“Maybe that means you haven’t given up yet.”
“Maybe.”
He pulled me closer to him, his arms wrapped snugly around me, and we stayed that way without speaking for a long time. The fire was blazing now, the flames radiating warmth. Matthew’s skin smelled like rain and wood smoke, and I wanted to stay in the safety of his arms forever. There was a real chance we’d never see each other again after I left the ranch, depending on where life took us next, and I could hardly bear the thought of that.
Mathew’s words rumbled low in his chest, his voice full of emotion. “When you get back to the city and have to deal with that ex-husband and his lawyers, don’t forget what a badass you are. You wear those cowgirl boots when you need a little Wyoming courage.”
I nodded, struggling to keep my tears at bay. “I’ll do that.” Maybe I hadn’t given up yet, either. If he could fight for his family’s home, I could certainly fight for what was mine—the company I’d worked so hard to build. My privacy. My dignity.
“I want you to do something for me. Call your siblings and talk to them about the ranch.” I looked up into those denim blue eyes of his. “See if they can help you. Maybe they’ll have ideas about how to keep this place in your family.”
“Alright, I promise. Now how do you feel about going back to my house? Because this couch isn’t the most comfortable place in the world, and we still have a few hours together.”
“Absolutely, yes.”
“C’mon then.” He playfully smacked my backside, lifting the heavy mood. “It’s getting late, and we don’t have much time left before the sun rises.”
* * *
Scented candles flickeredin the darkness on Matthew’s night tables as we stood facing each other, still clothed but hopefully not for long.
The flowery framed prints on the wall stood out to me as something you wouldn’t normally see in a Wyoming man’s bedroom. “Was this your parents’ room?”
“Yes.” His tone was apologetic. “But they didn’t die in here or anything.”
I laughed because it was a morbidly funny, yet accurate, thing to say. “They slept in this bed though.”
“Not on these sheets,” he said quickly. “I brought my favorite flannel sheets with me when I moved here, and that plant over there?” He pointed to a snake plant on the dresser. “That’s mine.”
“That plant is yours?” I nodded sagely. “Then it’s not weird at all.”
He smiled as he cupped my chin in his hand. “Is thistooweird for you? We can go upstairs to my old bedroom. You want to see my 4-H ribbons and my Heather Locklear poster? The poster is in the closet because Mom didn’t want to look at it.”
I slid one finger into the waistband of his jeans and pulled him closer. “I kind of do want to see that stuff, but later.”
“That’s good because we have bunk beds and a twin bed in there, and it’s not a comfortable situation.”
“You shared a room with both brothers?” His house was modest in size, and the upstairs rooms couldn’t have been very spacious.
“Yep. Can we talk about something else?” He deftly undid the top button of my pajama top. “I don’t want them in my head space right now.”
He undid another button, and I decided not to help him with the rest since he was doing such a good job. Once again, it was nice having someone else put in the work.
“What do you want in your headspace?” I asked.
He finished the buttons and slid my pajama top off my shoulders and down my arms. “Just this.”
I didn’t follow his gaze downward because I was nervous, not about what we were doing, but how my breasts looked naked, without nylon and underwire to perk them up. What if he didn’t like what he saw?
Matthew smiled, a heated glint shimmering in his eyes. “This is going to be fun.” His thumbs made little circles over my peaked nipples, and my head fell back a few inches, my insecurities melting away.
He tugged loose the tie on my pajama pants, and together we pulled them to the floor so I could step out of them. Once I was down to my underpants, he said drank me in. “You’re so beautiful.”
It wasn’t a line. He spoke with such earnestness that I fell even deeper in love with him.
“Now you.” I started with his shirt, luxuriating in the feel of each button sliding open. Before I moved on to his pants, I ran my hands over his warm skin, reveling in the light patch of hair in the center of his chest. Too many men waxed their chest hair nowadays, and I missed seeing that hair. It was primal and sexy. If he expected me to be waxed bare down below, he was about to get a surprise.
I moved on to the button and zipper of his jeans, moving slowly because he was already straining against the fabric. Feeling his excitement made me wet, which was a relief. My body still knew what to do. If I had to tell Matthew to stop at any point during sex because my middle-aged anatomy wasn’t cooperating, I was going to be supremely pissed off.
