She would keep that in mind, play it safe and follow his lead, whatever it may be.
“Mmm.” He moaned low in his throat like a man waking from a good night’s sleep and pushed himself up on one elbow.
Cool night air washed over her skin where his body no longer covered, and she fought not to shiver. Not because she was cold, but because she missed the intimate contact.
“You okay?” he asked, still leaning over her, staring down at her with those slate-gray eyes.
She nodded, biting the inside of her lip to keep from saying more.
He shifted again, rolling farther away on the bales of straw. She felt bereft without his touch, but curled her fingers into fists at her sides and took deep breaths until she got the urge to reach for him under control.
“We should think about getting dressed before your father gets home and catches us out here.” He shot her a wicked grin. “I’ve made it almost forty years without getting chased off by an angry, pitch fork-wielding father. There’s no sense in starting now.”
Moving around her, he climbed to his feet and began gathering their discarded clothes from the straw-strewn floor. She sat up and accepted her things when he handed them to her, taking her time putting bra and panties then her jeans and blouse back on.
She ran her hands through her hair, picking out pieces of straw and wishing for a brush to smooth the tangled mass. When she looked back at Mitch, he was dressed and just fastening his belt.
When he was finished, he slapped his hands against his thighs and fixed her with a lopsided smile. “Should we head down?”
She glanced around, surprised to find no visible signs of what had happened between them. After their explosive joining, she’d expected to see burn marks, singed straw, smoke still rising from the ashes. But, instead, there was just plain yellow straw, a little flat in places, but ordinary enough, and the litter of kittens curled up sleeping around their mother.
Turning back to meet his gaze, she nodded, then climbed down the ladder ahead of him.
Just as they reached the door of the barn, they heard tires crunching on the dirt and gravel drive, and saw headlights headed their way.
“That’ll be Pop,” she told him.
“Looks like we made it just in time.” He stuck his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, his thumbs hooked over his belt and waistband.
If he was nervous about coming face-to-face with her father only minutes after having her naked and writhing beneath him, he didn’t show it.
Her father pulled his pickup into the yard and cut the engine. A second later, the door opened and he climbed out.
He didn’t look completely steady on his feet, and she rushed forward to take his arm, hoping he’d kept his word about only finishing off that one last beer.
His head snapped up when he felt her hand on his elbow, and he smiled through his shaggy gray beard and mustache.
“Well, there you are. I thought you would have been in the house, asleep by now. What are you doing out here?”
“Mitch and I were just…um…”
“Checking the livestock,” Mitch offered, stepping out of the shadows of the barn and into the glow of the house’s front porch light.
“Good, good,” her father said. “Thanks for helping out my girl, Ramsey.”
Emma’s cheeks heated, but she hoped neither her father nor Mitch would notice in the dark.
“My pleasure, sir,” Mitch answered, rocking back on the heels of his well-worn boots, hands still in his pockets. “Anything else I can do for you tonight before I get going?”
“No, no, you go on.” Her father started toward the house, slipping out of Emma’s hold and looking more steady on his feet now that he’d had the chance to stand for a few minutes. “Have a good night. We’ll see you soon.”
“Yes, sir. Good night, sir.”
“Emma, I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“All right. ’Night, Pop. I love you.”
“Love you, too, sweetheart.”
The screen door slammed closed behind him and she waited several long seconds before speaking. Once she was sure he was out of earshot, she turned to face Mitch.
“Went a little overboard with the ‘yes, sir,’ ‘no, sir,’ ‘have a good night, sirs,’ didn’t you?”
She thought she saw him wince and bit back a chuckle of amusement.
“Maybe,” he answered shortly, his face a mask of inexpression. “But it sure beats the alternative.”
“What’s that?”
“Letting him know I spent the last half hour rolling around in the loft with his daughter.”
It was Emma’s turn to wince, and she cast a quick glance over her shoulder, afraid her father might have been close enough to overhear Mitch’s declaration.
She was a grown woman, so what she did with her body and with whom was no one’s business but her own. But talking about sex in front of her father—or worse, having him know she’d just finished having hot, extremely satisfying sex in his barn—was still something that made her keenly uncomfortable.
“Point taken.”
Gravel crunched beneath her feet as she crossed to him, then followed as he stalked to his truck.
“Thanks for your help with the horses and cattle,” she said.
He nodded, opening the door and climbing inside.
Watching him get ready to leave made her stomach clench. But what had she expected? That he would ask to stay the night or suggest they sneak back into the barn for seconds? That he would declare his undying love and fall to one knee, asking her to marry him?
She might harbor fantasies of happily-ever-after with him, but she wasn’t delusional. She was realistic enough to accept that sex was just sex, even if it had been with the one man she’d always secretly had a crush on.
“So I guess I’ll see you around,” she offered. The perfect opening for him to ask her out on a date, tell her he’d call, anything to imply that what had passed between them would be more than a one-night stand.
“Yeah,” he replied, and nothing more.
A beat passed before he started the engine, then turned his head to meet her gaze. “’Night.”
Forcing a smile to her lips, she swallowed back the bubble of disappointment swelling in her belly. “Right. Good night.”
He put the truck in gear, turned around and rolled slowly down the drive. She stood watching until his taillights disappeared, rubbing her arms to stave off a chill that centered in her chest and had nothing to do with the still night air surrounding her.
Three
Emma glanced at her shopping list. She had everything she needed except bread flour.
Turning down the baking aisle, she scanned the shelves for the brand and type she wanted, groaning when she spotted it on the uppermost shelf. The store had apparently rearranged items since the last time she’d purchased bread flour. And at five foot three, that left it just a couple of inches out of her range.
Pushing her cart to the side, she used the toe of her shoe to nudge cans of pie filling on the lowest shelf out of the way, then grabbed hold of a shelf at waist level and hoisted herself up. Her fingertips brushed the front of the bag, but she still couldn’t get a good enough