Page 8 of Rocky Mountain Home

The anniversary of her family’s death was a drinking event. The sex and the baby were bonuses.

Dare eyed Jesse’s picture again. She’d taken it between bouts of really hot sex—and after a shower break.

That’s why he had a towel barely clinging to his fine, firm ass, his backside slightly twisted toward her as he hammed it up. His cowboy hat was pulled down over most of his face, so the main event of the show were abdominal muscles that wouldn’t quit, and those long muscular V lines angling toward his groin.

She sighed happily. He hadn’t sucked in the sack, not one bit. She tingled when she thought back to that night. Which was good, because the memories of how much fun they’d had might have to last her a long time.

Which was very sad because she liked sex. And she’d really liked sex with Jesse, but going forward, the well was probably going to get a little dry.

She figured single moms-to-be weren’t setting the sexual world on fire on a regular basis.

Her second sigh wasn’t as happy.

Dare returned to her email and worked through them, a timer set to go off at thirty-minute intervals so she’d get up and move around.

She was just about done when a new email came through from her website.

Question re: model for post

Oops. Made sense if the post got a lot of attention, she’d get some feedback—of what variety, though? Readers and their comments on her blog were her bread and butter, but direct messages through her contact button were a potshot.

For a pretty PG site, she still got complaints about her content. The morality cops swinging through and deciding her blog had too much sex and skin—and it really didn’t, although she posted bluntly about a lot of ideas.

Okay, the shot of Jesse was borderline. She glanced at it again and couldn’t stop from grinning. Forget borderline, it was straight-up “print this off and use as fantasy material”, and she wasn’t even one bit embarrassed.

Where people got off telling her what she could and couldn’t discuss burned her britches. She’d started opening the emails with a kind of BINGO card in mind.

Reference to burning in hell, one point.

Reference to having no shame, one point.

Offers of prayers for her soul, two points.

Her amusement faded as she read the actual comment, and her heart rate picked up.

I’m curious if you know where I could find the model from your March twenty-fourth picture. No worries—only he’s family, and I’m trying to track him down. I thought I’d try you in case you had any current information.

If not—sorry to bother you.

If you do know where Jesse is, and you don’t mind passing on a message, tell the ass to get in touch with us. When I find him, I’m going to tan his hide. (Okay, maybe don’t mention that last bit. The boy gets on my last nerve far too easily.)

Your blog looks great, by the way. I look forward to going through your stuff. Ranch life is definitely up my alley.

Jaxi Coleman (Six Pack ranch, Rocky Mountain House)

Huh. Dare read the message over again, confusion stirring. It was a connection to her missing man, but if his…sister?…didn’t know where Jesse was—

Did she contact them to say, Hey, if he does show up, tell him I need to talk? Potentially awkward, and she wasn’t letting anyone else know about the baby before he found out.

If he found out.

Drat, this was impossible.

She pushed the email aside to think about it a little longer before responding. Worrying about her missing baby daddy wasn’t going to keep her blog running, and in the end, that was the most important thing.

She’d do whatever it took to remain standing on her own two feet. If there was one thing she’d learned over the years, no matter that others had good intentions, if it needed to be done, in the end she really needed to rely on herself.

She finished by lunch, then spent needed time on cleanup tasks she’d been putting off. About two o’clock she wandered over to the main house to find her friend arguing on the phone.