The Boss and His Cowgirl(44)

Inhaling so she’d have enough breath to launch into her next argument, she never got the chance. Clay stepped into her space, cupped her cheeks in his palms and leaned down until his eyes were on the same level as hers. “Now you listen to me, Georgeanne Ruth Dreyfus.”

Wait? He knew her middle name? His warm breath washed over her skin and she focused on his mouth. Full lips. Square chin. Strong jaw shadowed with a day’s growth of whiskers. Which only made him look far sexier than he had a right to, given the circumstances. She wet her lips, felt her nostrils flare as his cologne wafted between them—almond, cedar, bergamot and a hint of lemon. His hands dropped to her shoulders before caressing her arms as he tugged her against him. Her head fitted against his shoulder and she relaxed against his muscular chest.

“I’m not going anywhere, Georgie. I’m staying right here next to you.”

“But—” Whatever argument she intended to make fled from her brain as he captured her mouth in a soft kiss. By the time he was finished, she was breathless.

“No buts, sweet pea. I’m not going anywhere. Neither of us is.”

She pushed against his chest to get a little traction and pointed her finger again. Before she could poke him with it, he captured its tip in his mouth, kissing away her defenses and defeating her offense in the process.

“Clay—”

“Georgie.”

He mumbled around her finger, but his eyes twinkled and a smile curled the corners of his mouth. Dang but she loved his mouth. When he kissed her, she forgot everything. All her good intentions, all her talking points, all sense of propriety. She pulled her finger from between his lips and curled it into her palm in self-defense. With his next words, the fight left her.

“I won’t let you go through this alone so you might as well stop pushing me away.” He dropped a kiss on her forehead. “I’m bigger, far more stubborn, and you mean too much to me.”

Georgie gave up, raising her chin to glare at him. “Fine. Just...fine.” Then her breath caught as the import of his words struck her. She meant something to him?

“Wait. What?”

“You heard me. I’m here to stay.”





Fourteen

Clay smoothed out the crumpled paper even though the words were branded into his memory. He knew why Georgie panicked. He knew why she wanted to run that afternoon, thinking she was doing it for him. Still, it pissed him right the hell off that she thought she needed to protect him, or that he would just walk away from her.

Not gonna happen. He wasn’t his father.

A soft knock on the back door of his townhouse interrupted his reverie. He pushed off the bar stool and unlocked the door. Hunt and Boone walked in, the expressions on their faces grim.

“How’s she doin’?” Boone sounded gruff, but concern radiated from him.

“She’s asleep.”

Hunt nodded. “Good. I have a team packing up her apartment. We’ll put the furniture in storage, ship the nonessentials to her dad. Clothes and personal stuff will be delivered here.”

“Clay, have you discussed this with her?” Boone’s voice held a note of caution.

“No. I want her here with me. End of discussion.” Damn straight he wanted her here, now that he was beginning to consider his feelings for Georgie. He couldn’t think about the future. He could only think about now. Maybe tomorrow at the most. Stage three. Not stage four. Not a death sentence, but three was bad enough. He shook thoughts of his mother away. If they didn’t have a lifetime, then he’d squeeze every second he could into what time they had, but he couldn’t think about that future. He didn’t explain. His cousins remembered, too. “What about Oklahoma City, Boone?”

“We did some scrambling, but we have the Chesapeake Energy Arena locked in. Chase’s media team says no problem on the change. They’re familiar with the venue for concerts and that’s basically what your announcement is. Deke says he’ll be there with the band. They’re working on a new song for your campaign. Video people will splice it in as soon as Deke sends the audio file. The advance team will have the place filled. With Deke and the Sons of Nashville leading the way, that’ll be easy.” Boone’s gaze flicked to the wrinkled paper on the breakfast bar, but Clay cut him off before he could comment.

“She stays with me, Boone. And I stay with her. I don’t care what that damn letter says. I refuse to let her face this alone.” He didn’t miss the look the brothers exchanged.

“Georgie is a woman who knows her own mind, Clay.”

“I’m well aware of that, Hunt.”