Page 70 of Forbidden Love

What I loved most about this project was that it was a family thing. Mom and Dad pulled up shortly after with boxes of donuts and coffee. We happily took a break to eat and update my parents on our progress.

“I think this is amazing,” Miranda said after Sam gave her the tour of the finished dugout. “We should take pictures and put them on the wall at the office.”

“That’s a great idea,” Kylie said.

“You can use them for the ski resort too,” Mom said to Kylie.

“I don’t know if anyone associates this project with the Wildes. It’s more my thing.”

I didn’t argue that point because I agreed. Her family hadn’t been involved in this one, and the credit should go to Kylie.

“For your future office then,” Mom said as she went to Dad’s truck to get her camera.

Kylie was quiet after that. I wondered if she was thinking about where her office would be—in the lodge or in a hotel in Europe.

I hated the tightening in my gut anytime I thought of Kylie not being happy here. I dreaded the thought of her leaving, the possibility that she could cast aside everything we’d shared.

After Mom took some pictures of the dugout, we resumed painting, and she got some candid shots of us working.

When we finished, we put away the paint and supplies. I was lost in thought when a splash of paint landed on my face. “What—?” I asked as I lifted my gaze to find a delighted Kylie.

“Are you throwing paint?” I asked her as I prowled closer, a roller clutched in my hand.

Her eyes widened comically before she sobered and took off like a shot. I gave chase as she darted around the fence and onto the field. The whole time she screamed, “No, no, no!”

I didn’t want to throw paint on the field, so I waited until we were in an open space and then threw the paint. My brothers surrounded us, getting in on the action. There was laughing and squealing, and even Maggie and Delaney joined in until everyone was covered in paint.

We eased off when the kids joined in because we didn’t want to have to clean paint out of their hair or explain it to Natalie and Alice. We collapsed on the ground, everyone out of breath and tired of running.

Mom showed her camera to Kylie. Apparently, she’d caught it on camera. “You think the reporter would be interested in this?”

“I think that’s a great idea. This one is the best.” I moved over to get a closer look. It was one where I was chasing Kylie, and there was this sparkle in her eyes and a delighted smile on her face. It was perfect. After the shot was taken, I’d hugged Kylie in the guise of covering her with the paint that dotted my shirt, but really, it was just to touch her. I loved being close to her.

It was fun and just the release I needed. I wanted to show Kylie that she fit in with us and that she could have a life here, and this was one way to do it. She was the one who’d instigated the paint war, which was exactly the sort of thing one of my brothers would do.

It was proof she belonged here with us. If only she could see it and not all the ways she didn’t fit in or fell short.

We cleaned up and headed home for showers. We used some towels Mom brought to clean up the girls and to cover the seats as we drove home. Inside, we immediately tore off our clothes and threw them in the wash, then I grabbed Kylie and carried her to the shower.

“You don’t have to carry me everywhere,” she said with an amused smile as I set her down and turned on the water.

“It’s more fun this way,” I said simply. I couldn’t stop touching her. Part of it was knowing it might be temporary, that I wouldn’t have forever with her.

We both used soap to scrub the paint off each other’s bodies. It was almost as fun as throwing it on her. When our skin was red from the scrubbing, we got out and wrapped ourselves in fluffy towels.

“That was one of the best weekends I’ve had in forever.”

“I think so too,” I said as we settled on the bed.

“We should get ready for Sunday dinner.”

“You’re coming to my parents’, right?”

“Actually, I think I should make more of an effort to see my family.”

That hit like a stab to the heart. I couldn’t deny that she should spend time with her family. But I wasn’t invited. I wasn’t ready for her brothers to know about us.

“Tell Miranda and Waylon that I’m sorry for not coming to their house.”

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