Chapter 8

Hank stopped in the mudroom before entering the kitchen to wash his hands and face. It was a damn hot day, and his skin felt like it was carrying an inch of sweat and dust. He'd spent the better part of the morning working with a new horse, and he still had at least eight hours worth of chores left to do. He'd risen before Macie and waved to her from the paddock when she left a couple hours earlier.

It had been hard leaving the bed. She had looked so sweet this morning, her long brown hair a tangled mess on the pillow with Sally nestled up next to her. The puppy had actually dug her way under the covers, her head sharing the same pillow as Macie. His two girls. He'd snapped a picture of them with his cell and wouldn't admit—even to himself—how many times he had looked at it today.

A week had passed since his birthday, and Sally already had them both wrapped around her little paw. Macie had stirred at the sound of his camera clicking and rolled her eyes when she spotted the dog next to her. "You've already ruined her," she chastised.

He wasn't going to apologize for that. Or change. There wasn't a doubt in his mind he'd be even worse when kids started coming along.

He had to admit, Sally was stealing some of his thunder lately. Crawling in between them somewhere in the middle of each night. Macie was a cuddler when it came to sleeping. It could be a thousand degrees under the covers and she'd still be wrapped around him tighter than a coil. Not that he minded that a bit. Lately, though, it was Sally getting the snuggles.

Hank grinned when he recalled how cute she'd looked this morning when she left. Macie was all long limbs and soft curves—the perfect woman, in his opinion, though he knew she saw herself as too tall and too thick. She'd even said as much one night and he'd tied her up, keeping her on the edge of an orgasm he refused to give her until she promised to never say those words again.

Fucking media telling women they were only beautiful if they were stick figures. Annoyed the hell out of him.

He dried his hands and face. He'd have a quick sandwich and get back to it. Macie was working the late shift, so he'd be spending tonight at her place. While he didn't mind her apartment, he decided it was high time the woman moved to the ranch permanently. He had mentioned it to her last night, but she'd laughed and reminded him they'd only been dating six weeks.

He told her he'd sweeten the deal with a night-light, so it wasn't so "unnaturally" dark. Hank had been sincere, but she'd only laughed again, thinking his words a joke.

He didn't understand why it should matter if they'd dated six weeks or six years. Hank had told her from the very beginning where he thought they were headed. His determination to get his ring on her finger had only grown. Macie was funny, sexy, smart, sweet—the whole package—and it was time to take things to the next level.

He'd broach the subject again tonight and this time, he wasn't taking no for an answer. It was silly for her to waste her hard-earned money paying rent on an apartment she only slept in a couple nights a week.

Besides, now there was Sally to consider, he thought with a grin.

Hank walked into the kitchen—and froze.

Blinking a couple times to make sure he was really seeing what he thought he was seeing.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked.

Janice sat facing him, naked as the day she was born.

She laughed lightly. "I think that should be sort of obvious, Hank."

He narrowed his eyes at her use of his first name. That was Macie's to use. And only hers.

"Get up and get dressed, Janice." Hank struggled between pure fury and utter exhaustion. He was so over this shit. He had genuinely thought the woman had given up. She hadn't stepped foot on the ranch in over a month. Not since he'd told her Macie was his girlfriend. Porter had assured him he hadn't heard the last from her, but her absence had given him foolish hope.

"It's time for you to stop playing around, Hank. Time?—"

"My name is Coop."

"Macie calls you Hank."

He wasn't sure how Janice knew that, but he figured at some point, the Maris grapevine must have been light on material so that little tidbit had made the rounds.

"That's right. She does. You don't."

He kept his gaze locked on her face, determined to make her see how fucking pissed off he was. "Get dressed now. And go home."

"I guess you think you're still sweet on Macie. Surely by now the bloom must be off that rose. She's all wrong for you. Sharon?—"

"Sharon would have liked Macie. Hell, Sharon did like Macie."

