The Way We Loved Read online

  “Sure. It makes sense to offer something like that, but getting word out would be hard. I couldn’t ever justify the cost of hiring someone to give lessons unless we had a steady stream of interested people.”

  “Yeah. Good point.” But now I’m here, and if I’m good at anything, it’s bringing the crowd in.

  “Who would you have teach them?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I could, for now. Why, do you think we should start offering some?”

  “I think it’s a good idea,” I say, and then because I want to help, “I gave a few lessons back home. I wouldn’t mind helping if you need it.”

  “What other ideas do you have?” Well, at least he didn’t shoot me straight down. That’s gotta be good for something, right?

  “Aside from lessons, I think we can offer trail rides. Beginner, intermediate, and advanced. Tying into the trail riding, I think we can offer a wedding and party venue. We could even promote some local artists once a month or something. Support each other and build each other up.”

  “I like it. But I’m not planning a damn wedding.”

  “Obviously. We would just offer the venue and maybe a horse-led carriage ride to the altar or something.”

  “People pay for that shit?”

  “Hell, yeah. But that would just be the fun, simple stuff. I’m playing around with a bigger idea, but I haven’t worked out all the kinks yet.”

  “Let me know when you do. I’d like to hear it.”

  “Sure.” I copy his earlier response, trying not to show my excitement. When Beau and I discussed how Calvin was likely to react to my reappearance, he didn’t hold back. I knew I had hurt Calvin by leaving, but until Beau laid it out for me, I didn’t realize how badly. It put the pain I felt when he hadn’t followed me in perspective.

  I had been prepared to fight him on every change. To argue and push and demand that he listen. I don’t think either of us expected him to be quite so amicable. Not that I was complaining at all.

  Add in the sweet ache between my legs, and I’m willing to accept that maybe we were wrong. Maybe, just maybe, Calvin Hunt is as ready to put the past behind him as the rest of us.

  10

  #justfun

  Calvin

  I spent that and every day following by Blake’s side, working on her plan to revamp this place. We worked well together, and if I couldn’t keep my eyes off her, well, who could really blame me?

  We’ve managed to keep our hands mostly to ourselves since falling into each other’s arms the day of the photo shoot, not that I didn’t think about undressing her and having my way with her every second of the day. Her presence is intoxicating.

  I don’t know what brought her back to Alabama, but every day she’s here, I thank God while secretly praying she doesn’t leave again. I’m torturing myself. I should ask her plans, but that feels too much like something a boyfriend would do.

  She’s made it abundantly clear that she isn’t looking for anything like that, and truth be told, I’m not either. We have sex. Only sex. It was bound to happen, given our past and the chemistry between us, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t move past it, couldn’t be friends too.

  I could move past it.

  Shit happens.

  “I like that,” I say, leaning across her, my arms rubbing against her own. We’ve been working on the layout and photos for the website she’s creating for PRR. I didn’t know shit about any of it, but I like being close to her.

  “Yeah? Like this, or . . .” She clicks a few buttons and the picture morphs into something else. “This?” Her face turns toward mine, her lips inches from mine. I lean down, pressing my mouth to hers.

  “That one. Definitely that one,” I say, kissing her.

  Okay, so maybe I hadn’t gotten enough of her yet. But I was working on it. “Mmm. I like that one too.”

  I have a feeling neither of us is talking about the pictures. I reach for her waist and spin her so she’s facing me. Her ass is pressed against the kitchen counter, her hands gripping it white-knuckled.

  “Lift,” I instruct as I work to unbutton her jeans. She places her palms flat and pushes away from the counter as I peel them off, panties included. She glances at the door, worry creasing her brow.

  “The door is locked. No one will come in,” I reassure her.

  “I wasn’t worried.” I recognize the core of her voice, but those words are so full of sex and need that she sounds like a different woman. She sits naked before me against the cold counter, completely at my mercy, open and fucking beautiful.

