“You better not let Shep hear you say that,” teased Serena.
Mara laughed. “I didn’t say he was as fine as Shep, but fine all the same. He’s let his hair grow out just a little bit.”
Serena looked in Clay’s direction. Mara was right. The muscular cowboy had allowed his hair to grow out some from a military high and tight cut to something a bit longer, but not much. He wasn’t quite as beefy as his brothers, but Clay reminded her of finely tempered steel. Tall and angular with a tensile strength that really did it for her.
“He’s home for good, then?” asked Serena, trying to keep her tone neutral.
“That’s the word. Shep says he’s moved out to Koyama's original homestead cabin. That place is going to take a lot of work. It doesn’t even have an outhouse, much less indoor plumbing. I can’t even imagine…”
“Does Shep know him well?”
Mara laughed. “It’s a small town in Idaho, Serena. They were both born here. Yeah, they know each other.”
“Why do you think he isn’t up at the main house with his brothers?”
Mara grinned at her. “Sometimes I forget you weren’t born and raised here. Like the rest of his brothers, he hates their old man. Cyrus is a real bastard. When their mom died, she split the ranch between the boys. The part she left for Clay has the original cabin from when the ranch was founded. They say Clay and Trey Mitchell stole Hannah’s body from the family mausoleum here in town and reburied her out there somewhere.”
“So, Clay and Trey Mitchell were an item?”
“Romantically? Nah, but they’ve been buddies most of their lives. Shep says Clay wants to use the feral Appaloosas that run the range at Koyama' to bring back a heritage line. That’s probably why his mom left the old homestead to him, it’s closest to the wild herd and he’s always been the most comfortable in the untamed part of the ranch.” Mara turned to look at her with a twinkle in her eye. “You interested in Clay? I could ask Shep to introduce you.”
Serena laughed. “I like the look of him, but not the way you think. I could imagine him on one of the covers I’m working on. That’s all. And if I want to meet the guy, I’ll introduce myself. Right now, I’m way too busy to date anybody.”
“Girl, you need to do something other than work.”
Serena shrugged. “That’s what batteries are for.”
“TMI, Serena. Besides, nothing beats the feeling of having a man doing the fondling and stroking.”
“Talk about TMI!” Serena laughed before the two fell back into cooking to keep up with the morning rush.
About an hour later, Amy stuck her head in the kitchen. “Serena? Clay Waverly asked to speak to you if you had a minute.”
“She’ll make the minute,” said Mara.
Serena rolled her eyes, wiped her hands on her apron, and headed out to see what the drool-worthy Clay Waverly wanted.
“Hi, Clay. I’m Serena,” she said when she got to his booth. “Amy said you wanted to speak with me. Is there a problem?”
“Not at all. If you aren’t busy, could I talk to you for a minute? I’d offer to buy you a cup of coffee, but I’m pretty sure you get those for free.” Up close he was even more arresting. His voice was smooth like water run over stones then soaked in a brandy cask.
“I suppose I can take a moment…” She smiled as she took a seat in a recently vacated booth.
“What were you thinking? Just then when you smiled?” He took the seat opposite her.
“How do you know I was thinking anything?”
“The look that came over your face, it was a happy memory, wasn’t it?”
“You don’t miss much do you?” she asked.
“I miss plenty, but I work with wild horses. With them, you have to learn to pick up on non-verbal cues. If you don’t want to share, that’s not a problem. I tend to be pretty direct.”
She paused but made up her mind. “I was just thinking that I like your voice. It sounds like it’s been aged in a brandy cask. I used to work at a winery in California and some of their wines were aged that way.”
“You were happy there,” he stated.
She nodded. “I was. I ended up at Earthly Spirits after being fired from my job as a paralegal in Seattle.”
“What brought you here?”
“I decided it was time to move on and went to culinary school up in Portland. I saw an ad online, Wes offered me a job, and here I am.”
“And you design covers for romance books… steamy ones.”
“Is that a problem?” Serena visibly bristled.
He reached out and laid his hand over hers. “Not at all. I hear the books are very popular and you’re in high demand. Mara is one of your biggest fans.”
Allowing her shoulders to relax, she said, “I have a lot of fun doing it. It’s my quiet place after a long day in the kitchen.”
He nodded. “I know how that feels. I get that when I’m out watching the wild horses run.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Listen to me go on. I know you’re busy. I was wondering if there would be any way for me to buy one of your meatloaves, the whole thing, maybe two. Everyone I know raves about them. I’m working on my cabin and I’m not much of a cook. I could just heat it up and use parts of it to make sandwiches.”
Serena laughed. “You can’t live on meatloaf alone. But let me talk to Wes. I’m sure we can do something to help. Mara says you’re renovating the original homestead cabin. Sounds like a lot of work, but also fulfilling.”
He nodded. “My mother loved that place and refused to allow it to be torn down or made habitable again. She kept it cleaned out for the most part, but it’s a mess. Still a nice transition from the Marines, though. If only I could make feeding myself easier, it would be great.”
She smiled as she stood from the booth. “I’ll talk to Wes and let you know. It was nice to meet you, Clay.”
“You too, Serena.”
She re-entered the kitchen but kept an eye on him until he left.
He was washing his face down at the stream the next morning when he heard a motor close to the cabin. Very few people came out here—exactly the way he preferred it. Those who did visit usually rode horses.
Not bothering with the flannel shirt he’d left behind on the rocky embankment, Clay walked toward the sound. When he rounded the corner, he found Serena Clarke about to knock on his door.
“Serena?” he called.
What was she doing out here?
He wondered if she had any idea how many times he’d fantasized coming home to find her here. Sure, she was gorgeous, half the men in town were falling at her feet. Part of what Clay found so attractive was that she didn’t seem to notice—not in an ‘I’m too good for you’ way, but truly like she didn’t see what she did to the men around her.
His cock tightened at the thought of all the things he’d like to do to and with her. If it tented his jeans, she’d just have to deal with it. If things worked out the way he planned, she’d come to intimately know what she did to him. Ever since he’d seen her naked and playing in the creek, she’d filled his mind, his dreams, and his fantasies. And now his plans were filled with all the deliciously erotic things he wanted to do to her.