Chapter 6

Hank and Macie swayed in the front porch swing, enjoying the beautiful evening and the soft breeze blowing. Less than a week had passed since Hank had confessed his feelings to her. Since that first date, the two of them had been inseparable. Macie had stopped offering to work double shifts at the restaurant. And if it weren't for Porter and his ranch hands picking up the slack, Hank might have lost the ranch.

He had been the poster child for responsible since his father's death, but any semblance of him being an adult had fallen to the wayside in the last seven days. He was worse than an alcoholic, so drunk on the love he felt for Macie, it consumed his every waking minute. And more than a fair share of his dreams each night.

The worst part was he couldn't shake himself out of the bliss enough to give a damn. He hadn't been this happy in years—Jesus, maybe ever—and he was going to enjoy it.

"You realize it's our anniversary. One month to the day since you dragged me and my hairy legs out of the restaurant and fed me spaghetti."

"Damn. Wish you'd mentioned that earlier. I would have taken you and your hairy legs out to dinner to celebrate."

Macie snuggled closer to him, wrapping her arm around his waist and resting her head on his shoulder. "I think you should know that this is officially my longest relationship ever."

Every time Macie talked about her complete lack of long-term relationships, Hank was floored. At thirty-one, he figured a woman as beautiful and fun as her should have had at least a dozen former boyfriends. Hell, he couldn't believe she wasn't married with a couple kids already. Maris might be a small town, but it wasn't that damn small and there was no shortage of available men.

"Still find that hard to believe."

She lifted her head and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, taking his amazement as a compliment, the way she always did. But that never answered his burning curiosity about why she'd never dated seriously.

"You gonna tell me why this is the longest relationship?"

Macie grinned and gave him that look that told him she was going to make a joke of it all. He shook his head, his expression stern. He really wanted to know the real reason.

"It's a serious question, Mace. Answer it."

"Or…" she baited. "What? You'll spank me?"

He rolled his eyes. The woman liked that too much, which meant spankings would never be something he could use as a punishment. "Or I'll put you in bed and sleep on the couch."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Try me." He was a man of his word. Macie knew that.

Her expression lost some of its playfulness. "I don't know why."

That answer felt relatively sincere, but Macie did way too much thinking for him to believe she hadn't come up with a theory or seventeen over the years. "Try to piece it out. You're gorgeous, loving, generous and a hoot. I find it hard to believe there wasn't a single man in your past who didn't see those things. Surely there was some first love. Who did you lose your virginity to?"

Macie made a disgusted face. "Oh God. The lost-virginity thing sure as hell wasn't first love. It was sort of a tipsy-at-a-party kind of thing."

"Your first time was a one-night stand?"

"Oh no. We were seventeen, which meant while the first time happened because of lowered inhibitions, we were inexperienced enough to think that might transfer over to a relationship. Believe me, the sex was a lot better after three beers."

As he tried to process that, Macie filled the silence, trying to help him understand. "So basically, my first time was a two-night stand. Nice guy, but no fireworks. He's the mayor these days."

"You lost your virginity to Philip Sanders?"

She grimaced. "Yeah. He's a total stick-in-the-mud now. Back then, he was," she paused, then grinned, "mildly interesting. It was his party. His parents were out of town and it was his one big act of rebellion. He got caught, of course, and after that, he was dull as dirt."

"Are there any guys who got beyond the second date?"

Macie nodded. "Oh yeah. Sure. Two of them. I went out with Toby Peterson for a couple of weeks when I was twenty-five."

"The assistant principal at the high school?"

"Yep. He's a super nice guy, but he has zero sense of humor."

"Okay. And the second guy?"

"He was the previous record holder before you. I dated Marcus Milhon."

"The guy from Maris who went on to become a rodeo star?"

"I had the biggest crush on him growing up. He came home one spring after a nasty fall to recuperate. Let's just say he wasn't bedridden alone for three of those weeks."

"Why did it end?"

"He went back out on the circuit. He asked me to come along, but I'm not a buckle bunny."

"And that's it?"

She smiled sadly. "It is if you don't count me proposing to Johnnie Mills."

"Harley's brother?" Her friend in the wheelchair. Everyone in Maris knew who Johnnie Mills was, had heard the story of him being thrown off the back of his dad's motorcycle when he was eleven, how he'd been paralyzed from the neck down.

