Page 31 of The Cattleman’s Unforgettable Love: Ford and Amelia (MacFarland Ranch #11)

Amelia set down her glass and stared out at the mountains.

This may well have been the best date of her life so far.

Ford was such good company. He was easy to be around, and it felt as though they were in sync about.

.. well, pretty much everything. He wasn't a big talker, but she'd discovered that once she got him onto topics he was passionate about, he had a lot to say.

Not that he was boring – far from it. He'd held her interest while he told her about the cattle and the business.

From the way he talked, she could see that he was intelligent and insightful.

He understood the men who worked for him, and he talked about them as people he cared for – not just as a boss who wanted to get the best out of his employees.

She smiled but didn't turn to look at him when he spoke.

"I feel like you learned a lot more about me tonight, but I didn't learn much more about you."

"And that's how I wanted it to go," she told him. "You know more about me than I do about you." She rested her head on his shoulder. "I wanted to understand what makes you tick."

He huffed out a laugh. "And all I did was bore you about the ranch."

"Not at all – you talked about what's important to you, about your passion. I enjoyed learning about the ranch; more than that, I enjoyed hearing how you feel about what you do."

"And what did you learn?"

She looked up into his eyes with a smile. "I learned that you don't consider yourself to be a cowboy – and I understand why."

When he tensed beside her, she was worried that she shouldn't have brought it up. But she'd had to – she'd noticed when he was talking that he drew a distinct line between cowboys and himself.

"I'm not trying to be arrogant," he said.

"Wow. That wouldn't have occurred to me." She turned to him and cupped his cheek in her hand. "Why would you say such a thing?"

His gaze slid away from hers as he shrugged. "It's just that I know some people think that, and I didn't want you to..."

"Then you've got nothing to worry about, because I don't."

He didn't look convinced as he asked, "So how do you see it, then?"

She shifted in her seat so that she could turn to face him and rested her leg across his.

Heat coursed through her veins when he rested his hand on her thigh as he waited for her to explain.

It was hard to concentrate as his thumb brushed back and forth, but she needed him to understand that she knew where he was coming from.

Not only did she know, but she admired him for it.

"From everything you've said, you see cowboys as free spirits."

He nodded slowly, and she continued. "As much as you'd like to be a free spirit, there's a whole lot more to you than that."

His shoulders sagged. "Yeah. I know the image of the cowboy is kind of aspirational, but it doesn't take reality into account. And I've always been a pragmatic kind of guy."

She could tell what he was thinking, and she could even see why.

Cash considered himself a cowboy, and he was a free spirit if ever there was one.

From what she'd seen of his other brothers, they were the same way.

And then, of course, there were all the men who worked for him – hands, wranglers, whatever name they went by. They were cowboys.

She covered his hand with her own. "I know, and that's just one of the many things I find so sexy about you."

He pursed his lips. "I hope you're not going to try feeding me bullshit."

She slapped his hand. "No, I'm not. I'm telling you the truth, and it'll be up to you whether you believe me." She met his gaze. "But I hope you will. I hope you know me well enough by now."

"Yeah. Sorry, I do. That was about me, not you."

"I know, and that's what I'm trying to say.

You think everyone wants to be a cowboy or to be with one?

But you have to remember that not everyone's the same.

" She smiled. "You already know that I'm different.

And while I can see the appeal of the cowboy stereotype, to me there's something much sexier about a guy who can handle responsibility, who looks out for others, and who’s loyal.

" She leaned in to press a kiss to his lips.

"In case I'm not making myself clear, I'm talking about you. "

His eyes crinkled as he smiled, reassuring her that he believed what she was saying. "You're serious, aren't you?" he asked.

She nodded solemnly. "I am. You're the perfect package for me. Perhaps you're not to some people, but I can't say that I'm sad about that. Because if so many women weren't into the cowboy dream, one of them would have scooped you up already."

He chuckled. "Someone might have tried, maybe. But I reckon I was just waiting around for you."

