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  “I’ll never be her,” I say, my voice faint. “No one will. I can only be me … and it’s okay for you to want to be with me, River. It’s okay …”

  River exhales, reaching between his legs and taking his girth in his hands. We lock eyes, and he drags the tip of his swollen cock along my seam, and I lower myself onto him … a sweet emancipation.

  Rocking my body over his, I impale myself with his length again and again, never letting go, never stopping. His body tenses and releases, his eyes never leaving mine as his hands steady my hips.

  River’s thumb circles my clit, pushing me closer to the edge and back with each hungry sway of our bodies. I’m close, but I never want this to end. Burying my face into the side of his neck, I hold on tighter, riding him faster and harder, his hands digging deeper into my fiery skin as the world around us fades into the background and waves of exuberance wash over me.

  Climbing off him, I move aside, lowering my mouth to his cock and swallowing his river of sweet release. When he’s finished, he pulls me back to his lap, and I collapse against him, my skin sticking to his.

  When I finally muster the strength to peel myself away, our eyes meet.

  And River smiles.

  Bubbles rise to the surface of the blueberry pancakes I’m making for breakfast the next morning. An old t-shirt of River’s covers my naked body, and my hair is a result of the encore presentation that took place the second we got home, but I don’t care.

  His hands slink around my waist, and his lips press into the side of my neck, and it doesn’t get any better than this.

  Nothing—and no one—could ruin this moment.

  Flipping the pancakes, I giggle. “Stop, you’re going to make me burn these.”

  “Who needs breakfast anyway?” he growls, holding me tight.

  “Me. I’m starving.”

  The sound of the dog barking interrupts our carefree moment, and we both glance out the kitchen window to find a black SUV pulling into the drive.

  “Expecting someone?” I ask.

  “No. Stay here.” River, who had the foresight to at least put on a pair of pants before coming downstairs for breakfast, tugs a t-shirt over his head before stepping into a pair of boots and heading outside.

  I click the stove off and run upstairs to throw some clothes on.

  The sound of two men shouting is all I hear when I return. Tearing through the front door and jogging down the stone path, I freeze before I get to the picket gate.

  “Grant?” I squint in his direction. “What are you doing here?!”

  It’s like seeing a ghost, because for the last couple of weeks, this man has been dead to me. I haven’t missed him. Haven’t thought about him. Haven’t wondered how he’s holding up or what he’s thinking. I haven’t even cared if he’s sorry or remorseful.

  “Leighton.” Grant is dressed in a three-piece suit, complete with Gucci loafers and a polished Rolex. His look is comical in a place like this, but he’s too self-involved to notice or care.

  “Why did you come here?”

  “You repeatedly ignored me. What choice did I have?” His face is washed in incredulous disgust, as if this entire thing is my fault.

  “How the hell did you find me?” I ask simply for curiosity’s sake.

  “It wasn’t hard. There was a bit of a paper trail with your rental car and a few debit card transactions,” he says, an air of smugness about him. “I spoke with your mother, asking her why you’d be in South Dakota of all places, and she gave me this address.”

  “Leave.” River stands between us, not letting Grant take a single step closer. “You’re not welcome here.”

  “You stay out of this.” Grant looks at River as if he’s nothing more than a piece of gum on the bottom of his pricey shoes. “Whoever the hell you are.”

  My jaw falls. “Don’t talk to him that way. You don’t know him.”

  “What,” Grant scoffs, laughing. “Is he your boyfriend? You two fucking or something?”

  My arms fold. River gives him a thousand-yard stare.

  “My god.” Grant takes a step back, his confidence waning. “You are fucking. Wow, Leighton. Didn’t take you long to move on, did it? You always were quick to spread those—”

  Before he has a chance to finish his thought, River socks him across the jaw, sending him stumbling against the hood of his rental Escalade.

  “River, don’t!” I run to him just as he’s winding his arm back to take another punch. “He’s not worth it.”

