Page 22 of Redbird

“We’ll pull in good hay,” he says. “So long as it’s the only one. Too much rain makes for a bad season.”

I think about that as we stand together, swaying lightly. He’s so similar to the land he loves so much. He’s good at moderation, except for the areas where he isn’t. Then he’s a full blown storm that soaks the earth. In certain areas, where Cash and I are concerned, he’s willing to do anything. He’s wild and protective all at once.

But that’s why I’m safe. Why I’m not stuck under the thumb of a husband who hates me. Or dead at the hands of my brothers-in-law.

My eyes shift out the window, taking in the torrent of gray rain. Whipping the trees, making the grass roil.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks. “I can feel you're thinking.”

I shake my head. “Nothing. I’m just happy.”

He rumbles in his chest. “I make you happy?”

“Of course you do,” I sigh, letting my head rest against him. “You make me so happy. You, Cash, the ranch, and our next baby. I have everything I’ve ever wanted.”

His lips brush the top of my head. He doesn’t have words, but I understand. Instead, his hand snakes around my waist and rests on my lower belly.

“I can’t wait,” I whisper.

“Neither can I.” His voice is low, his breath warm on my hair.

We stand in silence. The rain soaks the ranch until the sheet of gray lightens. Then I see the drops slow until the clouds move on. I smell that fresh scent that reminds me of the garden in spring. The storm has passed.

He pushes the door aside. It groans, rolling back to reveal the ranch house. Washed clean and bathed in pale sunlight.

Then he holds out his hand and I take it. The wet grass soaks my feet as we move slowly to the house. All the fire is out of me. I can wait until later to beg for his closeness. We sit on the porch together. He holds my hand, wrapping his fingers around my fists. Enveloping it in his warmth.

“Cash will be home soon,” I say. “I should start on dinner.”

He slides his hand around me, lifting me easily into his lap. I push my face against his neck to hide my blush. I love it when he manhandles me.

“Sit with me for a bit, redbird,” he says.

He leans back against the side of the house, the bench creaking. I nestle against his chest and release a slow sigh. The air is cooler now. The entire world feels renewed. I close my eyes and listen to the rhythm of his heart and it’s different than when we first met.

It’s peaceful.

CHAPTER EIGHT

GERARD

TWO MONTHS LATER

It’s the hardest time of year before fall comes. We’re tagging some cattle. Deciding which ones we’ll sell off and which ones we’ll keep through the winter. I’m anticipating a good harvest all around so the mood is light even though the work is hard.

I wake early one morning, a little after three. Keira is a lump under the blankets, snoring softly.

Gently, I strip the covers back. She’s in a thin, silk slip that reaches the middle of her thighs. With my fingertips, I trace the soft curve of her leg. Enjoying how it dips down and widens. She sighs in her sleep and shifts onto her back.

I kiss the inside of her thigh, right above her cocked knee. She smells sweet, like the lotion she uses, the kind that reminds me of spring flowers. I dart my tongue out and taste her skin.

She tastes like my wife. Like she did from the first time I kissed her, in this bed.

I glance up at her relaxed face. She’s beautiful, her mouth full, her pale lashes long. Her brilliant hair spills out over the pillow, tangled waves so soft they’re like silk in my fingers. My eyes move down her body, over her full breasts beneath her slip. Over her tapered waist and the gentle swell of her hips.

She gave me permission to do as I like, within reason, while she sleeps. Especially at times of the year when our schedules don’t match up. So I part her thighs and push the slip up. Between them is her perfect pussy, a little wet from sleep. I bend and my nose touches the crease of her sex. The scent is sweet and familiar.

I didn’t realize before I married her what a difference time makes when it comes to love. At first, loving her was exciting like a storm. Then it was dark and jealous and possessive. Now, it’s all of those things, but through it runs a deep vein of contentment.

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