Page 19 of Where We Bloom (The Blackwells of Montana #3)

Chapter Nine

BILLIE

I have so many questions. First of all, Connor was married.

Freaking married. I want to know all about that.

How long were they married? When? How long have they been divorced?

He says they’re still friends, so was the divorce amicable?

She’s on the board of directors, so does that mean that he sees her often?

None of it is my business, but I really want to know.

We’re headed toward Bitterroot Valley, and I turn to watch his profile as he drives. His jaw is tight. His left hand grips the wheel, but his right holds my hand, not too tight. It’s as if he’s holding stress all over his body, but he’s making a conscious effort to be gentle with me.

His gaze drifts over to me, and those amazing eyes, so fucking green it almost makes me ache, smile at me. His lips inch up on the side, and he raises an eyebrow, as if to ask, are you okay?

And I smile and nod at him. He gives my hand a squeeze and turns his attention back to the highway .

About twenty minutes later, he pulls into a gas station and stops next to the pump, turns off the engine.

“You pump your own gas?” I ask him, surprised.

“Not often,” he admits with a laugh. “But I do know how. Do you need anything from inside?”

“I’m going to quickly use the restroom,” I reply, unbuckling my belt. I hurry inside and find the public restroom, cringe at the state of it, then hover over the toilet, relieving myself.

When I get back outside, Connor has pulled the Jeep into a parking spot, making room for someone else to pump gas, and before I can climb in, he walks straight for me, frames my face, and kisses the hell out of me, right here in the parking lot.

Gripping his wrists, I lean in, pressing my breasts against him, soaking this man in. I feel like a selfish idiot. I wasted so much time. I should have just had a conversation with him months ago, but I didn’t know.

I can’t read minds, for fuck’s sake.

And, I can admit, neither can he.

Finally, he pulls away and rests his forehead against my own.

“I’ve been thinking about that since we got back on the road,” he confesses. “It should hold me over until we get into town.”

I smirk and tap my hand against his chest. “There are places to pull over in case you change your mind.”

With a wink, I climb into the Jeep and secure my seat belt as Connor walks into the gas station.

Holy hell, the man’s ass in those jeans could end wars.

When does he have time to do all of this working out?

Between his arms and his abs and that ass, he has to spend time in the gym, but I know he’s as much of a workaholic as I am, and I don’t have time to go to the gym.

Okay, I could make time. I’m awake all night, but no one wants to work out when they can’t sleep. Besides, I haul boxes of books all day, so I do lift weights.

A few minutes later, he walks out of the gas station, and I feel my jaw drop because cradled in his arms have to be at least ten brands of bottled water.

“What did you do?” I ask with a laugh as he swaggers over to me, a half smile on his delicious lips.

“I bought every brand they have,” he says, standing next to me. “So you can choose the one you like the best.”

I blink at the bottles, then up at him, and feel my heart soften even more. “This one is my favorite.” I point at the one by his elbow and pluck it from his arm. He sets the rest of the bottles in the cooler in the back seat.

I open the water and take a drink, and as I’m sliding it into the cup holder, Connor sits next to me. Just like every other time he’s sat next to me, I feel calm. Happy. He’s so thoughtful. Intentional.

Then Blake’s words come to my mind.

“ He didn’t sleep so he could monitor your breathing and make sure that you weren’t in distress. Maybe stop assuming what Connor does or doesn’t think and pay attention to what he does. ”

“Thank you, Connor.”

“For what? Water?”

“No, and yes. For being so thoughtful and looking for water I would drink.”

He shrugs. “No problem, angel.”

Angel.

He’s called me that from the beginning. Doesn’t that show you what he feels about you, Bee?

In less than forty-five minutes, we’re back in Bitterroot Valley. Connor pulls into my driveway and cuts the engine. I turn in the seat to face him.

“I’m grilling steak for dinner,” I inform him, not letting go of his hand. “You should join me. You did promise me the whole day, after all.”

He nods, watching me carefully. “I’d like that.”

“Great.” I push out of the Jeep and lead him to the front door, where I unlock it and step inside. After I kick out of my sandals, I turn to him. “Make yourself comfortable. Do you want something to drink?”

I don’t know why I’m suddenly nervous, but my stomach flutters in overdrive as I pad to the kitchen and open the fridge.

“I have water, iced tea, some beer that I’ll never drink now?—”

I feel the heat of him as he moves behind me and wraps his arms around my shoulders. He hugs my back to his front, immediately settling my stomach.

“This is nice,” I whisper, leaning against him.