  With Grant being a lawyer, he’s got a whole bevy of tricks up his sleeve, and he won’t hesitate to see to it that River spends a little time behind bars if he feels so inclined.

  My ex pulls himself up, adjusting his suit and checking his watch for damage. A trickle of blood drips from his left nostril, and the side of his face is ruddy and swollen.

  “Leave,” River says again as I hang onto his arm. I won’t let him go down for this. It isn’t his fight.

  “I’m not leaving unless she’s coming with me,” Grant says. “Leighton, get your things. We’re going home.”

  My nose wrinkles. “Absolutely not. I’m staying here.”

  “What, with him? With Farmer Dan?” Grant smirks, pulling out his pocket square and dabbing at his nose. “You belong with me, and you know it.”

  “You cheated on me. I’ll never trust you again,” I say. “You don’t do that to someone you love, Grant. You stopped loving me somewhere along the line … and I stopped loving you too.”

  “Bullshit. You act like we can’t fix this. We can,” he says. “Come home. We’ll talk this through. We’ll make it right. I refuse to believe it’s over.”

  “Believe it.” River breaks from my hold and squares his shoulders against Grant’s, towering over him. “She doesn’t want to be with you.”

  “I didn’t come all this way to go home empty-handed,” Grant pushes past River, coming after me. “You’re mine, Leighton.”

  “I don’t belong to you.” My hands cross tight across my chest, and I step back. “You need to leave. You’re making an ass of yourself, and you’re trespassing.”

  I glance around, but River’s nowhere in sight. Grant hooks his hand into my arm, leading me to the Cadillac, my heels dragging in the yard.

  “I suggest you let her go right now.” River’s voice is smooth and steady, unwavering, and as Grant’s grip tightens on my arm, I realize he’s staring down the barrel of a shotgun.

  Grant chuckles. “What are you going to do? Shoot me?”

  “When I tell the sheriff that some man crossed state lines with the intention of kidnapping a young lady, I’m sure their sympathies are going to lie with me,” River says, keeping the shotgun pointed at Grant. “You’re going to let her go, and you’re going to get the hell off my property.”

  He racks the gun.

  Grant’s grip loosens.

  He lingers for a moment, like he’s going to call River’s bluff.

  But then he turns to leave, stopping and pointing at me. “This isn’t over.”

  “Damn right it is,” River answers for me, repositioning his gun.

  An endless minute passes, and Grant takes his time getting into his SUV. When he’s finally gone and out of sight, River lowers his gun and wraps his arm around me.

  “You all right?” he asks.

  I nod, resting my cheek against his chest. I expect his heart to be thrumming like crazy, but he’s calm. His breathing is normal. And he isn’t shaking.

  He would’ve shot Grant for me, and he would’ve had no problems doing it.

  “He won’t be back,” River says as he leads me back to the house.

  “How do you know?”

  “I saw weakness in his eyes.” River gets the door for me. “Man’s nothing but chicken shit dressed in fancy clothes.”

  “He had a lot of balls to come out here though, thinking he could get me to go back with him.”

  “Some people have the illusion of power until they come face
to face with the real thing.” River closes the door, cupping my face in his hands. “I’d have never let him take you. I’ll never let anyone take you. You’re safe here.”

  I close my eyes, and he kisses the top of my head. Slipping my hands around his waist, I breathe him in and let my feet anchor the floor.

  “I love your heart,” I whisper.

  He holds me tighter.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  River

  “I’ve marked the bunkhouse as a total loss,” the insurance claims adjuster hands me a clipboard. “Everything else can be fixed. Bunkhouse wasn’t worth much, but we should be able to give you enough to get it bulldozed and cleared out. Just need you to sign here and I’ll submit it as soon as I get back to the office.”

  “No,” I say, adjusting my hat. “The bunkhouse has to be saved.”

  He laughs. “From the looks of it, no one has used it in years. There’s nothing worth saving about that thing.”

