Page 62 of Trails of Temptation

“What the fuck is wrong, Keely?” Pete shouted, and I heard whatever chair he’d been sitting in crash to the ground behind him. “What—”

“George’s mom died,” I cried. “That’s—That’s why he left town. She had a heart attack in Helena and he went down there to be with her. She passed away yesterday. N-now he’s at his parents’ old property t-trying to fix it up, or something. I don’t know—”

“Come pick me up,” he rushed out, then cursed under his breath as he hung up the phone. I sniffled, turning off the highway into Hot Springs and driving straight to the bar.

Pete was waiting outside for me, his expression grave as he slid into my truck. “I know where it is, just drive.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I went there a few times as a kid, before his dad passed away and they moved into town. I thought his mom sold the place.”

“Why wouldn’t she have told him that?”

“I have no fucking idea.”

“Why would he not tell me this was happening? His mom dying?”

“George isn’t in the habit of talking about these things with anyone, Keely. You should know that. He’s as closed off as they come.”

We sped down the highway until Hot Springs was just a shiny blur in the distance, and then turned down a rough-looking road that quickly turned into nothing but tall grass freshly moved down by another vehicle.

I gasped as a large farmhouse sprung up. It was beautiful, but terribly rundown. George’s truck was parked outside, and tools were strewn across the porch.

Pete was out of the truck before I had a chance to put it in park. He ran up onto the porch and called out for George, then said, “Oh, shit!”

“What?!” I hollered, running up the steps and nearly tripping over the broken steps. I stumbled into the front foyer and saw Pete hauling George into a seated position, then gasped as I looked around at the broken floorboards and dust covering everything in the living room. There was a huge hole in the ceiling. “Oh, my God!” I cried, trying not to laugh as George grimaced and shoved Pete away. “Did you fall through the fucking ceiling?”

Pete choked out a laugh as a dust- and plaster-covered George glared at both of us. But then his glare turned glassy, moisture prickling over his lower lashes.

“Oh, George, I’m so sorry about your mom,” I choked, tears burning in my own eyes as I fell to my knees beside him and wrapped my arms around him, squeezing tight. Pete wrapped himself around both of us, and for several long moments we stayed in that position, both of our bodies sheltering George, the man we both loved, while he came undone and faced his mother’s death.

“I am so sorry,” I repeated, over and over, until Pete eased his grip and moved away from us. I pressed my forehead against George’s and placed my hand on either side of his face. His hand traveled down my back, and his mouth tipped up, our lips meeting in a kiss.

Everything wrong in the world was suddenly rightened, and a warm feeling of total relief shuddered through my body.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know how.”

“No,” I whispered. “Don’t be sorry, George. God, I love you.”

He laughed, a desperate, almost painful sound as he pulled me against his chest and kissed me fully.

But Pete cleared his throat behind us. I’d totally forgotten he was there. George stilled, tilting his head to look up at him.

“Are we good?” George asked, his voice dropping an octave. I turned my head to look at Pete, the tension in my shoulders relaxing as my brother gave George a tight-lipped, lopsided grin.

“Yeah, fine. You gonna tell us how you fell through the ceiling?”

“It wasn’t that far,” George defended as I scooted off his lap. “The couch broke my fall.”

“Jesus Christ, George,” I exclaimed, finally taking a moment to look around at the damage. He’d truly fallen through the ceiling. Plaster, dust, and wood shards coated the floor and old couches, and old, corroded wiring hung limp from the ceiling, shaking in the warm breeze coming through the open windows. “Why are you here all by yourself?”

I looked around again, noticing the once-beautiful faded blue floral wallpaper that lined the walls and stark white trim that had now faded to a rich yellow. A woodstove sat in the corner of the room that was still in good shape, but the wood floorboards had shrunk and were faded, large gaps filled with dust and other grime. The house was empty, it seemed, save for a few pieces of large furniture that had been left behind.

It was crazy to think George had lived here as kid and had grown up thinking he’d lost this home and the life tied to it, especially his opportunity to run his own ranch. Now he could run this place and start up his family’s ranch once again.

He’d told me that had been his dream for as long as he could remember, and it was finally coming to fruition. Tears welled in my eyes as I focused my gaze on George again.

“I have a contractor coming tomorrow. I was trying to make a list of things I wanted him to look into before we got started.”

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