Page 38 of Trails of Temptation

“In the next town over?” she teased. That was honestly our only option if we wanted to avoid running into her brother.

I blew out a breath and smiled down at her.

ChapterNineteen

Keely

I’d underestimated how many people had seen George haul me over his shoulder and carry me away last night. George had to stop by the bunkhouse to talk to Randy about what needed to be done in his absence, and while he’d warned me not to follow him inside, I ignored him, wanting nothing more than to just hang out with him before he left and drag our luscious morning out.

“I warned you,” he said into a mug of coffee as I blushed beet-red, pressing myself to the refrigerator. The bunkhouse wasn’t big by any means. It was once a two-bedroom, one bath cabin but Grant and George had added an additional two bedrooms and a den area in the past two years. Summer was the busy season at the ranch, so the bunkhouse was always full of seasonal workers. Ten or so men hooted and hollered at us, clapping George and me, on the shoulders as Randy tried his best to reprimand everyone who had gathered in the bunkhouse for a coffee break and early lunch.

I glared at George, who was grinning, then laughing out loud as Randy threw his hands in the air in surrender and told everyone to go back to work.

The men whistled at me as they left, likely just to get a rise out of George, but still. I winked at a few of them and they pretended to faint at my attention. Most of the blush that burned red-hot across my cheeks and chest was pride, honestly. Especially since George seemed more than proud to show me off like I was some prize. I used to hate it when guys did that to me. Flaunted me. Like having a pretty little thing on their arm made them look better and boosted their already swollen egos.

George wasn’t showing me off to make himself look better. He’d even told me to stay outside or go back up to the big house without him for a moment.

Now? He was standing there, looking over at me with a look with so much love and pride that it had my heart swelling in my chest. But even better was the fact his chest and shoulders were puffed, his wide stance and a careful eye on the men leaving the bunkhouse telling each and every one of them that I belonged to him.

I didn’t see Archie in the mix. Maybe that was a good thing. George wouldn’t have been nearly as cool as he was now.

But that made me think of what was likely going to happen between George and Pete. I knew it was inevitable, and it was killing me.

“These guys go to my brother’s bar on occasion,” I said as we neared the big house. I swallowed back a sudden bout of panic, glancing over at George, who was walking by my side. “They could say something.”

“It’s not any of their business and they know it,” George answered simply with a shrug. We walked up the back porch and he paused just before the screen door and turned to me, taking me by the shoulders. “If you want me to wait to talk to Pete, I will.”

“I feel like I should be the one to tell him!”

George shook his head and gave me a look dripping with sympathy and understanding. “It has to be me. I’ve known Pete longer than you have you know. He’ll be pissed, and I’d rather him take that out on me than on you.”

“I wish it wasn’t like this,” I whispered.

He cupped my cheek and leaned down to brush a kiss over my forehead. “We’ll give it some time. We can just enjoy each other for a while before we tell him anything.”

That was a sound plan. Pete was pretty busy this time of year anyway. Hot Springs had a lot of tourists in the summer and the bar was always busy, so that meant he was occupied and out of my business.

“Ready?” George asked, his hand curling around the doorknob.

“Yeah.” I smiled, taking a breath. I knew when we passed the threshold of the big house, whatever was going on between us would be even more real.

* * *

“This looks great.” Grant smiled as he picked up the platters of blackened bass and roasted vegetables I had lain out on the kitchen table. I was standing in the kitchen chopping up a huge, perfectly ripe watermelon. It was a cool day, which was a nice break from the scorching heat we’d had over the past few weeks. I glanced out the window over the sink as I dumped the watermelon into a huge bowl and sighed. George wasn’t here yet. He’d said he be here for dinner before he left.

He’d finally opened up to me and I was on cloud nine, but still… There was a piece of me that was on guard.

He’d taken me back to the big house to change a few hours ago, then we’d gone out to eat at a diner off the interstate almost half an hour outside of town. It was thrilling, honestly, sneaking around together. We hadn’t run into Grant, Moira, or Day until George dropped me off back at the big house and left to start getting things ready for his trip.

While I got a suspiciously playful look from Grant, no one had said a word about me spending the night with George. Moira was thrumming with excitement, even though she didn’t say anything to me. Her eyes told me everything, though. She wanted every detail but had probably been told by Grant to leave us be until we were ready to announce that we were together.

But I had dinner on the table and George wasn’t there. I sighed heavily as I carried the bowl of melon outside to where Grant had the outdoor table and chairs set up. Moira was yelling at Day, who was running around the yard being chased by a wound-up Jennie, who he’d been teasing with the piece of bass he was dangling in front of her.

“Oh, I forgot the rolls,” I said under my breath and turned back toward the house. I hurried inside and grabbed the rolls I’d made and brushed them with honey butter as quickly as I could. I looked up at the clock on the wall, wincing. It was almost six-thirty, and George told me he had to be on the road by seven.

I bit back that silly feeling welling in my gut that told me last night had been another frantic, desperate, perfect mistake.

Maybe George changed his mind. Again.

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