She leaned into his touch, reveling in the moment, her breath coming shallow as excitement thrummed beneath her skin. “I’m saying maybe you should push a little more and find out,” she murmured, her heart racing at the intimacy of their exchange.
Rowan’s thumb brushed softly against her bottom lip, his voice turning rough, barely above a whisper. “Careful, sweetheart. I might start believing you mean that.” His eyes sparkled with a teasing challenge, yet the gravity of his words made her pulse quicken even more.
Enya didn’t respond with words, finding that the silence between them was far more potent than any sentence she could construct. Instead, she closed the distance, leaned in, and pressed her mouth to his in a kiss that began softly, sweetly, before deepening into something more visceral and hungrier. Rowan made a low sound against her lips, a mix of surprise and longing, his hand sliding to the back of her neck, cradling her there with a possessive urgency, as though he was afraid she might slip away. When the horses moved, they were pulled apart.
“Damn it, Enya,” he murmured, the hushed words tinged with a mix of frustration and desire.
“What?” Her voice was playful, though her heart raced with the thrill of their kiss.
“You’re gonna ruin me,” he said, the gravity of his admission hanging in the air. “Sitting on a horse is not the place for this.”
Her heart stuttered at the weight of his words, a thrill of triumph sparking within. “Is ruining you a bad thing?” she asked, “because if it’s not, then we should hurry up and check that fence, so we can move on to more…um… fun things.”
He stared at her for a moment, then shifted in the saddle, “Let’s go.”
Back at the sprawling ranch, as daylight gradually surrendered to twilight, Rowan fired up the grill. The flames licked hungrily at the air while Enya tossed together a salad at the rustic outdoor table nestled under the expansive oak tree. The golden light of dusk was warm and inviting, and stretched long shadows across the yard. It painted everything in a rich, soft glow as the world prepared to fade from day into night.
One by one, the rest of the team wandered up from the barns, bringing with them the familiar sounds of camaraderie and spirited banter. Gael ambled out of the house with a six-pack of beers cradled in his arms. Jericho and Colson could be heard bickering about something trivial, the banter infused with their unmistakable dry humor, while Dawsyn had already seized the opportunity to snag a particularly tempting bite of cheese from the cutting board.
This was what living was all about. She loved the easygoing atmosphere and how the ranch itself, with its creaking wooden structures and sprawling fields, exuded a warmth that wrapped around her like a favorite blanket, making her feel more at home than even the wonderful home she’d grown up in ever had.
As Rowan expertly flipped the thick, juicy steaks on the grill, his sleeve rode up to reveal the inked compass on his forearm, a tribute to the direction he hoped to find in life. Enya’s eyes traced the lines of his tattoo, her gaze skipping to the way his biceps flexed with each movement, the muscles rippling under his sun-kissed skin, and she fanned her face.
A girl could get all hot and bothered around here without much encouragement at all.
The flickering firelight caught the stubble along his jaw, casting him in a rugged, charming light. Their eyes met, and he caught her unabashedly staring. A playful smirk crept across his face. “See something you like?” he drawled, the teasing lilt of his voice striking a delightful chord within her.
In response, Enya playfully tossed a cherry tomato in his direction. He swiftly caught it midair and popped it into his mouth with a cheeky wink that made her heart flutter. The moment felt electric, like something was coming and she should prepare herself for the impact.
Gael let out an exaggerated groan, “Christ, you two are insufferable.”
Enya stuck her tongue out at him, and Rowan simply laughed, a sound warm and low that sent a ripple of joy through her. She loved when he was like this… Happy.
He pulled her against his side, his arm wrapping around her shoulders in a possessive yet tender gesture. His lips brushed against her temple in a sweet, fleeting kiss, making her skin tingle with warmth. “Get used to it.” His tone was threaded with a sincerity that made her heart do a weird fluttering thing.
The soft sounds of laughter floated through the air, mingled with the delightful smells of sizzling steaks and fresh vegetables, and Enya took a deep breath, savoring this moment. It was the kind of ordinary evening that held an extraordinary weight in her heart, a reminder that perhaps there were spaces in life where joy and connection reigned supreme.
This is exactly where I belong.
When the evening wound down like a slow, contented sigh that lingers in the air long after the laughter has faded, and the clatter of dishes being washed and dried gave way to silence. Enya glanced around, her eyes scanning the ranch yard looking for Rowan. She could see Dawsyn and Jericho disappear into the bunkhouse, their bickering muffled by distance. A quick look over her shoulder showed her that Gael had retreated to the quiet of the porch, no doubt to call Joel and talk about their day. Calloway and Colson were headed toward the barn, their voices low and punctuated by the occasional rough chuckle. The ranch was settling into the hushed, intimate stillness that only comes when the day’s work is done, and her man was missing.
He’s like Rain returning to his stall at the end of the day.
She found him exactly where she knew he would be, hunched over his desk in his office in the barn. His shoulders were a rigid line beneath his worn flannel, the fabric pulling taut over the corded muscle of his arms as he scribbled something in the margin of an invoice. His brow was furrowed in that way it always was when he was lost in thought. She watched him for a long moment as his jaw clenched and released in rhythm with whatever calculations he was making. There was something achingly, beautifully, vulnerable about him like this—stripped of the easy confidence he wore like armor, and the quiet authority that made men twice his size follow him down the war-trail intothe horrid places of the world that didn’t bear thinking about. But here, in the soft dark of his office, he was just Rowan. Justhers.
She leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed over her chest, and let herself breathe it in for a heartbeat before speaking. “You’re gonna strain something, sitting like that.” She knew the way his body locked up when he was stressed, and the way he’d push through pain just to prove he could.
He didn’t look up. “I’m fine.”
A laugh huffed out of her, dry and knowing. “Liar.”
This time, he did glance up, just for a second, his dark eyes flickering with something unreadable before he dropped his gaze back to the paperwork. But she’d seen the exhaustion lurking there, and the quiet battle he was waging against himself. Enya pushed off the frame and crossed the room. Her hands found his shoulders, her fingers curling into the warm, solid weight of him, her thumbs pressing into the knots of tension coiled beneath his skin.
Rowan exhaled sharply, a sound that was half groan, half surrender, his head dropping forward as if the simple touch had severed the last thread holding him upright. The pen clattered to the desk, rolling away as his hands came up, covering hers, his calloused fingers threading between her own. His skin was warm, but rough in places where the work of the ranch had left its mark, and she could feel the faint tremor in his muscles, the way he was fighting to stay still beneath her touch.
“Darlin’,” he murmured, with a rough edge in his throat, like he’d been holding it back for hours.
“Hush.” She worked her fingers deeper, her thumbs circling in slow, deliberate strokes, feeling the way he melted under her touch, the resistance in his body unraveling like a frayed rope. His breath hitched, and his shoulders rolled forward as if he could somehow get closer to the pressure, to the relief she was offering. It was intoxicating, this power of knowing she could undo him so completely with nothing more than her hands.
