Page 37 of My Heart Belongs to You

Nadir rubbed slow circles along my back and shoulder. Oatmeal and honey wafted around the steamy shower. His touch was so gentle, so caring, that my mind slipped back to what had taken place in the living room. I tilted my head to the left so he could wash my neck before moving to my arm. I wanted to face him and see how good he looked washing me. He slipped an arm around my waist, pulling me against him. A breath hitched my throat from the sudden movement.

“I love and care about you, Robyn. And I’m willing to do whatever I can to make you feel good. I’m not confused about what happened. You needed something and I was able to fulfill that need, no questions asked.”

His lips brushed my ear as his words settled. Butterflies swarmed in my belly when he resumed washing me. I swallowed the lump in my throat as his hands moved down my back and over my butt until he reached my ankles. My eyebrows furrowed and my mind raced to come up with a response.

“It’s that simple for you?” was the best I could come up with and I regretted it as soon as the words fell from my lips.

Nadir turned me to face him. With knitted eyebrows, he continued washing me. The hot water felt good trickling down my back and legs. I looked up to meet his pensive eyes. Running the washcloth along my stomach and up my breasts, he looked away while shaking his head.

“Not at all, but a gray area is the last thing we need right now.” I nodded in agreement, still holding his gaze. Nadir bit his bottom lip, released it, then sighed. “You needed something and I made it happen; that’s it.”

“So, a pity fuck?”

He tilted his head to the side; a smirk forming on his handsome face. “Come on, Goldie. I feel a lot of things and pity isn’t one.”

I was silent for a beat, turning back to the water to wash the areas he hadn’t.

“I’ll give you time to think about what I’m saying, and if you want to talk about it, we can.”

I appreciated how cool he was about everything. After the weird day I was having with my lovers, past and present, I needed his understanding.

“I’m gonna let you finish,” I told him, suddenly needing separation.

His maturity and understanding turned me on and there was no way I’d be able to explain doubling back so soon, especially after the conversation we’d just had. After drying off, I put on lotion and slipped into another T-shirt and yoga shorts combo. I brought Nadir’s clothes to my room and placed them on the bed before going to the kitchen.

I stared at the apricots in the bowl and an instant smile appeared on my face.

“I’m gonna head out,” Nadir said on his way out. “Call me, Goldie.”

I nodded, then walked over to him. The simper on his lips caused warmth to spread through me.

“I’ll call,” I replied.

“Good.”

He kissed my forehead, then held me by the chin while kissing my lips. The kiss was slow, tender, and reminiscent of the kiss that led us to having sex in the first place. He pulled away; longing dancing in his eyes before he walked to the door. I followed him, offering one last smile before he left. After locking the door, I went back to the kitchen to see if I had the ingredients to bake a pie because Nadir earned it.

CHAPTER

EIGHT

Attending the annual Springville Festival was my fondest childhood memory. My parents were heavily involved in the town's clubs and organizations, so we knew just about every vendor in attendance. For hours, we'd walk the park and indulge in every sample we could find before settling on The Pit, a family run barbecue stand. While my parents spoke with their friends and colleagues, I’d watch the Concrete Rose Cowboys perform with Geneva and Angel, whose dad was part-owner of the ranch. Their dad passed a few years after mine, driving them to take over the business side of the ranch sooner than expected. Two of the many traditions their father started were performing at the festival and offering horse rides around the pen.

The Concrete Rose Cowboys were one of the biggest events at the festival following the live music from local artists and carnival rides. With a smile, I watched Geneva and Angel do the same routine their dad and uncles did when we were children. They’d tweaked a few parts. It was more entertaining for today’s youth, mainly the music and the addition of new tricks. It didn’t matter how many times I watched them; I was amazed at their chemistry and precision.

Performing was one of the few times Geneva wasn’t trying to choke Angel. It didn’t matter what they were going through; the cowboys put on a show. Today was no different as they wooed the crowd.

Intense focus filled Geneva’s soft brown eyes as she maneuvered her horse around the pen, picking up speed. The audience gasped when she lifted her left arm and commanded her horse to jump back-to-back hurdles. They continued around the pen, waiting for the crowd to settle. She hopped on all fours before extending her left hand and right arm. She held that pose for a beat before standing with her arms stretched widely.

My heart raced while watching her. The pen boomed with cheers when she landed on the saddle and waved. I pushed out a breath while shaking my head. She still had it.

Her younger brother Angel was just as good as her, following Geneva with determination in his eyes, performing his signature lasso trick. While rounding the pen, he twirled the black rope in the air, holding the loop over his head. Slowly, he lowered the rope, circling himself in the loop. A second later, the lasso was removed then he shifted it to his left side and a flat circle formed. I smiled when I noticed he was wearing his father’s brown cowboy hat with a red feather hatband. I remembered hearing about the history of the family heirloom. Since childhood, Angel had eagerly awaited the moment his dad passed the hat down to him.

Angel did a victory lap around the pen while skillfully whipping his black rope as they ended their show. There wasn’t a person seated as we cheered them off the stage. People in the front row tossed roses onto the ground as a sign of admiration once the horses were gone. I stood near the fence, clapping with everyone else. When I caught Geneva’s gaze, I tipped my imaginary hat, earning a smile from her. She returned the gesture before walking to the stables.

“That was fire.” Mel stared with wide eyes.

I nodded. “It never gets old.”