He was still healing from his injuries; he needed his sleep. Yet, remembering the night spent together—in his arms, and later, sleeping cuddled against the warm, hard wall of his chest—she hadn't wanted to crawl out of that bed.The morning's work had called to her, though. She fed her orphaned calves, cleaned their pens, and hauled water.Now, it was already past sun-up, and Chad was out playing in his new tree house. The scents of coffee and of bacon still warm in the oven filled her kitchen. Shadows filtered through the lace curtain covering her kitchen window. The storm that threatened to blow in last night had held off. Dark clouds crowded out the sun, and the wind blew hard and gusty, knocking limbs from the hawthorn bush and the maples against the eaves.She felt him before she heard him, as if last night's intimacy had brought a new level of awareness. Remembered heat from his touches breezed across her skin, flickered in her veins. There he was, an immovable tower of man and muscle blocking her threshold, one broad shoulder cocked against the doorframe."Good morning." His smile came lopsided and sexy, as if he were remembering last night, too.How he'd touched her, what he'd given her, made her shy, but she managed a smile.
