Sweet Dreams (Colorado Mountain #2)(59)

“Right,” he grinned. “Then you jumped me.”

“I didn’t jump you, I was on my back!”

He moved so he was behind me, his hands came to my upper h*ps and his head bent so he could kiss my neck, which he did. I watched him do it in the mirror and watching it made me lose my hold on my mind again.

Then his head came up and he looked at me in the mirror.

“Thanks for remindin’ me of that,” he muttered. “So, I guess I shouldn’t say you jumped. It was more like you… attacked.”

“This isn’t funny,” I told his reflection.

He grinned yet again and said, “Babe.”

“It isn’t!”

“We’ll talk about it later,” he declared.

“Tate –” I started.

“Get ready.”

“Tate! We need to talk. This is insane.”

“We’ll talk.”

“When?”

“Later.”

“When, later?” I asked.

“Later, later,” he answered with a non-answer.

I pulled in breath. Then with his hands still on my nearly na**d hips, me in my underwear, in a bathroom, in a hotel with Tatum Jackson, I started swiping my cheeks with blush while said Tatum Jackson watched.

“That reminds me. Mom called this morning and she’s going to try to talk you out of going today. She wants you to see our farm,” I told him.

“She won’t have to try too hard.”

My blush brush arrested on the apple of my cheek and I stared into his eyes in the mirror.

His eyes moved to the brush. “Ace, you keep f**kin’ around, we’ll never have breakfast.”

“You’re staying?” I whispered.

He dropped his bearded chin to my shoulder and his arms wrapped around my belly.

“Baby, you just came three times,” he said softly, his mouth close to my ear. “You think I’m flyin’ across four states when you’re topped up and tonight I get a chance to play?”

I felt my knees wobble.

“Tate,” I breathed.

“And your ex is a f**kwad and until I know he’s on a f**kin’ plane on his way back to suburbia, I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

Oh.

My.

God.

“Tate,” I whispered.

“And we don’t know about your Dad yet and until he’s stable, I’m here.”

I stared at him in the mirror.

Who was this man and what did I do with him?

“What about the bar?” I asked.

“I’ll call Bubba, reem his ass, tell him about your situation and he’ll dry out and go back.”

I asked the all important question, “What about Wood?”

His chin came up but his arms didn’t leave me.

“That’s later.”

“I need to call him,” I whispered.

“No, you don’t need to call him. I need to call him. Wood and I need to have words. He’s got more words for you afterwards, we’ll see.”

“We’ll see?”

He nodded. “We’ll see.”

“I should –”

“Later.”

“But –”

His arms gave a squeeze. “Jesus, Lauren. Later.”

We held each other’s eyes in the mirror.

Then he said, “Breakfast, babe.”

“Right,” I whispered.

He dropped his head, kissed my shoulder, his beard tickling my skin and he left the bathroom.

I looked in the mirror at myself wearing my sexy undies. If I was honest, I didn’t look half bad. It was all Tyler’s “working the core”. Weeks of my abs aching like crazy was paying off, there was even some definition at my midriff and the mini-Buddha belly was more like a soft pooch. I hadn’t noticed. It was even kind of cute.

My eyes went from my pooch to my makeup bag; I dropped the blush brush in and pulled out some eye shadow.

Chapter Ten

Grape Kool-Aid

I was lying in the rope hammock between the two elm trees that butted the front edge of my Mom and Dad’s big, square, cement front porch, my eyes on Tate and Mack who were both standing at the raised bottom end of the huge pond that took up the side of our long front yard.

Mom was at the hospital with her best friend Norma.

We’d had breakfast. Tate had let Mom talk him into staying. Mom had let Tate pay for breakfast but not without a fight. She’d pulled the Dad card again, Tate’s eyes had sliced to me and I knew he was about to blow so I’d pulled the my-boyfriend-is-a-macho-man-bounty-hunter-and-if-you-don’t-let-him-pay-my-life-will-be-a-living-hell card and Mom had spent a full minute assessing Tate’s big, bearded badassness and what that might mean to me should he get miffed and wisely relented.

We’d gone to the hospital. I’d visited Dad for ten minutes, all of that time he was sleeping and I was thinking that he looked exactly like he’d had his chest cracked open and how that was the way wrong look for my big, tall, strong, farmer Dad. Carrie had her visit and Mom had hers and then my Mom’s best friend Norma showed up and Mom talked Mack into taking us to the farm and out to lunch at The Station before we came back. Mack drove with Tate in the passenger seat and Carrie and I in the back. Mack talked. Tate didn’t. Carrie and I looked out our windows, both of us, I was sure, not seeing the landscape and instead seeing our Dad in a hospital bed.