  She watches my hands caress the curves of her body, smoothing along her waist to her hips, down her thighs, and back up again. I raise my eyes to hers and then lift her onto the counter. I spread her legs wide, one hand on each knee. My lips graze the flesh from the dip of her stomach, over her hips, and across the sensitive skin between her legs. I nip the inside of her thigh and then press my lips to the spot, kissing away any pain before moving to another area. I take my time torturing her, never quite arriving at the center of the bullseye where her body screams for me.

  With each pass from one leg to the other, I come closer and closer to her begging center. The breath of my exhale dances across her clit. She sucks in a breath, waiting, anticipating, but I stop short of ecstasy only to repeat the torture over and over until she’s cross-eyed, breathless, and soaking wet, desperate for release without my ever touching her there.

  “You’re so wet for me, Blake,” I say right before dipping two fingers into her folds. She gasps, and I reach around to her ass with my free hand to pull her to the edge.

  “Ahh, Cal . . .” She sighs, forced to lie back and support her upper body with her elbows. I bow my head between her legs and press my lips to her center in a gentle kiss before flicking my tongue against her, setting every nerve ending below her waist on fire. I lick her clit, circling it and suckling it between my lips in a passionate kiss.

  I curl two fingers inside her, lifting her hips with the erotic tempo. Gasping between pants, she instinctively clamps her legs on either side of my head, but I gently repeat the process of spreading her legs with her knees, opening her wide and giving a little sharp jerk that clearly says don’t move. She grips my hair tightly as I alternate between circling her clit and licking her outer folds. I pull my fingers free and reach down, pulling my cock free of my jeans. I’m swollen, hard as a rock, and want nothing more than to bury myself deep inside her. I pump my hand up and down my cock while sucking her into my mouth.

  “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.” She lies back and tilts her head, watching my arm pump below the countertop edge. “Stroke your cock for me, baby.” I moan against her on the verge of exploding. “Fuck, that’s hot. Shit, Cal. I’m going to come.”

  She thrusts her hips forward, offering more of herself to me, her orgasm building quickly with every electrifying movement of my tongue. She’s close. I can feel it. “Oh, shit.” Her hand grips my hair, holding my face against her center. I pump into my hand faster and faster until my balls tighten and the first wave of pleasure courses through me.

  “Oh, God, Calvin,” she yells, her body convulsing violently. I ease back when she relaxes her grip on my hair. Blake props up on her elbows and looks up at me through her beautiful long eyelashes. Her face is relaxed, her eyes glazed in the after-orgasm glow. I grab a towel from the basket on the counter and wipe my hand, then, leaning forward, I press a soft kiss against the inside of her thigh.

  “I’ve wanted to do that since I heard you in Beau’s kitchen that morning.”

  “Shit. Why did you wait so long?” she says, taking her clothes from my outstretched hand.

  “Anticipation makes for a welcomed distraction.”

  “I see,” she says, grinning. “So, you like the first picture?”

  Laughter bubbles deep and full, erupting before I have the chance to stop it.

  11

  #blessyourheart

  Blake

  I’ve been back in my homet
own for weeks, and during that time, I’ve come up with ten different ways to avoid answering the same questions from nosy do-gooders in town.

  “Well, color me pink. Is that you, Blakelynn Smith? I haven’t seen you since graduation. What’s brought you back to little ol’ Greentown, Alabama?”

  I turn at my name being called and then wish I hadn’t. I would recognize the bleached blonde locks and sunless tanned skin of Jessica Mink if she was on the cover of Where’s Waldo with 100 more of her dressed just the same. We were friends in high school. Or rather, we were two of the sixteen kids in Greentown’s graduating class. When you grow up in a town the size of Greentown, you don’t choose your friends. Even if you wanted to, there weren’t enough of them to pick between, so everyone was friends with everyone else and there wasn’t a secret to share in town.

  I can’t say I missed her when I left. Truth is, up until I saw her again, I hadn’t even remembered her. I’m not sure if that makes me a horrible person or not. Probably does. I should add it to the list of things I’m trying to work on.

