“Hmm?” I quietly ask, breaking the kiss to blink up at him, the urge to see his bright eyes and scruffy jaw so intense I could scream. I bring my hands to his face, mindlessly playing with his hair before one hand breaks free to trace the ink on his arm.
“What do you say to a late-night ride? I’ll shower so you don’t have to be pressed up against me smelling like a boot and a nut sack, and I’ll get a quilt around you so the skeeters don’t eat you up, and we’ll take a ride on Daisy. Explore the property and see some stars.” I want to use his body until either of us can walk or speak, but tonight that’s not what neither of us really need. Not as much as we need this.
He knows it, and so do I.
My eyes flit between his, and I wonder if he’s weighing if this is a romantic, wonderful thing to do, or a huge mistake. I’ll never know, though, because he nods. “What do you say, cowgirl?”
“Sounds amazing, Landry.” I slip off his lap, envisioning being cradled by the strength of his chest, while taking in a full moon and sea of stars. “You shower, and I’ll make us some spiked cocoa.”
“It’s still seventy degrees outside, darlin’, but whatever you make, I’ll gladly consume.” He slips upstairs, and Istand at the bottom of the stairwell, listening until I hear his door shut and the shower turn on. I grab my phone, ready to stash it away until tomorrow, when I see a text from my mom.
Mom
When were you going to tell me that you fell in love?
My heart roars to a halt and I choke on a breath, reading then rereading her message. After exiting the text message app, I place my phone on the counter face down and pull the pot out for the cocoa.
I am in love with him, I can’t deny that. But I didn’t come here for that, and the last film I made, I let love and relationships cloud my creative vision. I can put my feelings aside, help this amazing man and his wonderful daughter, and move on.
I can do it and it will be okay.
With that thought, I open the cupboards, ready to make some spiked cocoa and forget about the complications of everything for now. There’s cocoa and sugar, but not all that much else.
Landry’s cupboards have been a lot thinner recently, emptier than they were when I first got here, and that large pile of bills he tossed onto the floor that first day I got here has only gotten bigger. What was a foothill of debt is now a large mountain.
I see the wear that the Montgomerys pointed out. I hear the way the faucet sings a sad tale for a second or two before water comes out. I notice the many patches in the fencing along the property, the same way the coop is patched to all hell, and the back screen door too. I notice that they don’t use their air conditioning, and I also notice that there are a lot ofmornings where Landry plates up breakfast for me and Sadie, but not himself.
Stirring the cocoa powder and vanilla together, I pull out two worn mugs, the porcelain chipped on both. They’re matching, and when I peer into the cupboard I notice the rest match, too. It’s a set. Likely a gift for their wedding.
Landry Vaughn fell in love, got married, had a baby, and lost his wife. I stir the pot and think about that.
I tried my hardest today to be as wifely as I could when it came to putting on a show for the Montgomerys. The truth is, I didn’t have to try at all. My instincts to defend and protect roared to life in their presence, and doing what was best for Sadie and Landry came easily to me.
I may only be twenty-four years old but I know what that means.
Stirring the mix as I bring it to a boil, my mind drifts back to Marnie and her diabolical comment reminding me that I’m not Sadie’s mom. What a complete bitch. But she’s not wrong. I’m not Sadie’s mom. The woman who passed down her DNA and stole the heart of her daddy is gone, and not only am I not Sadie’s mom but I’m merely a season in her life. Someone who is undoubtedly leaving the picture. It’s planned. It’s set. Landry and I both agreed.
What business do I have sneaking into Landry’s room and getting us sucked deeper into this enflamed, red, bright,burning like the sunattraction that has seemingly begun to slowly consume us both?
It’s selfish. Marnie Montgomery in her Chanel suit on a one-hundred-degree day is of sound mind. I haveno businessdoing what I’m doing, because I’m going to hurt Sadie. I love her, and she loves me, and because of that, Iwillhurt her.
After I turn off the stove, I pour the hot mix into the twomugs and unscrew the lid on the whiskey. There isn’t much left, and I drain the rest, splitting it between the two drinks. I used to say I’d never have cocoa without marshmallows, but Landry doesn’t have extra things. He has the essentials, and I know now I could live a life of just essentials.
I don’t need marshmallows.
“Hey,” he says, coming down from the bottom step with wet hair, a fresh white T-shirt clinging to his muscles. I love how I can see his nipples, stiff, and the gentle waves of his chest hair straining against the fabric. “You ready?”
I pop two cubes from the plastic trays in the freezer, and put ice on top of the cocoa. “So we don’t burn our tongues off.”
He shakes his head, stroking his large hand down his jaw. “Hm, no, I don’t want anything to happen to my tongue.” My belly flutters, and the back of my neck grows hot. “I haven’t got to introduce you to it just yet.”
My cheeks flame as I slap his chest. “Landry!”
His arms pin me against the counter, where he braces his hands. He drags his lips up my throat, pausing to press a kiss to my pulse. “You smell good.” He rewards me with his most gravelly tone and words of praise, and I grow sticky and hot beneath my thin cotton panties.
“You’re the one who just showered,” I say, walking my fingers up his chest, cupping his throat and jaw. I pull him down into a kiss and explore his mintiness, the hot slide of his tongue along mine, relishing the moan he leaves in my mouth when we part.
“C’mon, let’s have a nice ride together,” he says, grabbing the mugs for us. I’m not much help in the next five minutes, watching him saddle Daisy and talk to her, stroke his big fingers through her mane, and promise her things tomorrowif she’ll be good to us tonight. I love watching him with his animals, a tender side of him I’ve explored on film, but without my camera, it means so much more.
