Page 35 of Embracing Hope

“He’s refused treatment and is staying at the family cabin in the Catskills. He is fishing, hunting, reading, and doing all the things he never got to do while he was healthy because he was always working.”

“He doesn’t want anyone to know about his illness?”

“Daddy’s a private person. He doesn’t like everyone knowing his business, or seeing him as weak.”

“I totally understand.”

She pulled the ends of her hair over one shoulder. “Do you?”

“Of course. I’m not without compassion. I’m sorry. I need to ask, where does that leave you?”

She smoothed her palms down her skirt. “Regarding marriage or the ranch business?”

“Both.”

“I either marry or I…” She couldn’t finish the sentence.

“Lose your claim on the ranch.”

“Exactly.”

“Are you willing to give up everything?”

The question made her feel like she was walking a tightrope. Whether she wanted to face the truth or not, she had a decision to make. Could she give up everything she worked for? She loved the ranch. It was her home.

“I don’t think I can give up everything. That ranch is as part of me as my heart is,” she admitted.

“Now I see why you were working your magic around Wren.” Isaac chuckled.

She playfully swatted him on the shoulder. “I refuse to marry a wet rag.”

“Can I ask a favor? Can I take a shower at the farmhouse?”

Chapter Eight

The farmhouse felt like a palace compared to the bunkhouse.

And the shower with the rain shower-head felt like heaven.

He hadn’t had a hot shower in days, not to mention one longer than three minutes. He scrubbed his body with soap that smelled just like Hope and stayed under the stream of water.

An image of her filled every corner of his mind. She had opened up to him tonight—they’d opened up to each other. She was the first person he’d told about that day in detail.

He swiped his hands over his wet face and closed his eyes, leaning against the cool tiled wall. He sliced his hands through his hair and massaged the tight muscles in his neck. He couldn’t shake the image of her straddling his lap, her eyes full of desire, and her lips pouty. He’d been so hard if a swift wind had come along, he would have shot the zipper out of his jeans.

Isaac couldn’t lie to himself. He’d wanted to push her skirt higher on her waist and sink himself into her wet pussy. He remembered how tight and slick she was. How supple her body had been. How she’d arched into him, spreading her legs wider in the offering. The thought made him shiver and moan. The sound was absorbed by the spray of water.

His cock shot up.

She could almost make him forget that he wasn’t relationship material—and he certainly wasn’t marriage material.

And she needed to marry.

Hell, was she even marriage material?

Why would Sam demand that his daughters marry or lose their claim on the ranch?

If Isaac went out on a limb, he’d guess the idea of death would make just about anyone want to tie any loose strings. He didn’t doubt for a moment that Sam loved his children. While he and Isaac were talking, the seasoned man talked about his daughters in a loving way. Anyone could just about judge the father for his demand, but unless someone walked a mile in his shoes, they didn’t have much right.

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