  “Jessica. How are you?” Beau and Calvin choose that moment to walk up, thank God. Maybe I can get out of here before I turn gray. I raise my eyes and beg Beau to help me escape, but judging by the light dancing in his blue eyes, he doesn’t plan on helping.

  “Married. Got two kids now, seven and four. You and that sexy as sin fiancé of yours planning on starting your family right away? I bet you’re excited to finally have a ring on that finger. You’re a little behind, but you always did do things in your own time.”

  My gaze snaps to Calvin, who sucks in a deep breath. I wasn’t sure if he knew I had been engaged. It’s safe to say he didn’t.

  “Hey, Blake, we’ve gotta get back. You ready?” Beau takes pity on me and rescues me after all. I owe him a cold one for that. Later.

  “Gotta go, Jess. We’ll catch up later, okay?” I say and take off on Calvin’s heels.

  We pile into the cab of the truck together and head back to PRR. A short trip into town for feed turned disastrous fast. Things had finally settled between Cal and me, even if I was secretly stripping him in my mind every time I looked his way. I was allowed to think about another man. Just because my fiancé cheated on me and we split in the last four months didn’t mean I had to pretend to be dead. I could look. And I could enjoy what I saw. And if the opportunity arose for me to touch some of what I saw, then there was no harm in that.

  When we pull into the drive, Beau bails and leaves us to unload the feed. Tension’s thick enough to cut with a knife, and after the third time he passes me mumbling under his breath, I lose it.

  “What?” I yell, dropping my bag on the ground and twisting toward him.

  “I didn’t say anything to you.”

  “No, you’re mumbling under your breath. If you have something to say, then spit it out.”

  “I don’t.” He takes a step past me and then changes his mind. “You’re engaged? What the hell are you even doing here, and don’t give me that bullshit excuse that you’re here to help PRR because we both know that’s not it.”

  “I’m here for PRR. My personal life it just that. Mine.”

  “You didn’t think I should know? We’re working together twelve to fourteen hours a day. And fucking another hour of two on top of that.” He’s inches from me now. I could reach out and touch him if I wanted, but now he’s pissed me off, and I let the anger roll through me.

  “No, I don’t think I owe you a damn thing. Least of all, a play by play on my life since the last time I saw you, but since you want one, here it is. I left. I moved on. I’ve had lovers and relationships. One of those lasted three years before he decided to ask me to marry him, and I said yes. I am allowed to be happy. I’m sorry that the happiness I found wasn’t in your arms.”

  I can tell my words sting. And for a second, I feel bad.

  “You think I care that you moved on? News flash, Sugar. I did too. I’m not mad about the fact that you had lovers. I’m pissed because for the last week, you have been tearing my clothes off every chance you get.” He takes a step closer. Our bodies are a breath away from touching.

  I can’t breathe. He’s sucked the oxygen out of the air itself, and at this moment, I don’t even care. I just want him to lean down and press his lips to mine. I want to taste his mouth against mine. My eyes follow my train of thought, and I lick my lips before glancing back at him. Instead of kissing me, he takes a step back. “And then I find out you’re fucking engaged. I don’t know what the hell happened to you, but the Blake I knew wouldn’t be thinking about one man while promising to marry another. She damn sure wouldn’t be fucking him every chance she got.”

  With that, he leaves the barn and I fall to the ground and fight the tears clogging my throat. It’s not that his words hurt me, more that they infuriate me. I clench my fist and take a deep breath, pulling it in through my nostrils and then pushing it out through clenched teeth. My temper has always gotten me into trouble. I’ve spent years trying to control it, but if that time has taught me anything, it’s that I should keep my mouth shut when I’m pissed. My words tend to cut like knives when I want them to.

  Cal has no reason to not assume I’m exactly the person he described. I’ve hidden the truth of many things from him since coming here. I try to remind myself of that when the desire to hunt him down and cut into him burns through me.

