Hart's Hollow Farm (New Americana 4)

“Did you have any trouble getting Sadie and Dylan in bed for the night?” He was so close, his soft breaths ruffled her hair against the back of her neck.

“Not at all. They helped clean up after the fireworks and were so tired by the time they came inside, they fell asleep almost before their heads hit the pillow.”

Another roll of thunder, closer this time, echoed outside, momentarily drowning out the rattle of cicadas and the chirps of crickets.

“They got it right this time,” Kristen whispered, her chin trembling. “It’s almost midnight. The afternoon forecast said there’d be a storm right about now.”

Big hands covered her fingers, which still fidgeted with the dress, the gentle pressure stilling their movements. “Yeah. I guess sometimes things do work out as predicted.” His palms left her hands, drifted up her forearms, then gently tugged her around. “I should’ve recognized it the second I saw you. The moment I touched you. But I couldn’t see it then.”

His thumb and forefinger nudged her chin, and as she lifted her head, her eyes met his.

“I don’t know how a feeling this big could hide the way it did, but it managed to.” His hand slid around and cupped the back of her head, and the pad of his thumb swept gently over her jaw. “You asked me once if I’d ever fallen in love. I can say with absolute certainty I have now.”

Her breath caught as the intensity of his gaze and his warm, adoring expression sent a wave of pleasure through her.

He moved closer and dipped his head. The heat of his broad chest and sculpted frame beckoned her to lean against him as he brushed his mouth softly across hers, whispering, “I love you, Kristen. More than I ever thought it was possible to love someone.”

A sob broke past her lips, and she rose to her tiptoes, wound her arms around his muscular back and kissed him with every bit of love she wanted to confess out loud but couldn’t.

He kissed her back, his tongue parting her lips, his familiar taste and masculine scent enveloping her. Then he raised his head and examined her expression. “Ever since Emmy’s birthday, you’ve been pulling away. You’re thinking about leaving, aren’t you?”

The curtains billowed on a strong gust of wind, and it swept over them, chilling her skin and making her shudder against him. She looked past him to the darkness that lay outside the window. A faint pulse of heat lightning flashed above the winding dirt driveway, illuminating the fields beyond.

For the past three years, roads had never looked cold or lonely. Instead, they’d been a welcome relief from the grief and loss she’d left behind. But now the thought of leaving the comforting strength of Mitch’s embrace and putting her feet on another impersonal, neglected road made her tighten her grip on his solid warmth.

“I don’t want to,” she forced out past stiff lips. “But I can’t go ba—”

When I get better, we can go back home, can’t we, Mama?

Kristen pressed her face against the warm skin at the base of his throat, tears seeping from her eyes onto her lashes. How could she make a home here, have a new family, when Anna never could? And how could she stay and watch Emmy fade more each day, with no hope of her recovering?

She swallowed hard and tried to steady her voice. “I’m afraid.”

His hands moved in slow circles over her back. “Afraid of what?”

Losing Emmy, Sadie, and Dylan. Losing you.

At her silence, he released a heavy breath. “I understand if you’re not ready to tell me, and I’ll wait however long it takes.” His deep tone vibrated in his chest beneath her cheek. “But I want you to know I’ve decided to stay. I want to make Hart’s Hollow my home again—a real one. And I want to be close to Emmy, the kids and, hopefully, you. You’re a Hart, Kristen—in every way that counts. This is your home, too, and whenever you’re ready to return, I’ll be waiting.”

She hugged him harder, then pulled back and looked up, winced at the pain in his eyes and the strain on his face. Oh, God, she wanted to stay and support him the way he supported her. Wished she were as strong and certain as he. Wished she could lay this guilt and grief down for good and not be afraid of loving and losing again. But if she left now, the good memories would outweigh the bad, and her heart couldn’t carry any more pain.

“I’m sorry, Mitch.”

His eyes darkened, and he cupped her face. “I’m sorry, too. Because the truth is, I love you so damned much, I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give. Even if it’s just good-bye.”

Heart breaking, she reached up and tugged his mouth back down to hers, wanting to show him what she couldn’t manage to voice in words.

He groaned, his arms wrapping tight around her, his hands sweeping over her back, cupping her buttocks, then traveling up to tangle gently in her hair. She kissed him more deeply, absorbing the heat of his hard frame and splaying her palms across the solid wall of his chest, before he trailed kisses down the sensitive curve of her neck.

“Love me,” she whispered.

With a low moan, he complied, sliding his calloused palms along her smooth thighs and lifting the hem of her shirt above her head. The tender caresses of his mouth and hands traveled everywhere—the curve of her breasts, the gentle swell of her hips, even the sensitive skin behind her knees—leaving a trail of pulsing desire in their wake.

He removed his clothes, and she explored the hard swells of his toned chest, biceps, and thighs, the flat plane of his abs until, breathless, he eased her onto the bed, settled into her welcoming embrace, and made them one.

Outside, the storm intensified, but the flashes of lightning a

nd the cracks of thunder faded beneath the heavy beat of his heart against hers, the urgent need in his sensual movements and the powerful emotion in his kiss, which eventually overtook them both.