Page 40 of The Rancher's Mail-Order Husband

Ciarán listened attentively, his hand occasionally slipping into Graham’s, a gesture that spoke volumes. “Here as well,” Ciarán murmured. “So many people came to ask about Liam, and they wanted to help with whatever they could. Someone was always there with him, keeping him company while the doctor did his work. They brought me lunch, andhelped me with the chores. It was overwhelming. I couldn’t have managed without them.”

Graham nodded, understanding the weight of the situation. “It would’ve been foolish to turn them down, though,” Ciarán continued, a faint frown creasing his brow. “But… I wish I could’ve done it all myself.”

“Why?” Graham asked, genuinely curious.

Ciarán’s gaze dropped to the ground, his voice soft. “So that when you came back, I could show you that I managed everything on my own. That I didn’t need help.” He smiled faintly, as if the thought was bittersweet. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

Graham squeezed his husband’s hand and stopped walking for a moment. He faced him, taking in the honesty in Ciarán’s eyes. “I managed everything alone,” he said thoughtfully. “But I was always alone. Do you know what I mean?” His voice softened, the weight of those words hitting him in ways he hadn't quite realized. “I’m glad that you’ve got people around here who care about you. I’m glad you’ve got friends. You deserve that.”

Ciarán smiled up at him, his eyes shining with affection. “They care about us, Graham,” he corrected gently. “They care about both of us. And you’re a part of this town now, too. You’re not alone.” His words seemed to settle into the quiet space between them, and for a moment, neither of them said anything more. They simply stood there, holding each other close, the prairie stretching endlessly before them, the sounds of nature filling the air.

Graham pulled Ciarán a little closer, feeling the warmth of his body against his own. There was so much to be thankful for—Ciarán, the land, their home—and he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else in that moment.

Ciarán cleared his throat suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence. Graham glanced down at him, his smile growing in response to the soft flush creeping onto his husband’s cheeks.

“Are you, um…” Ciarán’s voice trailed off, and he looked almost sheepish. “In the mood?”

Graham blinked, his heart skipping a beat at the question. “Here?” he asked, surprised, his eyebrows rising in disbelief. The last thing he’d expected was a suggestion like this out here in the open.

Ciarán, blushing furiously now, continued, “The grass is tall. Even taller, if we were… lying down.” His voice was low, and his gaze flitted between Graham’s face and the tall prairie grass surrounding them.

Graham stared at him in stunned silence for a moment, his mind working to process what his husband was suggesting. Then, he glanced around. They were at the far edge of their land, where the prairie seemed to go on forever. The wind rustled the grass, and the silence was almost complete, save for the distant calls of birds and the rustling of leaves. They were alone, with no one else in sight.

The image of Ciarán—naked and freckled, laying amongst the wildflowers—sent a surge of heat through Graham’s veins. He swallowed hard, trying to collect himself. “You sure?” he asked, his voice suddenly hoarse. His mind was racing, caught between desire and the knowledge that they were still in the open.

Ciarán nodded, his blush deepening. “We still have some time before supper,” he said, his voice a little breathless. “It’ll be our secret.”

Graham’s lips curled into a smirk as he gave Ciarán’s hand a playful squeeze. “All right, sweetheart,” he said with awicked glint in his eye. Then, he added, teasing, “But you don’t have to thank me for the dog.”

Ciarán laughed, and without warning, he playfully slapped Graham’s shoulder. The sound of their laughter rang out across the fields, blending with the breeze and the soft whispers of the prairie. And then, they were beneath the sky, hidden amongst the tall grass and wildflowers, lost in the moment and each other. The world outside seemed to fade, leaving only the two of them, wrapped up in the simple joy of being together.

For a while, nothing else mattered—just the warmth of their bodies and the peaceful solitude of the prairie surrounding them. Graham knew there would be more challenges ahead—Ronan and Liam’s situation, the future of the ranch—but for now, as he held Ciarán close, everything felt perfect.

Chapter Eleven

Graham was completely useless for the rest of the day. His mind kept wandering to the sight of his husband’s naked, freckled body glistening in the sunlight as beads of sweat rolled down his chest. How Ciarán had rocked his hips as Graham greedily squeezed his ass. How he’d tried to keep quiet, biting his lip as Graham thrust up into him and how he’d failed, crying out with pleasure at each and every stroke of Graham’s cock.

After the fifth or sixth time catching him in a daze, Ciarán asked, “What are you thinking about?”

Jokingly, Graham replied that he was thinking about confessing what they’d done to the priest on Sunday. It’d been too good to not be a sin.

His husband stared at him in horror. “Oh, Graham, don’t you dare!”

“That man’s heard worse!” Graham laughed. But of course, it was only a joke. There wasn’t a soul alive he was sharing that memory with.

Ciarán, skin warm and slightly pinker but thankfully not sunburnt, spent the evening picking blades of grass and petals from Graham’s hair.

“It’s so lovely and thick,” he murmured. His fingers stroked Graham’s scalp as they laid in the hayloft together. “Ah, here’s another—how did this happen? Every time I think I’ve found the last…” He dropped a petal into Graham’s hand.

Drowsy from his husband’s touch, Graham only hummed. He held the petal in front of his eyes. It was a cheerful yellow, a little piece of summer. He let it fall from his fingers and closed his eyes, settling his head more comfortably in Ciarán’s lap. “That feels nice, sweetheart.”

“Are you tired?”

Graham smiled. “You wore me out.”

“Then let’s turn in for the night.”

He went to bed exhausted and satisfied, but he was slow moving come morning. Graham stretched gingerly and was rewarded with a dull ache in his back. Wildflowers aside, the ground probably hadn’t been the best place for their conjugal activities. Next time they’d be in a bed. Or, Graham amended with a wince, what with their own bed being taken up for Liam’s convalescence, maybe they would just find a position that wasn’t near so hard on his body.

---