The Christmas You Found Me, page 20
“Right now, I’d say let’s lie on the beach in bikinis and listen to the waves, baking ourselves into warmth and oblivion.”
“I’ve never worn a bikini,” he admits, “but I could try.”
I share a grin with him, but the movement causes my neck to tweak. “Ow.”
“There?” he asks, fingers probing, and I groan in answer, pressing into his hands. The man is melting me like chocolate. I’m turning into actual goo in his palms.
“What about you? What would you want to do on a honeymoon?”
“Other than the obvious?”
“Stop making me laugh. It hurts my head,” I complain, tilting my neck to try and crack it.
His murmured apology isn’t contrite in the least, and those skilled fingers skim down my sides. “I’d like to see you in a bikini,” Guy says, somehow managing to sound wistful instead of pervy. “And I’d drink a cold beer.”
“That’s all you want?”
“There’s a lot of things I want, Sienna. I just try to keep my daydreams achievable.”
“Are we actually married?” I rest my hand on his leg, feeling off-kilter from my own question. “I know it’s legally real, but are we really real? Like, actually have a honeymoon real?”
Guy’s arm wraps around my waist, anchoring me to him. “You and Em are my family, Sienna. That’s as real to me as it gets.”
Warm breath ghosts over the nape of my neck.
“So…really real?”
“Really real.”
“I better buy a bikini.”
“Me too.”
This time when I look up at him, it doesn’t hurt my neck. Or maybe I don’t care if it does because I want to see him. Fingers capable of hauling around two-by-twelves brush featherlight against my cheek before threading into my hair. Our kiss is soft, slow, but full of a promise I’m only starting to realize.
***
At some point in the night, Guy reaches for me. At first, I don’t think he knows he’s doing it when he draws me close to his warm, strong form. Then I open my eyes and realize Guy’s not as asleep as I’d thought. I don’t know how he manages to curl around me so perfectly, as if his arms are made to hold me and his legs to tangle with mine.
“I’m running out of reasons why I should stay on my half of the bed,” I murmur to him, because it’s easier to admit the physical attraction than it is the desperate relief I feel from being with him.
Guy’s low, masculine laugh rumbles his chest beneath my cheek. “Because the only thing keeping me on my half of the bed is knowing the other half is yours,” he replies.
Dreamy. He’s freaking dreamy. When did that happen?
“I mean…we could reallocate.” When I straddle him on his side of the bed, the sound escaping his throat is dangerously close to a purr. Maybe if a lion was purring.
“And this is you…”
“Examining the real estate,” I promise.
“In case you’re wondering,” Guy tells me, “the view is really good on my side of the bed.”
Why does he have to say things like this? Why does he have to know just how to run his hands along my skin, drawing me closer to him with each stroke?
“Tell me what you just thought,” Guy murmurs, hungry and yearning.
“I think you’re going to be a problem” is the best I can verbalize, because yes, those hands are really good. He knows it too.
“Mrs. Maple, are you trying to seduce me?”
“Is it working?”
“It’s about time.” Guy sits up with me wrapped around him, slowly turning and laying me back in the bed. In the middle of the bed. No-man’s-land. And when he runs his thumb along my upper rib cage in silent question, I wrap my arm around his neck, kissing him deeply.
I’m not sure where this is going to go, but Guy doesn’t seem to be in any rush. I feel like he’s memorizing me, finding what makes my breath catch and what makes me press against him for more. He’s taking his time, waiting for me, which is good, because even as I’m tempted to draw him closer, I can feel part of myself shying away.
We’re teammates, partners, and I like to think we’re friends. But letting our attraction go further can complicate things. There’s a very sick little girl across the hall who needs us not to mess this up.
The thought is a cold bucket of water over my rapidly beating heart. So, I pull away and murmur that we should get some rest. Guy nods in acceptance, and after one last lingering good-night kiss, he shifts over so I can sleep on my side of the bed alone. Our pinky fingers stay hooked, but he’s giving the rest of me space as if instinctively knowing I need it.
