The Bluff (Graham Brothers, #2)(80)

“If I get my pilot’s license, I promise to take you up,” he says, swallowing heavily again.

With the way James makes my stomach flip and swoop, I feel like I already know what it would be like to fly with him. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“It took convincing to get on a motorcycle, yet you’ll get in a plane with me behind the controls?” He sounds amused.

“There are more motorcycle crashes than plane crashes.” I’m pretty sure this statistic is true. I’ll need good old Mr. Google to be sure.

“So you say. But I think—”

“Too much talking.”

I slide my glasses on top of my head and pull his face down to mine. The warmth of his lips, the bite of his stubble, the strong grip of his hands on my hips—I don’t think I’ll ever tire of these things. His fingers tighten, pulling me even closer as his mouth moves over mine.

“Winnie,” he says, my name sounding like a plea on his lips, his breath mingling with mine.

I drag my hands through his hair, nibbling a little on his lower lip. He groans and starts to pull me closer still when the door slamming open and a booming voice makes us jerk apart.

“Pat’s back, baby! And wow—okay. Y’all are making out. I see we’ve got some catching up to do.”

James drops his head to my shoulder, groaning. “Didn’t you see the closed door?”

“Yeah, but no sock on the door handle.”

James growls and presses a last kiss on my collarbone before standing up and moving away. “I’d say welcome back, but you’re not really welcome.”

Pat holds out his arms, and with a heaving breath, James hugs him. It looks less like an embrace and more like a struggle for dominance. There’s a lot of squeezing and back slapping and grunting.

Finally, Pat taps James on the shoulder twice, wheezing out, “Okay! You win! You’re the biggest and baddest and strongest. And, let’s not forget the oldest!”

James gives him a last, painful-looking squeeze, making Pat squeak, before letting go.

I slip off the stack of pallets. “Welcome back, Patty.”

“Good to see you, future sister-in-law.”

A flash of panic crosses James’s features. It has the immediate effect of making my stomach twist, but I don’t have time to study James as Pat envelops me in a hug. When I glance at James again, he’s back to his normal gruff and possessive look, making it easy for me to forget what I think I saw.

“Where’s Lindy?”

“She’s picking up Jo from school. I’m meeting them at Mari’s in a few.”

Pat squeezes and lifts, my feet coming off the floor. The Grahams could teach masterclasses on giving bear hugs. I feel the breath whoosh from my lungs as James snaps, “Don’t be so rough, Patty.”

“Winnie’s not a delicate flower, brother. This one’s a fighter. I can tell.” Then, in a low voice near my ear, Pat whispers, “Welcome to the family.”

James practically rips me out of Pat’s embrace and shoves his brother back a few feet.

“I was going to say congratulations on taming the grump, but never mind,” Pat says, laughing.

James tucks me under one of his arms, and I slide my hand up to his chest, smiling at Pat. “Grumps aren’t meant to be tamed, Patty. They’re meant to be enjoyed as is.”

Pat’s eyes twinkle. “Well, don’t let me stop you from enjoying. I’m headed out to meet Lindy and Jojo. Feel free to meet us at Mari’s. That is, if you aren’t otherwise occupied.”

Pat winks, and James tenses, like he’s debating whether or not to give chase. When he lunges forward, Pat squeals and darts out of the room.

“You’re a brave woman, Winnie!” he calls.

His voice echoes from the other room and rattles similarly around in my head. Am I brave? Maybe so. But only on the surface. Because as much as I’m enjoying all this getting-to-know-James stuff and definitely the kissing, I can’t shake the feeling I had driving back after the conference, like I’m still in a bubble set to burst any moment. And deep down, I am completely terrified.





CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE





James



“We have a problem,” Winnie says through the phone.

Dread coils up my spine as a thousand terrible possibilities careen around inside my skull like loose pinballs. “Are you hurt? What’s wrong?”

She laughs, short and stressed. “No—sorry. I’m not hurt. Nothing like that. Smaller scale emergency.”

I set down the can of green beans on the counter with a little too much force, and Tank gives me a look of concern. But it’s hard to take him seriously when he’s mashing potatoes while wearing an apron that looks like a sexy French maid uniform. A gift from Pat, of course.

It’s Thanksgiving Day. Which in our family has always meant a small gathering where Tank, Harper, and I make most of the food while Collin and Pat handle the arguments. Then we eat and round out the day watching football. This year, though, we’re joining in Feastivus. To say I’m not thrilled about being around a ton of people after spending the weekend around a ton of people—well, it would be a grand understatement.

“Tell me.”

“It’s just … our location for Feastivus lost power.”