Kissin' Tell (Rough Riders #13)(110)

Yes. Wasn’t that enough?


No. It never had been. Just like being Deck’s wife hadn’t been enough.


Being with Tell gave her something she’d never had from any person or place or job—a feeling of home. An intimate bond that grew stronger every day. The kind of connection she had been too afraid to forge, fearful she’d lose it once she found it.



That’s when Georgia knew she’d do whatever it took to keep the happiness she’d found here. Taking such a scary leap made her stomach roil, but if she didn’t have faith in her ability to choose her own path, she still was letting everyone else pull the strings. And she was done with that. Starting now. At least if she fell flat on her face this time, she’d know exactly who tripped her up.


She glanced up and saw Stephanie grinning at her.


“I knew you’d make the right choice. I’m here for you, whatever you need. Now go get your man and start your happily ever after.” Stephanie hugged her and left.


As Georgia headed toward the door, she caught a glimpse of a black-haired man on the outskirts of the dance floor. Her heart skipped a beat. Had Tell shown up looking for her after all?


But after watching the guy, she realized he was a McKay, just not her McKay.


It was Dalton. A drunk Dalton. He’d sway one way, catch himself, and snap his body straight. He was trying to pay attention to a slender brunette giving him the mother of all lectures.


He reached out to stroke the woman’s hair and she dodged his hand. When that motion sent him falling forward, she grabbed the front of his shirt and jerked him upright.


That’s when everything went to hell. Dalton trapped the brunette’s face in his hands and kissed her. Not a gentle peck, but a tonsil-scratching kiss.


She broke his hold and pushed him. Dalton’s arms flailed and he landed hard on his ass. She stepped over him before stomping away. A couple bar patrons helped Dalton to his feet, but he angrily waved them off and staggered down the hallway to the back door.


Concerned, Georgia followed him outside.


Dalton wasn’t leaning against the building or lying in a heap on the ground. And in the state he was in, he couldn’t have gotten far. She saw him standing beside a white pickup.


Surely he didn’t intend to drive home?


Despite three-inch heels, she ran. He had the driver’s-side door open by the time she reached him, but he’d dropped the keys on the ground.


She swooped down and plucked them up. “Looking for these?”


“Yeah. They musta fallen outta my hand.” He swayed and kept one eye shut as he looked at her. “Georgia! Hey. It’s the hot chick banging my brother, that lucky bastard.”


“So nice of you to point it out,” she retorted.


“You still got my keys?”


“Yep. But I’m keeping them because you are not driving.”


“Fuck that. I’m fine ta drive.”


“Bullshit.”


He loomed over her. “Gimme my goddamn keys.”


She lost her mind on him. She shoved him against the cab and stood on her toes to get in his face. “You don’t get to do this. It would destroy your brothers if something happened to you. You’re a f*cking idiot to even think about getting behind the goddamn wheel when you’re drunk.” She stepped back, her breath coming in hot, angry bursts. One fist clenched around the keys, one fist ready to knock him the f*ck out if he made a move for them.


“Shit.” Dalton’s belligerent stance vanished. He dropped his chin to his chest, probably to hide his embarrassment. “Sorry. I don’t know what I was thinkin’. I’d never…”


“You’re right you’d never. Get it through that thickheaded McKay skull of yours: you are not driving. I’ll call Tell to come and get you.”


Dalton’s head snapped up. “No. Keep my family out of it. I don’t want them to see me like this.”


“What? Drunk?”


He shook his head. “Like a f*ckin’ chump.”


Confused, Georgia stared at him. “Dalton. Honey. You’re kind of a mess. Will you let me drive you home?”


“Really? You’d do that?”


“Of course.”


“Because of Tell?”


“No. Because of RJ.”


Another moment of silence passed between them, broken by the shouts of partyers exiting the bar.


He said, “Thanks. I’ll take you up on that ride.”


She eyed him. “I walked here from my place, so I don’t have my car. You’re a big guy and there’s no way I can help you into the cab of this monster truck.”


“S’okay. I can get in on my own.” He hoisted himself up. Then he slid across the bench seat to the passenger side.


Georgia had driven her fair share of pickups, but this one was jacked up, tricked out, and she could barely reach the pedals. With her luck, Dalton would pass out before he told her where he lived. Driving aimlessly around rural Wyoming at eleven o’clock at night with a brokenhearted drunk wasn’t her idea of fun.