Kissin' Tell: Rough Riders, Book 13 (41 page)

He scraped another layer of whiskers from his face. Georgia’s skin was so delicate he had to shave twice a day or he’d leave beard burn on her skin. He flashed back to the day last week she’d forbidden him to shave because she wanted to see those marks on the inside of her thighs and her breasts.

She’d been awful damn squirmy at dart league that night. But knocking back shots with Roxanne and Leah dulled the discomfort, because he’d looked over to see her performing a herkie off the end of the bar.

Little Miss Georgia had gotten her butt paddled good for that one.

And she’d loved every minute of it.

Steam fogged up the bathroom mirror and he swiped it clean. Just thinking about her raised his temperature. Sex with Georgia? Beyond spectacular. More exciting, spontaneous, comforting, fun and hot than he’d ever dreamed it could be with one woman. But as much as he lived to get that sexy woman nekkid, the times they spent out of bed were beyond ordinary too. He’d never imagined she’d be so insightful. She didn’t expect him to always slap on a happy face. If he had a shit day, he didn’t have to hide it. But his shit days were few and far between recently. And he credited her for that.

She fit in with his friends. Being part of a couple bridged a gap he hadn’t known existed. Almost like his buddies took him more seriously since he’d settled into a steady relationship. Which was ironic, since he found himself wanting to stay home with her more than going out on the town. Over the years he’d secretly sneered at his cousins and married buddies and their seemingly limited amount of free time. But now he understood why the guys wanted to stay home with their wives.

Even Brandt and Jessie encouraged Tell to bring Georgia over for supper. Her bout of shyness vanished when she held baby Tucker, and she and Jessie chatted like old friends. Tell was fascinated by how babies pulled women together. When he started to imagine a black-haired little boy with Georgia’s pale-blue eyes and his smile, he figured Dalton would whap him in the head for thinking like a girl.

He turned the taps on and sluiced away the shaving cream. As he patted his face dry, he tried to remember how he’d agreed to help chaperone the dance put on by the Sundance High School Booster Club. Right. Georgia. After assisting him with rodeo club fundraisers and helping the cheerleaders, she’d had the great idea to bring together all the school clubs for one fun event. Everyone was excited and Georgia was creating positive buzz.

The only sour note was their parental situations. Georgia’s mother had started pressuring her to work on rebuilding a relationship with her father. Tell couldn’t fault Georgia for her trepidation. Only a person who’d suffered through family dramas understood that forgiveness wasn’t automatically given. Sometimes it wasn’t earned. And sometimes letting go was the best option. Not politically correct, but often necessary.

Not that Tell’s situation with his father had changed much. Casper only called to rail on Tell about something. And he hadn’t heard from his mother beyond a couple of short texts. She must not have needed a baby-sitter.

As far as Tell was concerned, out of sight, out of mind was the best way to deal with his folks. He couldn’t change them or their behavior, so why even try now? He was beyond pretending it would make a difference. The only control he had in the situation was not letting his past ruin his future.

A future he hoped to have with Georgia.

After he’d tried her phone for the twentieth time and the call was immediately kicked over to voice mail for the twentieth time, he drove into town. His panic increased when he pulled up in front of her house and saw her car parked in the drive. What if she was sick? She didn’t answer his knock.

Tempting to break in, but he found a space between the fence and a lilac bush that allowed him to enter the backyard. He hoped she’d just lost track of time and was sitting on the swing, enjoying the late afternoon sunshine on this mild summer day.

No sign of her.

Tell tried the handle on the back door and discovered it was unlocked. He stepped into the kitchen and called out, “Georgia?”

Silence.

The coffee pot was half full of cold coffee. One bowl, one spoon and one cup were in the sink. Just as he decided to check her bedroom upstairs, he noticed her cell phone on the table. Right next to a calendar.

He didn’t pay much attention to dates, and most days he’d be hard-pressed to answer if someone asked him the actual date. He saw that she’d written in events for all the days of this month except for one. This day, the third of August, was devoid of any marks.

A punch of sadness hit him as well as guilt.

Now he had a pretty good idea where she was.