Hank recalled the one and only conversation he and his wife had had about Macie nearly a decade earlier. They'd gone out to dinner at Sparks Barbeque. Macie had just started manning the bar, and she'd kept them in stitches the entire night with her silly stories. As they left, Sharon remarked that she wished she had Macie's energy and enthusiasm and how much fun it would be to be friends with her. He hadn't remembered that until just this minute.

"Hank—"

He took a step forward. His menacing look must have finally sunk in as Janice quickly corrected herself. "Coop. Can't you see that we're a better fit? I'd be a good wife. I'd cook and clean and…"

She stood slowly, and to Hank's horror, she leaned over the kitchen table. Facedown.

The same way he'd taken Macie the day Porter had walked in on them.

"And I'd welcome you—and Porter—into our bed."

There was no way in hell Sharon had told Janice about that. Best friends or not, Sharon had confided to him that she'd never told anyone about their foray into threesome sex—and Sharon didn't lie.

"How did you…"

"I saw you with Macie the other week. And I saw Porter standing there. If that's what you want, what you need, I can give it to you."

Hank's stomach lurched at the thought of Janice watching them.

"Get up from that table." His tone was deadly.

Janice's eyes widened and she started to straighten.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Hank turned to the doorway to find Macie standing there, taking in the scene and repeating his opening words almost verbatim. She didn't spare him a glance as she looked at Janice sprawled out facedown on his table.

His stomach lurched again, this time with pure panic and fear. God only knew what she thought she was seeing. "Macie—" he started.

Her gaze flew to his face as she lifted her hand to stop him. "No," she said. It was just one word, but a solid dismissal. She wasn't going to let him explain. Hank took a step toward her, but stopped when Macie turned back to Janice.

"Get your ass up from there, Janice. Dear God, what's wrong with you?"

Of all the responses he'd anticipated, Hank hadn't expected that one. "Macie," he started again, determined to set things right. He couldn't stand the thought that she might believe—even for one second—that he'd invited Janice here.

"Hank. You're gonna have to give me a minute to take care of this."

Janice had risen and was hastily trying to put her clothes back on. "Listen, Macie—" the woman began.

"No, you listen. I get it, I really do. You've lived your entire life wanting what your best friend had. Hank's a hell of a catch. So obviously when Sharon passed away, you started thinking you'd finally have a chance to grab some of that happiness for yourself."

"Macie—" Janice started again.

"Can you give me one good reason why I shouldn't kick your ass right now?"

With her dress back in place, Janice sagged back into her chair at the table, tears filling her eyes. "No. I can't."

Macie blew out an exasperated breath. "Shit. I guess this is what I get for forgetting my phone."

Hank glanced over at the counter and sure enough, there was Macie's cell. Typical.

"I really am sorry, Macie. It's just all those months after…" Janice swallowed, unable to speak Sharon's name, to mention her death. "He said he wasn't ready to date. Then I show up here and he's making you spaghetti."

Macie walked across the room and took a seat at the table. "Yeah. I know."

"You're just supposed to be his transition."

Macie grinned. "Sounds like we've been watching the same chick flicks. When Harry met Sally?"

Janice snorted and nodded. "I love that movie."

"Janice. This isn't the way to get a man's attention. You know that, right?"

Janice sniffled, wiping her eyes. "I didn't know what else to do. I thought maybe if I offered him…" Her words trailed off as she blushed.

"Sex?"

"Yeah."

"Hank isn't with me because of sex, Janice. Or," Macie flashed him a mischievous grin and quick wink, "at least, not just because of the sex."

Hank struggled not to laugh. Jesus. He'd woken up this morning one hundred percent certain he couldn't possibly love Macie any more than he did. She'd just proven him wrong.

"I can see that," Janice admitted. "I'm sorry I was such a bitch last week. Kind of hoped I could get you to move on when it was obvious Coop wasn't going to break things off."

"Last week?" Hank asked, but Macie waved him off again.

Macie sighed. "Yeah, well, it almost worked."

