course you’re not,” Nate said. “But if you just think about it, he had quite a scam going. Did he take you lots of places? Buy you nice things?”
“He couldn’t do either,” she explained. “First of all, he couldn’t risk being seen out and about with a woman, since one of the other women or their friends might run into him. So he said he was so tired, and after a week of being on the road and eating in restaurants, he enjoyed staying home.”
“Where you could cook for him,” Nate stated.
She pursed her lips, narrowed her eyes and nodded. “He did buy me a hot-water heater when mine went out,” she admitted. “He might’ve needed that hot shower,” she muttered.
“The man’s a genius,” Nate said. Then upon studying her face, he said, “Oh, he’s a bastard, but you have to give him some credit for all the planning and subterfuge that—”
“I give him no credit,” she said harshly.
He grabbed her hand then, pulled her closer and said, “Of course not. No credit. He should be killed. But I’m glad he didn’t choose you. What if he’d chosen you? Can you imagine? We’d never meet and fall in love!”
She was so stunned that she pulled back on the reins and stopped her horse. “Are we in love?” she asked.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m just getting started here—there’s lots of potential. And he doesn’t deserve you. I, however, deserve you. And will take you anywhere you want. And I’m going to hold your hand the whole time. I’ll feed you cookies and kiss your neck in public.”
“People will think I’m your girlfriend.”
“That’s what I want people to think. I’m going to start right away. We’re going to go out. We’ll drive into town to look at Christmas decorations, go to Virgin River to check out the tree and have some of Preacher’s dinner, and then I’m going to take you to a nice restaurant on the weekend. And anything else you feel like doing.”
“Why?” she asked.
“I want everyone to know you’re with me. I want everyone to know you’re not Sundays and Mondays—you’re every day.”
Again she pulled back on the reins and stopped her horse. “What’s sexier than a string bikini, Nathaniel?”
“Are you kidding me?” He reined in beside her. His voice grew quiet and serious. He rubbed a knuckle down her cheek, over her jaw, gazing into her dark eyes. “Denim turns me on. Long legs in jeans and boots astride a big horse, making him dance to subtle commands. A rough work shirt under a down vest, feeding a newborn foal with a bottle because the mare isn’t responding.” He threaded his fingers into her hair and said, “Silk, instead of cotton candy. A fire on a cold, snowy night. A woman in my arms, soft and content, happy with the same things that make me happy. Help making homemade pizza—that turns me on. A woman who knows how to deliver a calf when there’s trouble—that blows my horn. A woman who can muck out a stall and then fall into the fresh hay and let me fall right on top of her. I’d like to try that real soon.”
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