Beneath the Stetson(21)

Someone had to be strong in the midst of insanity. This time it had to be her. With great regret, she removed his hand and slid to her side of the vehicle as far as she could go. “Will there be a time like that?” she asked.

“God, I hope so,” he said, banging his fist on the steering wheel. “Because if I don’t have you soon, I can’t be held responsible for what happens.”

He was exaggerating. She knew that. But the desperation in his voice was real and unmistakable “Look at your watch,” she pleaded. “We have to go.”

That he obeyed her was no victory. She wanted to stay with him in the intimate confines of the truck cab. In fact, she would have stayed there all night if he had asked. Though she hadn’t fooled around like that as a high school kid, the idea held a certain appeal to a woman whose love life had been barren of late.

On the brief drive to Gil’s cousin’s house, silence reigned. The swish of the windshield wipers was the only sound. At their destination, Gil parked by the curb and hopped out. Minutes later, he returned, carrying a sleeping Cade. At Gil’s motion, she leaned across the seat and opened his door.

Gently, his face unreadable, he scooted Cade to the middle and belted him into his booster seat. The boy’s body was limp. When he slumped in Bailey’s direction, she put her left arm around him and held him close. He smelled like peanut butter and little-boy sweat.

Gil climbed in and stared at his son. “He’s dead to the world.”

“Just as well,” Bailey said. “Maybe this will all seem like a dream to him.”

“Thank you for understanding. Most women would be offended.”

“Not me. You’re a father first and foremost. I respect that. Cade is a very lucky boy.” She kissed the top of the child’s head. “Take me home, Gil.”

* * *

Gil drove more slowly than usual, fully aware that he was distracted. Bailey’s care and consideration for his son impacted Gil in ways he couldn’t explain. His brain ran in circles, torn between imagining intimacy with Bailey one second and wondering how he could ever test a relationship with a woman without dragging his son into it.

At McDaniel’s Acres he pulled to a stop in front of the ranch house and put the truck in Park. Bailey put a hand on his arm. “Don’t get out. You can’t leave him here alone.”

Gil shook his head. “He’s fine.” He went around the truck and opened Bailey’s door, holding her hand to help her out. Remembering what she was wearing beneath that demure black dress made him hard all over again. “Good night, Bailey.” He slid his hands beneath her thick, silky hair and anchored her head for his kiss.

She leaned into him, her lips eager and soft, her breasts crushed against his chest. Though he knew her to be tough and capable, when he held her like this, he wanted to protect her at all costs. The danger inherent in her job was never far from his mind.

He wedged a thigh between her legs, pulling her hips against his, letting her feel the extent of his need. “I’m working on an idea,” he said. “Will you trust me?”

She toyed with his belt buckle. “Of course.” The breathless note in her voice told him all he needed to know. He wasn’t in this alone.

“Tomorrow. At the club. I’ll explain.”

“Yes.” She ran her hand over the late-day stubble on his chin. He opened his mouth and bit gently on one of her fingertips.

The erotic action was a big mistake. The rush of lust almost crippled him. Backing away from her the way he would an angry rattler, he put the body of the truck between them. It was good that his son was asleep in the cab of the truck. Otherwise, Gil just might have taken Bailey standing up.

His forehead broke out in a cold sweat thinking about it. “Sleep well,” he said, knowing that he wouldn’t.

Bailey walked halfway up the steps, then turned to look at him. “I had fun tonight.” Her voice carried on the night breeze. “Good night, Gil.”

He got into the truck and leaned his forehead against the steering wheel, his heart slugging in his chest as if he’d run a marathon. Something was going to have to change. And soon....

* * *

Bailey entered the house quietly, though since it was not yet ten, likely no one was asleep. Chance McDaniel stood in the lobby chatting with a couple of gray-headed ladies from Ohio. Bailey had met them when she first arrived. Learning to ride a horse was a big item on their bucket list, and Chance’s patient staff was helping that dream come true.

The owner of the dude ranch excused himself when he saw her enter and crossed the floor. “Everything okay?”

Her face must have reflected some of her turmoil. She flushed. “Fine. No problem.”