Single All the Way (Single Dads of Dragonfly Lake #2)

Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

Emerson

A fter multiple rounds of sleep alternating with superlative sex, I stirred again to find Ben’s strong arm around me.

I cracked an eye open to verify it was still dark in that snowy, brighter-than-usual way, telling me the world outside was covered in a white blanket. Filled with warmth and contentment that was practically foreign to me, I relaxed back into him and closed my eyes again.

Sleeping cuddled next to a man was a luxury I’d rarely gotten to enjoy in my life. During all the years I was with Blake, we went from high school, where we both lived at our respective parents’ homes and woke up alone, to a couple of weeks of married bliss before he went into basic training. From then, he’d rarely been in my bed for more than a few nights at a time.

The last four years it’d been more normal to wake with a little girl or sometimes a boy in bed with me. It made cuddling with Ben that much more glorious.

I must’ve dozed off again when I realized with a start that he was sneaking out of bed on the other side.

“What are you doing?” I whispered. “Did we miss Gordon’s wakeup call?”

“We must have. He’s not as loud on this side of the house. It’s time to feed the animals. Somebody kept me up too late.”

“Mmm. Not sorry.”

He leaned across the bed and kissed me. “Me neither. Go back to sleep if you want.” He took clothes out of his dresser, then left the room.

I did want to go back to sleep, but he probably did too. He’d woken me up twice last night, and I’d returned the favor once.

I laughed quietly, like a satisfied cat. Had we really done it four times? The delicious tenderness between my legs said yes.

I had zero regrets.

I stretched my legs, appreciating the warm cocoon of blankets for a few seconds, then tossed the covers aside and sat on the edge of the bed. When I crept up the stairs to my room, Ben was still in the bathroom.

In my room, I threw on warm sweatpants, a long-sleeved tee, and a thick sweatshirt, plus wool socks. Twisting my hair up on my head in a scrunchie, I hurried down to the kitchen and found Ben starting a pot of coffee.

“What are you doing?” he asked as I walked into the room.

“Feeding the beasts with you. It’s time for me to learn the ropes.”

“You don’t have to. Have you looked outside?”

I went to the kitchen window and peeked out. “Snow.” It was tough to judge how much, but there were drifts a third of the way up the garage door. I shrugged. “Esmerelda and Betty still have to eat.”

Ben laughed. “They do. You’re welcome to come out with me if you want.”

We put our boots, coats, gloves, and hats on. Ben picked up a shovel from the entryway on our way out. I immediately saw why. Pristine white snow covered everything in every direction, drifting over the steps and giving no hint of the usual route to the barn.

He scooped a path down to the driveway. “I’ll have to get the plow going to do the rest. Animals first though.”

Taking my gloved hand, he waded through snow that was probably seven or eight inches deep, with me following in his footsteps, literally. When we entered the barn, one of the horses nickered and another made a snuffing sound.

“Morning, everybody,” Ben called, making me smile.

This was Ben’s version of walking into the office and greeting everyone for the day.

He made his rounds to all three horses, rubbing their necks, saying good morning, and giving them compliments. I stuck next to him, telling each horse hello but not going close enough to pet them. I wasn’t really afraid of the horses, just a little intimidated, but this was me taking a first step toward getting used to them.

“I’ll need to go up to the hayloft and get more hay, but first we’ll refill their water and get them their grains.”

“Will you show me what to do?”

His brows shot up. “Really? You want to feed the horses?”

“I didn’t like having to depend on the kids to do it last night.”

Ben nodded, then showed me how to fill the water buckets, where the corn was stored, how much to give each horse, and how to secure everything in the stalls.

Ben’s horse, Smoky, nuzzled me as I gave him his grains. I caught my breath and then laughed because it tickled.

“He likes you,” Ben said.

“What do I do?”

“He likes to have his neck rubbed, although he’s picky and doesn’t usually ask for attention from anyone but me.”

