Brigit swirled around outside of the dressing room. “Does this say professional woman who desperately needs a job?” She’d found a black knit sweater dress on clearance, thick gray leggings in the discount bin, and a collared white plaid shirt for underneath the sweater—also on sale. All she needed was a thick belt and neck wrap and her ensemble would be complete.
She bit back a smile at Caleb’s expression. He was perched in one of the two wingback chairs in the waiting area outside the changing rooms. Heat simmered in his eyes as his gaze stroked her legs. The charcoal gray knee-high boots were hers. A splurge from years ago, when she’d fit into the rest of her working-girl clothes.
A couple of women circled a rack of designer shirts, spying on Caleb out of the corners of their eyes. Brigit knew the feeling. He wasn’t wearing a hat of any sort today. His hair was slicked back, his shaved sides bare, and his small ear gauges in. The way he was sitting only made his shoulders broader, and he’d kept to a soft black T-shirt, claiming his other shirts screamed country boy. Like that was a bad thing. His dark blue jeans were a newer pair and exaggerated his swagger when he walked.
He was so hot.
“It says a lot of things not appropriate for me to say,” he drawled. “Damn.”
“I think it’ll work too.” She zoomed back into the changing room and changed back into the only outfit that had looked decent on her since she’d moved back home. It was one of the few things she had left that didn’t fall into the realm of pajamas or chore wear. She tied off the sage-green wraparound cardigan over her cream long-sleeved shirt and black leggings. This outfit would’ve been fine, but a new one was a confidence booster.
And she needed one, being back in the city she’d lived in for so many years.
She stepped out. Caleb was paging through a women’s magazine. He tossed it back on the table and unfolded his body. As he put on his coat, he twisted, his shirt tightening in all the right places. Her insides somersaulted. Why was he getting more potent the more she was around him? She’d never get over him. That was probably why the phone call offering the interview hadn’t made her dance through the house. This link between them was only strengthening.
Checking out, she mused over the differences between Minneapolis and Moore. The clerk was polite and asked if she’d found everything okay. But there was no, “How’s your mom and dad doing?” “I loved seeing your brother’s sheep in the parade last summer.” “Oh, that little nephew of yours is the spitting image of Travis.”
She could probably go to the nearest farm supply and get taken seriously instead of someone like stick-in-the-mud Teddy ignoring her until she went away.
Those instances, she hated. All the times she’d gone to run errands with her dad and had been invisible—or worse, the times the guys had laughed at her interest. “Just like Daddy, isn’t she?”
Friends didn’t believe her when she recalled the time she’d actually heard, “Don’t worry your pretty little head about power tools.” That had been from a woman in her seventies.
Though Brigit did miss the personal touch. Like her fifth-grade teacher stopping her in the grocery store. “Oh, Brigit. Nice to see you back in town.”
She’d been home long enough that people didn’t ask her about school anymore. They seemed to accept that she was back, and they’d see her around again.
She was deep in thought as she slid into the driver’s seat.
“Something wrong?” Caleb tapped his knees, watching her. Droplets from melted snow glistened in his hair. She wanted nothing more than to take him back to the hotel and cozy into the blankets. Maybe order some room service.
“Just thinking about how shopping here is different than home. Nothing serious.”
“So where’s this place you want to take me?”
She’d planned on taking him to a club she used to visit in college, after she turned twenty-one. But pumping bass was the last thing she wanted to deal with right now. Room service sounded better and better.
“The place I had in mind is actually a club and I’m not really in the mood for it.”
“You mean I’m not dressed for it?”
Was he insecure about his appearance? “I think you could show up on the doorstep anywhere and get welcomed in. No, it’s loud. I’m not up for loud.”
“We could request a song with mooing in the background.”
She chuckled. “Sheep are even quieter. I’ve been spoiled.”
And she had been. Earlier, Justin had sent her a picture of the yard covered in a blanket of snow. Pristine. Sparkling. Undisturbed. She was missing it to be here.
She shook the thought off. There’d be more snowfalls. “How ’bout a burger?”
“If I’m never up for a burger, you know something’s wrong.” He relaxed in his seat. “Surprise me.”
The city wasn’t quiet, but traffic was minimal as she wove through the streets, looking for a good place to eat, one that wasn’t only about families but also not a noisy bar. She had some ideas, but she wanted something close to the hotel.
Caleb watched the city go by. Had he really never traveled? His mom had dragged him all over the county, but when she’d moved to another city, she’d left him behind.
A weight settled around Brigit’s heart. She was nothing like his mother. She’d never shove a kid in a corner so she could party. But at the same time, she was planning to leave him behind as soon as she found something “better.”
Her optimism for her job interview faded even more. This was a good thing. It was what she’d been working toward her whole life. She loved animals and ranching, but it wasn’t a feasible career. She didn’t have the capital to start her own business and it wasn’t in her to swim against the tide of ingrained opinions and habits.
In the city, she didn’t take things so personally.
But then, no one knew her enough for their slights to be personal.
