Page 51 of Her Boss, Her Rancher: Sunrise On The Ranch

“Nope,” he answered casually. “Cabins are for paying guests.”

Eyes wild, she found Reagan’s gaze zeroed in on her. “I can’t. I can’t do this, Reagan. I can’t sleep with him... I mean next to him. Of course that’s what I meant. I can’t sleep in the room next to him.” She groaned and tipped her face toward the endless blue sky. “Ican’tshare a bathroom with him. Proximity clouds my judgment where he’s concerned, and I don’t want to open wounds that have only just started to heal. Don’t make me do this.”

“If it were just me, I would put you in any cabin you wanted, but the brothers talked and decided it would be best to have you stay with us.”

“Why?” The question lashed out, sharp as the crack of a bullwhip. “To make sure I don’t do anything nefarious in the few days I’m here?”

Reagan started. “You’re only staying a few days?”

“I sent you my itinerary.” Emma retrieved her hands and scrubbed them through her hair. “Why?”

“Just hoped you’d be staying longer,” Reagan answered on a shrug. “C’mon. Let’s get you settled.”

“Didn’t you hear me?” Emma bit out. “I can’t do this.”

Reagan paused but didn’t face her when she asked, “Can’t or won’t, Emma? Because there’s a huge difference.”

And even though she’d vowed to never misrepresent anything to the Covingtons ever again, she still struggled before offering the truth. “Won’t.”

“Can’tis far less powerful thanwon’t, so you’ll stay with us.” She resumed her trek to the house, forcing Emma to either catch up or stand there looking like an idiot. Seeing as she’d suffered her preset quota of indignities on her initial meeting with Cade, she hustled to catch up.

THENEXTFEWdays were spent in mad preparation for the wedding. Reagan tried on her dress to ensure it still fit fine, flowers were delivered and prepped to hold until two days before the wedding and the cake came in. Emma would be sending her favorite local baker ahugetip because he’d managed to figure out how to ship the layers pre-wrapped in fondant that hadn’t shifted, torn, melted or discolored. It was a miracle. As the cake defrosted, Emma made flowers and leaves from fondant and royal icing, saving a place on each columned layer for the live floral centerpiece that would decorate it.

Through it all, Cade was right there to help her. Didn’t matter what she asked him to do, he did it without complaint and, more often than not, with some sort of flirtatious suggestion. He frazzled her at first, and she’d had to give herself a stern talking-to the second time she ruined a rose she was spinning out because he’d leaned down and commented about her talent with her hands—a talent he said he’d longed for over the past few months.

Once, he caught her licking the mixer paddle. His eyes had warmed as his lids partially slid down. “I miss that more than your hands.” Then he’d gone on about his business. It had distracted her so much that batter dripped down her arm and sleeve. She hadn’t cared, the same memories he’d drawn on bombarding her senses and all she could smell was the heat of his skin.

Eli and Ty had been particularly solicitous, making sure she had everything she needed, taking on the job as her cleanup crew when she could shoo Cade out of the kitchen. The help was appreciated, but it meant more people to manage. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one with an affinity for cookie dough.

The night before the wedding, Emma nearly fell asleep at the dinner table. Cade, who’d insisted on sitting next to her, pulled her into the warmth of his body. Turning to him, she lost herself in the security of his arms, the smell of sunshine on his flannel shirt, the feel of his hands on her skin and the warmth of his breath in her hair. He shifted her around until he could scoop her up, the change of position waking her.

Groggy, she looked around. “What’s going on?”

“Past your bedtime,” he’d answered, carrying her to her bedroom downstairs.

“I can get there on my own.” Her insistence had been thoroughly interrupted by a jaw-cracking yawn.

“Yeah? I’d argue your GPS has dropped into sleep mode. You’d probably have ended up in the barn.”

“I’ve never slept in a barn,” she said into his shirt, fisting the material in one hand as she buried her face in his neck.

“I beg to differ.” His husky voice rolled through her, settling deep and low in her belly.

Memories of him taking her against the tack room door had her sighing. “That wasn’t sleeping.”

“In that case, would you like to sleep with me tonight, Ms. Graystone?”

She sat up so quickly he dropped her—right onto his bed. Emma huffed out a breath. “Really? You’re resorting to caveman techniques to get me in here?”

“Not really. You curled into my arms like you belonged there, darlin’. I’m just going with the flow.” He sank over her, his lips lowering to hers in a kiss so tender her toes curled. Their tongues touched, soft at first, until need overrode common sense and the familiar passion ignited between them. They fought to breathe each other in, tasting and taking as much as they gave. Hands roamed. Clothing was untucked and skin bared to one another’s demanding touch.

Cade groaned into Emma’s mouth at the same time her hips lifted involuntarily. He parted her legs and rubbed the hard ridge of his erection against her, the pressure just right to have her mewling her approval.

That sound jerked her out of the moment and she pushed at Cade’s chest. “I amnotsleeping with you. Respect me on this.” The ache in her words was so harsh it could have been translated for hearing-impaired onlookers.

“Shame, that.” He opened the Jack-and-Jill bathroom door in his room and went inside. Water ran and she heard him brushing his teeth. “If history held true, you would have enjoyed it,” he said around his toothbrush, his spirits seemingly jovial.

“You’re such a...a...man.”