  “It’s a part of this property,” he says. “It’s staying, and we’re fixing it.”

  “What do you expect me to do? It’s a total loss. I can’t lie.” He scratches his temple, staring at the roofless dwelling no bigger than a small machine shed. “I suppose you could allocate the money you get for the bulldozer and use some of that to fix it up? But you’re going to have to do the work yourself. American Farm and Casualty isn’t going to pay for the restoration.”

  Scratching my five o’clock shadow, I take a look at the old building. I can’t tear it down … I can’t do that to Leighton. If I have to spend my nights and weekends fixing it up, I will.

  Signing the forms, I send the adjuster on his way just in time for Leighton to emerge with two mugs of coffee.

  “Everything good?” she asks, blowing cooled breath across the top of hers.

  “Just making sure we can save the bunkhouse. I know how much it means to you.”

  Her eyes widen. “You’re going to save it?”

  “Of course.”

  Her expression lightens, and the joy on her face fills me with lightness and warmth. “Thank you, River. You have no idea how much this would’ve meant to my dad. He worked so hard building this. Did it all on his own.”

  “Anyway, I’m about to head into town to the New Holland dealership to order a new disc. You want to come?”

  “You look bored.” I chuckle as I watch Leighton study the various implements spread across the showroom floor.

  She turns to me. “I’m testing myself.”

  “Testing yourself?”

  “Seeing if I remember what these do.” She moves around a tiller. “This one tills. That one rakes. The one in the corner is a field cultivator. So far I’m three for three.”

  “Not bad.”

  The salesman flags me down, waving his pen, and I head to his office to sign on the dotted line for my new disc harrow. When I’m finished, I take Leighton by Tanglewood Tack to get her a pair of riding boots to go with the horse I bought her last week at the auction.

  She doesn’t know the horse is hers, but after hearing about the palomino mare she had and loved as a young girl and how she hadn’t seen it since her family moved, I thought it’d be nice if she could get a do-over. I’d be happy to keep this one here as long as she likes, and my mares could use a little company anyway.

  “What are we doing here?” Leighton asks as I park outside the tack shop.

  “You need some riding boots.”

  “For what? I don’t have a horse.”

  “That palomino I bought the other week? It’s yours.” I lock the truck and head for the front door.

  “River …” she follows, her jaw hanging. “You didn’t. It’s your horse.”

  “I don’t need another horse. Mine does just fine.” I get the door. “I’d be happy to take care of it as long as you need. We’re picking it up on the way home.”

  Her hand cups her mouth before she throws her arms around my shoulders, hanging from me as she bounces on her toes.

  “You’re amazing.” She pulls her body from mine before gifting me with a kiss, and I take her hand, leading her inside the air-conditioned, leather-scented store. “Oh.”

  Leighton freezes and the bells on the door jingle as it glides to a close. Standing five feet ahead of us, swiping his card at the cash register, is the devil himself.

  “River. Leighton.” Seth flashes a smile that could fool an angel into thinking he was one of them, and he tips his hat. The young girl working the register stares at him, fidgeting like the butterflies in her stomach won’t allow her to stand still.

  “Got any plans after this, Seth?” she asks, leaning forward and squeezing her cleavage as she snaps her pink gum. “I hear it’s going to be nice out. I was thinking of going to the pool after work. You should go.”

  Seth chuckles. This girl is at least fifteen years his junior, but as long as she’s over eighteen with big tits and a perky ass, he doesn’t discriminate.

  “That sounds like a nice time, Avery,” he says with a wink. “I might have to join you.”

  Leighton and I exchange looks, and she pulls me away from the door and toward a wall of cowboy hats.

  Avery gives him a dainty wave after handing him a small receipt, and she stares like a school girl overcome with a crush as he struts away.

  “Leighton, you’re looking beautiful as ever,” Seth says, stopping a few feet from us on his way out.

