“You really feel this way?”
“I feel that and so much more, Brielle. You see, I think you were molded to fit perfectly in my arms. When I hold you, it’s as if I still can’t pull you close enough. I want to never let go. It’s not just about sex — though that’s fantastic,” he said with what she knew was a grin on his face. “It’s so much more than that. On paper we should be all wrong for each other, but the more I’m with you, the more I need to be with you. You have a distinct advantage over me, you know.”
“What’s that?” His words were doing for her what she hadn’t been able to do all day. They were filling her heart with warmth, and taking away her pain. He was giving her the gift of himself, and she wanted to keep him for as long as she could — forever, if that were possible.
“What advantage?” she asked, tilting her head and brushing her lips against his.
“You own me, Brielle.”
“Oh, Colt. I think you have it so backward.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Brielle, darling. We’ve been waiting for you.”
Brielle nearly stumbled as she came around the corner of her house to find Bethel, Eileen, Maggie, and Martin sitting on her front porch at the small table in the corner, glasses of iced tea in front of them, and pie ready to be served.
The pie made her mouth water instantly, but she was so exhausted that she didn’t know if she’d be able to survive an interrogation from the terrible trio and their partner in crime, Martin Whitman.
As her stomach rumbled and her knees shook with fatigue, she decided she’d just have to do her best. She’d been up and working since dawn, and had spent the entire day with Joe as the poor kid had tried his best to teach her more about running a combine.
Colt had been teaching her, but today he’d been called away for another job, Tony said. It was a relief to have Joe help her with the huge machinery, because even after spending a couple of months with Colt, he still distracted her.
And when she was dealing with expensive machinery, she didn’t need any distractions. By the end of her lessons, though, Joe wasn’t looking too positive about her abilities with the combine. She would prove him wrong, though, because there was still a week until harvest time began, and she intended to spend time with the machine every single day up until then.
By the time those harvesters rolled out bright and early, she’d be a pro at cutting the beautiful wheat that filled her land.
“It’s wonderful to see you ladies, and you too, Martin,” she said as she dragged herself up the steps and sat at the table with the four of them. Her eyes went straight to the pie, which, if she wasn’t mistaken, was still warm.
“I just feel so bad that we haven’t been neighborly enough, dear, but you are a busy woman. The buzz around town is that you’re doing an excellent job with this farm,” Bethel said as she poured Brielle a glass of tea and passed it over.
No sweetener was needed, because it was fantastic. “I’m so happy to hear that,” Brielle said, “and yes, I’ve been keeping pretty busy. I never would have imagined how difficult it is to run a farm of this size, but to tell you the truth, most days I’m really enjoying it.” She couldn’t help but stare while Eileen sliced into the pie.
When a piece appeared in front of her, she nearly forgot her manners and scooped up a bite. But somehow she stopped herself and waited for all the others to get a piece. When Eileen set down the spatula and picked up her fork, that was Brielle’s green light to dive in.
“This is fantastic,” she said after swallowing.
“It’s my mother’s secret recipe,” Maggie said with pride. “Many people have tried to beg, borrow and steal it, but I keep it hidden in the best place of all,” she added with a grin while pointing to her head.
“Well, since I can’t cook worth a lick, you don’t have to worry that I’d try to take it.”
“I would be more than happy to give you some cooking lessons,” Maggie said eagerly.
“I may have to take you up on that, since living on TV dinners and chicken pot pies isn’t going to do anything good for my hips,” Brielle said.
“Ah, darling, you could use a few extra pounds on your hips,” Bethel told her.
Martin joined in with a snort, saying, “Ladies and their talk about weight…”
“Don’t pretend you don’t enjoy our conversations, Martin,” Eileen told him.
“That I do, Eileen, that I do,” he replied, sitting back after polishing off his piece of pie.
Brielle wasn’t far behind him in finishing her piece, and though she knew she’d probably regret it later, she didn’t turn down the second piece Eileen passed her way, knowing she wouldn’t have something this good for quite some time.