Redeeming the Rancher (Meier Ranch Brothers 2)

She scrunched up her nose. Her eyeglasses wiggled.

The invasion was on, both fronts encroaching.

“And posed for a genius,” she said.

He leaned, all-in, and coaxed her mouth into action. His lips brushed hers as he spoke. “And kissed a genius.”

She eased into a long, velvety-wet kiss hot enough to melt bronze.

Breathless, she added, “And was loved by a genius.”

“Was?”

“Is.”

He pulled her close. Against the wispy strands across her forehead, he whispered, “Stay. Marry me. Be my future. Let me prove to you that happiness isn’t fleeting.”

“You already have.”

This time, their kiss devolved into something for which the Missionary Baptist Church might organize a takedown.

“Wes?”

With speech occupying her lips, Wes took liberties at her neck. “Hmm?”

“I’ll need the barn for my studio.”

“All yours.”

Wait, what had he agreed to? His brain took leave because of an alarming lack of blood flow.

“And you’ll need to pose for me again,” she negotiated. “Models are a little hard to come by in the middle of nowhere, Texas.”

“Sure.” His lips laid siege to the area just below her ear where shock and awe happened.

She moaned.

“My next commission is a nude.”

Wes hesitated then fell back into formation. “Call it Midnight in the Company of a Giant and you’re on.” Wes’s subordinate recruit saluted the idea.

Olive laughed and bit her lip. “There’s one more thing.”

“Anything.”

“I want to drive your truck.”

Wes reached for his keys and handed them to her.

Olive seized his arm and ran toward the 1939 Ford. She scooted behind the steering wheel and adjusted the tiny, oval-shaped rearview mirror as if there were a parade behind her and she wanted to take a good look at the fanfare. A smile stretched beneath the flush of her cheeks, raised her glasses just so. She pretended to light up a cigarette and use the ashtray. Her quiet theatrics made him want to protect her plane of creation for the rest of his days.

She honked the horn. The whimsical Aoooooh-gah sound, too close to the Marines ooh-rah for Wes to replace, caused her to bounce in the seat and clap her hands. He was pretty sure they woke up the entirety of Close Call, but he was pretty sure they’d both say they didn’t give a damn.

Her foot stomped the gas pedal.

He balanced on the running board and held on, the perfect union of the past and the future, what he’d wanted all along.

Olive had a shaky start. They both had. Together, though? Anything was possible.