Page 14 of Naughty Secrets

“A lot of people, obviously, or they wouldn’t have been full up tonight.” I kick off my shoes and walk across the plush cream carpet to the bedroom, a vast circular space dominated by a massive four-poster bed. “My god, Sam. You could fit an entire family on there.”

He chuckles, a deep, rich, beautiful sound. I can’t remember the last time I’d heard Sam laugh—really laugh—and I want to hear it again.

“Just gonna be us, I’m afraid.”

Just us. I don’t know what us is left, but Sam seems determined to try. After saying goodbye to Alexis and Aiden, he called his lead man to give him instructions about feeding the calves, taking care of Rebel, and lining up the hired men for their assignments in the morning. Sam likes to be in charge, and I know handing over responsibility isn’t easy for him.

“Where’s the farm?” I join him at the floor-to-ceiling window and stare out into the night.

“There.” He points to the left. “At the bottom of the mountain. That’s the light at the end of the driveway. I turned it on so you could find your way home in case you arrived before me.” His voice hitches, and I slide my hand into his and give it a squeeze.

“Thank you.”

“You didn’t come home.” He draws in a shuddering breath. “No note. No message. I thought—”

“I’m sorry,” I say quickly. “I should have texted you.”

“You didn’t want me to know you were with him.” He releases my hand and turns from the glass.

“To be honest, I didn’t even think you’d notice I was gone except that you had no dinner. I figured you’d make a sandwich, feed Rebel, go look after the calves, and go to bed. I never thought you’d worry about me, and I certainly didn’t expect you to come to the bar.”

He shrugs. “I wouldn’t have except Alexis made me think . . .” He raises a hand as if to touch me and lowers it again. “Were you and he . . . If I hadn’t shown up, would you have gone home with him?”

“No, Sam,” I say softly. “That’s not the kind of person I am. I just wanted to feel normal again. He made me feel normal. I could talk to him, and there was no baggage between us. No expectations. No regrets. No resentment. Even with my friends here in town, there is so much history, it’s hard to talk candidly. People see you in a certain way because that’s how they’ve seen you forever. He saw me with fresh eyes, and I realized the woman I used to be is still inside me. A woman with hopes and dreams for the future. A woman who is beautiful and wants to be loved.”

“I love you,” he says.

“I don’t feel it. Not anymore. It’s like I don’t matter. The farm is all that matters to you. I was in so much pain from my tooth, I couldn’t eat for two days and you didn’t notice. A calf only drinks half his bottle, and you’re out there at midnight checking him out.”

His hand goes to his forehead, and he rubs his eyes. “You didn’t tell me. If you’d told me—”

“What? What would you have done?” My voice trembles. “Nothing. You’d tell me to see the dentist and then ask what’s for dinner.”

“Christ.” He runs his hand through his thick hair. “I’m not a dentist. I figure if you need something, you’ll ask, and when you don’t, I figure you can handle it yourself and you don’t need me.”

My breath leaves me with a sigh. “I need you to sympathize. Or to ask if there is something you can do. Anything. Get me a cup of tea. Offer to call the dentist. When I got that terrible flu when we lived in Billings, you made me soup, filled the freezer with cold towels for my head, and you played songs for me. You called up everyone you knew until you found a doctor willing to make house calls, and you dragged him to our apartment in the middle of the night. I want that again. I want to feel the way you used to make me feel before we moved to the farm.”

We both stare out the window at the light flickering in the darkness of the mountains. Together, but apart.

“You want me to sell the farm,” he says. “I’ll sell the farm.”

“You love the farm. I would never ask you to sell it.”

“I love you more.” Turning to face me, he slides his fingers over my cheek and cups my jaw with a gentleness that belies the size and strength of his callused hands. “I can’t imagine a life without you, Natalie. I’m nothing without you. Tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you.”

“This is a good start.” I turn my head and kiss his palm. “Being close with you again is nice.”

“We could be closer.”

My stomach tightens. I feel like we’re dancing on the edge of an abyss and the slightest misstep will send us over the edge. If we try to have sex and it is our usual seven-minute fumble in the dark, with Sam already gloved and ready for me, I will break inside.

“No.” I pull back. “Sam . . .”

He gently tips my head to the side and buries his face in my neck. “I miss you. I miss being close the way we used to be.” His lips slide over my skin, his breath hot and warm, and his hands firm and gentle on my body.

“We need to talk first,” I say, trying to detach myself even as my body flushes with heat.

He cuts me off with a kiss, soft and sweet. “It’s been so long, baby. So long since you wanted me. Let me love you first and we’ll talk after.”

A sliver of guilt winds its way through my heart. If I’d reached across the bed all those nights we lay two feet apart, if I’d shown my desire instead of waiting for him to touch me, would things have been better? I’ve blamed him all these years for being too tired for sex, but there were two of us in the bed, and one of us was terrified of getting pregnant again, of losing another child. Sam might have shut down emotionally, but I am part of the problem too.

Before I can dissuade him, he wraps his arms around me, pressing me against his hard, firm body. Something snaps inside me, and I kiss him with the passion and intensity of ten years of longing, so fierce and hard he groans. Our lips part, tongues tangle. We cling to each other, my arms around his broad shoulders, his around my waist. And then his hands slide down and he lifts me, carries me easily across the room, and falls with me onto the giant bed.

I want to keep kissing him. I want to strip off his clothes and make love for hours. But what happens then? Do we get up in the morning and go back to the farm? What if Sam is content to go back to the way things were? How can I go back to a life of quiet desperation after getting a glimpse of the passionate man I fell in love with? I have never been as lonely as when Sam became a stranger to me physically and emotionally. Sex is not enough to heal us. If we make love tonight, nothing will change tomorrow.

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