Chapter Eight
“I’m so glad we’ve finally managed to get together again,” Ellie said on Tuesday night at the book club. “Everyone has been so busy, we haven’t met since Rose and Cooper’s wedding. Have you all had time to read Jane Austen’s Persuasion?”
“Sorry, I haven’t, but I’m nearly there,” Willow confessed.
“Don’t worry about it,” Ellie said. “You’ve been painting. I can’t wait to see what you’ve come up with. Have you finished?”
Willow shrugged. “I’m not sure. The last two paintings are different. They don’t fit in with the theme, I’ll have to think about them.”
“Different how?” asked her mom.
“The style. And the subject matter.”
Her mom’s eyebrows rose. “Oh? So …”
“We’re here to talk about Persuasion, Mom,” Willow interrupted quickly. Her mom was way too sharp. She didn’t ask questions, she interrogated.
“I’d love to know what everyone else thinks of the book,” Vivan said, following Willow’s cue.
“I’ve seen a film adaptation recently, but you have to actually read the book to appreciate Jane Austen’s keen observations about the society of her times.
So much of what we find in her stories, is still true today.
The question of whether it is wise to let the ideas and council of others influence our decisions, is interesting.
I would hope, though, these days most women make up their own minds, what do you think? ”
Annie lifted her copy. “The introduction in my copy mentioned that Jane Austen who was forty that Jane Austen was forty at the time she wrote a letter to her niece Fanny Knight, at the end of 1814, dissuading Fanny from getting engaged to her suitor, telling her to avoid committing if she wasn’t really in love.
The question asked is whether Austen was wrong to do this and whether she wrote this story to defend her letter to Fanny or to apologize for it. Or was it just an idea for a story?”
“Nowadays, the family in Western society probably doesn’t have as much influence in deciding who marries who,” Rose said, “but after my experience with social media, I can tell you it is way too easy to be influenced and persuaded by what others do and think.”
“On a different note, and probably not as academic,” Willow’s mother said, “the timing of the events interests me. Anne Eliot and Captain Wentworth love each other but initially he is poor and she is influenced by Lady Russell that he’s not good enough for her.
Only when Wentworth has received fortune and rank in the Navy and notices Louisa Musgrove’s disregard for the advice of others, he changes his mind and doesn’t … ”
Her mom’s voice faded as Willow turned her head and stared at the merry Christmas lights on Main Street. Timing. Even if she were to throw all her preconceived ideas about getting married out of the window, Hunter wasn’t going to be around for much longer.
Maybe if she hadn’t been so embarrassed by the events of the previous year, she wouldn’t have tried so hard not to be around him when he’d moved to the Weston ranch. And who knew, maybe he’d have kissed her sooner, she’d have discovered her feelings sooner, they could’ve been together for longer.
Why had she decided not ever to get married again? Oh, yes. She hadn’t wanted the burden of experiencing anyone else’s feelings. The irony was of course that for whatever reason, she couldn’t read Hunter, she didn’t know if he had any feelings for her.
However, nothing had changed. He was still going back to a Colorado, another state about seven hundred miles from here. She’d checked the distance.
She’d been to Denver, Colorado once for an arts convention. It was a beautiful city, dating back to the Old West. Located in the South Platte River Valley it was near the foothills of the Rocky Mountains and had its own charm.
It wasn’t Montana, though. Could she leave her family and move there? What a silly idea. Even though she was wearing Hunter’s ring, he wasn’t in love with her. Rubbing her temple, she looked down at her ring. He made no secret of the fact that he wanted her, but want wasn’t love, and didn’t last.
“… coming with us?” Rose’s excited voice finally penetrated Willow’s thoughts.
She stared blankly at Rose. What was Rose talking about?
“You were obviously miles away,” Annie laughed. “Thinking about your fiancé? I can’t tell you how happy I am for Hunter. He’s such a nice guy.”
“That’s right, I’ve forgotten. You went on a couple of dates with him,” Vivian said.
“Yes, and then Craig brought his godmother to the very same restaurant Hunter took me to!” Annie laughed as she touched Willow’s arm. “We’re talking about Saturday night’s dance and have decided we all want new dresses—are you able to join us?”
Willow shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“But haven’t you finished your paintings?” her mom asked.
“Maybe. Maybe not. I’m thinking about doing one more—maybe. But at this point I just want to wind down and focus on the exhibition. Besides, I’m sure I’ll find something in my closet I can wear.”
“We’ll miss you, but we understand,” Ellie said.
Willow got up. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m on my way. Thanks for a lovely evening. Please don’t get up,” she added as Ellie moved. “I’m fine.”
“Drive safely, sweetheart,” her mom called before Willow closed the door.
“Will do! I’ll see you all Saturday night, I’m not going to make the Friday night event, unfortunately.
” Before her mom could react, she’d closed the door.
She couldn’t explain that she would never survive if she were to see Hunter two more times.
Going to the dance with him and knowing she wouldn’t see him again was going to be distressing enough.
At this point, she simply wanted to put the whole fake engagement fiasco behind her.
*
Hunter skipped breakfast on Friday morning; he was out early to make sure there was enough hay for the cattle and that the drinking holes weren’t frozen.
Eating with the Weston brothers was no fun lately, but he was hungry and his own fridge bare, so he he’d made his way over to Hayden’s house.
The women usually made up for their husbands’ open hostility.
However, the women weren’t there, and it seemed as if Hayden and Becket had nearly finished eating. Great, so they would hopefully leave soon. He honestly didn’t appreciate the death stares from them.
“Where is everyone?” he asked as he sat down.
“Laura, Ellie, and Rose and their friends are in Bozeman for the day to get dresses for Saturday night,” Becket said as he got up. “Willow hasn’t joined them, she’s working. But you should know that.”
