Gone Country (Rough Riders #14)(23)

She tugged on his shirt. “Speaking of…I have to get these roots out of the sun. Then I’ll make lunch.”


Gavin didn’t complain for the next hour as they transferred the beets, sweet potatoes and celeriac to the root cellar.


“I had no idea this was here,” he said, studying the earthen walls and rickety wooden stairs.


“That’s sort of the point.” Rielle clumped the beets together on a long table. “My parents weren’t aware of the underground missile silos all around Wyoming before they moved here. The missile sites are gone now, but it was an issue for them, so they started building a bomb shelter.”


“Seriously? Why?”


“What part of hippie is confusing to you?”


“I like that you can joke about it.”


“What? The word hippie? Or the way I was raised?”


“Both. The word doesn’t mean the same thing to me now as it did even two months ago.” He wore a grimace as he handed her more beets. “You make me feel lazy and that’s not something I’m used to. Usually I’m the hardest working person in the room. It boggles my mind, all the stuff you know how to do.”


“It’s not like I had formal schooling. It was haphazard at best. They taught me when they felt like it, what they felt like—never on any type of schedule. They preached the idea that real life lessons don’t come from books. While I agree to some extent, they didn’t understand how much I craved books and knowledge. My mother did a somewhat normal thing and took me to the library in Moorcroft. I devoured every type of book I could get my hands on. I would’ve given anything to have the regular kind of life I could only read about.”


“And I would’ve given anything for my dad to teach me something useful, like how to use a hammer. Or change a tire.”


“Isn’t that human nature? To wish for something different than what we have?”


“Maybe.” Gavin kissed the edge of her jaw, down the side of her neck and sucked the spot on her throat where her pulse pounded. “Right now I wish we were in a room with a bed.”


“Too good for a bed of dirt, tycoon?” she teased.


“Not at all. But I’ll need food for strength before I get started on all the dirty things I want to do with you.”


She shivered. “Maybe we should take a lunch break now or we will end up doing it in the dirt.”


Lunch was deer sausage on wheat rolls with sliced tomato and goat milk cheese, sweet potato chips and cantaloupe. Gavin ate like she’d served up a gourmet feast.


After he helped clean up the kitchen, he cornered her, bringing his body in line with hers, pressing her against the wall. “I do believe I was promised dessert with this lunch.”


“If you’ll give me a sec, I’ll—”


“I know what I want. And I can’t think of anything sweeter than your lips.” He connected their mouths in a kiss so hot she wondered if she had blisters on her tongue after he released her.


Then he kissed the side of her neck, one hand gripping her short hair, the other curled around her hip.


Her eyes closed and she stopped second guessing why her body went haywire at Gavin’s slightest touch. Her bones seemed to melt as his mouth tasted her skin and his thumb feathered across her belly above the waistband of her jeans.


“This is going to be dangerous,” he murmured against her throat. “Now that we’ve started this, I don’t know how I’ll keep my hands off you.”


“I don’t want you to keep your hands off me.” She slid her palms up his chest. “But we need to talk about it before Sierra gets here.”


That gave Gavin’s amorous attention pause.


Regretfully they both backed off.


“There’s not much to talk about. We’ve kissed. I plan on kissing you a whole lot more. Will those kisses happen in front of my daughter? No. What happens between us isn’t anyone else’s business until we make it so.”


“Agreed.”


He crooked his finger at her and grinned. “So why’re you standing so far away from me?”


“Because I heard a car come up the driveway.”


“How is your hearing that good?”


“I’ve lived in the country forever and I am attuned to every nuance and change around me.” She paused. “Or Sadie barked.”


Gavin laughed softly. “I’ll admit you were right. Being outside fixed my crappy state of mind. Thank you.”


“You’re welcome.” She drained her water. “I’m heading back out.”


“If this is your busiest time of year, why don’t you hire seasonal help?”


Don’t bristle. It’s a legitimate question—one your friends ask you too. “Because it’s expensive. And like your issues with your employees, I have the same problem. For them it’s just a job. For me, it’s my livelihood. What I earn in a three month period has to sustain me for the rest of the year. I’d rather be tired for a few weeks and know I did it right than trust someone else at this critical point and pay for it the rest of the year.”