Page 60 of Harvest Moon

We cleaned up a little, so we wouldn’t smell quite so egregiously of the fact that we’d just had sex in the barn, but I didn’t doubt that everyone would know. From the goofy smile on my face alone, I suspected anyone I saw would be able to guess.

Ridge wasn’t put off. He just kept shooting me sweet, shy glances, tiny smiles, and then ducking his head and looking away. When we were finished cleaning up, he took my hand once again, squeezing it lightly.

I just had to figure out how to make sure he didn’t let go again, next time someone surprised him. I needed to nail things down, get real answers to my questions and make sure that there wouldn’t be another misunderstanding like the one that had led me to run halfway across the state from him.

Sure, this time it had worked out, but I wasn’t willing to gamble my whole life on that. And this was that. Ridge was that. My whole life.

I felt a damn sight less ridiculous for having made the assumptions I had before. Ridge did want me.

I leaned hard into his side, biting my lip and trying to keep my grin from going so manic I looked like a comic-book villain.

A woman met us at the back door of the house, and she reminded me a lot of Ridge’s ma. She was older, with a kind face, but she had an alpha’s scent, and she gave us an enthusiastic smile. I wondered if she was hiding wedding magazines in her sewing room.

“You must be Ridge’s young man,” she said, holding out a hand to shake. “I was wondering when he’d bring you around for supper.”

“Alexis, ma’am,” I offered, shaking her hand.

“Barbara,” she gave back, and motioned for Ridge and me to follow her in. He looked downright confused. I suspected he hadn’t said anything to them about me, so he was perplexed at her claiming to know about me.

Given how small a town it was, he should have known better. The town of our birth had been every bit as bad, convinced we were going to get married just because we’d spent a lot of time together.

On the other hand, that was precisely what I wanted, so I couldn’t complain.

The Hills’ table was in their kitchen, reminding me even more of home. So many people in Grovetown had enormous houses with kitchens and separate dining rooms. My mother would have given her left arm for something like that. A whole room just for eating.

But this was a known quantity. This was comfortable.

“You boys want some lemonade?” Barbara asked as she went to the stove to stir something that smelled suspiciously like sawmill gravy. I was so ready for that. And also, lemonade. I was about to respond when Ridge pulled out a chair across from Mr. Hill at the kitchen table and motioned to me. Like I was some kind of omega in a historical romance, and he was a lord with prim and proper manners.

Well hell. No way I was turning that down. “Lemonade sounds wonderful,” I finally answered, but I was watching Ridge when I said it.

He gave me a quick nod, then turned to her. “I can pour. Everyone want one?”

“Aren’t you the sweetest thing?” she said, more than asked, without looking up from her cooking. “Henrik’s got his tea, and he’s not supposed to have so much acid.”

The man himself sighed and nodded. “Much as I’d love a lemonade, it doesn’t agree with me too well these days. You boys should take advantage of your youth while you can.”

I wanted to ask if it had anything to do with Skye’s diet, or if he even knew about that, since I could smell that he was an omega, but some people weren’t comfortable discussing it like I was. And while I normally might have forged ahead anyway, offending people be damned, I couldn’t do that here. I needed these people to like me. They were like Ridge’s family now, and they were going to be a part of my life.

Frankly, it was more important that they liked me.

So maybe next time I saw Ridge’s pa, I’d give him a piece of my mind.

Ridge set a tall, cool glass in front of me, and it was... pink. I cocked my head and stared at it, then turned to Ridge, one eyebrow quirked.

He smiled at me. “Barbara makes it with strawberries. It just might be the best I’ve ever had.”

“You keep talking like that, I’ll have to keep you around for good, mister.” She turned to her husband, then made a head motion that meant absolutely nothing to me.

In the way of long-married couples, it clearly meant something to him, because he nodded and got up, pulling plates and flatware out of a cupboard and drawer, then setting them out on the table.

He only set four places, and that made Ridge frown.

“Ford okay?” he asked, his jaw tight.

“It’s not you,” Mr. Hill assured, patting Ridge on the back as he passed by on his way to pick up napkins for the table. “And it’s nothing to do with your young man. Lily’s birthday is coming up, and it always hits him hard. We lost him for a week the first year.”

“I thought he was gone for good that time,” Barbara said at the stove with a sad sigh.

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