He was the man who had died last year around the same time as Sharon.

Her face was sad as she nodded, and Hank figured out she had lied about never being in love. Apparently, there had been one man in her past who'd broken her heart. "Yeah. I asked him to marry me once."

"What did he say?"

"He turned me down. Said he was too much man for me." Her eyes were far away, and Hank knew she was seeing the conversation as she replayed it for him. "We had a weekly date at the restaurant for nearly six years. He'd come in and talk as I worked behind the bar."

"What did you talk about?"

"Everything. Johnnie was one of the smartest guys I ever knew. And funny as shit. And so damn sweet. I've never known anyone like him. I mean he got dealt a crappy hand, but he was never down about it. He was just this really beautiful soul."

"So you proposed?"

"I loved him." She blinked away tears and Hank could see she truly had. "So a couple years ago, I told him we should get hitched. He laughed at first, and then he figured out I was serious. Honestly, until I said the words, I hadn't realized how serious I was. Once I said it, I wanted it. Badly."

"But he said no."

"He was really kind about it. He made the joke about being too much man for me, but when I kept pressing him, he told me he loved me too much to…" She sniffled and swallowed heavily. Hank grasped her hand and squeezed it consolingly.

"Too much to…?" he prompted.

"To condemn me to a lifetime as caregiver. We kind of got into a fight after that. No matter what I said, I couldn't sway him. He left and didn't come back the next week, or the week after that. Then, three weeks after the argument, he rolled back into the restaurant and we picked up like nothing had ever happened. And I let him because I'd missed him so much it hurt. I didn't want to say anything that would make him stay away again. He died not quite a year later. Part of me has wondered since then if he knew his days were numbered. If somehow he had a sense that he wouldn't live much longer."

Suddenly he understood how so many years could have gone by without Macie settling down. She'd given her heart to Johnnie. Then he wondered how different things would be right now if Johnnie had said yes to her proposal.

"What's your dream wedding, Whiskey?"

She perked up, clearly grateful for the change of subject. He was amazed by her strength, by her ability to pull herself together and keep moving.

"That's easy. I'm eloping. In Vegas."

Hank groaned. "You're kidding, right?"

She raised her eyebrows and pointed at a face that was the very definition of serious as shit. "Do I look like I'm kidding?"

"Have you ever been to Vegas?"

She shook her head. "Nope. But a trip to Sin City is number one on my bucket list. It's that name. It inspires all sorts of fun. Have you been to Vegas?"

"No," he admitted. Unlike her, that city held very little appeal for him. "Out of curiosity, what's number two on your bucket list?"

"Officiating a lesbian wedding."

He grinned. "Well, at least you can check that one off in the near future."

He expected her to laugh, but she sobered up. "Yeah. Hopefully."

"Still struggling to write the ceremony?"

"It's freaking harder than you would think. I mean, this is only one of the biggest days of their lives. What I say matters. I really don't want to screw it up."

"You won't, Whiskey. Just speak from the heart and it'll be perfect."

Porter stepped onto the porch. "Sorry to bother you two. Mama Cow is in labor out in the south pasture. Looks like a breach. You're better at handling that, Coop."

Hank rose from the swing. "Okay. I'm not sure how long I'll be, Mace."

"No worries," she said. "I'll be here."

He leaned down to kiss her. "Or better yet, you could be naked in bed," he murmured.

"Go take care of that poor cow," she said, laughing as she shooed him away.

Hank hopped into the passenger side of the ranch truck, waving to her as he and Porter headed out to the south pasture. As they pulled away, he considered her bucket list.

Maybe Vegas wasn't such a bad place to visit after all.

Macie had just shutdown the TV an hour later when headlights flashed through the window and along the living room wall. Rather than strip down to nothing, Macie had donned a brand new sexy nightie she'd bought herself on a whim, while out shopping for wedding stuff with Amanda the previous weekend. She struck a sexy pose on the coffee table and waited for Hank to come in.

She was surprised when there was a knock at the door. Hank wouldn't knock. Neither would Porter. A quick glance at the clock told her it was just after nine. Which felt a bit late for a social call.

Macie had changed in the bedroom and come down in nothing but this damn scrap of lace.

