Page 46 of Trails of Temptation

“So, you followed him in here?”

Pete ignored me, but I doubted he could answer that, anyway. He was furious, and looked like a demon as he took another step toward me. “That’s my sister you were groping, George. You were touching her—”

“That’s the woman I’m going to marry and you had no right coming into Grant’s house guns blazing, Pete.”

“You’re not going to fucking marry her.” He laughed, shoving the dining room table out of his way as he closed in on me. “Over my dead fucking body.”

“This isn’t about you.”

“That’s my sister—”

“The same sister you shamed in Grant’s kitchen this morning? That sister? The sister who you’ve bossed around and demeaned every chance you get? The same sister you want nothing more than to control?”

“You know nothing about my relationship with her—”

“I know you’ve spent your life making her feel like fucking shit because she doesn’t fit whatever mold you have in mind for her. You were so keen to let another man, a lawyer, if I recall, swoop in on her. You encouraged it.” I took a step toward him, baring my teeth. “But she was already mine, Pete.”

“You don’t know her at all!”

“I love her,” I spat, just as he swung.

His fist dented the fridge as I ducked out of the way and rushed him, driving every ounce of my strength into his chest as I barreled into him and took him to the ground. We crashed through one of the dining chairs which crumbled beneath as we rolled, and rolled, and rolled into the living room.

“Don’t fight me, Pete,” I panted, holding him down with an arm over his chest. “I don’t want to do this.”

“Fuck you, George!” he shouted, shoving me and swinging again. I caught his fist and something feral flashed behind his eyes. I knew at the moment that this was over between us. Any friendship, any brotherhood, was gone. I’d stepped over one his firm, iron boundaries and there was no going back, no matter how wrong he’d been to try to dictate Keely’s life and set those boundaries in the first place.

He broke out of my grip and started swinging until he finally got me in the face, my jaw clicking and groaning as the bones rubbed together. I cursed, shielding my face and neck with my arms as he pummeled into me, his voice snapping and cracking as he let loose on me until I was forced on my knees.

All I’d have to do was overpower him. I could. I could stand up right now and end this with one sure hit. I took a chance and wrapped my arms around him, throwing him off balance enough to send us crashing down into the glass coffee table.

Shards pierced my skin as I rolled him off of me. I kicked, the toe of my work boot meeting him under the chin.

He staggered backward, gripping the rickety old bookshelf to try to steady himself before his eyes rolled back in his head and he fell hard, knocked out.

Blood gushed from what I knew was a broken nose. Glass stuck out of my arms and shoulder as I shakily tried to get onto my hands and knees. I spat blood, my lips swelling in the process.

Pete groaned, rolling over onto his side.

But then Grant was there, pulling Pete to his feet. Pete tried to swing but Grant had him in a headlock in an instant, Pete now too worn down to do much about it but submit.

“Get off of my property,” he spat, shoving Pete through the open front door of the bunkhouse. Pete stumbled on the porch and pitched down the stairs.

“Jesus, man,” I heard Randy say somewhere nearby. I felt hands on my shoulders but my head was spinning.

“Oh, my God—”

“Get her out of here!” I shouted as Keely’s voice echoed through the small space. I closed my eyes as Keely’s choked sob filled my ears and her warm, comforting touch closed around my swollen face. “Go,” I breathed. “Please.” I didn’t want her to see what I’d done. That I’d just kicked her brother’s ass and he’s kicked mine as well. Had I been a little younger… Had I been more willing to do my worst…

I pitched forward without realizing it, the entire room spinning, and then it went black.

ChapterTwenty-Three

Keely

“Are you sure we shouldn’t take him to the hospital?” I asked Grant as he helped a groggy, barely aware George into his bed. I lingered along the wall, clutching the ice packs I’d found in George’s freezer only moments ago when Grant had dropped us off at George’s house.

“I’ve seen him get kicked in the face by a horse… twice,” Grant mumbled.

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