happens.”
Blake chuckles and bounces the baby on his shoulder. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine.” I shrug and can’t hold back the wince when the material of my shirt snags on the wound. “I’m healing. It’s starting to get itchy.”
“I’ll have a look before I leave,” he says.
I don’t argue. Because honestly, I actually don’t mind having these people look out for me.
It’s new, but it’s also kind of nice and is just another reason that I feel like I belong here.
Once dinner is over and the dishes are done, Blake follows me into the guest bathroom on the main floor and closes the door behind us.
I turn my back and pull my shirt up, watching in the mirror as he looks me over.
“You’re healing nicely,” he says with a nod. “You can put your shirt down. Still using the cream?”
“Yeah, especially at night. I finished the antibiotic today.”
He nods again and opens the door, but we don’t step out right away.
“Are you happy, Darby? Here, with Tucker, with your job. All of it.”
I frown up at him. “Yeah, I’m happy. Probably the happiest I’ve been, actually.”
“Good. I’m just making sure.”
“Stop flirting with my girl,” Tucker calls out, and I hear Harper laugh.
“He flirts with everyone,” she says as we walk out of the bathroom. “He’s harmless.”
“I’m not harmless to you, sugar,” Blake says to his wife. “Come on, let’s try to get the baby to actually sleep tonight.”
“We can try.”
We say our goodbyes to the two of them, and then I remember that I have a project started in the cabin.
“I have to go out to finish some salves,” I tell Tucker. “It’ll take me a couple of hours.”
“Can I watch?”
I grin, excited at the idea of Tucker watching me be crafty, and nod eagerly. “Sure. I might even put you to work.”
“I’m all yours.”
His smile is sexy, and it makes my stomach tighten. He hasn’t touched me sexually since last week when I got hurt. He’s still incredibly affectionate, and isn’t afraid to put his hands on me, but sex has been off the table, and I need it back.
I need it back bad.
Even though I’ve had access to him, more than usual, I miss the intimacy of sex with this man. And given that, before him, I was never with someone more than once, well, it’s new. And I don’t hate it.
“What are you going to do with this cabin in the long term?” I ask Tucker as we walk inside, and I grab my apron and loop it over my head before tying it behind my back.
“I haven’t decided,” he says. “Maybe it’s your new salve workshop.”
I laugh and grab my beeswax and the pot I’ll use to melt it in. I get it all set up on a burner so the wax will melt and I can mix it with the oil I already have steeping with herbs.
“It feels like a waste of space to only use it a few times a year.”
“I don’t really have a use for it right now. Maybe Zack will start staying out here more often when he visits.”
“You could use it as a vacation rental.”
Tucker winces. “I don’t want strangers out here with you and my animals. I wouldn’t risk you like that.”
My heart stutters and I turn to him. He’s sitting on the other side of the counter, out of the way, so he can watch my movements.
“Why would I be at risk?”
“People I don’t know don’t get to camp out on my property and have access to you, Duchess.
It’s not about me being controlling or an asshole, it’s because we’re in the middle of nowhere, and you’re here alone quite often.
I may have cameras around the house and barn now, but I can’t hear you if you scream when I’m out with the herd.
I don’t trust people to respect what’s mine. ”
His green gaze holds my own, and I feel my heart trip over itself.
“And is that what I am?”
His brow furrows. “Have I not made that abundantly clear?”
Shrugging a shoulder, I check the wax, and when I see that it’s ready, I start mixing in the other ingredients. I work fast because it’ll start to harden as it cools, and I need to get it poured into little pots.
I fill the one I reuse for myself first. It’s the biggest, and this will last me about three months. Then I pour into the smaller ones that I’ll share with my sisters and friends.
“This is my scar salve,” I tell him and glance up to find him watching me closely.
“It’s calendula, comfrey, plantain, and I add some shea butter, too, so it’s extra soft.
I also add frankincense for the scent because I like it.
I need to put it on your scars too. I planted some calendula in the garden, so I won’t have to buy it next time. ”
He’s listening and watching me with patient green eyes, but there’s something humming under the surface that I can’t put my finger on.
Once all the vessels are filled, I clean the pot I just used and start to get ready for my arnica salve, using the flowers I picked from this ranch several weeks ago. They’ve also been steeping in oil, and they’re ready for processing.
But before I can start that batch, I see that my tub of scar salve is hardened, and I whip my shirt off, making Tucker growl.
“Can you help me with this?”