Sheri WhiteFeather - Wrangling The Rich Rancher

“She went by Sandy, and she sold that business when she married me. She cried about her husband nearly every day. Do you still think about your husband?”

“Of course I do.” Libby glanced away, wishing that Matt would stop staring at her. “But I’ve come to terms with my grief.” With the tears and pain, with waking up alone. “I’m not letting it rule my life.”

“Then why can I see him, like a ghost inside you?”

“You don’t even know what he looks like.”

“I didn’t mean it literally.”

She thought about the images of Becker on her phone. The happy, smiling, easygoing father of her child. He was so different from Matt. “You’re just seeing what you want to see.”

“Why would I want to see something like that when I look at you? When I’m this close—” he created a tiny space between his thumb and forefinger “—to giving up the fight and kissing you?”

“Then do it, damn you. Just do it.” She didn’t want to keep fantasizing about being kissed by him. She just wanted to lose herself in the feeling, no matter how wrong it was.

He leaned into her, his gaze challenging hers. Was he baiting her stop him, to push him away?

Libby challenged him right back, staring him down, daring him to go through with it.

Heaven help them.

He kept coming toward her, until his hands were tangled in her hair and his mouth was fused passionately to hers.

Just the way she’d imagined it.

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