It catches me off guard, despite our conversation. ‘I haven’t organised a hotel. We’ve got plenty of space on the ranch.’
She tightens almost imperceptibly. ‘That’s fine. I’ve booked a room.’
Something bristles inside of me. ‘Where?’
‘The Silver Spur,’ she murmurs, glancing around.
My hand tightens at my side. ‘Bailey, you can stay with us. I’m not gonna break our rules, especially not in my family home.’
She shakes her head though, insistent. ‘It’s too much.’
My lips compress. ‘I thought you wanted to interview my family?’
‘I do. But I can do that over coffee sometime. I don’t have to impose on them for the next three nights.’
It makes sense. If she was just a normal journalist, doing a normal job, I might still have offered her a room at our place—I’m a Donovan, after all, and we’re nothing if not hospitable—but the fact we can’t keep our hands off each other is exactly why we need this space. Why she’s mighty smart to put it between us.
Yet every fibre in my body wants to fight it, even as I say: ‘If that’s what you want.’
She expels a soft breath of relief, but her eyes latch on mine. ‘It is.’ I hear the ambivalence in her voice though, and know she’s fighting herself, too.
‘I’ll walk you in.’
‘Really, that’s not?—’
I reach out, press a finger to her lips. ‘Randy Reynolds—who runs the place—is a buddy of mine. I’d like to see him. Come on, Bay Jay, don’t overthink everything.’
She nods slowly, giving in. I drop my hand even when I don’t want to. Even when I want to keep it pressed to her beautiful, soft lips.
I cut the engine and step out, rounding to her side of the truck and opening her door before she has a chance. Bailey blinks up at me in surprise—it doesn’t matter how many times I do that, her reaction’s always the same, like she’s never been treated with this kind of courtesy before. Makes me kind of mad at the life she’s lived and the men she’s known.
I wait till she’s out, close the door, then, careful not to touch her in keeping with our rules, step to the rear of the truck and grab her bag, glancing across at her, waiting for her to join me. She’s staring down the street though, an expression on her face that makes my heart thunder.
‘If you think this is something, just wait until you see the ranch.’
She smiles kind of shyly, then moves my way. ‘I’m looking forward to that.’
‘Just remember, take whatever my jackasses of brothers say with a grain of salt.’
She winks. ‘I’m a reporter. It’s my job to sort the wheat from the chaff.’
‘It’s pretty much just chaff with them.’
‘Are they all home at the moment?’
‘Nash’ll come home tomorrow night—I’m barbecuing. He never misses that.’
She turns her smile on me and my heart thunders some more; Bailey has one of those smiles that lights up her whole face—if not the world. ‘You’re cooking?’
‘And you’d better be there.’
Her smile drops; the lights go out. ‘No.’
‘It’s just a barbecue.’
‘It’s just … too much. They’ll see right through us.’
I compress my lips. She’s probably right, but that doesn’t change the fact I’m going to cajole like heck to get her to my place. ‘How ‘bout we talk about it tomorrow?’
