Page 108 of True North

“What should I call her?”

“Lou, if I knew that, she’d have a name.”

“Of course.” I slip off the stool and head to the refrigerator for the butter and condiments. Back at the counter, I smother the toast in buttery goodness and take a bite.

Nothing beats butter. So simple, so satisfying.

“You and the butter need a minute?” Harry’s voice breaks my savoring moment. I toss a bacon strip at him, and he throws two hands up, snatching it before it hits the ground. “Mine.”

I finish my toast and set the knife on the plate. I round the counter and slide in front of him, between the counter with his food and where he stands. “Anything else you want, Harry?”

His jaw feathers, but he bites the last mouthful of his bacon and chews slowly. His eyes darken for a moment before he swallows, and his hands grip my hips. His stare breaks away only to rove over my tiny sleep tank and shorts.

“Yep, you on a horse in ten.” He winks at me, literallywinksat me, as he turns back, kills the stove, and walks back past on his way to the bathroom. Reaching the hall, he turns back.

He raises two fingers to his forehead and salutes me. The breath in my lungs stalls out, like I have any modicum of say in what just happened.

I clear up and get dressed. The only jeans I own will have to do. A pair of old boots sit at the foot of the bed with the old hat of Harry’s I borrow. Sliding the boots on over my socks, I push the hat onto my head. It’s a little big, but it’ll do.

“Now you look like you’re stayin’.”

I spin back to find him leanin’ on the doorframe. He pushes his hat on as his shoulder leaves the jamb. “Come on, this ranch ain’t waitin’ for no man.” His lips curl into a smile. “Guess that should be no woman, this time ’round.”

I close the distance between us. “Guess so.”

He dips his head, his hands taking my face in a rough grip. “I can’t promise you it won’t be hard, only that it’s worth fighting for.”

A stone grows in my throat, lodging tight, but I manage a few syllables.

“The ranch or us, Harry?”

We both know what we’re getting into. The intensity of what we’ve always had wasn’t without its drama. His moodiness. My inability to let things go, the overthinking and worrying.

God, my stupid brain, I should take the statement back...

“I didn’t?—”

His kiss renders me speechless. The panicked thoughts screech to a halt.

When we part, breathless, he pants where he stands. “Hell, woman. How we gonna get any work done when I can’t keep my hands off you?”

“Commitment,” I breathe.

A small smile pulls up on one side of his handsome face, sending my gut flipping like an overcooked pancake.

“We’ll get to that part, darlin’.” He releases me and nods toward the front door.

Damn you, Harry Rawlins, everything is always a double meaning.

I set my shoulders back and slip past his large frame in the doorway, heading for the front door. Footsteps fail to follow, so I glance back. “Come on Harry, wouldn’t want to be caught slackin’ off.”

He shakes his head and is behind me a beat later.

By the time we get to the barn, his hands find my hips, his mouth on my neck.

“Dammit, Louisa May, watching you sway your way to the barn is pure fuckin’ torture.”

Inside the barn, I spin in his hold, walking backward as I look up to his darkened blues. “Work before play, sailor. I promise it’ll be worth the wait.”

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