40. Dusty

I really like waking up with this woman.

I’ve got her in my arms and she’s staring up at me with a funny little secret smile on those plump lips. I’m not even going to ask what’s going through that head of hers. It’s kind of fun to leave her like that, a mystery wrapped up in a cute little bow. I lower my head, trailing my nose along her jaw.

Brushing my lips against her soft ear lobe, I grin at the way she shivers at the touch. “I need to tell you something.”

I’ve got her caged in my arms. Her head bends towards my lips. “What?”

she murmurs, fingertips drawing little circles on my chest.

“I’m hungry.”

She laughs. “Thanks for trusting me with that information.”

“I wanted to eat breakfast with you the other day, and then that fucking Jerry Lind showed up and interrupted.”

“Next time, let’s run him off the property.”

She wraps her hands around the back of my neck. “Am I cooking, or are you?”

“Oh, I’m cooking.”

I say, lowering my voice. “I’m going to cook for you so good.”

She laughs, dragging her nails through my hair. “Prove it.”

I’ve always loved a good challenge. Slipping out of bed, I step over to my dresser and pull out a pair of gray sweats. Still nestled up on the bed, Marnie locates her panties in the tangle of sheets, and unfortunately, her bra. She tugs the bra into place, adjusting it, hair glowing in the morning light. I feel blessed to witness a small intimate moment like that and get momentarily sidetracked watching her.

She catches me staring, giving me a lopsided smile, before flopping blankets aside, looking for her jeans.

I toss her a sweatshirt. “Wear this.”

Without hesitating, she pulls it over her head. “A little big?”

She swims in it; the hem hits mid-thigh. I stalk closer. Circling my hands around her waist, I tug her to the edge of the bed. “I like when you wear my clothes.”

Her fingers twirl against the material. “How is it this soft? It’s so comfy.”

“Baby, you can have it.”

I bunch the sweater up in the back and slide my hand over her ass. “Wear it every day. No pants. Preferably no panties, either.”

I hold my hands out and she puts her small hands in mine, letting me pull her to her feet.

“You got it. Any other requests?”

“Yes. No bra. Leave your hair down like that.”

She pushes away, grinning. “Just make a list and send it to my assistant.”

I follow her as she makes her way downstairs. “Who’s your assistant?”

“Mr. Ed Larson.”

I laugh. “I told you that dog would grow on you.”

One of the best parts of the barn remodel was the amount of light we managed to pull into the once, dusty and dark space. It’s bright and airy and never fails to lift my spirits. I lead the way into the kitchen.

“He hasn’t grown on me.”

She says, sitting at the kitchen island. “I’ve just given in.”

“However you want to frame it.”

I swing open the fridge and start pulling out ingredients for French toast.

“I took on the rest of Edna’s clients. The last wedding is in August.”

I freeze momentarily, trying to appear nonchalant. “When did you do that?”

“Yesterday.”

She fiddles with my sweater sleeve, letting her hands disappear. “After I finished RayAnne’s cake.”

“You must have liked doing that one?”

She rests her chin on her palm. “I loved it. It’s kind of what I need right now. A chance to recenter. Mimi’s kind of got away from me. It grew one direction and I’m not so sure that’s the direction I wanted to be, but at the time, I kind of got drug along with the tide.”

“And now?”

“And now, I’m going to take some time to figure out what I really want.”

“I think that’s good, Marnie. Life’s too short to be stuck doing something you don’t want to do.”

I mix eggs and vanilla and milk, making French toast just the way mom used to.

She watches me with those beautiful brown eyes. “And it should give you and Sienna more time.”

Whether it’s June or August, our lives would still be turned upside down. But she’s right, three months is so much better than a few weeks. It’s a gift. And I’m grateful. “Does that mean you’ll be sticking around, too?”

She pushes off the stool and circles around the counter, leaning next to me. “Through the summer.”

I put down the whisk and pull her into my chest. “That makes me really happy.”

She grins, tucking her head under my jaw. “Me too.”

My hands skate across her back, and her tummy softens against my hips.

“What about fucking Jerry Lind?”

I disentangle our limbs, turning back to breakfast.

“He’ll just have to wait like everybody else.”

She hands me slices of bread. “I’m going to talk to Carl again, figure out what we’d need to do to set up a proper auction, or whatever it is people do. I’m still undecided if I’m selling or renting.”

I pull back, looking at her.

She meets my gaze, giving me an apologetic look. “I’m really not sure if I’m renting or selling.”

She pauses. “But if I rent the land, I want you to be the farm manager.”

“If you wanted to explore other options, I’d understand, Marnie.”

“No. I want it to be you. Gus named you manager for a reason. There’s no need to look anywhere else.”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak around the lump of emotion forming in my throat.

There’s a rustle at the door and Sienna steps in. “Who washed that dog? Did you know he was supposed to be brown?”

She freezes mid-step. “Oh. Good morning.” She drags the greeting out, gaze bopping between us.

Marnie blushes, tugging at the hem of my sweater. “I’m just going to… yeah.”

We both watch her scuttle back up the stairs.

Sienna comes closer. “Sorry, didn’t mean to barge in like that.”

There’s a mischievous glint to her eyes that says she’s not sorry in the least.

I flip a few pieces of toast on the skillet. “You don’t have to apologize. This is your home. You have a right to come and go. You hungry?”

“Always.”

She slides onto the stool and peers up the stairs. “I’m kind of in shock, actually.”

I stand at the stove, prodding at the toast with a spatula. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

“You actually had a woman spend the night.”

I wince. “Yeah, you know I normally wouldn’t do that.”

“I know you wouldn’t. That’s why I’m surprised.”

She tilts her head. “It’s okay, you know. I’m not a little kid and I know you’ve got a life to live. You don’t have to hide your dates away from me.”

I shrug. “I didn’t want you to have an endless parade of strangers coming in and out of your home.”

She laughs. “An endless parade? The ego on you. Gigantic, Dusty. Mammoth.”

I chuckle, flipping a few pieces of French toast on a plate for her.

She meets my gaze. Her eyes are deep blue, like my mom’s. “So what’s different about this time?”

“That’s an excellent question.”

I glance upstairs, as though I can see Marnie through the ceiling. “I don’t have an answer. Yet.”