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I decide to sleep on it.
When it comes time that I really am driving through Gatesville, stuck in road-construction traffic, I remember Willow’s text message about wanting to meet.
I pick up my phone.
I think about it.
Then I take a deep breath and call my girlfriend instead.
CHAPTER 25
“WHAT’S TROUBLING YOU, Rory? You seem distant.”
“Sorry,” I say, setting my fork down. “I was staring off into space, wasn’t I?”
Megan nods, giving me a polite smile.
When I called her on my drive back to Redbud and told her I was going to be in town, but maybe for only one night, she was excited about the chance to see me. She came right over, looking stunning in a floral summer dress and matching yellow heels. We made dinner together: brisket, corn pudding, and grilled potato skins—and a bottle of red wine to go with it. Working in tandem in the kitchen kept my mind busy, but once we were at the dinner table, with nothing to do but eat or talk, I felt my thoughts drifting toward Parker and his buddies.
“You’ve got a lot on your mind, don’t you?” she says, staring at me sympathetically. “Would you rather be alone?”
“No,” I say. “Absolutely not.”
Megan has the most gorgeous ocean-blue eyes, and tonight she looks especially amazing, with her dress showing off the perfect amount of sun-kissed skin and her hair pulled back except for a few strands hanging down artfully against her cheeks. All I want to do is dive into those blue eyes and get lost for the night in their depths. I tell myself there’s not a damn thing I can do about the Parker investigation right now anyway.
“Is it Willow?” Megan says, and I can see she’s nervous to ask this question.
“No,” I say.
It’s true: I havenotbeen thinking about Willow. Not tonight. Here with Megan, staring into her arresting eyes, so close I can smell her perfume, I know I’m just about as lucky as a guy can be. She’s an amazing woman—smart, sexy, fun. She has a great personality. She cares about other people.
On a scale of one to ten, she’s an eleven.
In this moment, I want nothing more than to make this work with her.
“Sometimes I feel like I’m competing with her memory,” Megan says.
It breaks me inside to hear this. Partly because it’s true. And partly because she deserves so much better.
“You have nothing to worry about,” I say, and I lean over in my seat, and put my lips against hers.
“Don’t fool with my heart, Rory,” she says through kisses. “I want a man who’s all in.”
“I’m all in,” I say.
We kiss for several seconds, then Megan rises from her seat and throws her leg over me, straddling me in my kitchen chair with her back to the table. She nibbles on one of my ears and I run my hands up her smooth legs. She pulls the tie out of her hair and shakes her locks out.
“Careful,” I say, grinning. “Don’t get your hair in the brisket.”
We scoot the chair away from the table but stay seated.
She reaches down, grabs her dress in both fists, and, in one smooth motion, pulls it over her head. She tosses it into a puddle on the kitchen floor and settles back onto my lap, kissing me while wearing nothing but a bra, thong underwear, and her yellow heels.
“Ranger Yates,” she whispers seductively, “is that a gun in your pocket or are you happy to see me?”
I answer by stripping off my T-shirt. Unfortunately, this gives her pause. My arms and shoulders are covered in scratches from the thorn bush I crawled through this morning. I showered and cleaned myself up before she came over, but there was nothing I could do about the scrapes scoring my skin like a map of red roads.
“It looks worse than it feels,” I say, leaning to kiss her again.