She pulled into the next bar and grill that came up. A flashing cowboy boot on the sign clinched the deal.
“You didn’t have to pick a place you thought I’d be comfortable in,” Caleb said quietly.
She’d picked a place she’d be comfortable in. After she parked, she pointed to the letters underneath the sign. “I didn’t want a bar that’d be too loud to talk in, but if it’s gonna be loud it might as well be live music.”
“You know the band?”
“Nope.”
She clung to him on the slippery walk to the entrance. He opened the door and the chaos of voices and strumming guitars greeted them. A hostess in tight jeans and cowboy boots that had never seen green grass led them to a booth.
Caleb slid into the booth next to her, his arm slung around her back. They pored over the menu, hollering into each other’s ears. This was exactly the noisy environment she’d wanted to avoid.
She decided on what to eat but kept staring at the menu. How was she going to live in the city now that she could picture Caleb here too? It had been easy to move here for college, not knowing a soul, and, more importantly, not having a history with anyone in it. But now?
Then there was Oliver. Until now, she’d ignored the irony of gravitating toward a guy from the hometown she’d been resolved to get away from. He hadn’t gone to school in Minneapolis but had moved here for the job he’d eventually lost, which had prompted the move to Moore. And she’d glued herself to his side, all while ignoring the insulting way he treated her.
If she could, she’d go back and ignore the tidbit of information Mom had casually dropped. Remember Oliver? He was a year ahead of you? I guess he sells insurance in Minneapolis now. And she would definitely take back the casual stop into Oliver’s workplace for an auto insurance quote.
Oliver was over. She might have to live in this city again if she got the job, but that didn’t mean she’d return to her former lonely self, seeking a relationship in an attempt to feel complete.
Caleb leaned close. “Figure out what you want?”
She nodded and closed her menu, wishing she could do the same with her tumultuous thoughts. This bar was no different than any at home. Only she could relax better here. No one was looking at them and speculating about their future, how well they worked together, if she was too much woman for him, or whether or not she was good enough for him. If the residents of Moore knew she’d walked away from Caleb once already, being seen with him would send waves of gossip through town.
She could hear Maisy’s nasal pitch stage-whispering to Priya even now. He’d be much better off with someone like you. There’s no way he could carry her over any threshold.
What was it she’d said one time? At least if you two ever sleep together, your clothes are big enough for him to borrow.
Her musings were interrupted as they ordered. No sharing a burger or feeling guilty. No leaving hungry and salivating over the delicious smells emanating from the place. She was done with that. If she had to reconcile herself with a new bigger size, so be it.
In fact, she already had. Constant stomach pains were gone. Strength poured through her muscles when she worked the animals and fixed fence. And she slept better. She’d need a new wardrobe, but…fuck it.
Brigit scanned the bar. A few couples were on the dance floor, two-stepping through the cover of a popular country song.
This one used to be one of her favorites. But she’d quit listening to this style of music when she’d moved, sticking to clubs that played the latest hits—anything but country—and martini bars that couldn’t spell Dierks Bentley, much less say his name.
When had she gotten so strict in shunning everything she’d grown up with? No wonder sneaking into animal science classes had been such a thrill.
Caleb noticed her gaze on the dance floor. “Wanna get a few steps in before they bring our food?”
The song ended, and they had a brief reprieve before they had to start yelling at each other again. “You dance?”
He smiled but it faded quickly. “Yeah. I discovered it was a good way not to, uh…go home alone.”
“Oh.” She patted his thigh. “I doubt you needed dancing for that.”
“When I didn’t have much at home, it helped to keep them running away in fear. No one wants to fall for the guy with no money.”
“Then I guess you weren’t bringing the right women home.”
His solemn expression didn’t change. “I knew I wasn’t.”
This man.
Another song started, the male lead crooning the first few lines a cappella. Caleb grabbed her hand and helped her out of the booth.
Dancing with him was…foreplay. His strong arms were around her, leading her left and right, maneuvering her where he wanted. She submitted to him, giggling when they bumped feet or when she tried to take over without knowing. His smile only widened as he spun her faster and held her closer.
His gaze strayed to where they’d been sitting. “We should go eat.”
“Sure,” she said with breathlessness that had nothing to do with the movement. Her body tingled from head to toe, her breasts were heavy, and she had an exquisite ache between her legs.
His gaze heated, promising all sorts of wicked things when they returned to the hotel room. “Then more dancing?”
“Absolutely.”
The elevator doors opened, and it was all Caleb could do not to tumble out. He hadn’t had more than one drink, but he was tipsy with lust. Holding Brigit half the night, witnessing the way her fully clothed body moved and writhed, the smile on her face, and those moments when she bit her lower lip as she concentrated on the steps—they were intoxicating.
He secured her to his side and managed not to run to their room. His erection would’ve made that difficult anyway. His arm was around her shoulders with her shopping bags in the other hand. They moved in sync to the room door, both on the same page.
