“Nah,” I say, coming into the kitchen. “I adopted her from the shelter today.”
Her brows curve. “You went to the shelter?”
“Yeah, I’d been thinking about getting a dog for a bit.”
She smiles, coming up to me and taking my jaw in her fingers to pull me down. My head goes blank as she kisses me.
“You’re something else, Bittern Hatfield,” she says.
“Something good?”
“Better.”
Feeling a little feisty, I reach around and squeeze her ass. She lets out a little yelp and ducks around me, going to the stove. Setting Daisy down, I go to the sink to wash up. Then, I get a glass of water and sink down at the table. Janie’s humming, standing on her toes to peer into a bubbling pot.
A strange sensation, like I’m living somebody else’s life, steals over me. I’ve met people with happy families, happy homes, but I never thought that would be me. I wonder if Freya felt like this when she met Deacon. I wish I could remember a lot of that time, but I swear, that was one of the worst times in my life, and I barely recall a thing. Everything in Montana pre-rehab is a messy, traumatic blur.
I lift Daisy up into my arms. Janie’s filling a plate with breakfast for dinner, and when she catches my eye, she smiles.
And blushes.
Goddamn.
Things change pretty fast, don’t they?
CHAPTER TWENTY
JANIE
We sleep together that night, our bodies tangled with the sheets wound around them. I let my ear rest on his chest. His heart beats slow, and I’m so obsessed with the sound of it. It washes like waves, pulling me under. Every time I’ve spent the night with him, I wake so rested, it feels like I was under for days. The next morning is just the same, the faint sun falling through the glass, and the next, until I wake up and he’s gone. That morning, it’s partly cloudy and I’m groggy. Maybe I slept late?
I roll to my back, surveying the empty bed.
It’s very early. Only the morning shift will be up. I pull on my jeans and shirt, grabbing my boots from the hall. Stepping out on the porch, I squint, and my eyes rove over the fields.
There he is, heading towards the pond over the crest of the hill.
I go after him, walking slow to see what he does. Even from this distance, I make out the shape of Daisy on his shoulder. The way he’s so careful with her makes my heart warm. Last night, before we went to bed, he made up her bed in the kitchen and tucked her into it. I was tearing up, wondering exactly how longI need to wait before giving this man a baby. The reasonable part of my brain lets me think about it, but deep down, I know I’m not ready for that yet.
No, I think Bittern and I need time to just be.
As I walk, I ponder how quickly I’ve latched onto the idea that this isn’t a fling. Now, the thought of walking away is unconscionable. All I can see when I look ahead is him.
It’s not helping that in my heart, I’m so damn homesick for this ranch.
When I crest the hill, he’s sitting on the bench by the pond. Daisy rolls on the ground at his feet. He’s got something in his hands, working carefully with his head bent.
“Mind if I join?”
He glances up and gives me that slow smile of his. “Sure thing.”
I slide onto the bench beside him. “What’re you doing?”
“Getting some air,” he says. “I work today, but not until nine.”
He opens his hand, and inside is the most perfect carved wooden bird. Carefully, I pick it up, turning it over.
“It’s a goldfinch,” I say. “Right?”
