14. Gabriel
Gabriel
I wake to a warm, sweet body sprawled across me. I slide my hand down Evie’s spine to cup her rounded ass, relishing in the utter domesticity of waking up in bed with her.
My woman. Limp and sated, draped across me like she’s claiming every inch. The swell of our child presses against my stomach, making me stupidly happy. If the little imp is anything like her mama, I’m in for a hell of a ride.
She stirs as I caress her rounded ass, murmuring something against my neck before burrowing closer.
“What was that?” I ask against her ear.
“Shower,” she mumbles. “I need one. But God, I don’t want to get up.”
“Then don’t.” I tighten my arms around her, perfectly content to stay right here, lazily trailing my fingers along the cleft of her ass. Goosebumps rise on her skin; I soothe them away with my palm. For a long moment, she lies there, and the only sound is her soft breathing against my neck.
Eventually, she pushes up on one elbow, blonde-streaked hair spilling over my chest. She leans down and kisses me—hot, open-mouthed, hungry. When she pulls back, her pupils are blown wide.
I roll us and settle over her on my elbows, careful not to put pressure on her belly. My cock aches fiercely. When she squirms, the tip slides through her swollen, slick folds. I groan and push forward, sinking into tight, liquid heat.
Evie gasps, arching her hips to take me.
“Oh, fuck,” I whisper. “This is gonna be quick.”
I try to be gentle—need to be gentle with her pregnant and still half-asleep—but her cunt grips me like a fist. Her nails rake down my back and dig in hard. The sting unleashes an emotion I can’t rein in. I thrust deeper, rocking into her as she opens her legs wider.
“You’re the only one,” she says, eyes locked on mine. “Ever.”
Everything in me stops.
I look deep into her eyes and feel her words land.
“The motel? You’d never—”
“You were the first,” she whispers. “The only. You were the first person who felt safe enough to let in. It’s always only been you.”
“Darlin’...” My voice is raw. “If I’d known, I would’ve—”
“You were perfect. You were exactly right. Exactly what—who—I needed.”
My hand shakes as I cup her cheek. “That first time… I wasn’t gentle. Did I hurt you? Was there blood? I’d never have—”
Evie laughs, surprising me. “Cowboy, I’ve been riding horses since before I could spell my name. If there was anything down there to break, some hard-headed barrel horse took care of it years ago. You didn’t hurt me. You have never hurt me.”
I search her face. She’s watching me with those soft, steady eyes, no regret, no hesitation—just a quiet, fierce trust that completely undoes me.
Evie rolls her hips in a slow, deliberate circle, pulling a ragged groan from my throat. “And this,” she murmurs against my ear, “floods me with oxytocin. Happy hormones. Medically and scientifically good for the baby. So hurry up, cowboy.”
Her walls flutter around me, hot and silky, drawing me deeper.
That’s all it takes.
I lose it. I embarrass myself as I come apart hard, spilling inside her with a broken groan. My whole body shakes with the force of it. She holds me through, feathering her hands up and down my spine, grounding me.
I roll to my side, breathing hard, pulling her with me so I’m not crushing her. Burying my face in her neck, I inhale her scent. “Sorry, darlin’. Sorry.”
Evie presses a soft kiss behind my ear. “Don’t be sorry for wanting me so much, Gabe.”
I cup her face with one hand. “Never that. I’m sorry I couldn’t hold back. That you didn’t—”
She silences me with a finger to my lips. “How about you make it up to me in the shower?”
I’m out of bed before she finishes the sentence, reaching down a hand to help her up.
Evie laughs softly. “My man is eager.”
My man.
Fuck, I love the sound of that.
I pause to watch her walk naked toward the adjoining bathroom, mesmerized by the gentle sway of her ass. I love the swollen lushness of her stomach, the flare of her hips, the healthy glow of her skin.
I love her.
The realization settles over me, calm and certain. No panic. No doubt. Just the truth.
She glances back, catching me standing there like an idiot. “You coming?”
I grin. “Yeah. And if I have my way, so will you in about two minutes.”
She laughs, eyes darkening with promise, and disappears into the bathroom. A second later, the shower turns on.
I follow her into the shower like a man on a mission, and I keep my promise—twice. By the time we finally step out, Evie’s skin is flushed and glowing, and I’m wearing a grin I can’t seem to wipe off my face.
Later that morning, after breakfast and a second cup of coffee, I take her hand.
“Come with me. Got something I want to show you.”
She raises an eyebrow but lets me lead her out the back door and across the yard. The sun is warm on our shoulders, the air carrying that sweet mix of hay, grass, and distant rain. When we near the stables, I pull a clean bandana from my back pocket.
“Gonna need you to trust me for a minute, darlin’.”
Evie’s lips curve into a slow, wicked smile as I step behind her. “Ooh, blindfolds. Kinky. I like where this is going, cowboy.”
I laugh under my breath and tie the cloth gently over her eyes, making sure it’s snug but comfortable. “Behave, Lightning.”
I guide her carefully the rest of the way, one hand at the small of her back, steadying her. She leans into my touch slightly, trusting and curious. We stop just inside the wide stable doors, the familiar smells of leather, wood, and horse surrounding us.
“Ready?” I murmur close to her ear.
