Harlequin Desire January 2021--Box Set 1 of 2 Maisey Yates (sad books to read .txt) 📖

wanting to expand to Cricket’s property. But he didn’t need to do that now. What he could do was help Cricket find her way to a dream.

And then maybe that would help put something to rights in his own life. Cricket wasn’t out with him today, she was off bustling around the house. He told her he would check in on the building site, and then he was going to drive up to the upper pasture, and get the lay of things. It really was a beautiful property.

He thought back to what she’d asked, if ranching was in his blood, as he stood out in the middle of the bright, patchwork field, filled with brilliant green mixed with patches of dark olive and backed by rich pine. As he looked at the sprigs of yellow that clustered around the perimeter interwoven with waving fire-colored Indian paintbrush and dappled orange fritillaria, at the pale blue sky that would be a richer blue come the height of summer, he knew the answer was… It was deeper than blood. It was down in his bones. He was part of the land, and it was part of him. Something that went further than want.

And he’d never thought about it that way before. Only when Cricket had asked, did that thought grow into a feeling.

And he understood. He understood why she wanted this. Why she was here. It was true. When it was part of you, it simply was. Nothing you could do about it.

He heard the sound of a truck engine and turned, and there was Cricket, rumbling up the dirt road, driving that big beast of hers.

That was another thing that was getting down into his blood. Because he hadn’t just been helping her on the property.

No.

They’d spent long nights in beds that were too small, exploring, tasting, and he loved to say that he was teaching her there as much as he was around the ranch, but it was more than that. Because Cricket was a whole new landscape, one he’d never seen or explored or imagined before. She was strong, and she was energetic.

She had no limit as far as he could tell. Nothing embarrassed her.

Rather, she touched and tasted with full enthusiasm, never shying away from anything. That wild girl he’d seen out on the swing at the Maxfield Vineyards brought that sense of the unrestrained into the bedroom, and there were no lessons involved in any of it. No. He was just on the ride. At the mercy of it. And he loved every minute.

He gritted his teeth. There was no getting attached to it.

Why not?

He pushed that thought aside. Cricket got out of the truck, wearing a white tank top and tight jeans, holding a blanket and a picnic basket. And she looked like far too much of a temptation for him to handle.

And hell, she wasn’t a temptation he had to resist over the last couple of weeks, so why should he start now? He crossed the distance between them, and wrapped his arms around her slender waist, pulled her into his arms and planted a kiss on her lips.

“What are you doing?”

“I brought lunch,” she said, a pleased smile curving her lips. “I’ve been practicing being a good pioneer woman. I made bread, I cooked a ham and I’ve made sandwiches.”

“You really made bread?”

“Yes,” she said, her face shining with triumph. “And two of the four loaves turned out. So, you have sandwiches.”

“Cricket, that was awfully nice of you.”

“I know,” she said. “And often I’m not very nice, so it surprised me too.”

“You’re plenty nice.”

Or at least, her particular brand of sharpness was nice for him. Didn’t really matter either way.

She spread the blanket out in the meadow and took a seat, and he stared at her, the golden glow of the sun shining on her face. And he couldn’t figure out quite why she’d done it. Quite why she’d given him this. He couldn’t recall anyone else doing similar for him. Sure, his mom cooked for them. But… She was his mom. Family.

Cricket wasn’t family.

She wasn’t beholden to him in any way. He’d lost a bet to her. That was why he was here. And his education hadn’t included cooking. She had just done this. Just because.

And it did something to his chest that made him want to growl, because he wasn’t a sentimental man. And he didn’t concern himself much with things like this. But it was…unexpected, and it was a hell of a lot more than he’d ever wanted or gotten from another person.

It shocked him how good everything she made was. Though he supposed it probably shouldn’t surprise him. Everything Cricket set her mind to she did with her whole self. And it didn’t mean she couldn’t fail, but she was determined enough that he had a feeling she would have baked ten loaves of bread in order to present him with just one. Because what she wanted, she went and got. And that was something. It was really something.

He liked to watch Cricket eat, among the many things he enjoyed about her. Because she did that with the same level of ferocity and intensity she did everything else. She was sitting on the blanket with her elbows propped up on her knees, her sandwich gripped tightly in her hands. She had brought cans of Coke for the two of them, and when she had eaten about half of her sandwich, she brushed her hands off and picked up the Coke, tipping it back like a beer.

She looked over at him. “What?”

“What?” he repeated.

“You’re staring at me.”

“You’re pretty.” That made him sound like a dumb high school boy. Come to that, he kind of felt like one.

But Cricket blushed. Cricket, tough little thing that she was, blushed, and he found that was all the payment he needed for the worse moment of feeling like an idiot. Something he wasn’t accustomed to.

“Well,” Cricket said. “So are you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, I’ve always thought so.”

“Yeah,”