Janice winced. "When Betty said she overheard the two of you talking about wedding vows yesterday at the restaurant, I sort of panicked. Figured I had to make my move before it was too late."

Wedding vows?

Then Hank remembered. He'd been trying to help Macie work on Amanda and Brandi's ceremony. The clock was ticking on the event and she was still struggling to write it.

"I'm in love with Hank, Janice. And I won't give him up without a fight."

Hank took a step closer to her. There would be no battle. Macie was the winner, hands down. Game over.

"No," Janice said. "It's not a contest I'm going to win. I can see that now. I'm just…I don't have your personality, Macie. I'm forty years old and I still live at home with my parents. I'm going to die an old maid."

"There are tons of single guys in Maris who would be lucky to date you."

Janice gave her a disbelieving look and shook her head.

"I'm serious. You just need some pointers on how to flirt." Macie pointed to Janice's ultra-conservative, plain dress. "And I caught a glimpse of your boobs. You definitely need to bring the girls out into the light of day. Catch their attention first with your smoking-hot tatas, then lure them in with clever conversation."

Hank wasn't sure he liked that Macie thought men were shallow enough to fall for that plan—and then he glanced at her tits and realized she was right. First thing he'd noticed about her had been her boobs. And then her laugh. While he still really liked her breasts, it was that infectious laugh that had kept him coming back for more.

Janice, however, appeared confused, which was not exactly an unusual state for the woman. Clever conversation was definitely going to be a stretch for her.

"Or you know," Macie said, when she realized her original plan needed some revision, "make them a home-cooked meal and bake them a pie."

Janice's face brightened. "I could do that."

"Tell you what, come by the restaurant one afternoon this week and we can put our heads together and come up with a list of eligible guys, make a game plan."

Janice laughed. "You'd really help me? Even after," Janice jerked her head toward Hank, "I threw myself at your boyfriend."

"Oh, it's fine. Honest. This only would have been a problem if he'd tried to catch the pass you were throwing. Then I would have had to kill both of you."

She and Macie laughed while Hank tried to decide exactly how serious Macie was.

The women solidified their date to foist Janice on some poor, unsuspecting Maris fella, and then Janice stood to leave. She hugged Macie and offered him a breezy goodbye as if they were passing acquaintances and she hadn't just been sprawled out across his table in her birthday suit.

"So…Janice, huh?" she said once Janice was gone, her voice laced with the same humor that was pretty much always there.

"What the hell just happened?"

"I was hoping you could tell me. Maybe fill in a few blanks."

"I think you already put most of the pieces together. I let things go too far."

"You think?"

He sighed. "She lost Sharon too. They were like sisters growing up. I got that, so when she stopped by several times a week, right after Sharon passed, I let her in. We ate dinner together, mourned together. Somewhere along the line, her feelings changed. Mine didn't. I tried to put some distance between us. I started going to Sparks for dinner, just to get out of the house and away from her."

"Did you tell her you weren't interested?"

The "are you kidding me?" look Hank flashed made her grin.

"Okay," Macie said. "Sorry. So you told her. And she kept coming around?"

"Yeah. Dropping off cakes and pies, inviting me out for picnics. When I couldn't convince her I wasn't interested, I avoided her. But the colder and more distant I got, the harder she tried."

"And when she saw you dating me, she realized you weren't still mourning Sharon. That you were ready for a girlfriend. I warned you that would happen."

She was right. She'd told him that the first night he asked her out. "When I told her you were my girlfriend, she looked almost happy about it, which I didn't get at the time."

"I was supposed to be the transition. The good-time girl. The one no man in his right mind would settle down with."

He narrowed his eyes. "I thought we established that you?—"

Macie waved him off. "I'm not saying she was right. I'm just saying she did a number on me last week, which was only partly my fault, now that I know she had the hots for you. If you'd told me that, I would have understood her motives."

"If you'd told me she stopped by, and what she said, I could have laid it to rest right then."

"Touché." Then, because it was Macie, who liked to be right all the time, she added an adorable, "Asshole," to the end.

