There we were.

That seemed very definite coming from Johnny, and all he had to say was illuminating and, if I allowed it to be, hopeful.

But even if I was right where I was, I didn’t know where we were.

“Where are we?” I asked.

His brows shot together and again they turned from manly and attractive to downright sinister.

Then he looked around my tack room, to me, both his arms curled around me and did it tight so he could give me a firm shake, and he asked, “Where the fuck do you think we are?”

I didn’t know.

That was why I asked.

But I made a guess.

“I’m not sure I can do this,” I told him carefully.

“Do what?” he asked angrily.

“Come after her. I don’t want to be—”

“Don’t fuckin’ say it,” he growled.

I closed my mouth.

“She was three years ago, Eliza. I loved her. That fact doesn’t change. I loved her and she wrecked me when she left because that was how much I loved her. I’m not going to apologize for that or deny it or walk on eggshells with you about it while we figure out what we got and why it’s so fuckin’ good and so fuckin’ intense and so fuckin’ everything.”

I blinked at him again.

He thought we were . . .

Everything?

He carried on speaking.

“I’d think you’d want that. I’d think you’d wanna know the man in your life could feel that deep for the woman he decided to spend the rest of his life with. But with her, that didn’t happen. She left. I wasn’t Sleeping Beauty, unconscious and unmoving, waiting for her to return. Life happens and it happened. I met you. She’s a memory that’s bittersweet and now back in my sphere, and unfortunately since you’ve taken firm residence in my sphere, yours. But the fact remains, she’s a memory.”

“She’s beautiful,” I told him something he was sure to know.

“So?” he asked.

“I . . . well, she dresses like you. You guys . . . you two . . .” I swallowed and finished, “Fit.”

“What do you want me to say?” he asked. “Her rocker-cowgirl gig is hot. Always was. But I’m not fucking her. I’m fucking a girl who wears a dress that reminds me how much I like her tits with that neckline, baby, which isn’t hot. It’s smokin’. A dress that has fuckin’ birds on it and still, it’s so sexy I took one look at it and wanted the skirt around your waist, or better yet, the whole dress lying on the floor by a bed, my bed, your bed, I don’t care. But just saying, this isn’t the way it’s gonna be where I gotta reassure you that I’m with you because I wanna be with you and I’m not with her because of history. I’m not with her because I wanna be with you.”

I withdrew without physically withdrawing, and I knew by the irritable look Johnny gave me (or the more irritable look) he felt it.

Still, I couldn’t help it.

“So you wanna fuck me,” I said, and I couldn’t keep the injury out of my tone.

“Well, yeah,” he bit out. “You’re the best lay, bar none, Iz, I’ve ever had. No one even comes close. You’re not on a higher level. You’re reinventing the highest level.”

Well that was a kind of compliment.

“I also want more of your guac,” he decreed. “And I wake up every day now at fuckin’ five in the morning because I can’t keep sleeping knowing you’re out here,” he threw out an arm to indicate the stables, “taking care of these horses all by yourself. I go to bed at night, every night, Eliza, jacking my junk thinking of you and wondering if you’re touching yourself thinking of me. Except that night after The Star. I didn’t sleep that first wink, not able to get it out of my head you’re alone out here and some fuckwit is messing with you. I cannot tell you how relieved I was to hear your sister was with you. For you, because I know you love her, and because you’re not alone out here with no one to look after you.”

I sat still on his lap in his arms staring at him and forgetting how to breathe.

Johnny didn’t forget.

He took a breath and kept at me.

“I spent a lot of time the last two weeks bein’ pissed at Shandra, not because she took off on me but because she called and fucked things up before I could take you camping. And I spent a lot of time wondering if you got your peonies and tee and wondering if I should have done that at all or if it made things worse and needing to talk to you about it. So, to end, I spent a lot of time just thinking about you and yeah, some of it was thinking about what I wanted to do to you to make you come, but the rest of it wasn’t.”

“So, you like me,” I whispered breathily.

He scowled at me like he wanted to strangle me then his head dropped to the back of the chair and he stared at the ceiling.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” I muttered.

His arms tightened around me so tight, they curled my thighs into my torso so I was a little ball of Izzy tucked tight against his chest as his head came back up and he clipped, “Yeah, I fuckin’ like you.”

“Okeydokey,” I mumbled.

“I know your sister is here but I wanna spend time with you today and then I want you comin’ back to the mill with me to spend the night.”

“She’s in a rough spot, Johnny, and she’s always had the mammoth share of taking care of Brooks.”

Something closed down in his face I didn’t quite understand but that wasn’t the reason I said my next.

I said my next because I wasn’t finished speaking.

“But she’ll get it. She tried to get me to talk to you so she’ll be, uh . . . glad things are where they, um . . . are. Though, I’ll need to be with her tomorrow. Every diaper change I do with Brooks, I swear, after I’m done she wants to kiss me.”

Whatever clouded his features cleared, he nestled me closer and he asked, “You got tomorrow off?”

I nodded.

“Your sister and Brooks can come over to the mill and I’ll grill for you.”

“That’d be sweet,” I said on a smile.

He looked to my smile then his eyes wandered down farther and his arms loosened.

“I . . . well, liked the tee, uh . . . obviously,” I shared. “And also the peonies,” I added.

His gaze came back to me.

“The bottoms?” he asked.

“Sorry?” I asked back.

“Whose are those?”

Uh-oh.

“Uh . . .”

He gave me another shake and said a warning, “Iz.”

“They’re not Kent’s,” I felt it safe to share.

“So whose are they?”

I could tell him I had a man’s pair of pajama bottoms because I found them comfy.

But that would be a lie.

“The guy before the guy before Kent.”

“Okay. Then you can wear ’em back to the house but after that, lose them, Izzy. And by that I mean I’d prefer you burn them but chucking them in the trash works.”

I stared at him again.

He took in my stare and stated, “Right, we’re doin’ this so no more fucking around. I’m that guy. I got a sense of the type of woman you are, it’d be hard not to. You made all this. You keep all this like it is. You dress like you dress. You got it together. You can take care of yourself and a lot more than that. You’re smart, sharp, successful and independent. I like all that or I wouldn’t be here. I’m still that guy and you gotta know that. And part of that guy is being a guy where his woman doesn’t wear another guy’s pajama bottoms, even if that guy is history. You want some, I’ll dig out some of my own, give them to you and have at it. But those are gone. Now, you got a problem with that?”