He was oh-so-handsome. With his hat off, she could see his dark hair was cropped short after a recent cut Judd had given him. His face was bronzed and in need of a shave. And his dark brows furrowed over his rich brown eyes. “She’s getting worse, ain’t she?” he asked softly.
Greta didn’t want to burden him with Astrid’s health, especially first thing after getting home from a long trip, but she had to say something. “She’s having another flare-up.”
Wyatt studied her face as though seeing past her answer to the truth. “What more can we do for her?”
She hesitated and then sighed. “I don’t know.” To avoid his probing gaze, she headed to the stove, where she’d left a pot of soup simmering. She ladled out a bowl and brought it to him along with biscuits and a jar of plum jam.
She spun away to pour him a mug of coffee, but he snagged her hand and prevented her from going. “Wait.”
For a second, she didn’t want to face him, too afraid he’d ask her more questions and discover just how bad Astrid’s consumption was. But when he laced his fingers through hers, his solid hold seemed to reassure her that everything would be alright, that he would be here to support and help her, that she wasn’t alone.
Slowly, she turned to face him.
He focused on their intertwined hands. “I brought something back for you.”
“I saw the plums.” She glanced by the door to the basket filled with the wild fruit. “Thank you for finding them for me.” Maybe this time she’d have to save the profits for herself . . . just in case she took Astrid to the hospital in Denver.
He shrugged. “I found a couple of trees, and it didn’t take long to pick ’em clean.”
“And thank you for the puppy for Astrid. I know she’s been wanting a kitten, but I think the dog is actually a better pet for her right now.”
“I’ll get her a kitten too. But she might have to wait ’til spring.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Every barn needs a cat or two.”
“True enough.”
His fingers tightened against hers, sending a shiver down her backbone. When he rubbed his thumb over her hand, all she could think about was the kisses they’d shared in the bedroom and how much she liked them. Did he want to kiss her again?
Her breath stuck in her throat at the possibility. If he made the least move to do so, she wouldn’t resist.
“It’s not the plums or the puppy. It’s something else.” In the next heartbeat, he tugged her down. She shifted to sit on the bench next to him, but he guided her so that she found herself on his lap, her shoulder brushing his brawny chest. Her fingers tingled with the memory of running her hands so boldly over his shoulders and arms. Being so near only made her want to do it again. Yet she didn’t dare do something so brazen and held herself stiffly, uncertain what to expect.
He dug into his inner vest pocket and pulled out a small item. “I had a last little nugget of gold I’ve been hanging on to. And I finally figured out what I wanted to use it for.”
Her pulse pattered to a stop and a sputter of worry took up rhythm instead.
“I was planning on waiting a couple more weeks to give it to you. But now’s as fitting a time as any.” He lifted her left hand and slipped off the wedding band Mr. Steele had given to them. Wyatt’s expression was grave, his concentration intense, which made the drumbeat of worry inside pound louder.
He placed the old band on the table. Then he held her hand and slipped on the new.
“Oh my.” She took in the gold band engraved with twisted leaves that alternated green and yellow gold. “It’s beautiful.”
“Are you sure? The store in Leadville had slim pickings, but I was hoping it’d be alright.”
She held out her hand and examined it, marveling at the intricacies of the engravings and the beauty of the colors together. It was perfect, and she couldn’t have chosen anything better or more fitting. In the same breath of delight, she shook her head. “I love it, but I can’t accept it. It’s too nice. Much too nice.”
“I want to—”
“And I’m sure it was too expensive. You need the money for other things.”
“Nothin’ that can’t wait.”
“No, Wyatt. I don’t deserve something like this. Really, I don’t—”
He silenced her by leaning in and covering her lips with his. As before, the touch was tender and made her forget about everything but the connection with him—one that plied open her lips as much as her heart.
This man . . . Who would have guessed how swiftly and completely she’d come to care about him? Not only was she attracted to every aspect of his good-looking body, but she loved everything about him from how sweet he was to Astrid to how hard he worked on the ranch. He had so many good qualities and was a better husband to her than she could have dreamed of having.
She suspected she never would have had this kind of relationship with Phineas Hallock had she married him, especially this kind of attraction, passion, and desire. She didn’t know much about marriage, but she knew these feelings for Wyatt and this bond developing between them were special.
Just how special was it?
The question startled her enough that she pulled back. He didn’t press in and attempt to continue, but his lips brushed her cheek, then her chin line, then the tender spot where her neck met her jaw.
She gasped and shifted to give him all the room he needed. His arms slid around her as though he couldn’t bear to let her go. She wanted to assure him he had nothing to worry about, that she’d never leave. But how could she make that promise?
As his kiss moved to her ear, his breath, his presence, his power seemed to surround her, and she closed her eyes as heat swirled inside. He placed a kiss into the hollow of her ear before grazing downward. She clutched his shirt, trying to keep from drowning in the sensations his touch was awakening inside her.
At a rattle of the door, she released him. In the next instant, Judd stepped into the cabin, and she jumped up from Wyatt’s lap, forcing him to let her go. For a second, she stood motionless attempting to gain her bearings.
Judd’s bushy white brows arched high as his gaze swung between Wyatt and her. “Came to get grub. Guess I can wait.”
“No.” Greta rushed to the stove, mortification pummeling her. “I have soup and biscuits ready.” As she stood in front of the stove, she pressed her hands against her cheeks, feeling the warmth radiating from her skin.
Behind her, Judd’s boots thumped in an uneven gait across the floor. He paused halfway in.
She reached for a bowl from the shelf next to the stove, then scooped soup inside. His steps resumed until he reached the table and pulled out the bench with a scrape.
At the oomph he made sitting down, she released a shaky breath. Once the bowl was full and the plate piled with biscuits, she twirled the ladle in the pot. Wyatt’s slurp filled the silence.
Why was she so embarrassed? She hadn’t done anything wrong by kissing Wyatt. And it didn’t matter that Judd had seen them. They had every right to be kissing if that’s what they wanted to do. Didn’t they?
Straightening her shoulders, she breathed in and then turned, walked across the room, and placed the bowl and plate in front of Judd, all the while avoiding looking either of the men in the face.