He waited.
“Clint,” I started again, “I love you.”
He smiled at me, that slow, sweet smile that always made me melt. Looking at it spread across his handsome face was like watching a sunset from a deck chair with a glass of good wine in my hands. In moments like that, it was hard to let the worry of the rest of life creep in.
"Oh, Naomi," he said, reaching out and taking one of my hands, "Oh, Naomi, I love you too, like I've never loved a woman before."
I nodded. "This is different," I agreed. "I've thought that I've been in love before, but this is like nothing else I've ever felt. I'd give up anything for you, I think."
"I don't want you to give up anything," he said. "I want to give you everything that you want."
"What do you want?" I asked. I felt a little ridiculous. We were still standing in his bathroom, wearing nothing but matching robes and goofy smiles. The steam of our shower was still lingering on the glass and mirrors around us, and the air felt warm and heavy.
"This," he said. "I want this, I want you, I want quiet evenings at home and long showers together. I want children filling up the house and dogs around the sheep. Home-cooked dinners every night and Brandon and Will coming 'round on Sunday evenings."
I eyed him.
"How many children do you want filling up the house?" I asked.
"As many as you want to have," he said. "Two or three, maybe? We can see how we feel after that."
"Who do you want to cook these dinners?" I asked.
He hesitated. Suddenly, I realized that I was ruining this moment, this wonderful time when we’d just declared our love for each other for the first time. He’d given me a thoughtful gift, I was literally wearing a sign of his affection and devotion, and I was harping on about the future.
The future is important, but this was a moment to savor.
I stepped forward and raised myself onto my tiptoes, brushing his lips with a kiss.
“I love the bathrobe,” I said. “I love your bathroom. I love your house. I love you.”
The simple declarations felt right to say. They were all true. My concerns for the future were best left for another day.
Besides, his bathrobe had slipped open, and I could see his renewing interest in touching me. My body responded to the sight, and I took his hand and led him back to that big bed.
The future could wait. Right now I had a lean cowboy in my bed and I knew what I needed to do with him.
I spent the next week mostly at Clint’s ranch, rising with him before dawn to get into the office on time. The days were long, but the nights spent in his bed were worth it, and waking up to his smiling face and lean body were a hell of a lot better than waking up to the cold ringing of my alarm clock.
He was still the man I’d met on the first day. Clint would never not be grumpy, and sometimes distant, and terse when he was working on something.
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The moments of sweetness, though, more than made up for the times he wasn’t any fun to be around. Besides, when that happened, I could always take a long walk by myself, or read a book, or go bother Brandon and Will.
On Thursday evening, after the rest of the hands had gone home, and Clint had disappeared into his office, I wandered into the barns to look at the sheep.
I did originally get into my line of work because I love animals, after all, and I found sitting in the dark with them, listening to their sleepy sheepy grunts and their restless settling and resettling, soothing.
I even loved the smell. Not of a small, dank sheep barn, of course, but a big, open, well-ventilated one like this brought enough fresh air in that it smelled earthy, rather than awful. The smell of animals, the undercurrent of manure, the sweetness of the hay at my back, it all combined into a smell like home for me.
I lay back against a hay bale, breathing in the scent, trying not to think about work or Clint or Sarah or the hay poking through my shirt. I was determined to relax.
Unfortunately, loud voices from the other end of the barn kept me from doing that.
I sat up quickly, but relaxed when I recognized Brandon and Will. I knew that I should sneak out the entrance this end of the barn, but I couldn’t help but be curious about what they were talking about.
I know, shame on me.