He shrugged. “It’s a work in progress.”
“I’d like to see it.”
He nodded, leading her down the dimly lit sidewalks to his truck. He opened the passenger door for her and helped her in.
They drove out of town and headed toward the ranch.
She didn’t say anything, so he asked, “What are you thinking?”
“About this place. It’s beautiful, Archer, so different from my community of garden homes and the highways of Houston.” She glanced at him. “And my family, too, I guess. Missing my mom. Seeing your family together, how close you are...” She paused. “I envy that.” He heard the tremor in her voice and reacted.
He slid his hand across the seat, searching for hers. When her hands gripped his, he waited. He didn’t know when she’d lost her mother. But he did know how hard that loss was. And he’d had the love and support of his family to help him through that. Who did Eden have? Who held her when she cried? Laughed with her? Shared Ivy’s and Lily’s milestones? He couldn’t imagine this woman being alone. He hoped she wasn’t. As long as she wanted to talk, he would gladly listen.
He wasn’t quick to anger, but there was no denying Eden’s father rubbed him the wrong way. He didn’t need to meet the man to know she deserved better. Archer didn’t understand how Eden’s father could live with himself, treating his daughter that way. Didn’t the fool know his callous treatment was leaving scars? And by the example he’d set, giving permission for others to do the same.
If she’d stay, he’d make damn sure to treat her with nothing but respect.
He didn’t say much as they bounced along the rutted road that led to his place. At the top of the butte, his cabin stood. The original structure had been incorporated into Archer’s larger creation. His expansion had followed the original style—clean lines, simple details—minus the faulty plumbing and tricky wiring. For all its quirky corners and odd cubbies, the building was solid and safe. It had stayed put through tornadoes, hailstorms and the occasional flash flood.
/> Eden peered out the front window. “You live here?” she asked. “It’s like a living history museum.” She pushed out of the truck.
Archer followed, opening the house and turning on the lights.
Eden paused inside, staring around her.
“We call it the Hunters’ House,” he said. “When my great-great-grandfather was settling this area, he had groups of friends that would stop over. And since my great-great-grandmother didn’t like having a bunch of men underfoot, this was where they went. I guess it was their hangout. You could drink and cuss and smoke and no one cared.”
Eden was still investigating.
The original structure wasn’t big. Two stories, the upstairs overlooking the downstairs with a balcony-like landing. Since wooden outhouses were inconvenient, Archer had added a long wing off the back, turning the two-bedroom, no-bath home into a four-bedroom, three-bath home. Since cooking over an open fire wasn’t Archer’s preference, he’d added a nice kitchen to accommodate a large range, refrigerator and other modern conveniences.
But the hand-hewn wooden walls with white clay and ground stone mortar were impressive. He’d done the best he could to preserve the intricate details cut into the window casing, door frames and stair edges. He’d salvaged some original glass panes, thick and bubbled, for the downstairs windows. He was especially proud of the large mantel and fireplace he and his brothers had taken apart, refitted to prevent smoke leaks and reassembled.
“It’s amazing,” Eden said.
He ran his hand along the mantel, watching her take note of all the details. She’d notice; she was a detail person. Like him.
“I’m thinking the Boones were a hardworking crew. Meaning nothing changes.” She smiled at him, moving toward the bookcases that lined the back wall.
“They had to be, as some of the first settlers. A focused, determined crew.”
She smiled at him. “Guess some traits are too strong to fade with time.”
He grinned. “I consider them both assets.” He closed the distance, wanting to be close to her. Wanting to touch her. “A person can’t succeed without determination.”
“And focus?” she asked.
He liked the soft flush of her cheeks. When she looked at him like this, his body responded. “Very. Some might say obsession. I don’t normally get distracted,” he murmured, smoothing his hand over her hair, “but you’ve changed that. So I’ll focus on you.”
* * *
EDEN LEANED INTO his hands, so nervous she could hardly breathe. She wanted him badly.
Sex wasn’t something she was comfortable with. It was too personal and invasive. She’d avoided it before Clark, but once they were married, she’d tried to relax in bed. It would have helped if he’d been more patient and less criticizing. As it was, being in bed had felt like being in class. In time, she’d become disheartened. Neither one of them seemed truly satisfied when they’d slept together—something he’d used to rationalize his affairs in the beginning.
She hadn’t slept with anyone since the night Lily was conceived. The C-section scar from her two pregnancies wasn’t too obvious, but she wasn’t sure she wanted Archer’s level of focus zeroed in on her body. And yet...when his hands were cradling her face and his lips found hers, her fears and worries evaporated. And in their place was only want. And love.
She kissed him back, reveling in the feel of his tongue against hers, the warmth of his breath, the power of his arms as they crushed her against him. She clung to him, her fingers raking through the short hair at the nape of his neck.