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Hope swells in my chest, and it’s unfamiliar but not unwanted like I thought it would be. When Tara left, I told myself I wouldn’t fall in love again. I wouldn’t put myself in that position again. And now look at me.
Frustrated, I shift my position on the ground and sit up, keeping an eye on the kids.
“Are you cold?” Kacy asks, sitting next to me in the snow.
“My balls are.”
I don’t know if she’s never heard a man talk like that, which I find unbelievable, or maybe she has hypothermia. Whatever the reason, she starts laughing to the point she can’t breathe. Between all that, it’s her smile that gets me. Warm. Sexy. Addicting. It’s times like these that I remember how badly love can burn you if you’re not careful.
Three days ago, this girl crashed into my life, and it’s getting harder and harder to picture her leaving it. Blowing out a breath, I stare up the sky as I ask, “Every Sunday we have supper at my dad’s. You wanna come?”
“What’s supper?”
I laugh, realizing she’s from California, and they probably don’t call it that. “Like… dinner.”
“Well.” She bumps her shoulder into mine. “You are holding me hostage on this ranch. I don’t think I have much of a choice if I want to eat.”
“Then it’s decided. You’ll come.”
“Hopefully soon.” She sighs, resting her head against my shoulder.
Groaning, I shake my head, wishing I could roll her over and have my way with her. But I’m not sure my dick will work in this cold. “You’re killing me.”
Every Sunday, the kids and I have supper with my dad, Lara Lynn, Morgan, and Carly. It’s kinda been a tradition since the kids were little. What I’m not expecting is Carly to be there.
“Wait, that’s his wife?” Kacy asks after they’re introduced, and we’re rummaging through my dad’s liquor cabinet. I can hear the kids’ laughter in the other room and my dad’s gruff chuckle that follows.
“Yep.”
“I thought they were getting a divorce?” She stares at them in the family room, looking every bit as uncomfortable as two people do at the end of a marriage.
“They are… I think.”
“Weird.”
“Not really.” I pour us each a glass of whiskey.
Kacy takes the glass in her hands, holding it near her lips. “Does Morgan have kids?”
“Nope.” Twisting the cap back on the whiskey, I place it back in the cabinet. “Ripped his nut sac on a bull.”
“What? Really?”
“Yep. Can’t father children.”
Her eyes widen. “Holy crap.”
“That’s what you get for trying to ride a bull buck-ass naked.”
She grins. “I think I like your brother.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You better like me better.”
“Why’s that?”
I wink. “Because you’re sleeping… on my couch.”
“True. Good point.” She sniffs the air, eyes lighting up. “What’s the smell? Is that what’s for dinner? It smells amazing. Way better than my apartment used to smell. I’ll probably never eat Indian food again.”