“Really?” I looked at the horse, who was studying me with those big, astute eyes. Even though his corn was there for the taking, all his attention was on me.

Ben came up to us. “Hey, Smoke. You know a pretty lady when you see one, huh? You trying to steal my woman?”

“Temporary woman,” I said in a stage whisper, grinning and playing along.

“He doesn’t need to know that,” Ben said. He stroked Smoky’s neck. “Try doing this.”

I reached over and rubbed the other side of the horse’s neck, tentatively at first. He nuzzled me again, startling me and making me laugh.

“Who knew he was such a flirt?”

“He just likes me because I gave him corn.”

Once all three horses had corn and water, Ben went to a staircase at the end of the aisle and started up.

“Can I come?” I asked.

He paused. “Sure. It’s just a lot of hay.”

“I’ve never seen a hayloft.”

Ben laughed and shook his head. “Got me a city girl, huh?”

“Small-town girl who’s never been around barn animals.” I caught up to him and followed him up the stairs. They opened to an expansive loft filled with rectangular bales from one end to the other. “That’s…a lot of hay.”

“It should last us all winter. The llamas each go through about a bale a day.”

“Each?”

“They don’t have grains like the horses, so it’s all hay in the winter.”

“And cookies.”

“And cookies.”

There wasn’t a lot of room for us to walk up here, just stacks and stacks of hay, with some of the stacks on this end shorter, making a kind of stair-step pattern. As I took it all in, he grasped my hand and pulled me flush against him. He’d taken his thick work gloves off.

“Wanna roll around in the hay?” he asked.

I eyed the hay, grinning at his reference to my teasing accusation last night.

“Missing your many ladies?”

He went serious and tugged me in for a hot, lingering kiss, which served to stop my smart-ass remarks. Instead he pulled a moan from me as heat shot through me from just a kiss. Let it be known that Ben Holloway could work magic with his mouth even with all my clothes on.

He gripped my butt and pulled me against his erection. “I didn’t start anything in bed because I meant to let you go back to sleep, but here you are.”

“Here I am. Feeding the horses. If anyone asks.”

“No one’s going to ask,” he said in a sexy rumble, “because the kids are with Berty. Trapped by a snowstorm.”

“Mmm. The whole town is stranded by a snowstorm.” I’d likely need to close the salon for the day.

I kissed him, my arms going around his neck as I wished for fewer layers between our bodies.

Ben slipped both his hands under the waistband of my sweatpants and palmed my butt, his fingers dipping lower between my legs. As if he’d hit a switch, a persistent ache ramped up deep in my hollow core, throbbing to be filled by him.

With our mouths still locked in a frantic kiss, I unzipped his coat and ran my hands under his thermal shirt, over his ridged chest, as he teased the apex of my thighs. I’d never ached so bad for someone. If I didn’t fill myself with him in the next sixty seconds, I was going to lose my mind.

“Ben,” I gasped.

“I know.”

I went after his jeans next, unbuttoning them, trying to be careful as I worked the zipper down over his erection.

He’d undone my coat and shoved it off, then unfastened my bra so he could get his hands on my breasts. He lifted my sweatshirt and leaned down to take my nipple in his mouth, making me moan and gasp and throb deep inside.

I guided him backward to a bale of hay stacked about three feet off the ground, and he sat on it, in perfect alignment with my intentions. I toed my boots off, shoved my sweats and underwear down my legs, and stepped out of them.

“God, Ems,” he said, shoving his jeans down a few inches, enough to free his big, beautiful penis. As I straddled him, my core rubbing against his hardness, he said, “I didn’t bring a condom.”

“I’m on birth control and clean.”

“I’m clean too.”

He barely got the words out before I lowered myself onto him, biting my lip at the heaven of having him inside me again.

The sensation of his heat filling me and the cold air on my butt drove my need even higher as I ground into him, pumped my hips, and rode him like the crazed woman he’d turned me into in about two heartbeats. I lost myself, driven by sensation and need, everything else falling out of my consciousness.

