Page 51 of The Cowboy Takes A Bride

Meredith nodded. “I tried putting heat on it. I couldn’t find a heating pad so I used a washcloth.”

“Not the same, huh?”

She shook her head. “It helped a little. Better than nothing, I suppose.”

Jace tossed down the sandwich and picked up her hand. “Come on, I got something upstairs that will fix it.” He tugged her around the island and pushed her ahead of him toward the stairs. “In my bathroom.”

He followed her into the room and pointed to the toilet. “Sit.” She did as he said and chuckled.

“What’s funny?”

“When you said you had something upstairs for me, I thought that was your way of trying to get me into bed…” She turned crimson.

He found the tube he was looking for and squirted a generous supply into his hand. “What makes you think it wasn’t?” Kneeling before her, he said, “Undo another button so I can get my hands in there.” When she did, he took her shoulder between his hands and began to massage.

Meredith winced. “That smells awful.”

“But it will feel so good.” He knew of a few other things that would feel good, but he wasn’t sure if she was up to it or not.

After a few minutes of kneading, Meredith moaned. “You’re right. That’s amazing.” She rolled her head to the side to give him better access.

He licked his lips.

He dipped his fingers back into the ointment. “Raise your arm,” he said, embarrassed that his voice was similar to a pubescent teen’s.

Meredith’s gaze searched his face and then stopped at his lips. With slow and stiff movements, she raised her arm. His fingers skimmed the top of her breast, and when her eyes fluttered closed, Jace knew he wasn’t going to be able to refrain. He needed to figure out how to get her from the bathroom to the bedroom without breaking the mood.

He eased his hands away, brushing his fingers along her smooth skin. “We’ll let that take and do it again in twenty minutes or so.”

When he looked at her, she was watching him, her lip tucked between her teeth. “Okay,” she said before pouncing on him, forcing him back against the cold floor,her hands pulling up his shirt. “I have an idea of how we can spend that time.” Her own shirt slid off her shoulder, exposing one breast cupped beneath a lacy, white bra.

“Hell, yeah,” he said and went for the button on her jeans. They never made it to the bed, taking breaks to rub cream over achy bits. Their dinner was forgotten.

This was why only the essentials got done around the ranch.

22

Life with Jace’s parents back at the ranch was better than Meredith anticipated. Overwhelmed by the transformation of the cabin and how well it suited their needs, Marjory and Pops, as he demanded to be called, slipped right into her heart, becoming part of the fibers that held together the fabric. When Marjory had wrapped Meredith into a tight hug and thanked her for Meredith’s work on the cabin, kissing her forehead much like Meredith’s mother had always done, something buried deep inside Meredith broke free and stretched outward with such a powerful yearning that it nearly brought Meredith to her knees.

Granted, life on the ranch would never compare to the home she’d had with her mother, nothing could replace that, but this life was darn close, and on some level just as good. Each morning she, Willow, and Marjory would cook breakfast for the men, Meredith learning at Marjory’s elbow, repeating the training at dinner and burning less every day. Meredith, always an eager student, was quick to make meal suggestions and was encouraged to try new things. She wondered if she was sometimesdoing too much, going overboard with being helpful, but after being stifled for so long, she couldn't help herself.

Meredith found conversation with Pops easy. Maybe because she wanted to know more about the man who helped cultivate Jace. He had a laid-back manner, a quick laugh, and would regale her with stories of mishaps on the ranch.

They were standing at the fence in a corral where the horses were eating when Pops caught her staring at a large and beautiful white horse.

“You like the look of her?” He nodded toward the horse.

“She’s beautiful. Anglo-Arab, right?”

“Yup, you've got a good eye.”

“I used to have one when I was younger. They look somewhat alike.”

Pop’s wrapped his arm around the fence post and leaned into it. “Did you ride her often?”

“Every day.” In short, quick sentences, she repeated to Pops what she’d told Jace about her grandmother's horse business and growing up learning the business. “Elisa Doolittle was a rescue horse.”

“That was the horse's name?”

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