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CHAPTERFOURTEEN
Lee clutched Rosalie’s hand too tightly, and he knew it. He tried to ease up, but the farmhouse loomed in front of him, and he knew the moment he went inside, bombs would be flying and exploding.
“I’m gonna go tell Grandma about the shepherd,” Ford said, breaking into a run. Lee watched his son for a moment, plenty of single dad guilt tripping through him.
“He’s a wonderful boy,” Rosalie said, tugging Lee closer to her. Their hips bumped, and Lee’s body burned at her intimate touch.
“Thanks,” he murmured. “He needs a dog. Every boy needs a dog.”
“Ah, but the surly cowboy doesn’t want to get him one,” Rosalie teased.
Lee’s spirits soared, and he didn’t even mind when she called him surly. If Will had done it, Lee might have thrown ninja stars with his fierce glare. “I do,” he said. “And I don’t. Dogs are a lot of work, and he only lives here two days a week.”
“What about his mom?” Rosalie asked. “What’s she like?”
“She’s not the dog type,” Lee said, plenty of defenses in his voice. He didn’t want to talk about Martha today. She wasn’t here, and that was one saving grace for Lee. He could enjoy his family and wish Travis and Shayla well. He could, and he would.
It didn’t matter that his own jealousy seemed lodged tightly in the back of his throat, the ball enlarging with every minute the clock ticked closer to three p.m. Today wasn’t about him. It wasn’t about Will. It wasn’t about Mama or Rissa, though she sure had done her best to make every conversation about her back pain now that she was starting to show.
It wasn’t even about Cherry and how she’d finally come home after a very long time away from the family farm. Lee’s heart hurt for his older sister, and he ached to help her be happy. He simply didn’t know how. Heck, he couldn’t even find his own path to happiness at the moment, and he was tired of stumbling around in the dark.
“You’re going to have to tell me about her sometime,” Rosalie said.
“Who?” Lee looked at her, having lost the thread of their conversation.
“Your ex-wife,” she said, giving him a sharp look. “I don’t even know her name.”
“It’s Martha,” he said. “I don’t want to talk about her.”
“I’m sure you don’t.” Rosalie dropped his hand and marched up the steps to the farmhouse. “But I told you about James when I didn’t want to. That’s what people do when they’re getting to know one another. Sometimes baggage gets opened and dirty laundry needs airing.” She put her hands on her hips and stared down at Lee.
He gazed up at her. “Has anyone ever told you how gorgeous you are when you’re angry?”
“Stop it,” she said in a voice that told him to do exactly that. “This isn’t angry, Handsome. This is passionate.”
He took the steps as quickly as he could to get to her side. He swept one arm around her and pulled her flush against his body. “I like passionate on you.”
“We are in public,” she whispered, her eyes glued to his mouth.
“With my sister peering through the window,” Lee murmured. The desire to kiss her burned through him, but he wouldn’t do it here. “Can I kiss you later?”
“Lee,” she said in a scandalized voice. “It’s your brother’s wedding day, and our fourth date. I have to meet your whole family, and I can’t be stressed about kissin’ you later.”
Lee grinned as widely as he ever had in his life. “It won’t be stressful,” he said. “Might actually be fun.”
“You.” She pressed her hand against his chest, and he dang near stumbled backward down the steps. “Might be fun.” She patted her curls and turned toward the farmhouse door. “Says the man who hasn’t been out with anyone in a while. He might be out of practice. It might not be fun at all.”
Lee burst out laughing, but he had no argument for her. What he did know was that she’d cheered him up immensely, seemingly without even trying. “Wait,” he said as she reached for the doorknob. He swung out his hand wildly and caught her arm haphazardly. “If I tell you about Martha, will you at least consider a good-night kiss?”
Rosalie studied his face, her dark eyes searching his. “All right,” she said in her professional voice. “I suppose I can consider it.”
Lee leaned down and pressed his lips to her cheek, closer to her eye than her mouth, which took a great amount of willpower, thank you very much. The way she leaned into him, one hand coming up to cup his shoulder, told him he could very well kiss her that night whether he said another word about Martha or not.
“Let’s go in,” he said. “Before someone comes—”
Will whipped open the door. “Get in here,” he barked. “We’ve all been waitin’ for you two forever.”
“Too late,” Lee said dryly, giving Will a piercing glare. “We’re not late, Will.”
