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“Perfect, I’ll tell him. And Hazel,” Ruthie says, turning to the gorgeous woman who’s still tucked firmly into my side, “why don’t you go with him? Then you can come back here for dinner.”
I choke back a laugh while Hazel pinkens slightly. This is a classic Grandma Ruthie-style move. Still, IlikeHazel. She had the guts to walk in here uninvited to talk to me. And we haven’t spent much time together, but I can already tell that she’s smart, sweet and brave.
I look down into Hazel’s eyes. “I would love that,” I say. And I mean it. “Would you?”
She looks up at me and gives me a mischievous little smile. “Are you sure?”
I pull her in a little closer, relishing the press of her curves against me. “Oh yeah. I’m sure.”
“Then yes.” Her smile broadens. “I would love to.”
Hazel leaves not long after that—some things to do at home, she claims, but I suspect she’s still a little uncomfortable about being caught crashing Ruthie’s party. I spend the rest of the evening bullshitting with my brothers and catching up with old friends and extended family. It’s after midnight when I wearily climb the stairs to my assigned bedroom, strip off my suit, and fall into bed.
It’s been a long day, and I’m exhausted but my mind is busy. I can’t keep my mind off of Hazel. Tom’s wife.Hazel with the hazel eyes, I think with a grin.
I never met her when he’d been alive. Tom and I had been really close in school, but drifted apart as we got older.
Even though my body drags with fatigue, my dick is hard as a rock as I think about the way the generous curve of her body felt as they pressed against me, the swish of her thick brown hair and those bright hazel eyes.
I relax into the pillows and palm my cock while I remember laughing with Hazel this evening.
It doesn’t take long for me to come with a soft groan as I imagine peeling that silky black dress off of Hazel’s body to explore the smooth, pale skin underneath. I clean up and slide back under the covers, and within seconds, I start to drift off.
Just before sleep takes me, I remember that Hazel said she had something for me. She must have forgotten about it before she left.
Lucky for her, then, that she’ll be seeing alotof me.
Chapter 3
Hazel
I have to give Ruthie some credit—she’scompletelyshameless about manipulating things to get what she wants. It wasn’t hard to see that she was pushing me to spend more time with her grandson. And maybe I wouldn’t put up with it from anyone else, but when it comes to the relentlessly charming Ruthie Locklear and her irresistible grandson, I didn’t put up much of a fight.
It wasn’t until later, standing in my kitchen as I kicked the high heels from my aching feet, that I remembered Tom’s letter, still tucked safely in my clutch. At least I didn’t run into my friends at the party. I’ll have to catch up with them later.
Not that I missed them too much. I was having so much fun with Callum that I didn’t think about them or the letter at all. It’s a good thing I’m seeing him again, then. And not just for the letter—I’m really looking forward to spending time together.
It’s cold and cloudy outside, and a few stray snowflakes drift by on the sharp winter wind as Callum pulls up my driveway the next afternoon to pick me up in a big silver pickup truck. He leaps out of the truck as I pick my way down my icy steps, his long legs striding over to the passenger’s side to open the door for me, smiling broadly at me as I climb in.
He looks tall and rugged in square-toed boots, jeans and a heavy canvas coat. A gray wool Stetson sits atop his short curls. Callum Locklear looked good in a suit, but that wasnothingcompared to what I see today.
“I was worried you’d flake on me,” he says before he shuts the door.
“Oh you did, huh?” I snuggle down into the heated leather seat. “Well, I’m here. I don’t scare easy.”
Callum slides into the driver’s seat and twists to look at me with those sky-bright eyes. “I wouldn’t have blamed you if you had. Ruthie can be a little bossy.” He pauses. “Alotbossy,” he amends.
I roll my eyes and snort. “I definitely noticed that about her, but don’t worry about me. I’m a widow and I’veseen some shit. Do you think anyone can make me do something I don’t want to do?”
“Oh, I noticed,” he says as he smoothly pulls the truck out into the street. He turns and comically waggles his eyebrows at me. “And Ilike it.”
It takes about thirty minutes to get to John Morelli’s ranch, and by the time we get there, my sides hurt from laughing so hard.
“Oh, God,” I gasp and wipe at my streaming eyes. Callum gives me a shit-eating grin after finishing up his version of an elderly horse’s internal monologue, complete with a funny voice. “You have to stop, I’m going to throw up if I laugh anymore.”
“Never give me that kind of a benchmark to live up to,” he says as he turns down a long driveway. The truck tires crunch in the mix of snow and gravel as we drive past several fenced pastures. A few blanketed horses munch on piles of hay or nose through the snow to look for blades of grass.
“Do you take anything seriously?” I tease him.
