Page 20 of Trails of Temptation

I’d never seen anything so beautiful in my life.

“We, uh.” She paused, letting out a little laugh as she searched for her tee-shirt. “We’ve haven’t really spoken much at all since I got back.”

That was true. I wasn’t really sure what I could even say to her now. She sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on her shirt, letting out a little sigh. I knew she wanted me to say something. Maybe she had some things she wanted to say to me, too.

“Keely,” I started, shifting my weight in the bed. I was sitting up against the headboard, the sheets covering my waist. I leaned forward, sighing deeply. “You have to know why this can’t… this can’t happen again.”

Her head snapped in my direction and the look of disappointment on her face cut into my soul as I continued, “Pete, for one.”

“Pete has nothing to do with what’s going on between us,” she snapped, heat rising in her cheeks. “I don’t understand why you think—”

“I’ve been friends with him since I was a kid and you’re his little sister. I shouldn’t be feeling this way toward you.”

“But you do,” she whispered. I hated the look she was giving me right now. I hated the way her words were laced with hurt and there was literally nothing I could do about it besides upend my entire life and hope for the best.

Why was I so willing to do just that on a whim?

“I’m too old for you.”

“You’re only eight years older than me—”

“I don’t have much to offer you, Keely. I only own my own land because Grant was gracious enough to sell me ten acres of his ranch. Not my own. I work twelve-hour days…” I got out of bed and pulled on my boxers and jeans, cursing at the clock on my nightstand. I was late.

“What are trying to say? Was this not—not good for you?” She stood up, hugging herself with her arms.

“Keely, that’s not—”

“Then what is it, George? Why can’t you say how you feel? You’re listing all these excuses like it’s nothing. You can say that Pete is the issue all you want, but he’s not the dictator of my life. I am. I get to decide who I sleep with. Who I—Who I want. I get to decide that and so do you!”

She shoved past me toward the door but halted mid-step, turning back to face me. “You’re a coward, George. Two summers ago, I thought… I thought you wanted me. I missed you.”

“Keely—”

“I came here today because I thought you still felt—” Tears glimmered in her eyes. “I thought you still felt that way. When you kissed me on the porch—”

“I shouldn’t have. It wasn’t right.”

“But sleeping with me just now was? George, I don’t understand what you want from me. I don’t get why you tiptoe around me. I’m here to help Moira and Grant. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t come back here just to see you again because I felt—I felt like this was real.” She sucked in a breath, shaking. “You’re so mean, George.”

“I—”

She stormed out the door, slamming it behind her. I ran after her gripping my shirt in my hands, thundering down the stairs after her, but she gone in a flash. I stood on the front porch gripping the railing as she hopped in her truck. She was struggling to turn over the engine. Tears streamed down her face. I hated myself. Why the fuck couldn’t I have just told her how I felt? Telling her Pete would likely kill us both wasn’t going to be enough, not for Keely. She led with her heart while I’d always followed logic.

But nothing about what I felt for Keely was logical.

Just as I was about to step off the porch to rip open her door and drag her back into my house, she got the truck going and backed up sharply, nearly taking out my mailbox in the process. I tossed my shirt in the dusty gravel driveway, cursing as she drove away.

I was a fucking idiot.

* * *

“What’s the matter with him?” I heard Ben say somewhere behind me. I was beating the shit out of the fence posts with all of my strength, ignoring the glances from the men helping me finish the mending.

I didn’t hear who replied. I didn’t care. I wanted to get this done so I could go back to house and drink myself into oblivion.

Coffee hadn’t washed the taste of her out of my mouth. The only thing that could do the trick was whiskey, or better yet, tequila.

I started stringing the barbed wire around the new post, being careless in the process. I couldn’t focus, not with Keely on my mind every goddamned second. I’d broken her heart. Shattered it. She’d called me a coward and she was right.

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