Dancing had always been a means to an end. A little two-step. A twirl here and there. It cut out the awkward chitchat and he could tell if his partner was receptive to more. But tonight…
He and Brigit had laughed, they’d slow-stepped like they were back at the middle school dance, and she’d let herself go. She’d trusted him enough to let herself go.
It was enough to take the sting out of keeping quiet while she passed all the trendy joints and settled on a bar and grill that could just as well be in Moore. Only they hadn’t known anyone.
But he wasn’t going to dig into her actions now. He just wanted her.
It took three swipes before their lock registered the key card. They stumbled in, the door slamming behind him. She let her coat slide to the floor and he did the same. Next, they each kicked their wet boots to the side.
Then he yanked her to him and planted his mouth on hers, too impatient to take the few steps to the bed. Fortunately, the outfit she’d tortured him in all night would be easy to get out of the way.
“I need you, now.” He turned her around and her hands gripped the floor-length mirror.
She looked at her reflection and then at him. “Maybe we should…”
He crowded behind her and caught her gaze in the mirror. “No, we’re not moving.” Holding her attention, he yanked up her sweater and pulled down her leggings. He palmed the creamy flesh of her ass. “You can watch me fuck you.” Proving at the same time that her height was perfect. She was perfect. That they fit perfectly.
Her lips parted, and she ground back into him. She probably didn’t even realize the strength of her response. He didn’t either. The mirror hadn’t been planned, but he had a sudden need to make his mark, to take her in a way that she’d never forget.
Maybe in a way that she’d never be able to walk away from.
He’d always been a wishful thinker.
With one hand, he opened his pants and shoved all the material out of the way. With his other hand, he took care of protection. His shaft was hard and throbbing, and he stood so close to Brigit that her heat both soothed the ache and dumped fuel on the flame of his need.
Her sweater was bunched around her waist, but he left it. Feathering his hand around her hip, over the soft velvet of her skin, he dove his fingers between her folds. Her hot, wet flesh welcomed him, and she widened her stance to give him better access.
Licking along the rim of her ear, he circled her clit at the same time.
She moaned, but there was one problem.
“Open your eyes, Brigit.”
Her eyelids fluttered open, the blue barely visible around her pupils. She was close, her body tight. But he wanted to be inside of her when she came.
Moving enough to slip himself between her legs, he dragged his cock through her seam, coating himself. He did it again.
A low groan eked out of him. “Fuck, Brigit. I could come just like this.”
She was rocking against his hand, her lip pinned between her teeth, her breath clouding the mirror. Gripping her hip with his free hand, he pulled her back, bending her slightly.
He kissed under her ear and held her as she shivered and ground into his hand. “Watch me.”
She met his gaze. He pushed into her slowly, watching her expression change as he filled her. From pleasure to bliss. And when he moved, thrusting slowly, to ecstasy.
He barely moved, keeping his arm around her to stroke her clit.
“Caleb.” A cloud of condensation gathered on the glass. She writhed against him, oblivious of her reflection, uncaring of what she revealed to him. The way her desire played across her face, flushing her cheeks, was the most erotic show he’d ever seen.
He only hoped to last long enough to climax with her. “Come with me, Bridge.”
A whine came from her and she tightened around him, going so molten he was shoving over his peak and growling her name as his body went rigid.
“Caleb!” She clenched his shaft so tightly he could barely move. It was too much. Too much sensation. Too much emotion. Too much—but never enough.
He loved how she said his name when she came. He loved when they orgasmed together. He loved her—he had forever.
She trembled in his arms as he buried his head in her nape and tried to catch his breath and keep them both up.
When she quieted, he withdrew and kicked his pants off the rest of the way. He squatted and helped her out of her leggings, then rose and stripped her top off. Sweeping her into his arms, he carried her to the bed, setting her feet down only so he could whip the covers back. She dragged him in with her.
He circled his arms around her and covered them up. “I need a few minutes, then I have more planned.”
“Mm. I do have to sleep too.” She yawned and snuggled closer. “And pack so we can leave right after the interview.”
She wanted to leave after the interview? Her interview was at eleven. It’d take an hour, tops.
“No more plans for the city after your interview?” he asked.
“Not really. I shouldn’t spend any more money I might need for moving, and I don’t want to risk you being late for work. There’s more snow coming. We can’t afford to be stranded.”
It sounded logical. Her words made sense. But the disappointment cascading through him was anything but. First the bar and grill, and now she didn’t want to spend any more time with him in the big city. This was their first opportunity to travel together, get away from everything, and have some time to themselves.
For him, it’d been a time to ponder his life. Where was he going? Or rather, where could he go? He loved his ranch. It meant the world to him. But if keeping it meant he’d live a long life alone, it wasn’t exactly serving the purpose Grandma and Grandpa had bought it for. They’d worked the land so they could build a family, and while it hadn’t been the brood of kids they’d hoped for, they’d raised Mom and him.
But Brigit wanted to go home. Was it because that was where she thought he belonged? They wouldn’t be here for her big interview if Moore was where she thought she belonged.