Page 22 of Eyes Like a Hurricane

I guarantee I’m blushing even harder now. I nod like a middle school girl talking to her first crush. Pointing my thumb toward the coffee shop, I mumble, “I was going to grab a coffee before I go into the clinic. We are doing a meet and greet at 9 a.m. and a complete inventory of our supplies.”

With a knowing smile, he walks up and wraps his large arm around my shoulders, pulling me in for a hug. He kisses my hair and takes a slow, deep breath. “Can I buy you a coffee? This is the best morning I have had in a long time. Getting to see you, hug you, and kiss you is something I will be able to replay in my mind all day at the ranch.”

Suddenly, the door opens, and Callum sticks his head out. “Man, what’s taking you so long? You texted that you arrived five minutes—” he starts to say, then sees me in Lachlan’s arms and smirks. “Oh, I see how it is. Aislinn rolls into town, and I’m chopped liver.”

I give Lachlan a firm squeeze around his waist and urge him forward. We walk in sync to the door. He reaches his longarm out and grabs the door, opening it for me to enter first. “What are you having? Not sure if you ate yet, but the pastries are amazing, too.”

“Thanks,” I say. “I already had my protein shake for breakfast, but the coffee was so smooth yesterday. I thought it would be the perfect way to start work. Seeing you has made it that much better.” Stepping up to the counter, “Can I please have an eight oz decaf, oat milk latte? You can write Lynn on the cup.”

“You bet! And for you?” the barista asks Lachlan.

He rests his hand on the small of my back and begins to rub gentle circles, causing all the little hairs on my arms to prickle.

“I’ll take a tall drip, black. Thank you, Ava,” his voice rumbles.

He pays for our coffee, then walks us toward the end of the bar. I can’t help running my fingers across the smooth finish of the bar top. It's mesmerizing to follow the flow of the blue resin amongst the grain of the wood.

When we reach the end of the bar, Lachlan turns and leans his back against it. Pulling me between his legs, he circles his arms around my waist. It feels so natural to be held in his arms and be protected by his hands. I look up at him and smile. He appears so at ease. Holding me in his arms looks like it’s a part of his daily routine. I hope this is my new normal. When has being held by my man ever felt so natural?

I take the opportunity to lean my cheek against his broad chest. Listening to the steady beat of his heart beneath the soft flannel soothes my soul. He lets out a low rumble that almost sounds like a contented purr. It's the sound a lion makes among his pride.

Smiling into his shirt, I wish time would stop so I could enjoy this moment for a little longer. Before long, I'll have toadmit defeat and return to the real world. I hope they will forget my oat milk and have to remake my coffee so we can stay like this for an extra two minutes.

Time seems to lengthen in his embrace. All too soon, Emily calls, “Lynn, oat milk latte decaf and a black for Lachlan.”

“How come you didn’t give them your full name?” he asks.

“I just came from a coffee capital of the world. Ninety percent of the time, if I say ‘Aislinn,’ I don’t even recognize my name when it’s called. I have been called Allen, Alien, AssLynn, Aye-Lynn, Linds, and so on. It’s just easier to say ‘Lynn.' It's hard to mess up Lynn. At least it can't be mispronounced as Ass. My close friends call me Ais, but they know how to pronounce it correctly so it sounds more like Ash. I can’t tell you how mortifying it is to hear someone yell in a crowded coffee shop, 'Decaf latte for an Ass, Ass.' You know?”

Lachlan starts laughing as I gently swat at his upper arm. My hand bounces off him as if he’s wearing armor. His eyes gleam with laughter as he says, “Well, you do have a fine Ais when you wear those cut-off jeans.”

Chuckling, I say, “Great, I shouldn’t have told you. I’m never going to live that one down. Now anytime someone wants to avoid using the word ass in front of their kids, they are going to say Ais.”

He gently grabs my wrist and tugs me to face him. His head dips to my ear and he murmurs, “If you don’t like it, consider it forgotten. But I will never forget your backside, regardless of what we term it. It was pure torture watching you bend over the pool table in cut-offs last night. The shape of your backside is ingrained into my memory.”

I shake my head with a huge smile on my face. Glancing at my watch, I see it’s 9:03 a.m. Shoot, I’m late for the first day.Luckily, I only have to go two blocks, and there is no traffic, except in the unlikely event someone decides to drive a cart and horse into town.

“Thank you for the coffee. It was really great to see you this morning,” I say as I tilt my head to look up at Lachlan.

He smiles down at me affectionately. “I hope this will become the new norm. I will have no issue getting my morning dose of you and coffee. The coffee Tucker makes back at the office is like sludge, and my sister, Ingrid, only likes her Keurig.” He makes a disgusted face, then sobers before earnestly saying, “I would like to take you on a real date if that’s okay.”

Oh good gracious, I’m blushing again. Nodding, I respond, “Yes, of course. I would love to. What did you have in mind?”

He reaches up with his free hand and rubs the stubble of his short beard. “How about a horseback ride to tour the ranch?” he asks hopefully.

I can hardly contain my excitement. “I would love to. When are you thinking? We officially open the clinic on July 1st, so we will just be getting ready until then.”

He grins. “How about this afternoon? I’m free after 4:00 p.m. I have the perfect horse for you, too. Can you guess her name?”

With wide eyes, I flip through my mind with common horse names. “Dancer, Dasher, Prancer, oh wait,” I say, laughing. “Those are reindeer. Um, Juliet, Serena, oh gosh, I have no idea. I have met horses with names like Lookinforthewin. Oh, how about Pegasus!”

He shakes his head and says, “No, your horse will be Hurricane. Seems fitting to have your nickname the same as your horse’s name. Don’t you think?”

I smile at him. “Is her name really Hurricane, or are you just making that up to mess with me and the little nickname you bestowed upon me?”

“No, no, Hurricane. Her name is really the same as yours. At the ranch, we named all the horses after an aspect of weather based on their coloring or attitude. My black stallion is Thunder,” he replies.

I start to laugh. “Of course. You are as hot as Thor, so why not have a horse named Thunder? You are essentially saying you are the god of thunder.” I snort and slap my hand over my mouth.

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