Page 3 of Haunted

Ignoring Diana was an impossibility, especially when she set her sights on something—or someone. Thank God she’d waited until she was legal before making a move on him. Resisting her after she’d made that move had proved a hard enough task, and Butch was only human.

He pushed the barn door open and ambled into the dark space that smelled of feed, wood, hay, and dust. It was an odor he’d known since he was old enough to follow his dad into their own barn. The sweet smell of hay was almost like a perfume, one that had mingled with the scent of Diana’s hair, her skin…

A scent that carried him back in time, rekindling pleasant, illicit memories.

One particular memory had stayed with him for thirty years.

Friday, June 19, 1992

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Butch murmured.

“You’re right.” Diana Thorston’s mouth might be agreeing with him, but the way she arched her back when Butch kissed her neck, the way she scraped her fingers through the hair on the back of his head, down his nape to dig into his shoulders, said something else entirely.

He knew what she wanted. What she always wanted. The way she drew up her jeans-clad legs to grip him around his waist reinforced her intent.

“Diana…” Christ, the heat of her. A heat he knew only too well. It would have been so easy to give her what she needed—what they both needed—but her dad had gone someplace with Robert, carrying out last-minute tasks, and they could be back at any second.

She kissed his cheek, then pressed her lips to his ear. “It’s our last chance,” she whispered.

The words fell like a splash of cold water on his face, cooling his desire and killing his erection.

Can’t do this anymore. Especially not today.

Butch broke free of her embrace. “We need to stop this.” His voice sounded even, firm, and more in control than he really felt.

Diana froze. “Why?”

Despite his inner turmoil, Butch cracked a smile. “Because you’re marryin’ another guy tomorrow. Remember? Orange blossom and white lace? Saying I do with your daddy standing beside you, giving you away?” He stroked her cheek, then took her left hand in his. “Wearing Newt Webster’s ring on your finger?”

She sat up, removing bits of hay from her long blonde hair. “It’s not too late, y’know.”

“Too late for what?”

“I can still change my mind.”

He gaped at her. “And what would be the alternative? Me asking your daddy for your hand in marriage? After he all but shoved Newt in front of you last year at that dance over in Billings?” He snorted. “And what if I did? Do you know what he’d do to me?”

“Fire you?”

Butch cackled. “Oh sweetheart, losing my job would be the least of my worries.”

It was the fate of his balls that concerned him most.

She swallowed. “But I don’t want to marry Newt.”

His chest tightened at the plaintive edge to her voice, and he struggled to remain firm. “Why not? He’s a good guy. He’ll treat you well. He’ll make you a fine husband.”

Butch wasn’t so sure about that last part. Newt hadn’t impressed him from the start, but he was her daddy’s choice, and there was no going against that. Six months after Mr. Thorston began trotting Newt in front of her every chance he got, there had been an announcement. Some ranch hands had wondered if there’d been a shotgun involved.

Butch knew better than to comment on that.

“Sure—and then he’ll bore me to death.”

Butch held his arm wide, and she snuggled up to him, her head resting against his shoulder. He pressed his lips to the top of her head. “He doesn’t know about me, does he?”

Good Lord, he hoped not.

Diana tilted her head and stared up at him with wide eyes. “Are you kidding? He still thinks I’m a virgin, andthatboat sailed about the same time Dad started mentioning his name at regular intervals.” She chuckled. “I’m sure you remember your part in it. This part, as I recall.” She slid her hand over his belly, heading south, but he stopped her before she reached his dick, his fingers wrapped around her wrist.

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