Her heart felt as though it melted in her chest when he leaned in to kiss her and added, "You're my kind of perfect."

He ran his fingers down her arm, sending a shiver down her spine. "Are you getting cold?" he asked.

She smiled as she met his gaze. "No, but I think it's time we heated things up, don't you?"

The corners of his lips quirked up into a smile. "Yeah, I think it is. I’m glad no one wanted to scoop me up before now, because it means..." He got to his feet and offered her his hand. "That I get to scoop you up now – if you want me to."

"I do."

The words had barely left her lips before he'd hooked one arm around her shoulders and the other behind her knees. Before she'd registered what he was doing, he was striding back into the house, carrying her as if she weighed no more than a small child. She wrapped her arms around his neck.

"When you talked about carrying me away to your bed, I thought you were joking."

He looked down into her eyes as he made his way up the stairs, and his words made her feel as though fireworks were exploding in her chest. "I've never been more serious about anything, Lia."

~ ~ ~

Ford's heart was pounding by the time he reached his bedroom – and it wasn't from the exertion of carrying Amelia upstairs; she barely weighed more than a feed sack.

He was nervous. Nervous because this was important to him.

Amelia was important to him. He might not have dated much in years, but that didn't mean that he hadn't slept with anyone.

But those encounters hadn't meant anything; he'd only been with women who were looking for the same thing he was – physical relief, nothing more.

But now... He looked down into Amelia's eyes as he set her on her feet.

This little lady standing before him had already come to mean the world to him.

Even if she said that she didn't want to see him anymore, he hoped that she'd still let him help her out with the kid who was messaging her.

That she might come to see him as a friend and someone she could turn to at the very least. Because if she didn't want to be with him, he couldn't imagine not having her in his life in some capacity.

She looked concerned as she cupped his cheek in her hand. "Are you sure you want to do this? You look worried."

He chuckled. "I'm damn sure and I'm hoping you are too because..." He adjusted the front of his jeans. There was no point in trying to hide the size of the problem he was going to have on his hands if she changed her mind.

"I'm more than sure." She curled her arms up around his neck, pressing the full length of her soft, sweet body against him as she did so.

His arms moved of their own volition, curling themselves around her waist, crushing her to him as he lifted her off her feet again.

He didn't know what it was with that – why he kept picking her up – but she seemed to like it well enough.

She confirmed that for him when she said, "I don't know what it is about you, but I love this – love the way you can just lift me off my feet."

"I wish I could tell you what it is, but all I can say is that it does it for me, too." He walked back to the door and chuckled as she dangled from his neck when he let go of her to close it.

His laughter died in his throat when she wrapped her legs around his waist and a rush of desire coursed through his veins.

He pressed her up against the wall, cupping his hands under her ass.

She let out a low moan when he ground his hips against hers.

A growl escaped from his own lips as his cock throbbed against his zipper.

He was about to move them to the bed when she reached down to lift the hem of her top and pull it over her head. His mouth watered at the sight of her full, plump breasts spilling over the top of a plain white cotton bra.

Keeping one hand under her ass and pinning her against the wall with his weight, he unfastened his buckle and zipper, desperate to relieve some of the pressure on his aching cock.

While he did that, Amelia unclasped her bra and wriggled out of it. He hefted her higher so that her nipples were at his eye level, then higher still so that he could kiss her stomach. He kissed his way over her ribs, loving the way she trembled under his touch.

She slowly slid down until her breasts were within reach, and he teased and tormented, worshiping them with his lips and tongue while she moaned and writhed. When he lifted his head, she scrabbled at his shirt, trying to pull it off.

"I'm desperate for you to take me against the wall," she breathed. "But I don't know if it'll work, and I need to feel your skin against mine more than anything."

He turned and headed for the bed, throwing her down on it before stripping off his shirt, jeans, and underwear.

He froze when he heard her laugh, but relaxed when she caught his hand and said, "You just keep getting better and better, don't you? I loved the way you carried me up here, but then I thought you were going to be all sweet and gentle – till you just dumped me on the bed."