The evening before the big day, a low rumbling drew Hannah from the sink to the window overlooking the porch. A giant black truck pulled up and stopped. Surprised to see it was Stephen, she stepped outside.
He got out, big-kid smile on his face, and she got a jolt just watching him as she always did. Hot in jeans and casual dark green. Though Stephen wasn’t a casual man and neither were her feelings for him.
“What do you think?”
“It’s…big.” It was massive, really, like an enormous testosterone machine, with a grille across the front that read FORD in bold black metal.
“Well, thank you.” He winked, then in three strides leaped onto the porch and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. “I have a surprise for you.”
Hannah raised both eyebrows.
“Not that kind of surprise. At least not now. Close your eyes.”
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“Close,” he said again and laughed as he jumped off the porch and went back to the truck.
“What about the Porsche? I thought you loved it?”
“Nah. Not really me.”
Eyes closed, she heard him open the back, then a sliding sound against the truck bed. His footsteps shuffled on the pine needles, his boots clunked up all three steps. “Follow me,” he said, passing her and going inside.
“My eyes are closed.”
“Right. Don’t move.” He came back out and slipped his muscled arms around her from behind, nuzzled her throat. “Mmm. You smell good.”
“So do you.” He always smelled good, a subtle manly aftershave kind of smell that made her picture him naked. This man who was bringing her body to life in a way she’d never experienced before. Or maybe that was more his clever hands sliding up to cup her breasts. He kept going, his fingers hot and slightly rough on her neck when he angled her back for a kiss. Hot and familiar, a comforting, I know you kiss.
“Keep your eyes closed,” he said against her lips.
“I thought this wasn’t the surprise.”
He smiled against her mouth. “It’s not. Though if you’re good, maybe it will be later.”
Another quick kiss and he pulled her along behind him. She knew her house, knew when she’d come to a stop in the middle of the living room.
“Okay. Open.”
A giant wooden easel stood, holding a flat whiteboard three times the size of her TV. “What is it?”
Stephen walked over and flipped it around. It still took her a second to assimilate what she was looking at. She read the words Freedom Farm in big letters across the top. Stepping closer, she saw the barn, the fields. Not one but two riding rings and an area marked for a playground. It was exactly what they talked about. Stephen had taken her dream and put it on paper. Made it real.
“I have another one, a more detailed version with the equipment, what I think it would take to build it, make it all work.” He was pointing and talking. “And back here is the camp. I know that’s more than you said but— Hey. Don’t cry. If you can’t do it here, we’ll find another place. I promise.”
She shook her head. “It’s not that.” Her eyes went to his handsome face. Proud and maybe a little embarrassed, smiling that crooked half smile that made her insides dip. He really did see it. He’d seen and understood what was in her mind, then taken it and made it better. “How did you know? How did you—”
“Great minds think alike.” Big hands caught her waist and pulled her close.
Yes. They did think alike. About a lot of things. If anyone understood what this place meant to her, it was this man. They’d both been broken, Stephen by love, her by evil. Both of their lives changed by monsters. And both of them saved by places.
She rose up on her toes, took his face in her hands and kissed him. This wasn’t simple, and every second together meant something. Every look, every touch. The feeling in her heart grew stronger, sharp enough to sting. Not falling in love with him wasn’t going to be an option.
—
Stephen let her nudge him three steps back until his legs hit the couch. He sat, watched her straddle his lap. She seemed to need to be in control and he didn’t mind. At all.
He circled her narrow waist and let her have her way with him. Even though he’d been with her that morning, he was hungry for her. Starved for her body and everything else being with her did to him. With single-minded attention, she ran her palms over his shirt, then back down and under it. More experienced, less timid, she mapped out his upper body. She continued down his stomach and lower.
Boldly, with no hesitation, she stroked him through his jeans and he almost came on the couch. “I guess you liked my ideas.”
“I guess I did.”
Loosening his grip on her hips, he shifted his hands, slipped them between her open legs. Two could play this game. He added some pressure and she drew in a long deep breath, let it out on a sigh.