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He raised his hand. “Wait. I didn’t finish. I was afraid I’d hurt you, but I knew I couldn’t apologize for it and I couldn’t promise not to do it again. Because I want to do all of that to you again. That and even more. I’m not sure, I’ve never felt…”

She’d made Hank feel something new? It was like she’d won the lottery.

“Hank,” she said, reaching for his hand. “I don’t want you to say you’re sorry. And I sure as hell don’t want that damn promise.”

He leaned forward and kissed her. It was a soft touch, sweet, romantic. Beautiful.

“Shower or sleep?” he asked when they parted.

“Does the shower come with you?”

Hank placed a playful kiss on the end of her nose as Macie struggled to keep up with him. He could shift from intense to sweet to silly in the blink of an eye. She loved it.

“Don’t think you should plan on showering alone in this house very often.”

“Come on.” She shifted toward the end of the bed somewhat gingerly. Man, what a workout.

Hank noticed her discomfiture. “Change of plans. We’re soaking in a hot bath together.”

She sighed sleepily, not bothering to hide her grin or her outright infatuation with him. At this rate, there wouldn’t be any pieces of her heart left that Hank hadn’t claimed by morning.

Chapter 4

Hank climbed out of the truck and stretched. He’d just dropped Macie off at her apartment, so she could get ready for work. And he had every intention of being at the restaurant when she got off work. He wasn’t willing to entertain the idea of not spending the night with her anytime in the near future, and he’d told her that in no uncertain terms.

She’d made some funny comment before they parted about how he really needed to brush up on his “playing it cool” skills. He’d given her a kiss that made sure she understood he never intended anything between them to be cool…or even lukewarm. She inspired heat, fire, flames, ravaging infernos.

Besides, he was too old to play all those stupid dating games. Hell, he hadn’t done that when he was young. He’d laid eyes on Sharon when he was just twenty-two. They went out on all of six dates before he proposed. Porter had given him shit for rushing it, but even he had admitted several years after the wedding that Hank had found the perfect bride.

Crazy thing was…as certain as Hank had been about Sharon, he was even more sure of Macie. He was falling hard for the woman, and while it was becoming obvious that her experience when it came to romance and relationships was basically nonexistent, there was something about her that screamed forever. If the jackasses in Maris hadn’t cottoned onto that long before now, that was their loss. Hank wasn’t going to make the same mistake. They’d all had their chance and blown it. Now she was his.

The sound of a tool clinking against concrete and a muttered curse caught his attention. Porter was underneath their old ranch pickup, lying on a creeper, changing the oil. All Hank could see were the man’s legs sticking out.

Hank stuffed the keys to his own truck in his front pocket and walked over. Time for a chat with his ranch manager.

Porter must have sensed his arrival because he requested a wrench as soon as Hank got within a few feet of him.

Hank retrieved the tool from the box nearby, then bent down to hand it Porter. He couldn’t see the man’s face. This conversation was one he wanted to have eye to eye. But he didn’t get a chance to stall when Porter asked, “Where’d you take off to so early this morning?”

Macie had only been here two nights, and it was clear from his question Porter hadn’t realized she’d been there.

“Had to take Macie back to town. She’s working the lunch and dinner shifts.”

Porter’s body went still. “Macie, huh?”

As far as replies went, that one was damn vague. “She’s spent the last couple of nights here.”

Whatever shock he might have experienced appeared to have passed as Porter started working again. Neither of them said anything else as Porter removed the plug and Hank listened as oil began draining out. Porter wheeled himself out on the flat cart and then sat up.

His gaze met Hank’s. “’Bout time you made your move.”

Hank nodded. “Not that easy to just hop back in the saddle, Port.”

“Yeah, I get that, man.” Porter Cormack was more than Hank’s ranch manager, he was his best friend. The man had come to work on the Cooper ranch back when Hank’s daddy ran the place. They’d worked side by side then as hands. They’d break their backs during the week on the ranch, and then tear it up on the weekends, doing more than their fair share of drinking and partying. All of that felt like a lifetime ago.

Hank’s father had a stroke well over two decades earlier and died within weeks. Hank’s partying years were cut short. It had been up to him to take over the family business, so he’d proposed to Sharon, the girl he was sweet on shortly after his father’s funeral, married her, moved her in with him and his mother, and promoted Porter to ranch manager.

Porter, a good friend, had eschewed the bar scene with him, declaring it was time they both grew up and got their shit together. However, unlike Hank, Porter hadn’t met a woman able to drag him to the altar. A confirmed bachelor, Porter claimed he was happy with his life just like it was.