He sighed. "When I said I wasn't ready to date, Janice insisted when I was, she'd be right there waiting."

"Wow. That's sort of completely stalker-crazy scary."

Hank chuckled. "It didn't go quite that far. No dead rabbits in my kitchen."

Macie sobered. "No. Just a naked woman facedown on your table. Interesting choice of position on her part."

Hank had always admired Macie's cleverness. Now he wished she was a little less astute. "She saw us."

Macie blanched. "She saw you, me, and Porter?"

"Yeah." Hank was as disturbed by that as Macie.

"Shit."

Hank watched her absorb that information. It only took her a few seconds and then, in true Macie fashion, she forgot about it and found another squirrel to focus on. "She thinks I'm too young for you."

Hank tilted his head curiously. "Part of that conversation last week?"

Macie nodded.

"Still don't understand why you didn't tell me she'd been here."

"She pushed the right buttons. I was feeling a bit sensitive about it. And then I felt dumb for letting her win."

"What did she say?"

"The same stuff a lot of folks are probably saying behind our backs. That we're a mismatch. That I'm not well suited to be a rancher's wife. As you know, my talents lie in making killer margaritas and gossip, not cooking or cleaning up horse shit."

"I like margaritas. And a good story."

Macie looked at him, her expression serious, pensive. "I think maybe I should reconsider my stance on moving in here. Apparently you're a hotter commodity than I thought. Better to stake my claim now than to have to keep fighting off the old maids."

Her eyes were pure mischief, and he laughed, loudly.

He decided the time was right. Walking to the spice cabinet, he pulled out the ring box he'd hidden there a week earlier. "You know," he teased, "I'm not sure just moving in is enough. It's like you said at the beginning. Open season on Hank Cooper."

Macie stared at his hand. "You had a ring box in your spice cabinet?"

"Figured that was the best hiding place in the house. No way you'd find it there."

"Hank," she whispered, when he got down on one knee.

"Seems to me your safest bet at keeping hold of me is to hop on a plane to Vegas with me."

She narrowed her eyes. "Vegas? Don't toy with me, Coop."

He opened the box, revealing the diamond he'd picked up in Douglas. He'd lied to her the night he'd gotten home for his birthday dinner. There had been no traffic jam on the highway. There was no way he could buy a ring in Maris and manage to get home with it before seventy-two people called to tell her about his purchase, so he'd stopped by a store in Douglas.

"Marry me, Whiskey Eyes." He took the ring from the box and slid it on her finger.

"Oh. Holy shit," she whispered, her gaze locked on her finger.

He rose, grasping her elbows to pull her up, as she continued to stare at the ring. "Say yes, Macie."

"Yes." Finally, her gaze lifted to his and she smiled.

He sealed the deal with a kiss. "I love you."

Macie cupped his cheek. "I love you too. I have to call the restaurant and tell Adele! And Sydney. And Jeannette. And?—"

"I think I've caught the theme." Hank laughed. His first intention had been to drag her to bed, but he should have known hers would be to shout it from the rafters. She had a juicy bit of news to share. Apparently that trumped sex.

The fruit didn't fall far from that tree.

"You know, you don't have to tell everyone yourself. Just call your dad. TJ can take care of spreading the word for us." And then they could head straight to bed now.

Macie looked horrified by his suggestion. "You're right. If I tell him first, I won't get to tell anybody else. Come on. We'll go in person."

Hank chuckled. That backfired spectacularly. "Phone call won't suffice?"

She shook her head. "No. Besides, I'm supposed to close the place down tonight."

He tugged her hand when it was clear she was ready to leave. "Forgetting something?"

She frowned. "No. I don't think so."

He laughed and grabbed her cell from the counter.

"Oops," she murmured as she took it from him.

He let her drag him toward the driveway and his truck. Looked like the romantic lovemaking would have to wait until later.

And given Macie's excitement and ability to embellish any and every story, he figured it would be much later.

Hank was too happy to care.

She'd said yes.