Cross Creek: Crossing Hearts Part 14

"That's it. Come for me. I'm right here with you, baby," Hunter whispered in her ear.

And he was. He rode out her o.r.g.a.s.m until her cries became moans, then her moans turned to soft, breathy sighs. But he never stopped moving, never put s.p.a.ce between their sweat-slicked skin, and before she could process the command from her brain, her body moved of its own volition.

Emerson knotted one leg around Hunter's waist, pus.h.i.+ng with both arms to roll him beneath her. Surprise claimed his expression, but she pressed two fingers over his mouth in rea.s.surance.

"And I'm right here, too. Please, Hunter. I know you're holding back." She tipped her hips to let him fill her to the hilt, his groan proving her words. "I want you to let go. Let me make you feel good. Let me in."

The intensity returned to his stare, and Emerson's breath caught in her throat. He reached out, palms shaping her waist, fingers gripping her tight. Finding a rhythm with his hands, Hunter rocked her back and forth, his c.o.c.k hitting some sweet, hidden spot deep inside of her, and she reached down to grab his wrists, urging him faster.

"Hunter." Emerson widened her knees, rolling the cradle of her hips tight against his body. Oh G.o.d, she'd never seen him so intense. "Take me, please. Just like that."

"So pretty. So perfect," he grated, continuing to thrust. The pressure between her legs toed the line between ecstasy and ache. She turned her nails into his wrists, bucking into him as he guided her forward again and again, and his muscles grew taut. His back arched off the bed, leaving no daylight between them, and with a few more movements, he shuddered beneath her, coming with a shout.

Dazed, Emerson slid over Hunter's body, belly to belly, chest to chest. Tucking her cheek to his shoulder, she waited out the slam of her heartbeat and the rise and fall of his ragged breath. After a period of time she couldn't gauge, he gently lifted her to separate their bodies, taking a brief minute to slip to the adjacent bathroom. When he returned, she braced herself for reality to crash in, to remind her that this had been casual, a one-time thing, that her happiness with Hunter had to stay in the past and she'd run out of time to escape her damaged body.

But it never happened, so instead, she curled up in Hunter's arms.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

Hunter lay back against his bedsheets, his body completely relaxed while his brain spun at sixteen thousand miles a minute. Less than two hours had pa.s.sed since he and Emerson had crawled under the covers and settled against each other in the same spot he'd slept last night, last week-s.h.i.+t, for the last decade since the cottage had been built. Today, however, the composure he'd relied on for those ten years had been hairpinned into a full one-eighty, because he'd recklessly shared said bedsheets with a woman who-if you'd asked him three short weeks ago-he'd have sworn he'd never lay eyes on again.

And not only had Emerson blown his f.u.c.king mind both in bed and out, but the only thing Hunter could think of was how badly he wanted to part her legs and sink into her slick heat again and again.

He s.h.i.+fted slightly, not wanting to disturb Emerson from the nap she'd drifted into about ninety minutes ago. In truth, he hadn't been entirely sure what to expect when he'd returned to the bedroom after they'd had s.e.x. But she'd slipped back into his arms so easily, her warm, soft body fitting right against his, that he'd just pulled her in close under the covers. She'd fallen asleep not soon after, her body going loose and her breathing changing along with the patterns of sunlight over the floorboards. While Hunter had closed his eyes for a few minutes along with her, he'd spent most of the last hour wide awake and tangled in thought.

Yes, Emerson had changed since the last time she'd been in his bed, and yes again, even though she'd opened up to him about her parents, she still carried a tough brand of caution and a weariness in her eyes that plucked at his warning flags. But she was also the same, with her limitless laugh and that flawless combination of sweetness and sa.s.s that never failed to trip every last one of his switches. Hunter's what if was right here in front of him, asleep in his arms, for Chrissake, and it was getting harder and harder to deny that he wanted to keep her there.

Slowly, she stirred against him, and he pushed back his thoughts in favor of dropping a kiss to the crown of her head. "Hey. I was starting to wonder if you were going to sleep through the whole evening," he joked, and she pulled back in surprise.

"I fell asleep?" she murmured in a husky voice, her cheeks pinking with the realization that followed her words. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, but sometimes I . . . I guess I was just tired."

He shrugged, his bare shoulders sliding against the pillow beneath them. "I don't mind. I dozed off for a little while there, too."

"Wait." Emerson blinked, propping herself up to her elbows to swing her still-sleepy gaze around the room. "What time is it?"

d.a.m.n good question, actually. Hunter turned to grab a look at the clock on his bedside table. "Mmmm, nearly six," he said, the words chased quickly by a mental slap upside the head. "s.h.i.+t."

"What's the matter?"

His pulse pushed faster, and he tugged a rough hand through his hair. Dammit, how could he have lost track of that much time?

Gorgeous redhead, best s.e.x of your life . . . ring any bells, dumba.s.s?

