‘She likes her space, what can I tell ya?’ Beau throws an easy wink in my direction. For a second I freeze, because it almost seems like he’s forgotten our deal.Behind closed doors.Except this is Beau, and everyone expects him to be like this—flirty and relaxed.
‘We’ve got space,’ Beth says, still stuck to Cole’s side like glue.
‘It’s fine,’ I say. ‘I have to work late tonight anyway. Notes to type up.’ I glance back at Beau, giving him a slow smile. ‘I particularly want to get all the details right of that story about you waking the house up when you thought aliens were breaking in, and it turned out to be the dog licking your feet.’
Austin bursts out laughing. ‘Don’t forget the one about the time he decided to take up woodwork and nailed his shirt to the wall.’
I nod seriously. ‘Definitely not.’
‘Alright, that’s enough,’ Beau says, holding up his hands good-naturedly. ‘Let’s get you out of here. And possibly into a ditch on the roadside,’ he adds with a grumble.
‘You heard it here first,’ I say. ‘If I’m never seen again, talk to this man.’
‘Deal,’ Cole says. ‘If we don’t see you at the rodeo this weekend, we’ll send for the police.’
My heart misses a beat. ‘You guys are coming?’
‘We always go to Beau’s events when they’re local,’ Beth says proudly, and beside me, Beau beams. I get the feeling this is a relatively new state of affairs, and that he’s pleased as punch about it.
We do our final goodbyes, waving in the direction of Nash and Mackenzie, who barely glance our way. My professional curiosity fires to life. But it’s quickly drowned out again, as Beau and I head toward the main house, where my handbag is waiting.
As we walk, the moonlight cutting across our path, his hand brushes mine and a thousand sparks flood my system, making my heart thump, whispering to me that I can trust him, that I can be his, if I want to be. It’s exactly why I should pull away, but I don’t. In that moment of weakness, I let our fingers touch, the moon promising me something it has no business doing: that it will all be okay.
Chapter Twenty
Beau
The smart thing to do would be to yank my hand away. If anyone turned to look, and really looked good, they’d see us touching, but I can’t help it. A whole night being near Bailey and not able to reach out and hold her has been enough of a test of my willpower. What I want, more than anything, is to drag her behind the house and make out with her until we’re both panting and out of breath. So for now, a light brushing of our knuckles as we walk is pretty damned sedate.
‘You know, a thorough journalist would ask for a full tour of the house before leaving,’ she halfway purrs as we reach the porch out back. My eyes find hers, bathed in milky moonlight and all magical-looking, lashes thick as they fan against her cheek.
‘And you’re nothing if not thorough.’
‘Definitely,’ she concurs with a flick of her lips.
I open the door for her, my eyes dropping to the curve of her ass as she steps inside. Tonight she’s wearing jeans and a floatytop, and dressed like this she looks so much a part of this place, like she really belongs. I can’t help the thundering of blood in my veins, the possessive need to make her mine, here, more than anywhere else. I ignore it. I have to.
‘You’ve already seen the kitchen and lounge,’ I say, waving a hand around the well-worn, familiar space. But Bailey doesn’t rush off. She moves into the kitchen with its solid timber counters, the wide fridge plastered with photos. Mostly it’s us. The kids. Mom started it, when we were little. All our baby photos, first birthdays. Then it’s us growing up, me on the back of a horse, Cole mending a fence, Austin cooking dinner, Nash playing guitar, Cassidy studying, Mackenzie roping a horse. Bailey’s eyes run over the pictures, a small smile on her face.
‘What?’ I can’t help asking, moving closer and letting my hand trail, for the briefest moment, over her lower back, so she tilts her face to mine with a sweet, flirty look in her eyes that emboldens me to move forward, pressing my knee to the backs of hers.
I hear the air hiss between her teeth and power rushes through me.
‘You’re cute.’ She nods toward the picture of me as a six-year-old. ‘Look at you in your little cowboy outfit.’
‘Out here, that’s just called clothes, honey.’
Her smile widens. ‘You know, when we first met, I hated that,’ she says, moving to the sink and leaning against it, regarding me with those same flirty, hungry eyes.
‘Hated what?’ I open the fridge and grab out two beers, mainly because I need to cool down before I do something really stupid, something that goes against the rules we’ve agreed to. Evenwhen she’s kind of goading me, I know I have to keep a level head.
‘Honey, darlin’, baby.’ She imitates my drawl, moving closer, looking toward the double glass doors that lead to the porch.
I don’t. I can’t look away. She is mesmerising. For some reason, I never imagined Bailey here. I knew she wanted to meet my family, to interview them, but I just never felt like she’d be in my kitchenlike this, prowling toward me with an intimate, knowing smile teasing her lips, her eyes heavy with the same need that’s rolling in my belly.
‘And now?’ My voice is raspy. She presses a hand to my stomach and the muscles there bunch in response, in quick, ready acknowledgement.
‘Now I really like it.’
