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Or maybe I needed to show womankind this in order to make sure they didn’t settle for assholes and knew it existed. Or maybe it was just Duke. He was an anomaly and it was my duty to hold on to him.
“Babe?”
I blinked.
Then I looked to see Duke was looking at me, mouth quirked in amusement, but eyes still on fire with the kiss and the promise it gave.
His brother was full-on smiling, arms across his chest, not looking at all embarrassed or sorry for interrupting.
My face flamed. “I was just conducting research to see if the perfect kiss existed and now that I know it does, I’ll return the information back to womankind, so they can all dump their deadbeats who don’t know how to kiss.”
The words tumbled right out of my brain and into the air. My face flamed. I tried to withdraw so I could escape and hide under some rock to die of shame.
Duke’s embrace tightened. His grin widened.
His brother chuckled. “Well, I’d appreciate it if you kept it under wraps, since I don’t need all the women in this town gunning for my brother.” He raised his brow. “I’m a pretty good kisser too.”
“I don’t doubt it,” I replied without thinking.
Duke’s grip tightened and his smile wavered slightly. This reaction was welcome, since I knew how to deal with the crazy jealous alpha.
I rolled my eyes. “Oh chill out, macho-man,” I told Duke. “I was merely pointing out that such a thing as good kissing runs in the family, like handsomeness. I bet your dad’s great at it too. But it’s not like I’m going to set out to find out firsthand.”
Fuck.
I thought I’d lapse back into sounding sane and bitchy, but I just sounded like a loon who wanted to make out with their dad.
The smile returned.
Another chuckle from his brother.
“As much as I’d love to continue being a part of this conversation, and trust me, I would,” Tanner said. “I’m gonna have to break you two up. We got some shit going on with the cattle in field twelve and we need all hands on deck.”
Duke’s jaw tightened. He glanced back down at me.
I smiled sweetly. Now that I had some time to recover from the best kiss of my life—and from spilling my guts about my past—I recalled being mad at Duke for the whole wedding thing. And then I remembered that Duke wasn’t supposed to be kissing me in the first place. Not behind closed doors, at least.
Tanner had saved the day. Yet another hero in the family.
“This isn’t over,” Duke said, grasping the back of my neck.
I didn’t lower my eyes. “Oh yes, it is.”
9
Later never came.
Duke didn’t arrive until after I’d gone to sleep, real sleep. I’d been planning to feign it when he got back. The kiss had shaken me to my core. If I’d let him in last night, I would’ve been doomed. I was nothing but a raw nerve after spilling all of that, giving Duke that.
I’d woken up before Duke yet again. I was getting good at sneaking out while he was still asleep. He was getting better at storming into the family kitchen with a scowl on his face, Frenching me in front of his grandmother and mumbling all sorts of things.
He’d whispered promises in my ear before storming out for the day.
Harriet and I had become fast friends.
Anna and me too, but she was more active with the day-to-day activities on the ranch. She might’ve been in her fifties, but she worked harder than I ever had.
I helped out where I could, but there was a limit to my skills, and I also knew that Duke didn’t want any visitors to the ranch catching a glimpse of me and fucking it all up. As it was, the ranch hands were all briefed on how important my “privacy” was and Duke was policing my interactions with them, which was totally fucking annoying, because they seemed extremely cool. Like real-life cowboys. They weren’t impressed with me, and I loved that.
So when Duke was out with his father or doing any of the million things that there were to get done in the day, I usually snuck off to tag along on rides or to watch them do cowboy shit.
They didn’t mind. In fact, they definitely enjoyed it. They loved the audience.
But today, Harriet and I were enjoying a cheeseboard on the porch of the cabin. She’d brought everything over and insisted that she organize it.
I’d let her, because I knew little about organizing a cheese board, considering I’d never really eaten one in my life.
And when she set it down on the small wicker table, I totally got what she meant. It was on a rustic wooden cutting board, filled to the brim. Grapes. Apple slices. Chutneys, various cheeses. Sliced bread. Crackers.