Hunter cleared his throat, working up a smile. "Nothing's wrong. My father and brothers and I normally have supper together on Sat.u.r.days after all the work is done-you know, to break down the week at the farm and spend a little time together. I just have to call over to the house to tell my Pop I can't make it, that's all."

"No, no." Emerson sat up and started rummaging for her clothes. "I overstayed my welcome by falling asleep. Just give me a minute to grab my things, and-"

"You didn't overstay anything." Okay, so interrupting her skirted the boundaries of bad manners, but come on. He wasn't about to boot her out the door, especially after they'd just spent the better part of three hours naked in his bed.

f.u.c.k, he wanted to turn those three hours into an all-nighter.

But Emerson hadn't called back the search party for her clothes. "Really, it's fine." G.o.d d.a.m.n she'd gotten her bra and panties on with speed that bordered on the preternatural. "I wouldn't dream of keeping you from a family dinner."

Although she seemed oddly embarra.s.sed at having crashed out for a catnap, her tone was still devoid of drama, as if she'd feel genuine remorse for keeping him from the meatloaf and mashed potatoes special Owen was probably slapping together right now in their old man's kitchen.

Hunter slid out of bed, quickly tugging on his boxer briefs before clasping his fingers around her wrist, mid-b.u.t.ton. "Then don't. Come with me instead."

"You want me to go with you? To your father's house," she added, confirming with, "for family dinner."

Emerson looked as shocked as he felt that he'd uttered the words, but still, he didn't backpedal. Asking her might be impulsive, but it also felt right.

"Look, I know we agreed we'd take things easy. What was it you said?" He replayed their conversation on the park bench in his mind, snagging the words a second later. "Head up, eyes forward, right?"

"Yeah." She nodded, her expression telling him he'd been spot on in gauging her reason for hedging on supper and rus.h.i.+ng out the door. Reality was, Hunter got where she was coming from. He didn't want to dive into anything, either.

But he also didn't want to let her go.

Taking a step toward her, he said, "Then let's do that. You've been to probably a hundred suppers at my Pop's place. They're about as formal as a football game, and it's not as if you're a stranger."

Emerson lifted her chin, her aquamarine stare going wide. "That's true," she said, and Hunter took the opening and ran.

"I'm sure my father and Owen and Eli would be happy to see you." h.e.l.l, maybe his brothers would actually cut their c.r.a.p for a night if Emerson were there with them.

"I'd be happy to see them, too." Her pause lasted for only a second before she shook her head to cancel it out. "Your family isn't expecting me, though. I can't just show up."

Now this part, Hunter could definitely argue with ease. He supposed there were families out there who stood on that sort of formality, but his sure as h.e.l.l wasn't one of them. "Sure you can. We always make plenty to go around. Anyway, you think it's perfectly normal to drink your breakfast. Even Owen's meatloaf is bound to be better than a meal you don't chew."

One copper-colored brow arched up, and man, that fire in her eyes revved him all the way up. "Do not mock my love for coffee," she warned, sliding a hand to her hip.

"I'll make sure you get a cup after supper." He leaned in for a bold taste of her mouth. "Come on, what do you say, small-town girl? Care to stick around?"

She kissed him back, and Hunter felt a smile edge over her lips. "Make it two cups of coffee and you've got yourself a deal, hotshot."

They finished getting dressed with a handful of quick movements, and he went downstairs to give Emerson some privacy to freshen up in the bathroom. Ten minutes had her back down the steps, her mussed hair combed into pretty waves and some lip glosstype stuff turning her pretty, bow-shaped mouth the color of ripe peaches. The hot twinge in Hunter's gut arrowed due south at the thought of those lips forming his name, begging him not to stop as he kissed between her legs hard and fast and deep enough to make her come.

Yeah. They needed to go before they didn't.

He pried his thoughts away from Emerson's sheer, sinful mouth, leading the way through the front door and over the whitewashed porch boards. A wall of late-day heat and humidity hit him like a brick, and he flipped the keys to his truck in his palm.

"Normally I'd suggest we walk since it's not that far," he said, gesturing up the packed dirt path leading toward the main house at the heart of the property. "But it's been hotter than h.e.l.l's furnace lately. The trip might melt us both."

Relief flickered over Emerson's face, even stronger than he'd expect for getting a pa.s.s on an easy half-mile hop skip. "Driving sounds nice," she said, following him to his F-250. "You guys must do a ton of walking around here on any given day."

He swiveled his gaze over the cornfields growing tall and green on either side of his cottage, unable to cage his smile. "We get in our fair share of stompin' around. We have a few ATVs that we use for the longer hauls, and in a pinch, we'll cover the distance by truck if we've got to move hay or fertilizer or feed."