  12

  #letsride

  Calvin

  When I pull up to the ranch the next day, Blake is already outside with that devil of a horse, Samson. She’s got her phone out and attached to a long pole and is talking out loud while walking around the horse. I cringe when she steps behind him, sure he’s going to kick her, but he stands perfectly still and lets her do whatever she wants.

  I walk as close as I dare to hear her.

  Samson is just one of the many horses here at Point of Retreat Ranch. You can follow his story by searching the hashtag Samsonthebigbaby. Starting next week, I will be back each morning with a new guest, but for today, I wanted to catch everyone up and let you know about the changes in my own life. Like Samson here . . .

  I walk away. I don’t need to hear what she’s been up to, and I damn sure don’t want to hear about the picture-perfect life she’s building. I know yesterday, I yelled at her about making googly eyes while being engaged, but the truth is if she didn’t make the first move in my direction, I would have. I damn sure didn’t stop to ask if she had someone at home. It took everything I had in me to walk away when I did.

  Before we headed into town yesterday, we all sat down and mapped out the first phase of Blake’s plan for PRR. She was convinced we needed to bring the place to social media. Right now, you could look up the phone number in the White Pages, but that was it. I personally thought that was enough, but like Beau pointed out, I wasn’t the professional.

  “Ready?” Blake asks, stepping into the tack room. So far, the only conversation we’ve had has revolved around work and PRR. I wasn’t ready to hear about her life or listen to her make excuses for her actions. My Blake is gone. She proved that.

  “Sure. What do you need me to do?”

  “I’d like to take a ride and mark a few different trails. A simple one first and then a couple more advanced. I’ve got plastic ties to mark them.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll start saddling up the horses. I hope you don’t plan on taking that beast.”

  “Why not? He would be fine, but no. I thought I’d take sweet Annie today.” Did she really ask why not? I don’t want to see you tossed to high heaven, how about that? I don’t say any of that, though. After yesterday, I’m trying to keep the number of words I let out in her presence to a minimum.

  “Do you still remember how to ride?” I don’t mean to sound like an ass, but aside from her love life and the fact that she gave a few lessons, I don’t know what she has been doing the last decade.

  “I’ll manage.”

  Thirty minutes later, Blake is tying the sa
ddle bag on Annie’s saddle, and after checking the girth, she lunges onto her back. I open the gate and let them exit before walking a bay gelding named Spark out and shutting the gate.

  We head northwest, away from the cattle pasture. She leads the way like she knows exactly where she wants to go. Every once in a while, she will lean out of the saddle and tie a piece of blue plastic string to a tree. I try not to stare at her ass when she leans over.

  Try and fail.

  Our first trail takes about an hour and a half to mark. I imagine the time would be cut down to around forty-five minutes if we weren’t stopping every few feet. The path she cut is a simple one, but scenic, leading down the creek’s edge before turning back and returning to the beginning of the trail.

  When we stop and let the horses have a drink, she offers me a bottle of water from the saddlebag. I search my mind for something safe to talk about but come up empty.

  “Do you want to do the hard trail next or something intermediate?”

  “Whichever you think is best.” Not what I was expecting. Now that I think about it, she has been more agreeable than normal.

  “I have a good idea for the harder trail, although I don’t know how we’re going to get these cleared in time to start offering them before the fall.”

  “I’ve got Greentown High sending students here to volunteer as part of their elective studies. There are several groups who are looking for work to spice up their college applications.”

  “Oh. That’s a good idea.”

  “You sound surprised. I do have good ideas. This one included. I know you think it’s stupid and a waste of time, but this is going to work.”

  “I don’t think it’s stupid. I just don’t understand how posting something somewhere online is going to bring people to the ranch.” I shake my head at the ridiculous idea.

  “There’s a little more to it than that. I’d be happy to show you if you’re ever curious enough to learn.” With that, she pulls the reins and leads Annie back down the path toward the barn, letting her have her head. I kick Spark gently to pick up the pace. Eleven years ago, I would have picked Blake into a race. We would have laughed the whole way back before falling into each other’s arms. Then I would have kissed the laugh away until something else burned in her eyes.