As I lie there, watching the flickers of shadows playing over his skin in the low firelight, I wish I could snuggle closer. I want to press my forehead to his shoulder and just lean on him, just be with him, but this wasn’t the agreement. Guy never promised me love, just respect and commitment. I can’t fall in love with him. Love has never been part of the deal.
“Sienna?” he murmurs into his pillow. “You looked real pretty today.”
He’s making this so much harder than I ever thought it would be.
Chapter 19
“You really haven’t ever ridden before?”
Guy looks dubiously at where Legs and Lulu are standing saddled and tied to the horse pen fence, waiting for our date. “Do pony rides count?”
I snicker and pat him on the shoulder before untying our mounts. “I highly doubt you have ever been short enough to ride a pony. Here, you’re on Legs.” Guy takes the reins and follows me and Lulu out to the gate. Sometimes I forget not everyone grew up on horseback the way I did, so I add, “We can ride double on Legs if you’re uncomfortable.”
“And risk the other animals seeing? I don’t have a reputation to maintain, but I’d rather not destroy yours.”
I smile at him because it’s adorable how hard he’s trying. The reality is that Legs is strong enough to carry both of us twice over, not that I’d ever ask him, but it would be better for my grumpy pants of a mule to only have a single passenger. I adjust my stirrups to fit Guy, then I hold Legs as he climbs up with only a little awkwardness.
“He’ll know where to go,” I instruct Guy. “Just fall in line behind me and Lulu, and if he gets too close to her tail, bump the reins. Don’t pull back hard, because he only needs a little bump. And if something happens to me on the trail, turn his nose down the mountain, and he’ll take you home.”
“If something happens on the trail, the last thing I’m doing is turning tail and leaving you.” Guy almost sounds a little grumbly there.
He’s cute, so I wink at him. “Remember that when it’s bear season.”
“Is bear season going to be a thing?” he asks as we lock the gate behind us.
When I follow his glance back at the cabin, I see Jess waving at us enthusiastically. They’ve agreed to hang out at the house for a couple of hours while Emma naps after dialysis, and after going through the Emma binder, Jess is well prepared for an emergency. Still, I can tell it’s hard on Guy to leave, even if just for a little bit.
“We don’t have to do this,” I tell him gently. “I won’t be mad.”
Guy hesitates, legitimately considering it. Then he sighs. “No, I need a break. I don’t want to leave, but I like Jess. We won’t be far?”
“Nope, and there’s a shortcut back if we need to take it. I have a sat phone in my saddle, so Jess can get ahold of us, and we’ll never be more than a fifteen-minute ride straight down the mountain to reach her. Ten minutes if I take Legs. He can handle terrain Lulu can’t and at a faster speed. You’ll be closer to her than if you went into town.”
I wait for him to nod, accepting my reassurance, before getting on Lulu. We both wave back to Jess before heading up into the mountainside.
“Is this the path you usually take when you’re riding fences?” Guy asks as I turn Lulu’s nose toward a stand of fir trees.
“No, the path this way is prettier. Once we’re over the ridge, you’ll see what I mean.” I let Lulu pick her way through the snow, turning back to look at Guy and Legs behind me. “You’ve been here for almost two weeks, so it’s time you got the grand tour of your home.”
“I like how that word sounds,” Guy says, gazing at me warmly. “It’s been a long time since Em and I had a real home.”
A real home. I’ve been lucky. The thing they don’t have is something I’ve been blessed with my entire life. Unable to keep myself from sharing, I start pointing to little spots along the trail, places where I got bucked off as a kid or my dad was chased by a cow into a tree. The path stays tight as we head up the mountain, then it opens up on the ridgeline. I hear Guy suck in an impressed breath, and I pull up Lulu, turning her so Legs and Guy come to a stop next to us.
“And this was where I had my first kiss,” I admit. “Although that’s probably too much information.”
Guy turns in the saddle, and between his height and Legs’s height, he has to dip down to brush his lips against mine. “It’s perfect information. I like knowing where I can sneak one of these.”