Hunter spent the two-minute drive to the main house reacquainting her with Cross Creek, pointing out the grove of apple trees and the greenhouses off in the distance, then the dirt road leading to the back half of their property where they did all their cattle farming. Emerson rolled down her window, her stare rounding with surprise beneath the shade of her hand as her line of sight caught on the old hay barn on the hill.

"Oh my G.o.d, that barn is still there," she said, and the smile spreading over her face was contagious.

"Sure is. Come to think of it, that's actually where I busted up my shoulder."

The irony tagged Hunter right in the sternum. In high school, he and Emerson had snuck off to the hayloft in that barn with a blanket and a whole lot of bad intentions more times than he could count. "I could give you a tour later. You know, for old time's sake. The view of the moon from the hayloft is still pretty great."

"The view." She laughed, a tart, s.e.xy sound. "Do women really fall for that?"

Too easy. Hunter tried on his best grin as he pulled in front of the main house and parked his truck between Eli's and Owen's. "You did."

But instead of getting indignant, Emerson shocked the h.e.l.l out of him by leaning over the console and putting those perfect, peach-colored lips on his. "And so did you. Or did you really think I went up there with you all those nights expecting an astronomy lesson?"

"Touche," he said, holding up his hands in concession. Of course she'd been smart enough to see through his flimsy line. Just like of course he'd never told her she'd been the only woman he'd ever taken to the hayloft, before or since.

"Don't you mean 'cliche'?" she asked, laughing as she brushed her mouth over his one more time.

Hunter kissed her back-he wasn't a dolt, for G.o.d's sake-but only for a minute before pulling back to slide out of the driver's seat. Ducking around the back of the truck to open Emerson's door, he surrept.i.tiously swiped a hand over his mouth to remove the evidence of their kiss. His brothers would give him a boulder-sized ration of s.h.i.+t if he walked into Sat.u.r.day supper with sparkly pink lip gloss on his face, no matter that the prettiest woman in the county had put it there.

Not that the ear-to-ear grin on his face wasn't going to be a dead freaking giveaway that he and Emerson had done a whole lot more than kiss.

"Are you sure this is really okay?" she murmured as he guided her out of the pa.s.senger seat, the quick hit of uncertainty in her voice delivering Hunter back to the here and now of the farm.

"Absolutely. I just hope you're hungry."

Their footsteps echoed softly on the neatly kept path between the driveway and the main house, then the sun-warmed porch boards on the threshold. Hunter's heart thumped a little faster (oh, who was he kidding? A h.e.l.l of a lot faster) as he turned the doork.n.o.b, but he tacked a business-as-usual smile to his kisser and led the way into the house.

"Hey. Sorry I'm a little late," Hunter called out, walking a path from the foyer toward the back of the house. The clatter of kitchen noise-combined with the rumble of voices and the hearty scents of meatloaf and gravy-told him he'd missed most of supper prep, and the c.o.c.ky smile Eli delivered from behind the butcher-block island as Hunter put the hallway behind him served as confirmation.

"It's about time!" Eli said, pointing the wooden salad spoon in his hand to the spot where Hunter stood in the kitchen's entryway. "Did you get lost, you slack-a.s.s, or did you-whoa."

The spoon hit the counter with a wood-on-wood clack. His brother gaped like a largemouth ba.s.s coming fresh off the line, which would've been Facebook material if it hadn't made Emerson stiffen next to Hunter on the floorboards. Thankfully, Eli was slicker than owl snot, and he recovered his grin in short order.

"Hey, Emerson! 'Scuse my language. I didn't know you'd be joining us for dinner, or I'd have minded a little better."

"That's okay," she said, the sound of her voice making Hunter's father pause halfway through was.h.i.+ng his hands and Owen's head snap up from where he stood in front of the old white enamel cooktop. "I know I'm joining you last minute. I don't mean to intrude."

"No such thing." Eli got the protest out before Hunter could, and he made a mental note to buy his brother a round at The Bar next Friday night. "There's always enough to feed a platoon around here. Plus, Owen's meatloaf will be a whole lot more bearable with you at the table."

Owen rolled his eyes, although whether it was at Eli's insult or his sweet-talking charm, Hunter couldn't be sure. Still, he smiled at Emerson as he said, "We've always got room for an extra at supper. It's nice to see you, Emerson."

His old man turned off the faucet, gesturing her into the kitchen with a tilt of his salt-and-pepper head. "Come on in, darlin'. You're always welcome here."

"Thanks." She smiled, the tension in her shoulders easing even though she shot Hunter a covert, sa.s.sy look when he murmured a teasing I-told-you-so under his breath. "How can I help with dinner?"

"You're a guest," Owen said, but she shook her head, a headstrong glint flas.h.i.+ng in her eyes even though she kept her genuine smile in place.

"And I came to eat. I don't mind putting in a little work for it."

His father's rusty chuckle filled the kitchen from over by the sink. "You've got us there. Guess we've gotta put you to work, then."

