I guessed that was right though I still didn't understand what motivated Priscilla. Then again, I hadn't had very many friends but I lucked out in the fact that the ones I had were the best kinds to have.

"I don't know what to do with this, Norrie," I told her, she tipped her head again and gave me another small smile.

"Nothing, something, whatever you want. But you deserve to know and you deserve to have the option to do something if you want. So now you have both. It's your choice."

I nodded.

She stood and I knew by her manner she was done, likely keen to get away before Gray came home so I stood with her.

"Best go," she muttered.

"Right," I muttered back.

She looked up at me. "Thanks for giving me time, Ivey."

"Thanks for taking the time to come and talk to me, Norrie."

She again studied me and the small smile back. The sad one.

Then she whispered, "Glad Gray found a good, strong one."

Oh God.

She kept going.

"Hold on tight, Ivey."

"I will," I promised and I would, I knew that definitely.

She nodded and moved toward her car.

I called, "Norrie," and she stopped and turned back. "I'll tell Gray what you told me."

She shook her head. "Not why I told you that, sweetheart."

"I know, but I'll still tell Gray."

She held my eyes then she nodded again. "Okay, Ivey."

"Be well," I said softly.

"You too and stay safe."

It was my turn to nod.

She moved to her SUV, got in, started it up and drove away.

I watched the lane.

Then I went inside to check on my cakes.

They were out and on the wire rack cooling when the backdoor opened. I turned to it to see Sonny had swung his upper body in, hand still on the knob.

"You good?" he asked, his eyes sharp on me.

"Yeah, Sonny. I'm good," I answered quietly.

"Lived through Abel losin' her," Sonny announced and I blinked.

He wasn't done.

"Lived through him bein' stubborn and not taking her back."

I drew in breath. Then I nodded.

"Man's gotta do what a man's gotta do even if what he's gotta do is a fool thing to do."

"I guess that's right," I replied.

"Know it is," Sonny returned but he wasn't done. "When I thought history repeated, ticked me off. But it didn't. So what you learn from this, girl, all 'a this shit, and where you find it in you to lead Gray, is that this shit is life. You got it worse than others but everyone has their crosses to bear. You bear 'em then you keep on keepin' on and you do it together. 'Cause shit always passes and you got enough sweet, it always sweeps away the bitter. You and Gray, this'll be done and you'll taste your sweet."

"Sonny," I smiled, "I've had enough bitter to last a lifetime. Now I'm baking cakes in a kitchen that, when I first walked into it, I knew I wanted to walk into it dozens of times every day for the rest of my life and it's the kitchen of the man who I looked at once and I knew. I knew. And, honey, you know exactly what I knew. There's nothing that can take away that kind of sweet."

Sonny stared at me. Then he smiled.

Then he bitched, "I'm dyin' out here in this heat. I'm gettin' back to hittin' it and you're bringing me a glass of lemonade. Lotsa ice."

Then he disappeared behind the closed door.

And before I started on the frosting, I took out a glass of lemonade with lots of ice to Sonny.

Five hours later...

"Should I not have told you?" I asked quietly.

I was lounging mostly on Gray but partly on the couch and I'd just told him all about his mother's visit. The TV was on but I'd hit mute. I had Gray's undivided attention and he had mine.

I just couldn't catch hold of any of the expressions warring for prominence on his face.

Then he settled on one and that was mild annoyance.

"Why would you not tell me?" Gray asked back.

"Just that..." I paused, "you're dealing with a lot. You don't need more."

"Firstly, dollface, don't ever keep anything from me and especially not something important. Secondly, this is a small town, learn that, shit gets around. You keep something from me it's likely I'll find out about it. And lastly, yeah, we're dealing with a lot. But I'm not about to have a nervous breakdown."

"Right," I whispered.

He rolled us, switching positions so I was on my back and he was pressed the length of me. I could internally debate the merits of both positions, probably for years, but suddenly being in this one, I liked it better.

Gray took my mind off his long, hard body pressed into mine when he spoke.

"We figured it out about Prisc, suspected Cecily and we knew about Buddy. Don't care about that shit and I'll say, right now, better late than never doesn't wash with that shit Prisc let herself get sucked into. She wants to make amends, she can do it. But she'll feel no forgiveness from me. Twenty years from now, we'll see. Right now and for the future, I don't give a shit about what stupid reasons led to stupid actions. Yeah?"

I nodded. His call and it just so happened that, even though I didn't know her, it was the same one as mine.