My eyes locked with Ben’s intense ones, the connection between us like nothing I’d ever experienced. As exposed as I felt, I couldn’t look away as he bucked and thrust into me, over and over again, meeting every motion of my hips, our rhythm, our need in unison like a masterpiece of a song.

“Come for me, Ems.”

As if the words in that growly, demanding voice were the final push I needed, I shattered, every muscle in my body contracting and reacting to this man, heat exploding through me and my brain blacking out.

“Look at me, Emerson,” he said in the roughest, need-filled voice.

I forced my eyes back to his and felt a swoon in my chest. He was so familiar, so much a part of me, so dear. At this moment, he was everything to me, the very reason I took in air and gasped for breath.

Ben gripped my butt tighter into him, bucked up hard, and held on tight as he emptied himself into me.

I wrapped my arms around him, clung to him, and closed my eyes. Memorized what it felt like to have this strong, virile man come apart because of me. Even as my own body still trembled and contracted, it was a rush to know I could wield that kind of power over him.

Eventually he seemed to regain some control over his body and sat up straighter, his arms banding around me like he’d never let me go.

“If that was an audition to be my Wednesday roll-in-the-hay lady, you got the gig.”

I laughed. “But only Wednesdays when the kids are trapped at Berty’s by a snowstorm?”

“For now.”

As my body came down from Ben Holloway, the temperature of the barn air registered, and I shivered.

“How is it I’m half-naked, and you’re still wearing your coat and jeans?” I asked.

“Hey, you did that yourself.”

I smiled, a little embarrassed at how aggressive I’d been. That wasn’t typical for me.

“I fucking loved it,” he added, as if sensing my thoughts.

“I’m glad, but now I’m freezing.” I kissed him, then disconnected our bodies and scrambled to get my sweatpants back on.

Ben stood and put himself back together too. When we were both dressed, if not desperately in need of a hot shower, he advanced on me, put his arms around me, then pressed my back into the support pillar that went to the roof as he kissed me soundly.

“You turn me inside out, Emerson.”

“You make me rip my clothes off and mount you,” I said back, laughing.

“Feel free to do that every day.”

We kissed some more, slower now, more affection than urgency.

A human-like humming sounded, startling me.

Ben broke contact and laughed. “Esmerelda’s hungry.”

“That’s her?”

He nodded. “She communicates a lot. She wants her breakfast.”

“Last night in the van she was louder, more distressed.”

“She groans in the van. Hums when she thinks it’s past time for a meal.”

“What about Betty?”

“She’s hardly ever in the van since she doesn’t run away like Esmerelda. She doesn’t vocalize much at all.”

The humming sounded from below us again.

“Demanding llama,” I said.

“She’s special.” He laughed. He heaved a bale of hay and tossed it over the railing to the large center aisle below, then sent a second one behind it.

We headed down the steps, and Ben showed me how to fill the llamas’ troughs with hay. Esmerelda was first. I felt bad for Betty, the better-behaved llama, because Esmerelda made sure she was served first.

As Ben spread Esmerelda’s hay out in her trough, I watched and gathered my courage. I knew llamas didn’t normally bite people, and I had made it through getting Esmerelda in her stall last night. Ben had reassured me they only spit when they felt threatened.

Betty stretched her neck out over the half wall of the stall, watching as her sister-in-llamahood dug in to the hay.

“You’re hungry too, aren’t you?” I said to her. She looked at me with those big, pretty eyes as if to confirm that she was starving and just as worthy as the loud, demanding creature in the next stall.

“I got you,” I told her, then grabbed a mound of hay and spread it in her trough.

Following Ben’s lead, I gave her several armfuls until we’d split the bale between the two.

“There you go, pretty girl,” I said as Betty chomped her hay and eyed me, not in an unfriendly way, more just curious. “Yes, I called you pretty. I love your spots.”

