Secretly Hers (Sterling Canyon)(59)

 

Instead of getting mad like he expected, Kelsey waved dismissively. “Pffft. Then I’m not too worried, because your promises don’t mean much, do they, cowboy?”

 

“What the hell does that mean? I keep all my promises.”

 

“No, you don’t.” She held up her fingers and started ticking them off, one by one. “You promised to keep our fling a secret, but you sure screwed that up last night with the public boxing match. You promised to help me make a relationship work, but you’re doing everything you can to mess that up, too. You promised to be a good friend, but you’ve been intent on messing with my business and now you’re threatening me.”

 

“I haven’t threatened you, despite the fact you seem determined to push me against a wall.” He stepped closer, leaned in, and spoke slowly and firmly. “I know right now you think I’m full of shit, but weeks ago I told you about how Mason treats me. You believed me that night, so believe me now. He’s not the man for you. You need to steer clear of him.”

 

“Or what?” She stuck out her little chin.

 

“Or else!” He thrust his arms wide open.

 

“I see we’ve reached the really grown-up part of the conversation. Are you going to start beating me up now?”

 

“Dammit, Kelsey, why won’t you accept my apology and agree to stay away from Mason?” Then a horrible thought burned a hole in his gut. He withdrew from her and narrowed his gaze, wooziness and nausea mixing together. “Do you actually like him?”

 

Kelsey averted her gaze for a moment, refusing to answer. Holy shit, could she actually prefer Mason to him? His chest burned as if he were running stairs at thirteen thousand feet.

 

When she finally spoke, she cocked her head and stared at him like a hunter with a deer in her sights. “Why do you care who I’m with anyway?”

 

“What?” Another wave of heat radiated through his body.

 

“You heard me, why do you care who I date?”

 

“Because . . .”

 

She waited, tapping her toe. He frowned, unable to offer an answer. Did he care who she dated, or did it only matter because it was Mason? Well, hell, he couldn’t answer if he didn’t know. What he did know was that he’d never accept her and Mason as a couple.

 

How could she even consider being with his brother, anyway? It was gross. And how had he lost control of this entire situation? Trip wasn’t used to losing control, especially not to a woman.

 

“Promise me, princess, no Mason.”

 

“You know what? When you’re ready to be honest with me, then maybe we can talk. Until then, stay out of my way.” She spun on her heel and slammed the storm door closed in his face.

 

Trip stood on the porch, staring at the closed door. That went well.

 

A breeze rustled some nearby leaves, while others fell and drifted to the ground. He turned and picked up the discarded flowers, then set them by the front door and walked down the steps.

 

When he glanced back over his shoulder, he noticed Fee standing on the porch with his flowers. She waved before running back inside.

 

Trip sighed and started walking toward Backtrax. His head throbbed with thoughts about Mason, the clients he’d let down, the damage control he needed to do with his image, and Kelsey.

 

Today had been the first time she hadn’t succumbed to him at all, which he didn’t like one bit. What he liked less was realizing how deeply she’d been hurt by his carelessness.

 

Maybe Maura had a point about his stupid proposition. Now both he and Kelsey felt like hell, and he had no idea how to fix it for either of them.

 

About a block before he got home, his phone rang, sparking a little hope. Maybe she’d reconsidered her harsh position.

 

He snatched the phone from his pocket and glanced at the screen, at which point hope turned to dread. “Hey, Dad. How are you?”

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Twelve

 

An ocean breeze rustled the lush greenery surrounding the terrace, wafting the tropical flowers’ perfume into the warm, salty air.

 

“Waking up to this view is amazing, Kelsey. Thanks a million for this trip. Yesterday was so much fun.” Emma spun around on the terrace of the three-bedroom villa, with the Sea of Cortez crashing against the rocky promontories behind her in the distance. “I wish you felt better, though.”

 

Kelsey gulped some bottled water, having just thrown up ten minutes earlier. “I must’ve eaten the wrong food last night. Or maybe had one too many margaritas.”

 

“We did knock back a lot of margaritas last night, but you were queasy yesterday morning, too,” Avery reminded her. “And we didn’t have anything but chips and guac—and margaritas—the night we arrived.”