He removed the wet shirt.
Abigail immediately looked at the ledger in her lap.
Unfortunately the ledger contained numbers she had already memorized.
Cole crossed toward the stove.
Years of ranch work had built his body lean and hard.
A pale scar crossed his ribs.
Abigail stared at the page.
Cole noticed.
“You’ve been on the same line for a while.”
“I’m thinking.”
“About accounting?”
“Yes.”
“Fascinating shirtless accounting?”
She looked up.
“Do you want me to throw something?”
He laughed.
Cole pulled on a dry undershirt.
Then sat opposite her.
The joking faded.
“Abigail.”
“Yes?”
“There’s something I keep wondering.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
“Do you regret marrying me?”
She looked at him.
The question was genuine.
“No.”
Cole exhaled.
“Do you?”
“No.”
Silence.
Rain struck the windows.
Abigail closed the ledger.
“Even knowing there may never be children?”
Cole looked down.
“There won’t be.”
“Probably.”
“The doctor was certain.”
“Doctors are often certain about things they should be less certain about.”
He smiled faintly.
Abigail continued.
“But assume he was right.”
Cole’s eyes returned to hers.
She took a breath.
“I did not marry a womb.”
He stared.
Abigail almost smiled.
“And you did not marry one either.”
Something moved across his face.
Pain.
Relief.
Love perhaps, though neither had used the word.
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“I’m trying.”
She stood.
Walked toward him.
Cole looked up.
Abigail stopped between his knees.
His breath changed.
She placed one hand against his cheek.
He closed his eyes briefly.
When he opened them, his voice was low.
“Abigail.”
“Yes?”
“You should know what happens if you keep doing that.”
Her pulse quickened.
“What?”
“I’m going to want to kiss my wife.”
She swallowed.
“And is that a threat?”
“No.”
His hands remained at his sides.
“A request.”
Abigail looked at his mouth.
Then his eyes.
“What if I say no?”
“I go upstairs.”
“What if I say not yet?”
“I wait.”
“What if I say I’m frightened?”
Cole’s expression softened.
“I stay exactly where you tell me.”
She touched his beard.
“And if I say yes?”
His voice roughened.
“Then I kiss you.”
Abigail leaned closer.
“Yes.”
Cole still did not move.
Her eyebrows rose.
“You said yes once.”
“I remember.”
“You’re waiting.”
“I want to hear whether you mean it.”
Abigail smiled.
“I mean it.”
Cole kissed her.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Nothing like the marriage jokes Copper Ridge had made.
Nothing like obligation.
His hand came to her waist only after she leaned closer.
Abigail had spent years imagining what a man might think when touching her body.
Too soft.