Ben sweet-talked Esmerelda, the high-drama llama, while I muttered praise to mellow Betty as she ate. Betty stuffed her mouth with hay for a few seconds at a time, then lifted her head, stalks of hay sticking out every which way as she chewed and studied me.

Now that I was this close and receiving no threatening vibes from this gentle creature, I was intrigued. Maybe even fascinated. Llamas were so funny-looking, but the longer I watched Betty, the cuter I thought she was, with her understated enthusiasm for hay, her unabashed interest in me, and maybe even some gratitude around the edges.

“The horses need hay too,” Ben said, heading toward the second bale he’d thrown over.

“Okay,” I said without moving. “I’ll hang out with you,” I told Betty in a softer voice.

Before taking another mouthful, she paused, stepped closer to me, tilted her head slightly, then ducked her head for more hay directly in front of me, telling me she was comfortable. I wasn’t sure why, but she seemed friendly and approving of me in spite of my nervousness.

On the other end of the barn, I could hear Ben talking to the horses as he delivered their second course. His affection for all these animals was obvious and oddly endearing. So was what he could do to me in a hayloft, to be honest.

I kept up a one-sided conversation with Betty as she ate, admiring her brown spots and her thick coat. A few minutes later, when she finished her mouthful, she paused and looked at me, poking her snout over the trough and half wall so she was inches from my face. I froze and waited to see what she would do; not gonna lie, I felt a little intimidated.

“Hey, sweet girl,” I said, working hard not to flinch or jolt away. I was starting to trust her.

Before I could register what was happening, she pressed her snout against my cheek then straightened. It tickled and drew a giggle from me.

“What is happening here?” Ben asked from behind me as he approached. “Betty, you big sweetheart. First Smoky goes for you, and Betty just kissed you, Ems.”

“Yeah?” I looked at Betty, then turned to gauge Ben’s face to see if he was serious.

“Without a doubt. That was her way of saying she likes you.”

I’d never given thought to a llama’s approval or friendship, but as I looked into the gentle beast’s eyes again, I felt a gratification and affection that stunned me.

“Can I pet her?”

“Try rubbing her neck,” he said.

I stepped up to the half wall and tentatively reached for her. Betty leaned into my hand as I rubbed her soft, furry neck and laughed quietly. She moved forward and nuzzled me in return.

“You are a lovey,” I said, hugging her with a hand on the back of her neck. The hug ended quickly, and I wondered if I’d interpreted it right. I looked to Ben as he came up to my side.

“I’ve never seen her do anything like that,” Ben said, his tone awed. “I believe Ms. Betty has a new favorite human.”

I laughed and petted her neck again, thoroughly charmed by the big, furry girl with the gorgeous eyes.

Ben

“I’m going to feed the chickens. You’re welcome to stay here with your new bestie if you want,” I told Emerson. “I’ll come back in fifteen or twenty minutes so we can trek back to the house together.”

“You don’t mind if I don’t help with the chickens?”

“Not at all.”

As a matter of fact, I needed a minute.

I pressed a kiss to the side of her head only to have Betty stick her nose between us possessively, making Emerson laugh.

“Back in a few,” I said.

I hurried off, absently telling the horses goodbye. When I stepped out into the cold morning, where a cloudy day had dawned, I inhaled deeply, trying to get my mind right.

I’d realized in the barn, as Emerson looked awestruck at her newfound friendship with my llama, something not good at all had happened without me realizing it.

I was in love with her.

Emerson, not the llama.

The woman who’d made no bones about swearing off forevers and happily-ever-afters for good.

I took my time getting to the chicken house, hoping again that the biting wind would straighten out my head.

It didn’t.

There was something to be said for a quickie in the hayloft in the middle of a snowstorm. Emerson, who I never would’ve expected to get naked in a barn, had stunned me with her brazenness and sent me to the stars with her gorgeous body.

Then, to watch her, so uneasy around the llamas just a week ago, laugh with pure joy at Betty’s friendly advances?

Be still my traitorous heart. I was a goner.

And that, of course, was a big fucking problem.