"I've got tomatoes and peppers that could use chopping for this salad," Eli offered, gesturing to the butcher block.

"Done." Emerson moved to the sink to wash her hands, fitting in just as seamlessly as Hunter had promised she would. Funny, seeing her there laughing and starting to chop vegetables at the counter next to Eli sent a ripple through Hunter's gut, anyway.

Ignoring both the weird feeling and the knowing stares both of his brothers winged at him over Emerson's head, he said, "Guess I'll set the table, then."

Hunter stepped his way to the cupboard by the oven, counting off five blue-and-white plates before grabbing silverware from the drawer below to match. They all moved around one another with ease, alternating between putting the finis.h.i.+ng touches on supper and talking about Cross Creek's operations for the week. His father and brothers hadn't made nearly as much progress as they'd wanted on the farm due to the stifling heat, and a solid fifteen days had pa.s.sed since any part of the Valley had seen a single drop of rain. Dammit, if this heat wave kept up, the next two weeks were going to drag on even slower than the first two Hunter had spent on the sidelines.

"I should be able to take care of getting the CSA orders filled and ready for pickup this week," he offered as soon as they'd gathered around the table and his father had finished saying grace. The task might not require a lot of physical effort or expertise, but at least it was something.

Owen let out a breath, slow and heavy. "There aren't too many, unfortunately. We've been way low on orders, especially for June. Thank G.o.d for the Watermelon Festival last week, or I'd have ended up with crates worth of produce from the greenhouse that went to rot."

"Really?" Emerson sent an apologetic look first to Owen, then to Hunter before adding, "I'm sorry. It's just that the food is so pretty, not to mention delicious. I guess I'm just surprised to hear you say you'd have to toss so much."

"We have more leeway with crops like corn and soybeans-feed corn in particular. But moving perishables is a lot tougher. It's literally feast or famine sometimes, depending on supply and demand," Hunter said, pa.s.sing the platter of meatloaf in her direction.

Owen filled his water gla.s.s to the brim, nodding in agreement. "We sell some of our produce to Clementine's Diner, and even more to the Corner Market every week, but the timing is tricky. Even a couple of days can make or break summer produce, and sometimes things just don't make it to the farmers' market or the CSA. This heat sure isn't doing us any favors in keeping things from spoiling fast, either."

His father lifted his chin. "Haven't seen a June this hot since you boys were in school," he said. "Weather like this'll make even the best of things go pear shaped."

Fatigue carved deeper wrinkles than usual at the corners of his old man's eyes as he spoke, sending yet another jab of worry deep between Hunter's ribs.

If the concern in Emerson's gaze was anything to go by, he wasn't the only one who noticed, either. "So what you need is to bring in more people to buy direct on a daily basis," she said, and Eli's laugh carried a whole lot less humor than usual.

"That plus a break in the weather, a dozen extra farmhands, and a million bucks in revenue to build something better than a roadside stand for those daily visitors ought to be a good start."

In an instant, Hunter's spine snapped to full attention against the ladder back of his chair. "Eli."

The warning rumbled from his throat, half growl and all p.i.s.sed off, and Owen fixed their younger brother with a subarctic stare to match. Even their father sent a frown of disapproval in Eli's direction, but Emerson put one hand on Hunter's forearm, waving off the tension in the room with the other.

"No, it's okay. I can understand Eli's frustration. You all care about Cross Creek. Struggling to do a job you love is . . ." She paused, lining up her silverware with surgical precision. "Well, I'd imagine that's difficult."

Ah h.e.l.l. Of course Emerson knew firsthand how hard it was to resuscitate a career she was pa.s.sionate about. Not that he was going to out her in the middle of his father's kitchen-or anywhere else, for that matter.

Eli nodded at her in quiet apology, and Hunter let go of his irritation. For now. "It's not easy on any of us, no," he admitted.

Emerson put a big scoop of salad on her plate, her head tipped in thought. "I know having a roadside stand is less than ideal, but it's better than nothing, right?"

"If we could move enough inventory to justify paying someone to rotate stock and take money, it would be," Owen said. "Farm to table has been one of our biggest goals ever since we built the greenhouses, but we don't even get enough folks in the pick-your-own fields to open those more than a day or two a week, even at the height of the season."

"Back to bringing in more people, then. Hmmm." She tapped a finger against her lips, a deep V forming in the center of her brow. "This might be a stupid question, but have you thought about using social media to increase your reach?"

"In theory, sure. In practice . . ." Hunter paused, looking around the table at his father and brothers before admitting, "Not really. I mean, we've got a website and a Facebook page just like every other business on the planet, but other than that, we've been juggling so many bigger things with day-to-day operations that finding the time to expand our marketing has been kind of tough."

"And digging up the cash to hire someone with the know-how is even harder," Owen said.