“I haven’t seen her since Sunday,” Hunter said.
Hayden didn’t say a word, just left with another glare in Hunter’s direction.
“You wanna talk?” Cooper asked.
“Not particularly,” Hunter said as he helped himself to the food.
Cooper leaned back in his chair. “Your ranch in Colorado—what are your plans?”
Hunter took his time chewing and swallowing his food before he answered. “Willow and I haven’t discussed the future yet.” It wasn’t a lie, just not the whole truth.
“Really?”
“Yes. As you know, Willow is focusing on her exhibition. She’s flying to Seattle on Sunday. We’ll talk afterward.”
“Surely, you’re going to be at the opening night next Friday? We’re all going.”
“Someone has to stay here if you’re all going.” Hunter got up. He liked Cooper, but he was done talking. His appetite had vanished anyway.
Cooper’s chuckle followed him all the way to his truck. As he drove away from the homestead, his idea was to stop at his house before he headed out to the cattle again, but without conscious thought, his truck took the turn-off to Willow’s house.
Seconds later, he was knocking on her door. No answer. He waited before he knocked again.
“Coming,” an irritated voice called out before the door opened.
He promptly lost his breath. It was clear Willow had just showered. She was wrapped in a towel, her hair still wet. His eyes zoomed in on the slope of a naked shoulder.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” he got out. “I know you’re not expecting me, but I needed to see you, I need … you.” Without waiting for her reply, he cupped her face and kissed her. He’d wanted to go slow, but once their lips touched, his control simply slipped through his fingers.
Her mouth was warm, soft, inviting, and within seconds he was lost. As they stumbled inside her house, he kicked the door closed. Determined to taste more of her, he slid his lips over her face, down her neck until he found the silky slope of her shoulder.
With the guttural sound from her throat spurring him on, he pulled at the towel while his lips slid over damp skin. Reveling in her wildflower scent, he moved her so that her back was against the door.
*
As the towel slipped, Hunter’s hands were on her body while his mouth continued its exploration over her shoulder. Slowly, ever so slowly, his lips trailed lower and lower until he reached her breasts.
Arching into his touch, she begged wordlessly for more. As his thumb ran over one peak, a whimper slipped out. More, more, more, her body begged. And as if he could read her mind, his mouth closed over one of her aching breasts.
When his hot tongue swirled around a nipple, her head dropped back, his name a broken whisper on her lips. He suckled and licked, bringing her closer and closer to losing her grip on reality.
“Beautiful,” he whispered just before his lips found hers again. In that moment she felt like the most beautiful woman in the world.
Those big hands weren’t done wreaking havoc with her emotions, yet, it would seem. Slowly, ever so slowly, his hand moved over her abdomen, drawing circles on her heated skin, driving her closer and closer toward a new edge.
He cupped her. “Hunter!” Sobbing his name, she buried her face in his shirt. It was too much and not nearly enough. His breath ragged, his fingers slipped into her folds. As her legs gave way she soared.
Seconds, minutes, hours later, she opened her eyes to find Hunter, still fully clothed crouching next to her as she lay on the couch, the towel thrown over her.
“That was …” he shook his head. “I’ve never seen anything as beautiful. Hayden is looking for me, I have to go.”
Grabbing the towel, she sat up. “What about you?”
“Oh, I’ll get my turn.” He pulled down the towel. Groaning, his eyes dropped to her breasts. “Damn, woman, you make it very difficult to leave.” Cupping her breasts in his hands he leaned forward and kissed her. A long, hot one filled with delicious promises.
He got up quickly. “If I don’t go now, I’ll never leave.
” For another moment his eyes roamed feverishly over her.
“I literally ache for you. I want to see you tonight. Please? I know you said we’ll skip the event, but I’d like to take my fiancé to the Garden of Lights.
I’ll pick you up at six? We can do the walk and have dinner.
” He hesitated. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do and yes, I know you’re leaving on Sunday, but I’d like to spend more time with you,”
Unable to speak, she nodded.
Before she could catch her next breath, he was out of the door.
Oh. My. Goodness. Her mind racing, her fingers itching, she jumped up. She had to paint right now, before the image she’d had in mind, faded. Although … Chuckling, she ran to her room to put on clothes. Certain images, like this one, was probably seared into her mind forever.
Minutes later, she was in her studio, standing in front of the blank canvas on her easel.
She didn’t think, didn’t hesitate. With her pallet resting on her arm, a pallet knife in her hand, she was ready to mix her paints. She was looking for a particular indigo blue color.
Joy surged through her body as she worked. By the time she picked up her brushes, she knew exactly what she wanted to do. She hadn’t been this focused, this excited about painting for some time.
And then a certain cowboy kissed her and took her to heights of pleasure she’d never experienced.
She was a whole different person after his lovemaking.
Because of the depth of her love for him, because she knew she’d have to say goodbye to him on Sunday, she’d held nothing back, she’d told him with every kiss, every arch of her body how desperately she loved him.
By the time she’d finished, tears were streaming down her face. Tired but deeply, deeply moved and happy, she wiped her face before she stared at her handiwork.
She’d painted another portrait of Hunter.
No hat this time, the focus was on his face, on the expression in his eyes when he’d looked her.
This one would hang in her bedroom until the day she died.
This was the way she wanted to remember him—indigo blue eyes nearly black with desire.
For her. Nobody had ever looked at her like this.
Her eye caught her watch. Whaaa? She had fifteen minutes to get dressed before Hunter picked her up.
Quickly, she put the wet painting behind some of the others in her studio, making sure it wasn’t touching anything else.
Nobody, but nobody could see this right now.
As she ran to her room, her tummy growled. She hadn’t eaten all day.