“I don’t want you to be nervous, not now.”

I turn and wrap my arms around his middle as I stare up at him. “I’m not exactly good at being nervous. It doesn’t happen often.”

“Then why now?” He drags his knuckles down my cheek, then his hand is in my hair. Pushing his fingers through the strands, he’s putting me into a blissed-out coma. “We’ve been together all day.”

“The last time you were in my house,” I say, “I couldn’t bring myself to care because I felt like shit. I was so grumpy and couldn’t get you out of here fast enough.”

He purses his lips, waiting.

“I’m sorry if that hurt your feelings.”

“My feelings are fine,” he replies, and his eyes narrow. “Do you want me to go?”

“No.” I shake my head and grip his shirt. “Absolutely not. It’s just, now I have my wits about me and am a tiny bit self-conscious about my house. It’s a good house, but it’s small, and?—”

He shuts me up, thank all the gods, by covering my mouth with his. That hand in my hair fists, holding me where he wants me as his tongue brushes over mine.

I can’t help the moan that slips out of my throat. Jesus, I want to climb this man like a tree, and he told me no sex for today.

That seems highly unfair.

“Never, ever feel self-conscious with me, angel,” he murmurs against my lips. “I’m perfectly comfortable here. As long as I’m with you, I’ve never been better.”

“Okay.” I lick my lips, still tasting him on me. “How do you like your steak?”

“Medium,” he replies .

“Good because that’s the only way I know how to grill them.” I laugh as I step away from him to pull out the ingredients for steak with salad and rice pilaf.

“What can I do?”

“Nothing.”

He takes my hand, pulling me to a stop, and drags one finger down the side of my neck, making me shiver.

“Keep flirting with me like that, and your no-sex rule for today goes out the window,” I inform him, making his lips spread in that full smile that I love so fucking much.

“What can I do to help, bumble?”

“Do you know how to start a grill?”

“I’m a man. Of course I know how to start a bloody barbecue.”

I snort, making his eyes narrow. “Hey, you’re stupidly rich. I don’t know if you’re up to speed on what us commoners do every day.”

Connor smirks and leans in to whisper in my ear, setting my skin on fire.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, I can hardly breathe.”

I was not expecting that.

He pulls away and winks at me, and I shift back and forth on my bare feet.

“Uh, thanks.”

I watch him walk out the back door onto my tiny patio to light the grill and let out a long breath.

Holy shit.

He’s kept me off balance all day. I’ve known this man for the better part of a year, and I’ve never seen him drop his guard the way he has today.

I’ve never seen him be so physically affectionate and even a little silly.

He’s laughed and smiled more at me in one day than in the whole time I’ve known him.

And, God, how I love his laugh. I want to make him do it all the time.

Just as I start chopping vegetables for the salad, Connor walks back inside and takes over washing the ones I haven’t gotten to yet.

“You’re handy.”

“Despite being rich?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yep.” I whip the kitchen towel at him, swatting him on the butt. He lunges for me, making me shriek as I move away, but before he can catch me, his phone rings.

“I have to get this.”

“Go ahead.” I’m still laughing when I grab the knife and continue slicing the cucumber. To my surprise, he doesn’t leave the room. He simply answers.

“Gallagher.”

I glance over and see him scowl as he stares out at the living room, listening to whatever the person on the other end says.

“When?” His voice is sharp. Direct.

It sends a shiver down my spine, and my panties flood.

Why do I love that so much? That hard, unrelenting, demanding tone.

I know how it sounds in the bedroom when he’s driving me wild with his fingers, with his mouth, with his cock.

And fuck me if I don’t miss it.

“Send Sean first thing in the morning and let it be known that if they can’t back the fuck off, we’ll dump the entire bloody project. No, I’m not bloody kidding, Fiona.”

Fiona. His ex-wife.

“I’m not playing this game with them. Bleedin’ hell, there are plenty of other sites to build a resort on in Sweden.”

He hangs up and blows out a breath. His jaw muscles tick, his shoulders are tight, and I don’t know why, but I want to touch him.

Setting the knife down, I walk up behind him, wrap my arms around his middle, and rest my cheek against his back, hugging him.

And slowly, the tension seems to seep out of him.

“It’ll be okay,” I murmur as his hands cover my arms. “Sometimes people just suck, Connor.”

And now it’s my phone ringing, making me scowl as I pull away from him and look at the screen.

It’s Emily at the shop.

“Hey, Em.”

“Hi, I’m so sorry to call you on your day off.”

“No worries, what’s up?”