I lean over, secure knowing Lulu will stay still, and brace my palm on his chest. Our second kiss is more heated, until Legs snorts and shakes his head vigorously as if disgusted.
“Yeah yeah, we know,” I say as I shift Lulu over a step so Legs has his personal bubble back again. “You’re not a willing participant.”
“So this is all yours?” Guy asks as we gaze at the world around us. Snow-covered peaks rise above our heads, and below, the icy Salmon River snakes through the countryside.
“Not mine,” I say softly. “It’s just where I’m lucky enough to live. Indigenous people were forced to leave here against their will, and it’s too special of a place to treat it as a possession. This land is something to take care of, not something to own.”
“A lot of people don’t think that way,” he replies.
“Don’t I know it.” I check Guy’s face for the same flicker of financial opportunism I used to see in Micah’s eyes. Instead, I just see acceptance. “I’ve taken Emma up this path a lot,” I admit. “One day, I’ll show her every inch of these mountains. It would be nice if you could come with us, but it’s okay if horses aren’t your thing.”
“I don’t know. I’m kind of digging this guy.”
Guy pats Legs on the thick neck as we start off again, and I swear I see Legs roll his eyes at me. The man looks good in a saddle, which is a weakness of mine, and he’s got a natural sense of balance, which doesn’t surprise me at all.
“You’re one of those people who is good at everything, aren’t you?” I compliment him. “I never would have guessed you don’t ride.”
“The reason I look like I can ride is because Legs doesn’t want to embarrass you by letting me fall off.” The very thought makes me laugh. “I’m serious,” Guy insists. “Every time I lose my balance, he moves underneath me until I get it back. He’s a Cadillac.”
I angle Lulu closer and reach over, giving Legs’s mane a little tug. “Don’t listen to him, big guy. He’s trying to win you over. This man’s a sweet talker.”
“I can prove it.” Guy leans over. With a sigh of annoyance, Legs shifts toward Lulu to get back beneath him, so close our stirrups bump. When Legs steps back to his preferred path, Guy rests an easy hand on the back of his saddle, holding the reins in one hand, body relaxed as if he rode horseback every day. “See?”
“Be nice to my mule’s back,” I tell him with a tsk. “You’re not a hundred pounds soaking wet, mister.”
“Yes, ma’am.” His eyes twinkle at me, and I feel my cheeks heating up.
We ride higher, and the ranch comes into view below. The house looks tiny from up here, but I think being able to see the building where his daughter is sleeping helps the residual tension in Guy’s shoulders. I send a text to Jess to make sure everything’s still okay, which they report back to immediately, including a pic of them watching Prancer on the couch because Emma and Barley are still asleep in Emma’s room. Jess would have texted when Emma woke up anyway, but I wanted to show Guy we have good phone reception and a responsible babysitter.
Guy doesn’t call me out on my not-so-subtle act of reassurance, but he does aim a grateful look my way. As we crest the next ridge, a whiff of sulfur tinges the air.
“Hey, Sienna? Is that a hot spring over there?”
I look to where Guy is pointing. A slow, sinuous plume of steam is rising from behind a clump of rocks, blocking the hot spring from view.
“Hot Toddy? Yep, that’s him.”
Guy snickers. “You named your hot springs after a drink?”
“Actually, we named him after someone my grandmother thought was attractive in school. Made my grandfather grumpy every time he went for a soak.”
“How hot is it in there?”
“Not melt-your-feet-off hot, but definitely warm enough to make it a whole lot colder when we get back out again.” Our eyes meet, and I find myself grinning. “You still have bikinis on the mind?”
“I forgot to pack mine, but I’m game if you are.”
I hesitate, because I’d planned on riding a little farther to my favorite lookout, sharing a mug of hot coffee, and then heading back. I knew we’d go past the hot spring, but I hadn’t given it much thought. The steamy water is just too tempting. Or maybe the temptation is Guy, because he’s already swinging down from Legs’s back, and on a day this cold, the idea of relaxing in the hot springs with him sounds wonderful.
And maybe just a little bit scary.
