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Chapter Two
Shane Gallagher was pissed that things had gone so wrong between him and Bobbi. Especially after they’d fought so hard to get to a place of balance. A place of calm. A place where all the crap they’d done to each other in the past didn’t matter.
He thought that they’d made it through. Why would he think otherwise? Things had been good. Hell, things had been better than good. But then something had changed. Something had shifted.
They were good until they weren’t.
Until the ring he’d put on Bobbi’s finger had begun to weigh on her. Until that ring had her remembering and thinking about things that she should just let be. Things that were going to come between the two of them unless they could fix this.
He clenched his hands together, frowning darkly. They were going to fix this because there sure as hell wasn’t any other option. Shane Gallagher wasn’t going to lose Bobbi again.
Slowly his fingers relaxed. and he glanced across the room at the only woman who had ever managed to take his breath away. Damn, but she was beautiful. All that dark hair, ivory skin, and eyes that he could drown in. She was curled up in the loveseat, her grandfather’s wheelchair parked beside her, the television throwing shadows across her face. Shane, on the other hand, was stretched out on the sofa, pretending to watch an episode about a serial killer dressed as a clown.
Not his thing.
He didn’t like clowns and he sure as hell didn’t like the fact that his woman was five feet from him instead of nestled against his chest.
Bobbi glanced up as
if she knew his eyes were on her. and he held her gaze until she looked away. Saw her bottom lip tremble. Watched her fingers worry the worn fabric of one of the throw pillows, over and over again.
Screw this, he thought. I’m done waiting.
Pia whined in disapproval as Shane slowly unfurled from the sofa and climbed to his feet. He rolled his shoulders, eyes nailed to Bobbi who was now looking his way once more. There was heat. Always the heat. But there was also fear. Anxiety. Uncertainty.
Anger rolled over him in a fresh wave that left his skin hot and tight—as if stretched way too thin. He’d never been the guy to let things be or avoid a fight. So why the hell had he let this go on for so long?
“It’s getting late,” he said, his meaning real clear. “Might be a good time to go to bed.” It wasn’t a question.
The shadows that hid half of Bobbi’s face flickered as another wall of snow slammed against the window. She was scared. He got that. He also knew that he didn’t care to ever see that look in her eyes again, and he was willing to do whatever it took to chase it away.
Bobbi exhaled and nodded, sliding her palms across the tops of her thighs, before turning to her grandfather. “All right. Gramps you ready for bed?” Her voice was overly bright.
Herschel cleared his throat and reached for the remote control that sat in his lap, nodding as he did so.
“I’ve seen this episode more than once,” the old man said, gaze sliding to Shane. “Want to help an old guy out?”
“No,” Bobbi replied quickly. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
Herschel grimaced and patted his granddaughter’s hand. “I love you darlin’, you know that, and I appreciate everything you’re doing here which is why I don’t want you to take this the wrong way.”
“But Gramps—“
“No, Bobbi.” The old man’s tone brooked no argument. “Trust me when I say that there’re things I don’t particularly care for you to see. A man shouldn’t have his granddaughter help him to bed, and he sure as hell doesn’t need her helping him to the bathroom.”
“Gramps—”
But the old man wasn’t having any of it. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather Shane help me out in this, here, particular situation.”
“I’ve got this Bobbi. I’ll be up in a few minutes,” Shane said, moving a few inches to the right so that Herschel’s wheelchair didn’t clip him on his way out. He followed Bobbi’s grandfather down the hallway and into the dining room where they’d set up a temporary bedroom.
Herschel pulled up alongside his bed, which was where the dining room table used to be and pulled off his John Deere cap. He gave his scalp a quick scratch and glanced up at Shane.
“You wouldn’t mind getting this old goat a shot of whiskey, now would ya?”
Shane arched an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure Bobbi would have a problem with that.”
“That would be why I’m asking you.”
