Chapter Four
Belle
Two Months Later
I was exhausted. Today had been never-ending—a blur of familiar faces from my youth and heartfelt condolences that did nothing to ease the emptiness inside me.
Grams passed a week ago, peacefully in her sleep. Adam and I had both been by her side. I was incredibly thankful to have had these last few months with her, reliving precious memories. I sat with her at the end, reading her beloved romance novels to her—sweeping stories of love in the Wild West from her favorite author, Callie Dawson. I hadn’t known if she could hear me at the end, but I liked to think my voice reached her on some level as she slipped away from us.
In her final lucid moment before she’d succumbed to unconsciousness, she’d made Adam and I promise to look after each other, to keep the ranch running and carry on her legacy.
Losing her before I reached my twenty-first birthday was the worst-case scenario. I didn’t care about Robert, or the will, or the money—I would trade it all to have Grams back with me. With us. Because Adam was suffering, too. He’d loved her as much as I had.
He was by my side now, his hand coming to my elbow to steady me as my weary feet stumbled on the porch steps. He hadn’t so much as laid a finger on me since that morning in my bed two months ago—the morning I’d woken to the sensation of his hard length pressed against my ass and his hand on my breast. When his thumb had flicked across my nipple, I’d thought I was going to spontaneously combust. One touch, one simple caress, and my sleep shorts were ruined.
Recalling those few heated moments still made me tremble with desire. I’d never wanted anyone the way I wanted Adam.
And he wanted me, too. His body had betrayed him even as his frustratingly practical mind had sent him leaping from my bed. I’d wanted him for so long, and sleeping in his arms after my nightmare had been unexpectedly sweet. I’d felt safe for the first time since I’d left here with Robert and my mom.
Yeah, I had it bad for my cowboy.
I was devastated by the loss of Grams, but Adam’s silent presence had comforted me throughout today. He’d barely left my side, slipping his arm around me as I’d cried in the church, holding me together with his solid presence when I would otherwise have splintered into a million shards of grief.
When I’d seen him dash away the wetness from his cheeks, I’d fallen in love with him a little more. He wasn’t afraid to show the world his sorrow because it was proof of just how much Grams had meant to him. We’d both lost an incredible woman. We were united in our grief. I yearned for us to be united in our love for each other, too, but that seemed like an impossible dream—on his part, at least.
Adam opened the front door for me, leading me through to the living room and guiding me down onto the plush sofa. He dropped to his haunches in front of me, covering my cold hands clenched in my lap with his.
“What can I do for you, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice rough.
He took my breath away in his tailored suit, and his manly scent surrounded me as our eyes locked. Having him so close was torture.
My next words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. “Make love to me.”
The only reaction was the flicker of his eyelids and the slight tightening of his mouth. “I meant, can I get you a drink, or something to eat, not—”
“I know what you meant, Adam,” I cut across him, my cheeks flaming with embarrassment.
I could see the hunger in his eyes when he looked at me, a hunger he tried hard to conceal. But there was something else beyond that hunger, a compassion and understanding that reminded me of those long summer days when I’d followed him around. I thought the sun rose and set on him back then. Still did.
Adam was solid and dependable, and all I could think about was sinking into him, allowing his comforting embrace to ease my grief, if only for a few minutes.
I was the first to drop my eyes, feeling shame wash over me. What was I doing? Throwing myself at him like that? I was letting my fantasies run away with me. I’d simply caught him at a vulnerable moment that morning in my bed. Didn’t most men wake up with morning wood? I was kidding myself that he felt the same for me as I did for him, that maybe, just maybe, we could turn our paper marriage into a real one.
But I was kidding myself, weaving silly dreams and happily-ever-afters that could never be. Life didn’t work like that. Adam hadn’t asked for any of this. He’d sacrificed his freedom out of love for Grams. I had to keep reminding myself of that fact.
“I’m sorry. Ignore me. It’s just grief talking,” I lied, pressing my lips together. Just when I thought I was all cried out, more hot tears spilled down my cheeks.
Great.
“I could never ignore you, Belle,” Adam muttered, moving to sit next to me on the sofa and wrapping me up in his arms. “I hate seeing you hurting like this.”
“I just can’t believe she’s gone,” I sobbed, gripping his arm to ground myself as the finality of Grams’ death washed over me. I buried my head in his expensive suit jacket and bawled.
“I’ve got you, sweetheart. Everything is going to be okay,” he said, his voice rumbling against my ear as he rocked me.
It suddenly occurred to me that this was the second time he’d comforted me on this sofa. The first was on our wedding day. We’d been talking about the inevitability of losing Grams, and now it was a reality.
“I’m glad I came back,” I said thickly. “That we’re not facing this on our own.”