“Yeah, I know. Listen, speaking about your dad, Graham thought I should share my experience with this name thing.” He polished off his sticky bun and picked up another one.
“Which name thing? We have more than one name thing.” She grabbed a second pastry, too.
“The Sebastian one. The thing is, when I ditched Montgomery, my dad continued calling me that. Ticked me off when I was younger, but I finally let it go.”
“You think I should start calling Tex Sebastian?”
“Not at all. But maybe in a couple of years you might try explaining why you love that name and what it would mean to you if he used it. It could change his perspective. It would’ve changed mine.”
She studied his profile. The hint of tension in his jawline told her this wasn’t a comfy subject. “I take it your dad never explained why he hung onto Montgomery.”
“Not fully. He just said it was a good name and he wanted to keep using it. I thought he was just being stubborn. He could be stubborn.”
“But there was more to it?”
“Yeah. I didn’t find out until yesterday when Graham told me.”
“Good grief! When did he do that? We had so much going on?—”
“When we went to fetch the hay bales before dinner. Seems my mother adored the name Montgomery and swore she’d never shorten it even if others did. My dad kept using the whole thing to honor her memory.”
“Why didn’t he tell you?”
“I guess because he would have had to talk about her and he avoided doing that. He never really got over her death.”
“That’s too bad. For him and for you kids.”
“It wasn’t great. We learned to avoid the subject. My information about her came from my grandma, Adam and Claudie, plus whatever my mom — Raquel — had learned. My grandma says he blamed himself, like it was his fault she died.”
“Was there any reason why he would?”
“Grandma says absolutely not. Maybe calling an ambulance would have made a difference instead of Dad driving her to the hospital, but she didn’t want one and insisted she was fine.”
“I can see refusing that option when you’re in labor. Who wants sirens and flashing lights?”
“She obviously didn’t. She would have had access to medical intervention earlier, but the choice was hers. Nobody predicted it would go bad so fast.”
“It sounds like your dad did blame himself, though, if he wasn’t able to talk about her.”
“Sadly, it makes sense. He was the guy who could do it all — town mayor, home builder, rancher, rescuer of wild horses. But he couldn’t save the woman he loved.”
“I’m guessing he wasn’t the type who’d go see a therapist.”
“He’d rather die. Which he did.” His chest heaved. “And why the hell did I have to bring this up now? It could have waited. Sorry.”
Zinnia picked up the tray and moved it to the bedside table. Then she crawled into his lap, took away his glass and put it on the other nightstand. “You picked the perfect time, Montgomery Bridger. I gots you.” Cradling his face in her hands, she kissed him.
Chapter Twenty-One
This woman. Monty groaned as Zinnia’s sweet kiss of sympathy gradually turned into an X-rated one that sent an urgent message to his groin. He loved the way she was sucking on his tongue, but then she shifted her weight so that she could wrap her fingers around his rapidly swelling cock.
Given that double-barreled assault, he wouldn’t last long. He had a hunch where she might be going with this routine. He wasn’t opposed to letting her have her way with him at some point, but not right now.
He pulled back. “I think I know what you have in mind, and I?—”
“It’ll feel good.” She gave him a teasing glance. “C’mon. Let me.”
“I will, but not now.”