"A smart person would have put on a robe," she muttered as she looked around the living room for something to cover herself up with. She couldn't walk upstairs because to get there required walking by the front door—and its clear glass window that gave the visitor the perfect view inside.

"To hell with it." She grabbed a fleece blanket and draped it over her shoulders, clutching it together in front. It didn't cover as much of her legs as she liked, but she figured she revealed at least that much at the lake in the summer.

As she walked to the door, she was relieved to see Janice standing outside. She opened the door with a smile. "Thank goodness, Janice. I was afraid it was one of the ranch hands. As you can see, I'm all by my lonesome and not exactly dressed for company."

Macie stepped aside as Janice entered. "Coop's not here?"

Macie shook her head. "No. He's out in one of the pastures delivering a breach calf. No telling what time he'll get back."

"Oh." Janice looked disappointed to hear that and once again, Macie felt sorry for the woman. Like Janice, Macie knew how much it hurt to lose a close friend. Johnnie's death had left a gaping hole inside her, and she figured the same held true for Janice.

"You want to have some tea or a glass of wine or something?"

Janice appeared surprised by the invitation and Macie wondered why. She didn't think she'd ever slighted the woman. Hell, she hardly knew Janice. Like Hank, Janice was older, so their paths never crossed growing up. And Janice lived with her elderly parents, caring for them, so it wasn't like they ran into each other at social events either. As far as Macie knew, Janice didn't go out much.

"Tea would be nice."

Macie gestured toward the kitchen, sorry Janice hadn't picked wine. And then sorry she'd suggested the damn tea. She really felt like wine, but guessed it would be rude to pour herself a glass of vino instead of having tea with her guest. She hated adulting.

She poured them each a glass of iced tea as Janice sat at the table.

"So, what's new?" Macie asked, when it was clear Janice wasn't going to start the conversation.

"Not much. My mother fell and sprained her wrist a couple days ago."

"Oh no. I'm sorry to hear that."

Janice shrugged. "She'll be okay. Your cousin, Tyson, wrapped it up for her."

Macie wasn't sure if she was being oversensitive or if she was genuinely detecting a tone of disgust in Janice's voice when she mentioned Tyson's name. Ever since Tyson's unusual relationship with Harley and Caleb came out, the trio had been dealing with some fallout from the judgmental assholes in Maris.

"Tyson is a great doctor. Your mom was in good hands."

Janice's smirk and dismissive hmpf proved Macie wasn't imagining things. And just like that, her willingness to play the good hostess dried up. Nothing got Macie's back up quicker than someone insulting her family.

She pushed her glass of tea aside and reached for a wineglass. "Did you stop by for a reason? Is there something I can do for you instead? I'm really not sure how long Hank will be gone."

"Why do you call him Hank?"

The question took Macie aback, even though it wasn't the first time it had been posed. A couple of her cousins and her sister had remarked on it when she and Hank first started dating. "He asked me to."

Janice frowned. "Why?"

Macie sat across the table from Janice and took a quick sip of her wine. "I don't really know why. I assume it's because he thinks it would be weird for his girlfriend to call him by his last name."

"Sharon called him Coop."

Macie hadn't expected that. She'd figured Hank's request had been based on the fact he missed hearing his first name from his wife. "Oh." Macie wasn't sure how else to reply to that and Janice wasn't someone she felt comfortable sharing confidences with anyway.

Janice gestured toward her blanket. "Are you living here now?"

Macie tried to decide if Janice was just making conversation or if this was some sort of third degree. "No, I haven't moved in." And then, because there was something in Janice's gaze that tweaked her, Macie added, "Yet."

That word seemed to take the wind out of Janice's sails. "Do you expect Coop to propose to you?"

Janice's tone wasn't rude, in fact all her questions were posed in a very sweet voice. Even so, Macie found her annoyance growing with each prying question. Her personal life really wasn't any of Janice's business.

"We've only been dating a month."

Janice nodded as if that was somehow the correct answer. Like there were right or wrong responses. Macie took a bigger drink of wine, not missing the way Janice watched her actions closely.

She was sorry she'd given Janice a full glass of tea. She was ready for the woman to leave.

"Do you like to cook, Macie?"

