Page 8 of Trails of Temptation

“I offered to give her one of the trucks we don’t use much. She said no,” he said as he stood up, stretching a bit. Grant looked like he aged about five years in the past two months. The first hints of gray were speckled along his hairline now, partially hidden by the old leather cowboy hat he often wore. He was still handsome, which Keely had made clear during our drive back from the store yesterday.

She’d gone on and on about how beautiful their baby was going to be.

She’d also said—jokingly, I hoped—that my future kids would be stunners as well, given that I didn’t look a day over thirty at almost forty-two years old. I should have told her that whatever kids she’d have one day would be just as beautiful as she was, with her curly blonde hair the color of the golden hour just before sunset, and eyes bluer than a clear Montana sky.

The same eyes I dreamt about. The same eyes I saw everything through I squinted up into the sun.

I hated myself for not saying anything at all and just turning the music up.

I’d barely registered that Grant had left the kitchen and had just risen to start preparing to head out on the road to the auction when Keely’s voice rang through the house, her voice lifted in song. I froze, wondering if I could sneak out the back door before she could notice me standing there, but it was too late.

“Oh,” she beamed. “Good morning!”

“Mornin’,” I replied hoarsely.

“I was just about to make some breakfast for Moira. You’re just in time—” She touched my arm and I went rigid. She must have noticed because she frowned, giving me a motherly look in disapproval. “Sit down, George. I won’t bite.”

I ran my tongue along my lower lip as I watched her turn around and move toward the fridge. She bent over at the waist, tight denim shorts leaving little to the imagination. I slid back into my seat and sat there, watching her every move. My mouth was totally dry and became even drier as she peeked over the top of the fridge door and said with a wink, “Unless you want me to.”

Good God, this woman was going to be the end of me.

She chuckled to herself before I said anything in response, moving toward the stove with some bacon and eggs balanced in her hands. I was stuck in place as she started making pancakes, frying bacon, and cracking eggs into a large cast iron skillet.

“Did you know,” she started, deftly flipping a damn near perfect pancake, “that baby whales are born weighing more than the average truck?”

“What?” I choked. I hadn’t realized I was looking at her breasts, which were full and heavy behind a crocheted pink tank top.

“I was watching a documentary with Day last night about whales,” she continued, blinking at me from across the room.

“That’s great,” I mumbled into my coffee, which had gone cold.

“Here.” She walked over, grabbing the coffee pot and topping off my mug.

I couldn’t do more than nod my head in thanks and take a huge sip, letting the scalding coffee burn down my throat. The jolt of heat did nothing to lessen the sudden urge to reach out, grab her, press her against the counter, and kiss her. I wondered what she’d taste like. I’d wondered about that for a while now.

I watched her over the rim of my coffee as she cooked. She mixed a bowl of butter and honey, biting into a fat, ripe strawberry as she worked. I was gripping my coffee mug hard enough to cause it to crack as I watched a single drop of juice roll down her chin, then as she caught it with her tongue.

Fuck.

She licked butter off her finger, sucking—I gotta get out of here. I need to leave, now.

I must have been in some kind of trance because one second my eyes were glued to her, and then next I was alone in the kitchen with a plate of piping hot breakfast in front of me on the table, Keely whistling as she walked upstairs with a plate on a tray for Moira.

Oh, my God.

I reached down to adjust my jeans, which were now entirely too tight. Fuck, what time was it? I glanced at my clock and cursed to whoever above was listening. I’d been sitting here lusting over KeelyFuckingGreenway for the better part of an hour.

I ate quickly, sighing deeply at the taste of should have just been simple, downhome breakfast food. It was the best damn thing I’d ever eaten, and I found myself eating with one hand clenched into a fist onto the table to stop myself from groaning. I never ate breakfast. Never had the time. I could get used to this…

No, stop. Stop thinking about her, stop thinking about a theoretical future with Keely.

But I couldn’t help myself. I thought of her all day. I thought of her even after blasting old school Black Sabbath the entire drive two-hour drive to the auction. And when I got there, well, I was in no fucking mood to mess around. I put in the bids on the bulls Grant and I had been eyeing to expand our breeding program. Normally, these auctions were a time to shoot the shit with other ranchers and try to make the proceedings hell for rival ranches. Not today. Not when my blood was heated to a damn near boil and the only thought in my mind was getting home and either telling Keely to never look me in the eye again or take her straight to my bed.

Pete would kill us both. I was certain of that. Certain, in fact, that I knew damn well the future I’d been envisioning in the kitchen was nothing more than a daydream.

Keely and I were alike in one way. She was sunshine where I was pure darkness. She lit up a room while I dragged it down. She could smile and laugh when I could barely show an ounce of what I was truly feeling.

But we were both on the edge of being alone in life. She only had Pete, and after Wendy died seventeen years ago, all I had left was my elderly mother who didn’t always recognize me.

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