Page 47 of Trails of Temptation

“Three times,” George corrected, then sucked in a painful breath. “I don’t need the hospital.”

I rolled my eyes and started for the bed, giving Grant a peeved look as I passed him. Grant only smirked and tipped his hat to me as he left the room, his heavy steps echoing in the snug hallway and retreating down the stairs. I placed an ice pack on George’s forehead and pondered where to put the second one. He looked like absolute hell and I’d never felt so helpless in my life.

“You… really kicked his ass,” I said, hoping my voice sounded cheerful and lifted, but in reality, I choked on the words.

“How much of the fight did you see?” George inquired softly, grimacing as he took the ice pack from my hand and laid it over his bloodied and split knuckles.

“I…I saw enough to know you’re hurting right now,” I whispered, closing my eyes as the sight of them rolling around in the glass remains of the coffee table came rushing to the front of my mind. I’d spent the last hour picking glass out of George’s skin while Grant and Randy argued over what had happened what had happened and what to do next. George had been barely lucid during that time, and I felt like I’d held my breath the entire time I patched my man back together while holding back tears.

“Keely,” he said, closing his fingers around mine. “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” I choked, forcing a withering smile to my face as those tears I’d been holding in began to well in the corners of my eyes. “I’m sorry too—”

“You don’t have a goddamn thing to be sorry for,” he said firmly, his eyes meeting mine. Bruises were forming across his cheeks, and I was sure his nose was broken.

I sniffed, blinking back the tears as I squeezed his hand and then let it fall against the bed. I pulled the quilt up and over his shoulders, absently watching his chest rise and fall. There’d been a moment I thought Pete had killed him. George had fallen forward into my arms, his eyes going blank and glassy while he blacked out.

It had scared the hell out of me, but more than anything it had made my vision go red with pure rage.

My brother did this to the only man I’d ever loved. I couldn’t just let that slide.

I closed the bedroom door behind me and headed down the stairs, grabbing my purse off the couch before making my way to the bunkhouse.

Randy and some of the younger ranch hands were cleaning up and talking not-so-quietly about what happened, but when I walked in everyone went still. It was silent enough to hear a pin drop as I locked eyes with Randy, who leaned against the broom he was holding as I asked, “Can one of you go down to George’s house for a while? I need to go to town.”

Randy nodded gravely, breaking his gaze from mine to nod at one of the ranch hands.

I didn’t stay around to see who’d been tasked with making sure George wasn’t alone tonight. I wouldn’t be gone for long, anyway.

I only had a few things to say to my brother. None of them were nice.

* * *

I parked my truck in the alley behind Pete’s bar, but I didn’t get out right away. I was fuming—so utterly angry that I could barely catch my breath, let alone think clearly.

Pete was being insane, right? His fury over me dating one of his friends was just… wild. I really had no other way to describe it. If anything, he should have been happy I’d chosen to settle down and pursue someone he knew well and trusted to not only be a decent man but someone deserving of his sister.

But what he’d said to me in the kitchen came rushing back into the forefront of my mind. I cringed, gripping the steering wheel for a moment before cursing under my breath and turning off my truck, sticking my keys in my purse.

I had no plan. I had no list of things to say. I just angry and devastated, and he needed to know that. He needed to know he had no say in what I did with my life and who I decided to spend it with.

I walked up the stairwell and almost knocked on his front door but hesitated. I unflexed the fist I’d made and turned the knob instead, finding it unlocked. I walked right in and slammed the door behind me.

He was sitting in his living room with an ice pack against one side of his face. It was clear he had a broken nose based on the deep purple bruising starting to creep across his under eyes and cheeks. One eye was swollen shut, and his lower lip was coated in dried blood. He’d changed his bloodied shirt, at least, but I was sure he was covered in welt and scrapes from the glass tabletop he and George had shattered during the fight.

“Get out, Keely,” he said as I dropped my purse on the floor and stalked toward him.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” I spat, rounding the second couch until nothing but a coffee table separated us.

“Your fucking brother,” he said, hissing out a breath as he pressed the ice pack against the other side of his face.

“And you think that gives you the right to come over to my employer’s property and try to beat up my boyfriend?”

He laughed, a shrill sound that set my teeth on edge. “Your boyfriend? You’ve got to be kidding me, Keely. What the hell were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t thinking about you,” I practically growled, “because this isn’t about you.”

“George was my best friend. The closest I’d ever had to a brother, and he was the one you went after?”

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