Macie was getting whiplash from this woman's questions. "No. Not at all. I'm actually a disaster when it comes to making anything edible."

Again, Janice seemed pleased by her answer. So she was two for two in this weird quiz. Macie wondered what the grand prize at the end would be.

"I see. Sharon and I both loved to cook. We spent a great deal of time in this kitchen, fixing meals for Coop and Porter and the other hands. And I can't begin to count the number of meals I've brought over to Coop in the last year."

Macie toyed with the stem of her glass. "That was neighborly of you." Macie wondered how many he'd eaten, given the fact he was in the restaurant most nights, chowing down on the daily special.

"I suppose you'll take over the restaurant business from your father when he decides to retire."

Macie nodded slowly. That was the plan. And pretty much everybody in Maris knew that. "Yeah. With Adele." And her cousins.

"Work must take up a great deal of your time."

It used to. Simply because Macie was a people person and it wasn't like she'd had that much going on in her real life. As such, she'd worked longer hours behind the bar because—sad as it sounded—it had been her happy place. In the last month, that had changed completely. Her new happy place was anywhere Hank was. "The hours aren't terrible and they're pretty flexible."

"Even so, you have to admit that having a full-time job and being a rancher's wife would be extremely difficult."

Ah. Gotcha. Macie worked overtime not to roll her eyes. Janice didn't approve of Hank's new girlfriend. No doubt she felt she owed it to Sharon to make sure her husband found someone more suitable to date.

Shit like this fired Macie up. Two could play the Janice game, so Macie put on her sweetest smile and when she spoke, it was like pure sugar dripping out of her mouth. "Oh, I don't think it would be that hard at all. The ranch hands fend for themselves these days. Hank and I take dinner alone together, and he's a wonderful cook."

"You make him cook?"

Hello, Miss 1950. Way to set women back sixty years.

"Make him? No. I don't tie him to the stove. He likes to cook."

"Coop never made dinner when Sharon was alive."

"I see." It was on the tip of her tongue to remind Janice that Sharon wasn't alive, but no matter how pissed off Macie was, she wouldn't—couldn't—be so cruel.

"I just think perhaps you've got blinders on where Coop is concerned, Macie. The poor man lost the love of his life. He's not exactly thinking clearly. I'm sure the two of you have fun together." Janice's gaze dropped to where Macie's blanket had fallen open to reveal her nightie. Macie tightened her grip on the fleece.

"He's a man. And he has needs. But you have to see that in the long run, the two of you aren't compatible. Beyond the physical, he needs a wife to cook, clean and run this home, to take care of him."

Macie's blood was boiling. She was so fucking angry, she could hardly see straight. "I think you should leave."

Janice had the gall to look affronted, like Macie had insulted her. The woman had just looked Macie in the eye and all but called her a slut, whose only purpose in Hank's life was to spread her legs for the grieving widower, and she had the nerve to act slighted.

"Macie, I'm not saying these things to be unkind. Surely you see that Coop is trying to find his sea legs again. Trying to move on without Sharon. He's going to make a few mistakes along the way and I'd hate to see you get hurt."

So now Macie was a mistake? A slut and a mistake? Macie had never hit another person in her life, but if Janice didn't get away from her in the next thirty seconds, that record was going to end in brutal fashion.

"Janice, my personal life is none of your concern. At all. And now, I'd like you to leave before I call my other cousin, Evan, the cop, to drag you out of here."

Janice rose, shaking her head and giving Macie a holier-than-thou look that insinuated she might have expected such behavior.

Macie balled her hand in a fist and started counting to ten.

Mercifully, Janice moved toward the kitchen door. Before she left, she looked over her shoulder at Macie. "You may be angry at me, Macie, but I think if you dig deep, you'll realize that you're not Coop's type. Sharon was. And you're not her. You never will be."

With that, Janice left.

And Macie picked up her wineglass and threw it against a wall.

Sinking back into her chair, it took a full five minutes for Macie to stop trembling with anger. And another twenty minutes before she managed to stop muttering aloud all the things she wished she'd said to Janice.

Why did the zingers always come after the fact? Shit like that just pissed her off even more.

