Next, I reach into my pocket and lay flat the gift I have for her.
“It seems I missed Mother’s Day, and I wanted to give you this.” It’s a silver bangle bracelet with a mother-child charm on it.
“Mother’s Day,” she whispers quietly. “I’d forgotten all about it.” Scarlett has issues with her own parents and didn’t call her mother on the day set aside for such a thing. I should have thought to give her something earlier, but this is all still new to me.
Her eyes fill with liquid as she takes the bracelet from me and rubs her thumb over the charm. “I don’t know what to say.”
“This tree is life to my family, and you are life to me, carrying that baby. Some say this tree is the heart of this land, and well, it just seems like a good place to take a moment and appreciate what we heard today, Sprout’s heartbeat.” I shrug, suddenly anxious by my admission. Maybe it’s too much. Maybe I’m the only one overwhelmed by what we just experienced. Maybe I’m the one that needs a moment.
“I sound like a sap, don’t I?”
Scarlett’s been eyeing the bracelet while I spoke, but she looks up at me, her brown eyes as rich as the soil we stand on. “No, it sounds beautiful. You’re a good man.” Her voice cracks, and I step closer to her.
“Let me be Sprout’s daddy then. No matter what or who is the father, let me be the man in his life.”
“Bull.” Scarlett’s voice falls over my name again in a whisper I can’t interpret.
“It doesn’t matter to me whether Sprout is biologically mine. I want him. I want . . . us to be a team.” I swallow, nearly admitting how much I want her.
“Take a look around you. See all this land?” I point off in the distance, where we can see the silos of the barn along with the old red structure. “A baby grows into a child who needs to run free. He needs sunshine, fresh air, and a place to roam, just like a calf. I want to give that to you and Sprout.”
Scarlett’s been scanning the land, but she looks up at me, her eyes blinking. “You are not comparing our child to a calf?” she teases, lessening the tension on her face.
“Our child. I like the sound of that,” I admit, dismissing her teasing me about cow comparisons. “Let me be the daddy, no matter what.” I’m so close to her, I lower my hand to her belly and flatten my palm. Scarlett looks down and covers my larger mitt with her delicate fingers. “Let me take care of you both.”
Her head pops upward, and her eyes widen. “Bull, I could never ask you to do that. I just need to find a different job and a new—”
I lift my other hand and stop her words with two fingers over her lips. “You aren’t asking me, Scarlett. I’m asking you. If you want another job, get another job, but you also don’t need it. I can provide for us. Stay here with me. Live in my house. Hell, make it more your own. It will be littered with baby things soon enough, and that’s just fine with me. I want to turn the third bedroom into a nursery.”
Scarlett blinks repeatedly, but a few teardrops fall as she looks down at my hand still over her belly. Both her hands cover mine.
“Bull, I don’t know what to say. Don’t you think it’s too much, too fast? It just all seems so crazy. Shouldn’t we wait until we know more? From the second we met, we’ve been like a lit match.”
“Maybe we have moved fast. Maybe it is crazy, but I don’t need to be Sprout’s biological father to love him, Scarlett. And the only thing you need to say is yes to me being his dad. Do it for the baby.” I pause a second, reconsidering my suggestion. “Unless you don’t like the proposition.” I pull my hand away from her stomach, but Scarlett captures it, holding me in place with her hands over mine. Stepping closer to me, she speaks.
“That’s just it. I like the proposition too much. I’m afraid to trust it.” Her eyes narrow, heavy with concern as she gazes up at me.
“What are you worried about?”
“I’ll screw up.” Her voice drops. “With you. With the baby. What if I’m not a good mom?”
“You won’t screw up, sweetheart, and if you do, well, I’m here to unscrew you.”
Her mouth falls open, and I immediately backtrack. “That wasn’t the right choice of words.”
She chuckles softly at my fumbling, and I pinch her chin between my fingers. As I lean forward, her mouth is only an inch away. “Say yes, sweetheart.”
Scarlett licks her lips, and my own mouth waters. “Yes.”
Before the final sound completes the word, my mouth crashes hers. One hand slips into her hair while my arm wraps around her waist, tugging her to me. Scarlett’s hands are instantly around my neck, her arms coming to my shoulders to pull herself higher on me. Within seconds, I have her back to the tree, sucking at her lips like a sweet maple candy. She gives as much as I take and more, kissing me back with just as much sugar.
My hand slips down to her backside, squeezing as I press her forward against me. Bending my knees, I line us up and lift, grinding the thick wedge in my jeans between her skirt-covered legs.
“Let me celebrate with your body, sweetheart,” I whisper to her as I lower for her jaw and her neck. My other hand drops for her skirt and slowly tugs the loose material upward, baring her thigh to me. I cup the underside and lift her leg upward, hitching it against my hip. Surging forward once more, I reinforce what I’ve said. I’m hot and hard and want inside her.
“God, Bull. It’s been so hard to resist you.”
“Don’t resist.” Scarlett’s arms are snug around my neck as her body rocks with mine. “I need to touch you, taste you.”
“Yes,” she hisses, and I drop to one knee. With her back against the tree, I shove up her skirt, which she takes in one hand. My nose runs over her heated center, inhaling the musky scent of her sex.
“You want me, sweetheart?” The damp underwear and sweet fragrance of her already answer my question. Leaning up just a bit, I press a kiss to her lower belly before hooking my fingers in her underwear and dragging them down her legs. She steps out of one side, and my face returns between her thighs, inhaling deeply as I force her stance wider, spreading her legs for me.
“I’m going to worship you,” I warn. My tongue lashes forward, licking her like a sugary treat. I can’t get my fill, and I latch harder to her clit, my tongue wiggles between slick folds. Her fingers delve into my hair as her hips tip forward. She rocks toward me, and I grip her hips, angling her in a way my face parts her thighs even more. She melts against my mouth, coating my lips in candy goodness, and I lap and lick, eager for every drop of her. Her fingers tighten in my hair, and I pin her back, holding her in place against the Engagement Tree.
“Bull. Ohmygod. It’s too much. I’m going to . . .” Her legs stiffen. Her thighs clamp my cheeks. She purrs, and I glance up to see her head tip back, resting against the dark bark, which provides a contrast to the brightness of her red hair. The image makes my heart race, reminding me of this tree in full bloom. Her hand releases from my hair as her arms bend back, wrapping around the tree trunk as best she can in this awkward position. She moans in such a way she’s disturbing the quiet hill, but I want to hear that sound on repeat. She’s the roar of wind over the meadow. The lull of the herd coming home in the evening. She’s everything and more to me.