Short Rides (Rough Riders #14.5)(36)

“Now I need a damn drink,” Jack grumbled, walking to the bar to pour himself a Scotch.


Keely followed and hoisted herself onto a bar stool. “Looked like you and your mom were having an argument when you walked in.”


“We were.” Jack uncapped the crystal decanter and poured. “Seemed her sudden need for a trip to the store to buy antacids was a trick to have a private conversation with me about my business trip tomorrow.”


Keely glanced down at her hands.


Then Jack’s fingers were beneath her chin, forcing her to look at him. “You told me you were okay with this trip, buttercup.”


“I am. Or I’m not, depending on the hour.”


He waited, those mesmerizing green eyes both patient and concerned.


“I know it’s an important job. I know you’re only going now so you won’t have to go in the next three months. I know it’s only a week. I know I’m still three weeks from my due date.”



“You know all that, but...?”


“But there’s part of me that doesn’t want you to go. And no, I wasn’t complaining to your mother about it. I didn’t even mention it. What did she say?”


“That I’d better not be putting work ahead of my family. My dad did that and landed himself in an early grave because of it.” His jaw tightened. “Like I needed that f*cking reminder, along with all the other things that are running around in my brain.”


“What kinds of things?”


He drained his drink. “Too much guilt and bullshit male stuff that’d make you roll your eyes and wonder if you married a man or a whiny *.”


Keely slid off the stool and cut around the end of the bar to hug him—as much as she could with beach ball baby between them. “I know you’re a man. All man. So since we’re alone, maybe you oughta prove that to me a couple of times before you leave.”


Jack smoothed her hair away from her cheek. “You really up for this, cowgirl? It’s been a long day. You said your ankles are swollen.”


“Then how’s about if you make my * swollen, so I really have something interesting to bitch about at the breakfast table tomorrow morning.”


“God, I love you.”


“Well, I am unbelievably charming and sexy as hell.” Keely kissed him and tugged his bottom lip between her teeth, just to see that spark of desire flare in his eyes. “We better do it all we can in the next three weeks, because it’ll be at least six weeks after baby D’s birth before we can have sex again.”


“Does that ban on sex include anal?” he asked.


“You are such a guy.”


He shrugged. “Just being practical.”


“Come on. Let’s do it on the recliner. I’ll even bring a piece of cake so you can lick frosting off my nipples.”


One week later...


Keely prided herself on providing a full twenty minutes of random conversation before grilling her cousin Dalton about his love life. “So what’s this I hear about you and Addie Voorhees dating?”


Dalton shrugged. “We’re spending time together. I’ve known her forever. She’s sweet.”


“That she is. But isn’t she—”


“Please don’t say that you’re surprised because she’s a nice girl and totally not my type.”


“Wow. Defensive much? That wasn’t what I was gonna say.”


“Shit. Sorry. I’ve just heard that a lot. From everyone in town. Including several members of our family.” Dalton cocked his head and offered the dimpled grin that’d been causing him problems his entire life. “So what were you gonna ask?”


Now that Keely thought about it...this question would probably get his back up even more. “Just that Addie and Rory Wetzler are best friends, right?”


“They were inseparable during high school. But Rory’s been living in Laramie for the past six years. Why?”


Keely shrugged and swigged her soda.


“You oughta just spit out whatever’s put that cat-stealing-cream look on your face, Keely,” he drawled.


“Fine. I just find it...odd, that you and Addie started seeing each other a couple months after Rory went to study in South America.”


Dalton’s eyes narrowed. “Why’s that odd?”


Because I don’t think Rory would be okay with Addie dating you. Although Keely prided herself on honesty, this was one time where she’d hedge. “Didn’t you and Rory have a thing?”


He squirmed. Her big, bad, brawling baby cousin blushed beet red. “We’re friends. Or we were friends.”


“What happened? Because Rory caught the bouquet at our wedding and everyone said you two were all kinds of cozied up on the dance floor after that.”


“That was almost four years ago,” he pointed out. “A lot can change.”


“I guess. Sierra told me Rory took a swing at you in the bar last fall before Christmas. She didn’t say why.”