Gray went on, "As for my mother, it was the right thing to do, it was a good thing to do and she has my gratitude. Whether I share that with her personally or not, I gotta chew on that awhile. You with me?"

I felt hope because I knew Gray and he might chew on it awhile but he'd do the right thing. And the right thing was sharing his gratitude personally then keeping that door open so she could walk through.

"Dollface," Gray called and I left those thoughts and focused on him. "I see what you're thinkin' and I know you're fired up to collect all the family you can get. But her stupid decision meant I didn't have a mother for twelve years. She left my Dad but she also left me. One thing, as a wife, to have fucked up but understandable reasons to leave your husband. Another, as a mother, to have fucked up and not understandable reasons to leave behind your child. Maybe I got it in me to work with her to move past that, maybe I don't. But don't get your hopes up."

"Okay," I agreed because he was very right.

But I still had my hopes and Gray knew it because he grinned, giving me the dimple.

Then his eyes changed, my body responded to the change and they dropped to my mouth a second before they came back to mine and he pressed deeper into me as his face got closer.

"Now, you got a choice seein' as this is a rerun, I don't like this show anyway, you do. Still, I'm not watchin' it and that means neither are you. Instead, you got the choice of takin' my cock in your mouth then in you right here or doin' it in the bedroom. We move, when we get up there, I want you on your knees in front of me. Either way, you got a second to decide."

I didn't need a second.

I'd been on my knees in front of Gray once before and I'd liked it. It was hot.

"Upstairs," I whispered breathily.

He gave me the dimple again and I knew he knew what my answer would be. This was likely because, when he fucked my mouth when I was on my knees in front of him, it turned me on so much he barely got me to my back on the bed and thrust into me before I came. And when I came, I did it hard and I did it long.

Then I lost the dimple when he kissed me. And when he did, he did it hard and he did it long.

Then we went up to our room, lost our clothes and I gained my knees.

And I was pleased to find do-overs were no less hot.

Chapter Thirty-Five.

I Still Want You to Take Mine Four months later...

"Honey! We're going to miss our reservation!" I called up the stairs to Gray who was changing into his suit.

Or at least I hoped he was. I heard the shower go off ten minutes ago and my man was not a man who primped.

"Be down in a minute, darlin'!" Gray shouted back, I sighed and walked on my high heels into the kitchen.

It was October and it was my birthday and we should have left the house in order to make our reservation at Jenkins five minutes ago.

Gray had gone into town and came back late. Now we were running late.

And I was hungry.

The last four months, things had settled on the land and in Mustang.

The barn was up, painted red with white trim and it was old-fashioned like the last one was. That one was old-fashioned because it was old; this one was because that was what Gray wanted it to be.

It was also enormous.

Seeing as horse breeding was the family business, the other one was too and had twenty-six stalls.

But this one had thirty, a big tack room, a big feed room and a hayloft complete with the pulley outside and double doors with criss-cross white boards on them that led to it.

I loved it because it looked awesome, because my man built it with his own hands, because I got to watch him do that and because, with it being there, it was easier to forget how the old one ceased to be.

And last, because Gray and I had broken in the hayloft by repeating history, kind of, as this time, he got his own treat.

It was awesome.

The peach crop came in and Gray taught me to hire and I helped him manage the dozen workers who worked right alongside Gray and me. It was mindless work, hours of it, but with the smell of peaches all around, the summer sun kissing your skin at times, the shade of the trees offering relief at others and cheerful banter (though most of it was in Spanish, a language I didn't know, still, it was cheerful), there were worse things to do. Gray had replanted the lost trees but it would be awhile before they bore fruit and his new growth also wasn't there. Still, his crop earned a load, so much I was surprised. Then again, he had a huge orchard so I supposed I shouldn't be.

It was fun when it began but I was happy when it was over.

Gray contacted the Bureau of Land Management who manages the wild mustang herds and he adopted ten more mustangs.

Yes, ten, putting our number over twenty straight to twenty-three.

Shim, Roan and Whit went with him to go get them and they all worked to help him break them and train them. It was fascinating and slightly scary to sit on our porch swing, eyes pointed to the corral where the boys did this. But if I didn't know already, what with watching my man jump bareback on a horse and control the thing without any reins, this proved irrevocably he was all cowboy mostly because he got thrown often (the scary part), didn't seem to mind a bit and the best part, he wore chaps.

No joke.

Chaps.

It.

Was.