She nods, practically vibrating with anticipation.
I slip the bandana off.
Evie blinks against the softer light filtering through the stalls. Her gaze lands on the new mare standing in the center aisle—chestnut with a white blaze down her face, ears flicking nervously, muscles tense like she’s ready to bolt at any second.
Falcon stands several feet away, holding the end of a loose lead rope.
He’s positioned himself off the mare’s shoulder rather than directly in front of her, body turned slightly aside, giving her room to see him without feeling trapped.
He hasn’t shortened the rope or tried to force her still.
He’s simply waiting while she shifts and scrapes one hoof against the rubber mat.
Evie goes completely still.
“Gabe—” Her voice cracks.
She takes one shaky step forward, then another.
“She’s yours.”
Evie’s eyes fly to mine.
“I got a call from a friend earlier this week. Her owner was done with her. Said she’d become too much trouble.” I glance toward the mare. “Auction was next. I don’t need to explain what comes after that. I figured”—I rub the back of my neck—“you deserved one worth fighting for.”
Tears fill her eyes as she stares at the mare. The horse watches her right back, curious despite the fear.
Evie’s hand lifts as if she wants to reach out but knows better than to rush.
Her gaze moves from the mare to me, her expression crumpling in a way I’ve never seen before.
She isn’t looking at me like I’ve given her a horse.
She’s looking at me like I’ve seen her.
I close the distance and cup her face, brushing a tear away with my thumb. “Stay.”
She looks up at me, her eyes shining.
“Not because of our girl.” My voice catches, but I push on. “Stay because you want to.”
For a long moment, she just stares at me.
Then her mouth trembles into the softest smile I’ve ever seen.
“I want to. I want to wake up here. Build a life here. I want our little girl to grow up knowing this place.” She leans forward until our foreheads touch. “I want all that with you.”
My chest tightens.
“So… yes, Gabe.” Her breath catches against my mouth. “I’m staying.”
I kiss her, pouring everything I’m not quite ready to say out loud into it.
A soft scrape sounds behind us, pulling us apart. Christ, I’d forgotten we weren’t alone. That’s what this woman does to me, makes me forget everything but her.
The mare takes one nervous step sideways. Falcon moves with her rather than pulling against her, keeping the rope slack. The mare settles almost immediately.
Evie notices. “You’re good with her,” she says.
Falcon’s gaze remains on the mare. “I’m not doing much.”
“That’s why you’re good with her.”
His eyes lift briefly to Evie. Surprise passes across his face before he gives a small nod. “She doesn’t like anyone coming at her head. And she watches the doors.”
Evie looks toward the wide stable entrance, then back at the mare. “Waiting for an escape route.”
“Looks that way.”
“How long has she been here?”
“Since last night.”
“And you’ve been with her the whole time?”
“Most of it.” Falcon lowers his hand slightly as the mare’s head comes down by an inch.
Evie looks at him more closely then, as though reassessing the quiet veteran I mentioned on the tailgate. “Thank you for staying with her.”
Falcon shrugs. “She needed somebody here.”
The answer is simple. Unshowy.
Exactly the kind of answer that earns Evie’s trust. I see it happen. Not all at once. But enough that Falcon becomes something other than another large, unfamiliar man in a barn.
Evie turns back to the mare. “Does she have a name?”
I shake my head. “Not one she responds to.”
Evie purses her lips thoughtfully. “Okay. She’ll tell me when she’s ready.”
Falcon offers her the lead rope.
Evie shakes her head. “Not yet. You keep it.”
He doesn’t question her. He simply loosens his fingers around the rope another fraction, making sure the mare feels no pressure from either end.
Evie doesn’t reach for her. Doesn’t even look directly at her.
She simply steps closer and stops a few feet away, giving the mare all the space she could want.
“Hey, sweetheart,” she says softly. “You’ve had a rough time, haven’t you?”
Her voice is low and easy, carrying no expectation.
She talks about the weather, about breakfast, about how Maggie will probably insist on feeding her an extra slice of pie at lunch.
Complete nonsense. But it isn’t the words that matter. It’s the patience.
She waits.
Falcon waits too.
The mare watches Evie with wide, uncertain eyes, every muscle held tight.
Long seconds pass. Then one ear flicks toward Evie’s voice.
That’s it.
That’s all.
Most people would’ve missed it.
Evie doesn’t.
Neither does Falcon. His gaze shifts briefly to me, and he gives the smallest nod, as if to say she knows exactly what she’s doing.
A smile ghosts across Evie’s face, as though that tiny movement is more than enough for today.
She isn’t asking for trust. She’s earning it. One quiet moment at a time.
Falcon gradually sets the lead rope over the stall rail and steps back. The mare notices, but doesn’t panic.
“I’ll be in the south barn if you need another pair of hands,” he says.
He leaves without another word.
Leaning against the stall door, I think about what I’ve just witnessed.
Maybe that’s all trust has ever been.
Not something you demand or something you’re owed. Just showing up, day after day, gentle enough that eventually the other person stops waiting for you to leave.
I watch Evie standing in the morning light, talking softly to a frightened mare who isn’t ready to believe she’s safe.
I smile, chest full and warm.
Yeah.
She’s got this.
And I’ve got her.