Hang Tough(42)

That’s when Jade remembered she’d left him hiding out in the sitting room after their hot and heavy make-out session he promised they’d finish.

“His truck is parked out front,” GG said.

“I think he went to bed after he came home.”

“It’ll have to wait until morning then.” GG pulled her in for a hug. “Looking forward to sing-alongs with my road trip partner.”

“Me too.”

“See you bright and early in the morning.” She shuffled down the hallway.

As soon as the door to GG’s bedroom closed, Tobin exited the sitting room.

“I’m sorry—”

“No worries. If I needed to escape, I could’ve crawled through the window.” He smirked. “Seems to be a theme with you.”

Jade twisted her ponytail around. “You’ll have two days alone here to remind yourself that I’m not worth the trouble.”

The next thing she knew, Tobin loomed over her and his mouth crashed down on hers.

Sweet heaven could this man kiss.

When he finally stopped tormenting her with his skilled lips and the steady pressure of his body against hers, she was light-headed. Her panties were soaked again.

“You’re more than worth the trouble, Jade.” His callused fingertips skimmed her cheek. “I’ll miss you. But I know you and Miz G will have a great time. You both deserve a break. We’ll talk when you get back.”



Jade’s absence for two days left Tobin in a sour mood.

When she’d finally gotten back last night, he’d barely rated a kiss before she’d gone to bed.

Tobin’s chores didn’t take all that long, so despite his crappy mood, he stuck with his plan to drive to the ranch he’d grown up on, outside of Saratoga.

With part of their acreage made up of forested sections, they’d leased rights for guided hunting groups on their land. Strange to think that’s how he’d ended up at the Split Rock originally; his dad had broken his foot and had volunteered Tobin in his place as a guide. Since the hunting party had filled all their tags within the first five hours, he’d expected it to be a one-shot deal. Then Renner invited him back to the Split Rock to celebrate a successful venture. They’d started talking and before the end of the night Renner had offered him a job, including a place to live.

Tobin hadn’t asked why the Split Rock started using another location for their guided hunts, but his dad had bugged him about it plenty the first two years.

The scenery whizzed past without him really seeing it, and time dragged as it always did. Almost two hours had passed when he pulled up to the front of the house. Four dogs raced from beneath the shade of the porch to greet him.

The screen door squeaked and his dad and oldest brother Driscoll wandered out.

“Well, well, look what the dogs got treed,” his brother joked.

“Yeah, treed all right. They might do some serious damage to me with all these wagging tails,” Tobin said dryly.

“Surprised to see you,” his dad said.

Tobin shrugged. “I had the afternoon off so I thought I’d see what’s up around here. Plus I wanted to get my twenty gauge.”

“Whatcha gonna do with the twenty?”

“Just take it to skeet shoot.”

“I heard they had a new range in Rawlins,” Driscoll said. “Open, so’s anyone can come in and shoot.”

“Better that than payin’ club fees, I reckon,” his dad said.

Tobin scaled the steps. “Where’s Streeter?”

“Baby is sick again. I swear that kid gets the sniffles and he runs her to the doctor.”

“Gotta be hard, not knowing what’s serious and what’s not. I expect the older she gets the better handle he’ll have on it.”

“Meantime, I’m doin’ his work as well as my own,” Driscoll complained.

Tobin stared at his oldest brother. They looked nothing alike. Driscoll had been an early adopter of the mountain man look—he’d had a full beard for as long as Tobin could remember. He’d gotten decidedly more barrel shaped over the years too.

“I gotta git. See ya, Dad.” Driscoll nodded at him. “Tobin.”

“Later.”

Driscoll whistled and two of the dogs jumped in the cab of the pickup. The other two dogs chased the pickup down the driveway.

“C’mon in. I’ll grab that shotgun and you can tell me why you’re really here.”

Tobin followed his dad inside and waited while he retrieved the gun.

“Here it is.” His dad lowered into a chair and set a bulky item in an old blanket on the kitchen table. “What’s goin’ on?”

“It’ll sound pretty random, I’m sure. This buddy of mine . . . his family isn’t bein’ up front about why they’ve suddenly decided to move his grandma into an assisted living place. She seems okay to take care of herself; there’s been no forgetful-type stuff. That reminded me of Grandma Alma. One day she seemed fine, the next you were saying she needed to be looked after. As I kid I didn’t understand. Now I wondered if you hadn’t told me the whole story. Maybe she had cancer or something.”