Billionaire Flawed 1(54)

Amy bit her lip.

“Well Thomas, until the moment we met, I didn’t rightly think that I could love anyone else,” she revealed, adding as she shuffled her feet beneath her, “At one point, though, I may have said the same thing about Vance. I was always independent as a gal, and I had no earthly designs on life as a wife and mother.”

Thomas nodded.

“So what did catch your interest?” he asked her, listening intent as the two set to work at the center of their field.

Amy shrugged.

“I always earned pretty high marks back at the old school house, so I figured I might make a good school marm,” she revealed, adding in a lower tone, “But then Vance swept into my life, just like a Texas tornado. Between romance and marriage and babies, I do believe I kind of forgot who I was. My husband became my world—and until yesterday, I think I just kind of lost myself.” She paused here, adding as she raised a finger for emphasis, “Now don’t be misunderstanding. I did adore my husband….”

“…but he’s gone,” Thomas completed, saying the words he knew she couldn’t. “And you, a young, talented and beautiful woman, remain.”

Setting aside his hoe, Thomas turned in full to face her as he fixed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“You’re still alive, Amy, and you have your whole life ahead of you,” he reminded her, adding as he massaged his agile fingers into the muscles of her slight, work-weary shoulder. “And I’d honored if you chose to spend even a small part of that life with me.”

Covering his hand with hers, Amy graced him with a beneficent smile as she affirmed, “I would like to, Thomas.” She paused here, adding as she rested her hand on her bulging stomach, “First, though, I have to get this baby birthed. This little one has to be my first priority.”

Thomas grinned.

“And once you do, my darling, I would love to court you properly,” he proposed, leaning forward as he graced her cheek with whisper soft lips.

Letting loose with an uncharacteristic giggle, Amy wrapped her arms tight around Thomas’ muscular shoulders and leaned for just a moment against his tall, sculpted frame; relishing the feeling as he drew her body to his in a warm, loving hug.

“It might be a mite difficult to take me about in my current condition and convince folks that you’re courting me proper,” she observed, adding as she graced her host with a nudge of gentle affection, “They might believe that you and I were up to an entirely different brand of reapin’ and sowin, if you catch my meaning.”

Thomas’ eyes flew wide as he considered these suggestive words. Then he started laughing. Hard.

“You’re one of a kind, Amy,” he praised her, gracing her with an affirming squeeze and a warm kiss on the forehead. “And I do mean that in the best possible way.”

Amy let loose with a rain of tinkling laughter that flew free on the breezes above them.

“Why thank you kindly, Thomas,” she returned, adding as she glanced sideways in his direction, “I think.”

The couple continued on much in this light, animated fashion for the next few weeks; working side by side amongst their beloved roses by day and retiring to their comfortable ranch house in the evening.

Amy marveled at the way that Thomas insisted on preparing every meal by her side; and she simply had to admit that, though she’d never breathe a word of this notion to him, Thomas’ culinary skills exceeded her own.

“What is the meaning of this?” she asked him one day, talking between bites of a succulent Texas steak that he had prepared for their dinner. “My dear departed husband, God rest his soul, nary knew the difference between a ladle and a lentil.”

Thomas laughed.

“I do love your way with words,” he praised her.

More than willing to share her own gift—one that involved a love of reading, teaching, and learning—Amy read to Thomas each night by the fire, reciting classics such as Jane Austen’s “Pride and Prejudice” to “Les Miserables” by Victor Hugo and explaining their deeper meanings and contexts to a fascinated Thomas.

“I cannot thank you enough, Ma’am, for introducing me to all of these wonderful books,” he told her one evening, clutching her hands between them one night before a raging fire, “Oh I did my share of reading in school, to be sure, and Ma read me her poetry; but we never did peruse the classics. And I love the way that you interpret each story, coming up with so many bright ideas about each and every one of them.” He paused here, adding as he leaned forward to erase all distance between them, “You’re a whole new world, my lovely—one I long to explore.”