“Wade does,” Lina answered. “Kate’s only here off and on until her husband, Ty, returns home from his deployment.” Lina continued on, more about where Kate’s husband was stationed and what he was doing for the Army, but those details were a blur. A tiny bubble of rage built up in her chest. Wade hadlether believe that Kate was his wife. He hadn’t bothered to correct her earlier though he had a couple of opportunities.
Miffed, Trish bounced around the excuses to slip away early. She finally settled with a headache. It was as near to truth as she was going to get. As she pushed out of her chair, about to announce an early bedtime to the group, Wade brushed by her carrying another four pieces of split wood. It was bad enough he was smug and closeminded, but did he have to make her breath catch at such minor contact?
“You forgot the task you took on,” he whispered, as though she failed some sort of test. “I had to fight the werewolves off myself.”
He’d be hilarious if Trish didn’t have the urge to shove him toward the now-roaring fire. Darn smug cowboy, letting her make a fool of herself. Maybe tonight she should try writing a murder mystery. “Looks like you came out unscathed. Too bad.”
“Our guests of honor have arrived!” Kate announced. “Ladies, meet Allen and Chet.”
Two men, both wearing cowboy hats and belt buckles that reflected the fire, stood near the patio door. One had his hands shoved into his pockets as though he wasn’t really enjoying the attention, but had probably been forced to attend. The other—Allen, Trish thought—was very charismatic. He waved a guitar toward the group. “I’m the good-looking one. Got my looks from Grams,” he said with a wink as he found a seat. The shy cowboy followed behind him and dropped into a chair.
“Now we can get started!”
If it weren’t for the flow of excitement in Lina’s eyes, Trish would have excused herself. But something about that genuine smile shoved Trish back into her seat. She could tolerate Wade for another hour if she didn’t have to do it alone.
“Wade,” Lina called. “Please, sit down.”
Wade surveyed the group first, then the chairs. “Looks like this is the last seat,” he said to Trish with a nod at her half-empty bench. He waited for her to scoot over before he sat down. Trish hugged the iron armrest to avoid her leg brushing against his, but it was no use. His strong, muscular legs took up most of the bench.
“What does a cowboydoexactly?” Lizzie asked.
Allen leaned forward and removed his hat, flashing a smile. “It might be easier to answer what a cowboydoesn’tdo.”
“Oh, brother,” Trish heard Wade mumble. For some reason, it really amused her. “Here we go.” His eyes met Trish’s for a brief moment. Long enough for her to see the firelight dance in their reflection. Her heart did a funny fumble.
“You two want some s’mores?” Glenda held out a tray, bumping Trish in the arm with it. “The marshmallows’re going fast.”
“Thanks.” Trish set the tray in her lap and waited for the forked rod to be passed over. “You lied to me,” Trish said softly as Allen rambled on about life on a ranch. She should probably be taking notes, but she couldn’t pass up the opportunity to confront Wade.
He glanced at her askew. “About what?”
She stuck a marshmallow on both ends of the forked rod and reached it toward the fire. “Yourwife. Kate.”
After a shoulder roll, Wade leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “More of an omission, actually.”
“Same difference.” Trish turned the rod to even out the golden coloring on the roasting marshmallows.
“She’s my sister,” Wade finally said. He dug into the packet of graham crackers and snapped two in half. “I’m sorry. I didn’t really think about it. I just thought it was better if you believed . . .” He captured her two golden marshmallows between the crackers but didn’t finish his sentence.
“Believed what?”
“Nothing.”
Wade reached for one of the s’mores, but Trish caught his hand. “I don’t think so.” Her breath caught at the heat of his touch. It had to be the fire. Hopefully he hadn’t noticed her ridiculous reaction.
“I don’t get one?”
“Only if you try it my way. Otherwise, I’m giving yours to Shadow.” At the mention of her name, Shadow hopped up from her spot in the grass and poked her nose through the armrest of the bench on Wade’s side.
“No way. Chocolate’s bad for dogs.”
“I wouldn’t feed chocolate to a dog.” Trish narrowed her eyes at him. “You owe me.” She carefully constructed one s’more, adding a slice of banana and strawberry on top of the marshmallow. She flipped it over and added the slab of chocolate underneath. “Try this. If you don’t like it, you can have the other one.”
Wade took a cautious but decent-sized bite and chewed slowly. A string of melted marshmallow caught on his lip, and Trish forced herself to look away. The last thing she should want to think about was kissing Wade Holbrook, the man who let her believe he was married to his pregnant sister.
“Not bad,” Wade admitted, though his reserved tone promised some critique to follow. Shadow’s nose was now resting on Wade’s knee, pleading brown eyes staring up.
“Take another bite,” Marti chimed in, reminding Trish they weren’t alone. That despite Allen’s eagerness to answer the overabundant questions, they still had an audience. “It grows on you.”
