“I had no idea you were a romantic,” she said.
“Romantic?” he chuckled. “No ma’am, just being neighborly.”
“And trying to get into my pants?”
“Maybe a little,” he said with a grin.
She smiled and sat next to him on the blanket. He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear so tenderly, it was like he’d done it a thousand times. It was so intimate, yet so normal.
He opened her water bottle and handed it to her, then pulled out his pocketknife and started cutting up a pear.
He was calm.
In a routine.
Like taking care of a woman was something he just did naturally.
Which he did, of course, and it made something very hot and soft break open in her chest. Charlotte’s biggest fear was family. She’d been left high and dry by both parents, which was something she never fully understood. Weren’t parents supposed to be the people you could count on no matter what? Friends ditch you, boyfriends leave you, but parents? They were the ones who stuck around and loved you no matter what.
It made her rationale simple. If parents could leave you, anyone could. The extra shitty part was that family had the capability to really hurt her. Charlotte learned young that the more she got attached to anyone, the greater that person could devastate her when they left. Grammy was the only soul she trusted, and
deep down, she was afraid because she’d lose her, too, someday.
It was why Charlotte lived alone.
Ate alone.
Cried alone.
When she did cry, that is. Which wasn’t often because she refused to let the cold, empty walls of her apartment ever close in on her.
Tripp felt so warm all the time, even when he was in a mood. How he cared for his daughter made Charlotte’s entire chest turn to mush, because it was clear he’d never leave her. He was a good dad.
Charlotte couldn’t focus on Tripp’s warmth or shinning qualities, though. Her goal was getting Grammy better and helping with the farm. She refused to think about why his home felt lived-in and why Grammy’s farm made her heart twist thinking of it. She just knew those were the opposite of the numbness she normally felt.
She leaned in and kissed him. Which clearly took him by surprise, but she needed to taste him in that moment. That one moment where he looked himself. No expectations, or anger, or anything. He was just Tripp. She’d never seen a man’s true colors so vibrantly before.
He gently pulled away, and Charlotte felt stupid for being so forward. She thought they were on the same page. Casual. He was attracted to her, too.
So then why—
He closed the blade on his knife, set it several feet away off the blanket, then cupped her face in both hands.
“Safety first,” he growled, and drove his tongue into her mouth, tasting her. She whimpered. The ache that had been growing since he’d last touched her was raging out of control, and she needed more. Wanted to feel him in a way she hadn’t yet.
She opened his shirt and ran her hands down his chiseled abs. His hard chest and smooth skin beneath her fingertips made her skin burn with lust. She was already wet, desperate to feel him use all those muscles taking her body.
“Jesus, I’ve never wanted a woman the way I want you,” he said against her lips.
“I know what you mean. There’s something about you,” she said. She bit his neck, his jaw, then sucked his earlobe before returning to his lips. She scratched down his abs. He hissed and tugged her hair a little tighter.
“Tell me what you want, darlin’.”
Her hands found his belt buckle and popped it open. Still kissing him savagely, she shoved his jeans low on his hips and grabbed his hard cock.
“Fuck, yes,” he said. She stroked once as she kissed down his neck to his chest. The raw moan that escaped him made her feel empowered. Like she was taking care of him.
She ran her lips over his incredible pecs and flicked her tongue over his nipple, and the big bad cowboy broke out in goose bumps.