Page 25 of Marrying the Gardener (The Bachelor Brothers #3)

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An unlikely feeling of attraction.

Crimson

Kaleb is drunk. Drunk with a pool cue. Drunk Kaleb with a pool cue is…hot, question mark?

Ever since yesterday, when I woke up on Kaleb’s chest, our legs entwined, and his hand firmly cupping my rump, I have been a little bit confused regarding him.

He thought I was going to go all the way with him just because he wanted to.

Clearly, he doesn’t know me well enough yet, so there’s no way I can know him well enough yet, either.

But something is brewing.

I can feel that.

Whatever it is has drawn my attention away from my father and grandfather as they laugh and jeer and are their usual disgusting selves in this speakeasy-style bar that my grandfather rented out for our family this lovely Saturday evening.

While my other relatives play darts or cornhole over whiskey and gin, I am nursing a water.

On the rocks.

For that added bit of flare , naturally.

In case you didn’t know, I need to take my water watered down with some water, so I don’t get too drunk on the hydration. As a woman, I’m a natural-born lightweight who can no more handle my liquor than I can handle matters of masculine prowess.

Like taking out the trash. And mowing the lawn.

Since Kaleb is a manly man who knows fancy stockmarket buzz words, my father and grandfather yanked him—and not me—into a drinking game, even though I was standing right beside him. An ounce of kindness would have at least provided me with an invitation.

Suffice to say, my family’s patriarchy lacks even an ounce of kindness.

Unfortunately, now Kaleb’s on a fifth shot, and I’m a little worried. Logic demands I recognize that he’s an adult capable of juggling social situations with outstanding grace, and if he didn’t want to drink, he’d have had an excuse they’d accept at the ready. But the worry persists.

Because, while he is both quick-witted and careful, right now he is so very drunk.

After I’ve finished my water I slip from where I’ve been sitting at the bar counter and make my way over to him.

Standing against the wall a short distance from the pool table, Kaleb waits for my grandfather to finish a hacking fit and take his turn.

Glassy eyes following my approach, he smiles, the expression off kilter.

I touch his chest, slipping my fingers to his shoulder so I can pull myself up and murmur in his ear, “You okay?”

“Mm.” He scans me, then bends, whispering, “This is gonna kill me in the morning,” before planting a sloppy kiss on my throat. Stinking of liquor, he nuzzles. “I wanna take you home. Right now.”

I wanna go home. Right now.

It’s been a long night, full of the usual unpleasantries, yet nothing has bothered me quite as badly as when we went to golf.

Whether that’s because I was promptly spared from the worst of whatever my family has been talking about when I was abandoned at the bar counter or because I’ve found my peace with the price I’m paying for freedom is anyone’s guess.

Maybe I just trust Kaleb more now. Maybe I feel like we’re more of a team than we were last week. Maybe I’m resting in the knowledge that Kaleb isn’t going to let anyone hurt me, even if it jeopardizes everything.

With him at my side, my father will never lay a hand on me again.

Being owned isn’t something I’ve ever liked the idea of.

It has always tasted bitter in concept, fetid in practice.

But being Kaleb’s? Knowing he cares about me enough to turn down the only thing I thought he wanted out of our agreement?

Seeing the way his actions match his words?

Feeling how deeply precious I am to him?

I don’t mind that.

Leaning his pool cue against the wall beside us, Kaleb circles my waist, drops his hands lower, and jerks me in—tight. Husky low, he murmurs in my ear, “Sorry. Your father’s watching. Gotta be a little rough.”

His hard body presses to me, solid, and I don’t think I mind the roughness so much anymore, either. “Thank you for letting me know.”

He hisses a swear. “You smell amazing.”

“You smell like alcohol.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” He kisses beneath my ear. “I’ll clean up good. Promise.”

I glance toward my grandfather, who’s still struggling to catch his breath. My father appears to have—helpfully—gotten him another shot, which is probably not a medically-sound choice.

Sighing, I return my attention to my husband and mumble, “They can’t hear us. Stop with that baby nonsense.”

“My love,” he whispers.

A buzz traipses through my body, sending an undercurrent of something foreign down into my toes.

Kaleb’s weight sags around me. “The things I want to do to you.”

“Are they the same things you passed on doing a few nights ago?” I whisper.

He chuckles. “No. Completely different.”

“Do elaborate then.”

His mouth opens against me, but my father’s voice startles us. “Kaleb, I think Dad needs to call it a night. You both get home safe, okay?”

Kaleb grips me as he lifts his head. “Understood, Dad. I’ll check in with you two in the morning. Feel better soon, sir.”

Even after they leave, towing a series of cheap concern from my cousins behind them, Kaleb’s grip doesn’t ease.

“Kaleb?” I ask once my family is firmly out of sight.

Grabbing his pool cue, he ushers me toward the table.

As he fits the stick in my hands and bends me down, arms encasing my body, I gulp. “Kaleb…we can go home now.”

His breath heats my ear. “Grant me my fantasies for a moment.” His chest presses against my back as he slips the cue through my fingers, lining up a shot.

At his bidding, the slick wood slides up and down, rallying.

He strikes, and the balls clack, one sinking into a corner pocket.

Freeing me from the confines of his arms, he drops the butt of his cue to the ground and smiles. “Yup. That’s the stuff.”

I blink.

“That’s what I wanted to do to you,” he elaborates, casually. Yawning, he retrieves my father’s and grandfather’s sticks from where they left them, returning each to the rack on the wall. Then he goes about refreshing the table, pulling the balls together into the triangle.

All the while, my chest constricts.

When he’s finished and his sleepy smile hits me, I can’t breathe. The entire walk out to my car, I’m struggling to make sense of my thoughts.

Kaleb with a pool cue equals hot, period.

I think.

If I had to guess, anyway.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” I ask once I turn my keys and my car engine rumbles to a start, breaking the building silence gripping a fist around my heart.

Eyes closed in the passenger seat, Kaleb hums a low, affirming sound.

“I’m sorry you had to drink so much tonight.”

“Getting drunk with someone builds trust.”

That’s…fair enough, I guess. I swallow and pull out of the parking space. “I hope they make it home safe. They came together. And both of them were drinking.” At the very least, we’re near where my father lives. They’ll be home soon, even if Kaleb and I have a long drive back to Sunset.

Feeling uneasy, I cut a glance toward him and find his unfocused eyes pinned to me.

“What is it?” I ask.

“You are much too kind.”

More irregular sensations squirm to life. I mutter, “It’s very different not minding if someone dies naturally from health complications and wishing a car crash on them. Besides, we have no way of knowing whether or not you’re in the will yet. It’s only been a few outings.”

Kaleb breathes a laugh. “Of course. Ignore my delusions. You aren’t being kind at all.”

Exactly. With a huff, I say, “I need to get you to bed.”

Delusions persevering, he murmurs, “Your bed?”

I’d rather not play games with his sense right now. When he was sober, he did not want to push things until after we’d cut the ties of our current marriage. I’m not going to make that commitment more difficult for him to keep when I respect it so much.

Therefore, I say, “Maybe tomorrow,” and leave it at that.