“Don’t give up on love, Serena. My Maggie may be gone, but I cherish every single day I had with her.”
Serena squeezed his arm. “I know you do. I’m waiting for that kind of love. The kind where you just jump in it together and figure it out, each of you playing to your strengths.”
“Well, there’s plenty of strong men around here who would love you to look their way.”
“Maybe someday. Right now, I need to focus on the diner and restarting my design business.”
“Good for you. Let me know if I can help.”
Serena had nodded, smiled, and got back to cooking.
It was a gorgeous night. The sky was inky black and dotted with silvery, diamond-like stars. One of the things she loved about living out here was the lack of ambient light; the moon and stars were more than enough to light up the darkness.
As beautiful as the nights could be, Serena’s favorite time of day was the early morning, just as the cloak of shadows began to lift, and the sun crept over the eastern horizon. Being isolated out at Trey’s cottage gave her the ability to do things she’d only dreamt of doing in Seattle.
She was playing in the water, running through the shallow rapids, and letting the river, which was more like a creek in this area, wash all her cares away. She found the cold-water invigorating and the smooth stones acted like an amazing foot massage.
Serena whirled around but paused when something caught her eye. In the distance sat a tall, muscular, cowboy on an Appaloosa horse. Unless she missed her guess, it was Clay Waverly, the embodiment of a hunky cowboy. She’d heard he was in some kind of special forces with the Marines and would be home on leave. Word traveled fast in small towns. She’d hoped he’d come into the diner but hadn’t expected to find him out here.
A lot of the single women her age in the area preferred his beefier older brothers: Cade, Cash, and Cole. She wouldn’t kick any of them out of her bed, but there was something wild and untamed about Clay. He called to her in a primal way she’d never felt before.
He sat on his horse, just looking. She thought about trying to cover up, but decided he was the trespasser not her. Besides he seemed to be enjoying the view. Serena raised her hand and waved. He tipped his hat but turned his horse and headed back the way he’d come. Perhaps being outside in the nude had turned him off, but she hated to think that.
At the shore, Serena slipped into her flip flops and walked toward the cottage. A nice hot shower and she’d try to get that cover done for her latest client on a paranormal mystery series. The woman had an intriguing concept: the hero of a romance writer’s stories steps out of the books to save her in real life. Different and cool.
The trek back to her place took only a few minutes and as she stood under the water in the shower, she wondered what it would be like to feel Clay’s naked body next to hers, to feel the hot water raining down on them as they made love. Serena could easily imagine his strong, calloused hands trailing down her body, pulling her closer, her back to his front.
As her thoughts drifted, she leaned against the tiled wall and allowed the water to hit her full force. Her hand slid down her torso and she imagined that it was his fingertips activating every nerve ending she had. He had long fingers, almost like an artist, but Clay was no artist. Like all the Waverly brothers, he worked long, hard hours. When he was home on leave from the Marine Corps, he spent his time outside with his beloved herd of feral Appaloosas. She’d seen his horses running one time across the prairie and they’d taken her breath away. They were the true embodiment of beauty, courage, and freedom.
She allowed her hands to play, still pretending they were his as they cupped her breasts while his thumbs strummed her nipples like taut strings on a musical instrument. Serena moaned as the mental picture entered her mind. She would let Clay Waverly play whatever songs he liked on her body, allow him to put his mouth wherever he wanted. She wasn’t overly fond of someone eating her pussy, but if that’s what he wanted, she imagined Clay wouldn’t hesitate to make a meal of her.
Wondering if he might have some of the traits she’d come to crave from her romance books: brooding, possessive, rough, dominating. Yes, that’s what she needed, a man who could take what he wanted, who could so enthrall her that her busy mind went still and focused only on the pleasure they could provide for each other.
Her index finger dropped to her clit. God, she needed this; she hadn’t masturbated for a couple of weeks. It wasn’t that she wasn’t horny. It’s that the act had seemed sort of empty, a physical release for sure, but nothing more. She closed her eyes and let her mind drift back to Clay’s hands, one playing with her clit, the other palming her breasts before pinching her nipples.
Her breathing became shallow and thready. She was just about to let go and fly when the phone rang, completely destroying her concentration.
Shit!
Chapter 3
Serena loved the sounds of her kitchen at The Trail Diner. She didn’t have a large staff, but they all worked together in nearly perfect synergy. Grinning like the proverbial Cheshire cat, Wes rested against the doorframe into the kitchen as Amy, their lead waiter, headed to the front door to unlock it. What had once been a small group of regulars with the occasional traveler had now become a crowd who waited at the door to be let in and quickly filled them to capacity. The entry that once housed kitschy tourist gifts had been transformed last year to a comfortable sitting area where folks could have a cup of coffee while they waited for a table.
“This is all you,” Wes said to Serena, nodding toward the crowd.
“Nope, it’s all of us. Everybody here contributes in their own way.”
“You’re the chef…”
“Yeah, but you’re the guy that let me change up the menu and put in that nice waiting area.”
“Don’t kid yourself, Serena, they’d sit on folding lawn chairs if it meant getting your biscuits or hash browns. Who’d have thought moving from frozen pre-packaged items to fresh would make such a huge difference. Every time I look at the balance sheet, I crack up. Our expenses have increased, but our bottom line has improved by leaps and bounds. How are the cinnamon rolls coming along? Everyone who’s gotten to taste your experiments has raved.”
“I think I’m finally happy with the recipe. I’m going to do a test run tomorrow. If that works, Mara’s going to make a batch for the day after. If I’m happy with both, we can put them on the menu, maybe as a weekly special on Tuesdays since that seems to be our slowest day.”
Wes laughed. “What you consider slow, I use to think of as a busy rush. We do more business on a Tuesday morning than we’d do all day on a Saturday.” He shook his head. “You do whatever you like.”
Wes moved off to help with seating and to talk to customers. He might like to think it was all her, but it was that personal touch Wes gave to people that kept them coming back. Their reviews on all the search sites gave them high marks not only in the quality of their food, but in service and friendliness.
Serena faded back into the kitchen to work alongside her line cook, Mara.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Mara exclaimed. Serena looked up and followed her gaze through the service pass-through. “Shep said Clay had left the Marines and come home. Damn, that is one fine cowboy.”