After thirty minutes, Macie had calmed down enough to stand and clean the broken glass. Then she called Amanda. The two of them cussed Janice VanMeter up one side and down the other—because that was what friends did. Amanda was the best at righteous indignation, never failing to leap to Macie's defense when needed. Once she'd had a good long bitch session, she and Amanda said goodbye.

And an hour later, she was alone in Hank's bed. And trying to drown out the one thing Janice had said that stuck, no matter how much Macie tried to forget it.

You're not Coop's type. Sharon was.

Macie had said that exact same thing at the beginning. And Hank had assured her she was being silly. He had assured her so well, she'd believed him, but the truth was, Macie was his first relationship since Sharon's death. She had watched enough damn chick flicks to know about the transition girlfriend. There was always a chance that was what she was. The woman to help Hank heal, to help him move on with his life.

And then…he'd move on.

To someone more his type. Someone closer to his age, who could cook. Who wanted to be a full-time rancher's wife. Who didn't talk constantly, cuss like a sailor, drink too much, tell dirty jokes and gossip shamelessly. Someone who was calm and quiet and well versed in being a grown-up and a lady.

Someone like Sharon. Whom he'd loved dearly.

Macie looked at the clock and wished Hank would hurry up and get back. Lying in bed alone was giving her too much time to think.

And the worst part was she'd let Janice get to her. She was smarter than that. She knew the woman had said those things to be cruel. But damn if the bitch hadn't found the weak spot, hadn't cut the right artery.

Because Macie had been struggling with the ghost of Sharon, comparing herself to the woman, worrying about measuring up.

She and Hank had amazing sex, there was no denying that. And they had fun together. But was that enough?

Her cell phone pinged. She glanced at the screen, surprised to see Porter's name.

On way back. Coop's phone died. He wanted you to be ready.

She grinned, despite the heavy feeling in her chest. She knew what be ready meant.

Then she recalled Porter's presence in the kitchen last week as he watched her and Hank. Sharon had taken them both to her bed. And it was obvious Hank had enjoyed that aspect of their sex life. He'd mentioned it to her the first week they'd started dating.

Macie's heart began to race as she considered her next move. Realistically, she knew she wasn't in a very good frame of mind. So what she was thinking of doing was really stupid. But she also wasn't sure she'd ever have the courage to initiate this in a lucid state.

Having Porter watch them had been really hot. Maybe taking it to the next level would…what? Make the current mess bigger? Make things clearer? Make it obvious that she could be just as good for Hank as Sharon was?

What the fuck was her goal?

She sucked at planning. And common sense.

So before she could reconsider, she responded to Porter's text.

You coming with him?

There was no reply, even though she could see Porter had read the thing. God. No doubt the men were sitting in the truck thinking WTF right about now.

She stood up, pacing the floor and trying to give herself a pep talk.

"You're better than this, Macie," she mumbled. "You're letting that bitch win. Get her out of your head. You are his type. Hank's crazy about you. You're crazy about him. You can do this. You can do this. He loves you. He loves you. He loves you."

"He loves you."

She twisted at the sound of Hank's voice in the doorway. Shit. How long had he been there? Given his amused grin, she was fairly certain he hadn't heard it all. Otherwise, he would have asked who the bitch was.

"Hey."

He tilted his head as his gaze raked over her, taking in her nightie. "You okay?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"Nervous?"

Stressed-out was probably a better description, but when Hank stepped into the room, followed by Porter, she knew he'd misinterpreted her pacing and muttering.

Hank's forehead creased when she didn't reply, when her mouth fell open and she made a very unattractive squeaking noise.

He frowned. "Yeah. That's what I thought. Macie, I don't think this is a good idea."

"No," she called out quickly. She needed to take some sort of control back. Needed to reclaim the confidence she'd let Janice shake. "Wait."

"No, we're not waiting." She didn't have a clue what Hank saw in her face, but obviously her pep talk hadn't worked.

Hank glanced at Porter, who walked toward her. He cupped her cheek and gave her a soft kiss. Macie stood stock-still through it all, confused as hell. And panicking. She thought by "not waiting," they weren't going ahead.

But now they were?

Oh God. What would they do if she screamed and ran out of the room?

Porter smiled at her. "Me and Coop talked. This isn't going to work out, Macie."

She blinked rapidly, fairly certain she hadn't taken a breath in the last five minutes. "What?"

