Coming Home to Mustang Ridge by Jesse Hayworth

Author:Jesse Hayworth [Hayworth, Jesse]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2015-06-17T04:00:00+00:00

14

Morning came early, but there was no way Ashley could stay asleep when there was so much to do, so much to feel. Excitement. Anticipation. Satisfaction. Tucked in beside Ty, eyes still closed, she smiled into the early-morning light.

She’d bet anything that the store would be packed today, she and Hen running ragged. Even better, she had a couple of hours before she had to be downstairs, and a gorgeous cowboy in her bed. And surely she could think of something interesting to do with that.

Ty’s warm weight beside her dented the mattress and created a gravitational pull that snugged her up against his side. His steady breathing was a gentle wave, his chest rising and falling beneath her cheek and the hand she had splayed across his heart without meaning to. She might have thought he was still asleep, except for the gentle drag of his fingertips across the point of her hip, soft enough to be on the edge of tickling her, and striking little desire-sparks instead.

“Mmm.” She angled her face to kiss his throat. “A little higher, if you please. Or lower. Lower would work, too.”

A chuckle rumbled in his chest. “I would, but it seems that we’ve got company.”

Her eyes flew open. “What!?”

Yellow eyes stared back into hers, coming from a triangular black face that hung, buzzardlike, from a scrawny black body sitting at the edge of the mattress.

“I didn’t know you had a cat.” Ty’s voice was blurred with sleep. “Is that the cat?”

“Yes, it’s the cat. Trapped and vetted, and now living here because I’m a sucker and Nick is a sneaky bastard.”

He kissed the top of her head. “You’re good people, Ashley Webb.”

“Be warned—he’s not very friendly.” She figured the understatement counted as positive thinking. “In fact, this is the first time I’ve seen him since I turned him loose.”

“This is a good sign, then.” His fingers curved around her hip. “What’s his name?”

“Petunia.”

“Oh, sorry. Her name.”

“No, it’s a him. He just seemed like a Petunia to me.”

“No wonder he looks pissed.”

“Shut up. He doesn’t care what I call him.”

“Says you. Why not just chop his balls off?”

“Somebody already did that. Which sort of sucks, because it means he used to have a home.”

“Now he’s got a better one. Even if he has to answer to a name like that.” To the cat, he said, “You should give her a chance. Trust me—once you get past the prickles, she’s all heart.”

“Prickles!” She poked him in the ribs. “I don’t have any prickles. I’m the least prickly person I know.”

“Are you sure? Maybe we should test that out.” He ran his fingers up her ribs, making her squirm. “Where were those prickles again?”

She squeaked. “Stop that!” She didn’t really mean it, though. There was something wonderful about how easy he was making this, uncomplicated and fun. No pressure, no big discussions. Just taking things as they came.

His hands went to the back of her knee. “Maybe they were over here.”

Twisting against him, she returned fire, tickling him and making him shout.

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