  I squeeze Leighton’s hand before trying to let it go, but she holds tight.

  “Brother, good to see you,” he says. “Don’t be a stranger.”

  A couple of women shopping in the back of the store look up, watching the exchange. Everyone in Bonesteel Creek knows my brother, and this is nothing more than a live action PR campaign with a mission to keep his good reputation in good standing.

  “Come on.” Leighton pulls me to the back of the store. “We’re here for boots, not to waste our time on that jackass.”

  The bells on the door jangle and the air feels a little more breathable than it did a minute ago.

  “Calm. Down.” Leighton speaks under her breath, interlacing her fingers in mine. “If you let him get to you, then he wins. Don’t let him win.”

  “It’s not about winning. It’s about justice.”

  “Karma will bite him in the ass one of these days.”

  “I don’t believe in karma.” My jaw clenches, pain radiating up my face.

  “That’s no excuse to take matters into your own hands.” She rises on her toes to reach for a pair of black boots on a top shelf.

  “It’s every excuse.”

  “You kill him, and I’ll kill you,” she says with all the nonchalance in the world. “Because I can live in a world where Seth exists, but I can’t live in a world where you’re locked up behind bars.”

  Her words steal my train of thought for a moment.

  “What?” Her mouth pinches, stifling a grin. “I like you, River. You act surprised.”

  “Wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.”

  “How could you not expect it? I couldn’t take my hands off you last night.” Her voice dwindles to a soft whisper as she peers around the store.

  The feeling was mutual.

  And it still is.

  I hook my hand on her hip, pulling her against me and leaning down to kiss her sweet mouth.

  “You’re taking me home after this, right?” she asks, peering up at me through long dark lashes.

  Placing my hand beneath her chin, I align her lips with mine, grazing them before breathing her in. For the last several minutes, I’ve forgotten about Seth. About Allison. About the pile of tragedies that comprise my life history. I’ve forgotten about the nagging loneliness that eats through my bones day in and day out. I’ve forgotten how dark my past is and how murky my future feels. I’ve forgotten everything and it’s all because of the woman smiling up at me this very second, looking at me like I’m the best thing to ever happen to her.

  Whether or not that’s true
is none of my business.

  All I know is until I met her, I was falling, sinking into an endless black hole.

  Then I kissed her.

  And suddenly I felt the earth beneath my feet again.

  “Let’s buy these damn boots so I can get you home.” I kiss her again and again, until the sound of someone clearing their throat reminds me we’re in public.

  “Did you need to try those on?” Avery asks, lashes batting.

  Leighton’s fingertips trace her lips and her cheeks warm. “Yes. Size seven, please.”

  When Avery disappears into the back room, Leighton steals another kiss, each one bringing me closer from the brink, each one a silent promise, reassuring me that everything might be okay after all.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Leighton

  I’m bent over the kitchen table because apparently River couldn’t wait a minute longer, my hands splayed across the polished wood top as my panties are wrapped around one ankle. He spreads my thighs apart, dragging a finger between my seam before plunging it deep inside.

  My body shivers at his touch, and his free hand slides up my bare belly before cupping my breast. My clothes are scattered between here and the front door, and he all but carried me caveman-style up the front walk the second he pulled into the drive.

  There’s something lighter about him, something less closed and unfeeling.

  I wasn’t planning on telling him I liked him earlier, but the timing felt right, and I had to get it off my chest because it was all I’d been thinking about since we had sex by the lake.

  “God, you’re so fucking wet,” he groans.

  I spread my legs wider, arching my back as he massages my clit from behind. A moment later, his body heat leaves mine as he lowers himself to his knees, tonguing my pussy with soft, hungry strokes.

  My knees buckle, threatening to give out with each lash, and when he slips his finger inside me again, I almost lose it.

  “Fuck me, River,” I beg, desperate to feel his force, desperate to feel each inch of him filling me as deep as he can fit. “I want to feel close to you.”