“Believe it or not, I didn’t think to pack a swimsuit,” I tell him as I loosen girth straps and tie off the animals on the far side of the rocky outcropping, where they can rest out of the wind. Some seriously good making out in bed in pajamas is different from stripping down to nothing and hopping into a hot spring together.
Guy just shoots me a sexy wink. “I’ll leave my boxers on so you don’t get any naughty ideas about me.”
“Too late,” I murmur as he unzips his jacket and peels off his sweater and cold-weather undershirt at the same time. The man doesn’t even flinch at the cold air on his skin.
Montana boys.
“Why do I have the feeling you’ve spent more than your fair share of time in hot tubs?” I joke as I disrobe more slowly, leaving my jacket, sweater, socks, and jeans next to Guy’s clothing. I’ll just have to stuff any waterlogged clothing in my pack before we leave, because no one wants to ride with a frozen-solid bra and underwear.
“Hot tubs, no, but hot water, definitely.” His eyes linger just a moment longer than usual before he glances away to give me privacy.
The hot spring isn’t the largest one on the property, but it’s the least stinky. Plus, the view is incredible this high up in the mountains. We brave the snow on our bare feet crossing to the spring. If this weren’t the middle of winter, I’d ease into the heated water, but it’s way too chilly to linger. Guy slips into the spring after me, then dunks under the water. One of these days, I’m going to have to stop objectifying him. The problem is some men just really pull off water droplets rolling down their skin, clinging to hard, defined muscle, and he’s one of them.
“If I took a picture right now, I bet I’d sell a lot of Naples Ranch catalogues.”
The grin on Guy’s face only makes him more handsome. “Be careful, Sienna. I might think you’re flirting with me.”
Would it be so bad? Whatever this attraction is between us, would it be so wrong to ease up on the choke hold I’ve been keeping on my feelings? It’s been a long time since I longed for someone. Yet here I am, my bra soaked with spring water, steam turning my skin several shades redder than normal, and I want him. I’m longing for him.
He’s not very far away, and I’m absolutely overwhelmed with how to cross the distance between us. I don’t even know if I’m supposed to. Taking care of Emma was the goal of all this. Not filling the empty half of my bed. What if he thinks this is something he has to do? Is the attraction real, or does Guy feel like he has to flirt with me for Emma’s sake? I’ve never forgotten how we met: a proud, scared, exhausted father answering a humiliating ad in a desperate attempt to save his daughter’s life. I’m the one who crossed no-man’s-land last night. I’m also the one who pulled away.
Clearly, I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m over here heartsick for the man, and Guy looks like he’s never been more comfortable, his arms draped on the edge of the spring as he leans against a rock.
His eyes are closed with blissful appreciation, so he must have some secret superpower when he smiles slightly and says, “You’re thinking too hard about something.”
Maybe.
“Want to talk about it?”
Yes. No. Flip a coin, because I’m so unused to someone wanting to hear what I feel or think. Yet he always asks, and it’s getting harder not to answer. Just use your words, Sienna, I chastise myself. The alternative is an awkward soak or going back into the snow barefoot, and I’m only starting to warm up from the ride.
“Guy, you know you don’t owe me anything, right?”
He tilts his head, and when he opens his eyes, I wonder if those glacier-blue eyes can see right through me.
“I think I owe you a lot.” Guy stops me when I start to disagree, saying, “Big things and small. Sienna, whether it means getting something you can’t reach off the shelf at the grocery store or recognizing you jumped into this marriage with good intentions, even if you weren’t emotionally ready, I owe it to you to be good to you.”
“Am I so obvious?”
“Sienna, half the time, you look at me like you want to drag me into the hayloft, and the other half, you can barely meet my eyes.”
This hits me hard because it’s true. I’m embarrassed, and I don’t even know why. Guy’s speaking gently to me, the way I would to a frightened calf.
“Sen, you hold on to me at night like you’re afraid to let go, but then you pull away. It’s as if you don’t trust me, but I haven’t done anything to deserve it. Micah did that. I can’t fix what I didn’t break, but I can be here for you. I can let you hold me and sneak in holding you when you aren’t looking.”
