I laugh more than I've laughed in years, but when the waitress arrives to clear our plates, I realize that it's almost time.
I'm going home with these men tonight, and anything could happen.
On the way to the car, I think I see Jethro Flint looking at us from across the street, but he turns before I can confirm it's him, whispering to another man. The words he spoke at the store play out in my mind…Vultures who need to be taught a lesson.
He's got the Bradfords so wrong, but he'll never get a chance to find out as I have.
17
The atmosphere in the car on the ride home is different. There’s an energy in the air that I’ve never experienced before. Maybe it’s the shared feeling that tonight was fun and easygoing and the knowledge of what that could mean when we get back to Flint House.
Even Scott laughed at some of my stories, which gave me a strange bubble of happiness in my heart.
Cash opens the door, and we all drift inside, discarding boots and hats, tossing keys into the bowl by the door, and then pausing momentarily to register the silence.
No one is talking, and the absence of words is electric. Cash’s hand slides into mine, and he leads me into the center of the kitchen. He brings my hand to his lips and kisses it with an intensity that you only see in old black and white movies.
“Okay?” he mouths, and I nod, despite not being sure what he’s really asking. I’m okay within myself. Happy even. Or is he asking if I’m okay for more.
I don’t get a chance to ask because his lips are on mine, teasing softly, his breath caressing between each soft press. Then he’s dipping lower, kissing my neck, turning me gently as he pulls my hair aside. My eyes are closed, the shivery sensation taking me into a deep and private place, but I know when someone else has stepped close. Cash’s fingers are entwined in mine, his body pressed against me from behind, so when a hand cups my cheek, it has to be one of the other Bradfords.
My eyes fly open, finding Colt gazing down, so much like his brother but always with his mouth pulled into a smile like he’s amused at the world and everything in it.
“Can I kiss you, Melanie?” he asks, and it’s the first time I’ve heard his voice this gravely.
Kiss me?
My mouth is suddenly desert dry, my heart skittering like it belongs to an unbroken horse galloping from a cowboy. He folds his lips in, and my eyes are fixed on how soft and glossy they look. Will the kiss be the same as Cash’s?
I give just a tiny nod, so small that I could deny it was even a thing. When he dips lower, slowly, slowly, my fingers grip onto Cash’s, and he makes a hushing sound in my ear. Warmth rushes between my legs, even before Colt’s lips touch mine. It’s a primal thing. The most animal part of my brain getting ready for a biological function. If we were animals, it wouldn’t be this complicated. I’d be in heat, and the Bradfords would know. We’d rut, and I’d get pregnant and have some babies.
But human relationships aren’t like that. They’re complicated, and I’m a fizzy mixture of uncertain and excited, anxious and thrilled.
Then his lips find mine, and I can’t breathe. His smile is still there. I can feel the happiness inside him against my skin, and I’m lost in the stroke of his hands on my face, my neck and lower. Cash is there, holding my hands like he’s worried I’m going to bolt or is keeping a part of me to himself. His brothers can touch me, but I can’t touch them. Is that what this is all about?
When Colt’s tongue slides over mine, I lean in, wanting more, wanting it deeper, needing to caress the back of his neck and grips his unruly hair. Then suddenly, he’s gone, and in his place is Cary.
His smile is more tentative, his fingers gently resting under my chin. “Can I kiss you, Melanie?” he asks, and I blink, feeling dazed, nodding more certainly this time.
Oh God, when he kisses me, it’s like sliding a spoon into pudding, like licking a delicious ice cream for the first time. He tastes of vanilla milkshake and smells of pine trees and the wind at dusk. He holds me chastely at my waist, and I’m swooning by the time he pulls away.
Sawyer is next. He’s a little taller than his triplet brothers, his eyes like midnight and his beard as dark as Lady’s mane. Biting his lip, he gazes down at me. “Can I kiss you, Melanie?” he asks, but by now, it’s a pointless question that is driven out of manners. Cash’s hands squeeze mine as though he wants to ask if I’m okay but doesn’t want to interrupt the moment. When I squeeze back, hoping he’ll take it as reassurance, he leans in to kiss my neck. Sawyer’s hands grip the tops of my arms as he leans in to taste my mouth. He sighs when I kiss back, nibbling and sucking at my lips in a way that’s totally different from his brothers. Those sensations build between my legs until I’m squeezing my thighs together tightly against the ache. When he pulls back, Cash squeezes my hands again.