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Just because she was pregnant with his child, and while at Lone Oaks they were sharing a bed for sleeping purposes only, it did not constitute a romance. Or even a relationship. And neither did the fact that Hope mattered more to Drew than any other woman ever had.
"Then you shouldn't have any objections if I take her out and show her around while she's here," Holden replied.
White-hot rage exploded through Drew. "I wouldn't advise it," he warned his brother.
As if at a tennis match, Jack's head turned expectantly back in Holden's direction for the next volley.
"But you just said nothing was going on between the two of you."
One dark brow arched, Jack slid his gaze back to Drew.
"I also said she'd recently lost her father. She doesn't need the likes of you playing with her emotions." Drew, better than anyone, knew exactly what could happen when on emotional overload.
A grin dimpled Holden's cheeks and danced wickedly in his eyes. "I see."
"You know, Drew, it's not a crime to be attracted to a beautiful woman," Jack interrupted the parlay. "Just means you're human."
Both Jack and Holden were right. There wasn't any crime in being attracted to Hope, or anything wrong with not wanting to leave her in Kentucky while he came home. Drew could tell himself it was only because she'd be facing her first holidays without her father, but he knew the real reason was that he didn't want to be separated from Hope for six long weeks.
Hell, he didn't want them to be apart at all.
If only he knew how Hope truly felt. About him and whether she wanted to keep the baby. Not knowing was driving him crazy, but with everything between them still so precarious, he didn't want to risk doing or saying anything that might upset her.
Or drive her back to Kentucky before the New Year.
"You're awfully quiet over there," Holden stated, devilment gleaming in his eyes.
"You've made your point, Holden." Drew stabbed another slab of manure and urine-soaked straw and tossed it into the wheelbarrow. "Now shut the hell up so we can get finished before we miss Thanksgiving dinner altogether."
* * *
About an hour after Drew left, Hope made her way to the main house. Since she'd come early to help Drew's mother with meal prep or whatever else needed to be done, she'd dressed in jeans she could barely button and a dark oversized long-sleeved tee. In a tote, she'd packed more appropriate clothing for dinner.
She'd no more than knocked on the front door when it swung open. "Hey, Hope," Zach greeted. He was barefoot and still in his pajamas. "Gram!" he hollered. "It's Uncle Drew's Hope."
Seeing no point, Hope didn't correct him. First, she'd been Uncle Drew's girlfriend, and now she was his Hope. Guess in Zach's five-year-old mind Hope didn't have an identity of her own. Not that it mattered. But she was a bit surprised at how warm and gooey it made her feel inside to be considered Drew’sanything.
As Hope allowed that realization to take hold, Drew's mother appeared, wiping her hands on a tea towel slung over her left shoulder. "Why'd'ya leave her standing on the porch?" Anna pulled Zach out of the way with a sigh. "Come in, Hope, and try to overlook my grandson's poor manners."
Hope stepped into the foyer. "Drew went with Reese this morning, so I thought I'd come to see if you needed help with anything."
Smiling, Anna closed the door. "That's very nice of you, but you're a guest. I wouldn't feel right putting you to work."
"Why not? I surely don't expect to do nothing while I'm here. Plus, helping will lessen my guilt for imposing on you and your family for the next few weeks."
Anna led the way into the kitchen. "You're no imposition in the least. We're glad to have you."
"I'm glad to be here, but I still plan on pulling my weight, Mrs. Blackwood."
"Okay. As long as you call me Anna. I'd say my mother-in-law is Mrs. Blackwood, but I'm sure she's already insisted you call her Sarah."
Which she had. Smiling, Hope set her tote on the floor beside the breakfast bar and pushed up the sleeves of her shirt past her elbows. "Tell me what needs to be done."
Looking around, Anna's eyes landed on the sink. "You mind peeling potatoes?"
"Not a bit." Crossing to where the bag of spuds sat, Hope located a knife and set to work.
For the next hour and a half, the two of them fell into a comfortable rhythm of working together. While they peeled, diced, chopped, mixed, and stirred, their conversation was light and companionable, allowing them to get to know each other better without an entire houseful of people to interrupt.