"I'll let him explain it to you, but I just wanted to tell you that I think you're beautiful and I'm very flattered that you'd even consider taking me back to your bed after the last time, but?—"

"The last time wasn't bad." The words fell out of her mouth without her thinking about them. Like that was anything new.

Hank chuckled, while Porter grinned. "Thanks for that. I think you and me are going to be really good friends."

With that, he gave her a wink and left the room.

"Hank, I?—"

"I can't share you. Not even with Porter." His admission took her by surprise.

"I don't understand. You and Sharon?—"

"You're not Sharon, Macie. And I was wrong to…God, to think you were."

His words went through her like a knife, but she schooled her features, refused to let him see how hurt she was.

"You sent that text, inviting Porter upstairs, and I knew I'd kill him if he touched you." Hank crossed the room, guilt covering his features as he took her hands in his. "I hope you can forgive me. I told you there was nothing I wouldn't give you if it was possible, but letting another man near you, well…that's not going to happen."

Nothing he said was making sense to her. She wasn't Sharon, but suddenly that didn't seem like a bad thing. "You're jealous of Porter?"

"Yeah. Insanely so. I didn't intend to fall so fast, Whiskey. I spent twenty years of my life in love with the same woman, and I made the mistake of thinking that all love felt the same. I was a fool."

She processed that and realized he was right. She'd genuinely loved Johnnie, but her feelings for him were night and day compared to what she felt for Hank. "I get it. And I've been acting like an idiot tonight too. I thought if I asked Porter up here, it would prove to you that I could take Sharon's place."

Hank scowled. "I don't want you to take her place. I want you. Just you. The way you are. Dammit, Macie. Are you saying you would have slept with a man you didn't want just to please me?"

She shook her head. "No. I'm pretty sure it wouldn't have gotten that far. I was contemplating running from the house like the hounds of hell were nipping at my heels when Porter walked over to me."

"Pretty sure?"

Leave it to Hank to latch on to the wrong part. His hands were on his hips and the man was seriously ticked off.

"Hank," she said, reaching out to run her hands along his chest.

He gripped her wrists, tugging them away and pulling them behind her back. Her body responded instantly. As always.

Clenching pussy, tight nipples, racing heart, trouble breathing.

If she put those symptoms in WebMD, the only disease on her list would be Hank Cooper.

"Macie—" he started.

"I wouldn't have slept with him."

He studied her face for a full minute, and then he released her hands.

"I like this nightie," he said as he gripped the neckline and tore the sheer lace in half, dropping his destruction to the floor.

She glanced down and shook her head. "You owe me thirty bucks."

He didn't reply. Instead, he turned her, backing her up until her legs hit the bed. Then with pressure on her shoulder, he pushed her to the mattress, coming over her.

"You're still dressed." It was her most common complaint. Hank was very good at getting her out of her clothes, but he lost all patience when it came to shedding his own. Typically he just bared the essentials. And when that happened, she forgot to complain about the rest.

"Mmmhmmm," he murmured as his lips trailed along her chest, between her breasts, moving lower. He pressed her legs apart, kneeling between them. He stroked her clit with his tongue as he pushed two fingers inside her.

And just like that, Macie forgot about his fully dressed state again. Using his tongue, fingers and teeth, he dragged one orgasm out of her and got her damn close to the second before rising to shrug off his jeans and kick off his shoes. To her surprise, he even pulled off his shirt.

"Get in the middle of the bed, Whiskey. I don't want to fuck you tonight."

She scowled and started to assure him there was no way in hell they weren't having sex, but he just dragged her where he wanted her.

"I'm making love to you."

"Oh."

Her legs opened and then he was there, sliding inside her. He rocked in and out, the two of them swaying like a boat on a placid lake. Throughout it all, he whispered so many perfect things, she felt certain she was dreaming.

"You're so beautiful."

"God, I love you."

"How did I live a second without you, Whiskey?"

"Want you in my bed every night."

As they reached their climaxes, he kissed her softly. Macie went over first, but Hank was only seconds behind. Then he withdrew, moved behind her and spooned her as he fell asleep within minutes.

Macie lay there listening to his slow, deep breathing and every bad thought, every anxiety she'd suffered, simply drifted away.