It was so like Georgia not to mention it. He hoped she wouldn’t reject his comfort because he hadn’t remembered what today was.

Although it wasn’t far to the cemetery, Tell opted to drive. The gates were still open and he parked in the empty visitors’ lot. Gravel crunched beneath his boots as he started on the first path.

This was one of the few places in Sundance where deciduous trees grew. Weeping willows, which were appropriate, he supposed. Soft breezes stirred the branches. Dappled sunlight threw shadows on the manicured grounds and across the headstones.

Tell avoided the cemetery as a general rule. The McKays had their own section in the far corner, in the oldest part, since his great-great-grandfather Jonas McKay had been one of the first settlers in Wyoming Territory. The odd thing was he’d only been in this cemetery twice. For his grandfather Jed McKay’s burial and when they buried Luke. He remembered his surprise at seeing how few McKays were buried there, and feeling sadness at how much space was available for the existing McKays

He’d never understood why his mother came here bearing flowers and tears—because Luke wasn’t here. Were visits solely a reminder of the finality of death? Or some weird prompt for survivors not to forget the loved one they’d lost?

Trying to keep his morbid thoughts at bay, he scanned the neatly ordered sections of grave markers, some elaborate, some simple, some so weathered by the harsh Wyoming elements the names and dates were no longer visible.

Then he saw her, five rows over, sitting cross-legged, her back to him. Her glorious black hair shone in the sunlight.

Part of him wanted to leave, to let her have the private moment, just relieved he knew where she was.

But a bigger part of him wanted her to realize he was there, ready to give her whatever she needed, whenever she needed it.

And that’s when Tell knew that he was in love with her. Not the beautiful girl from his past he’d put on a pedestal. But the beautiful, complex woman she’d become, even when she swore she wasn’t sure who that woman was. The woman he’d cherish every damn day of his life, if she let him.

Confessing his love while she wept at her brother’s grave could possibly be the worst timing in the world.

He approached her cautiously.

Georgia glanced up when Tell’s shadow fell across her. She wiped her tears and managed a wan smile. “I don’t know why I’m surprised you found me.”

Tell crouched down, within touching distance if she was so inclined to reach out for him. “As far as hiding places go, this is a pretty good one. Or a pretty bad one, depending.”

“Bad, mostly. But no one looks at you funny if you’re sitting alone crying.” She sniffled. “Mostly they just leave you be.”

“Do you want me to go?”

She shook her head.

He watched her, not shocked by her grief, but by the fact that she wasn’t chasing him away. Maybe she did need him for more than sex and good times.

“I haven’t been here since a year after his accident.” Her fingers plucked pieces of grass, turning the blades into green confetti. “I don’t know what I expected to be different. Maybe if I started talking to him, like in the movies, his ghost would appear. But to be honest, I’d probably wet my pants and run away screaming if that did happen.”

He had no idea what to say to that, so he said nothing.

“I miss him.”

“I know you do, baby.”

Georgia ripped up more grass. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Her chin trembled.

He felt so damn helpless, even when he knew exactly what she was going through. He dealt with the anniversary of Luke’s death differently, surrounding himself with people—strangers usually—so he had no choice but to slap on a happy face and not dwell on the loss.

Several long moments passed. Then she blindly reached out to him. “I…”

Tell stood and picked her up like she was a child, cradling her to his chest. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

She melted into him, with a whispered, “Thank you.”

“You’re breakin’ my heart, sweetness. What can I do?”

“Take me home.”

He headed back to his truck, wishing he could wrap her in cotton batting and keep her safe from all the hurt the world inflicted. He rubbed his lips over her crown, breathing in the scent of her, murmuring assurances he’d be there for her, no matter what.

She’d stopped crying, but she clung to him.

By the time he reached the parking lot, a prickly feeling caused the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He turned and saw an older man standing at the opposite end of the path.

A man he recognized as Georgia’s father.

Tell started in that direction, but the man shook his head. Then he pointed to Georgia, indicating Tell should continue as he was, tending to the weeping woman in his arms. Tell nodded, but it made him uneasy, given the strained relationship Georgia had with her father.

“Where to?”

“Your place.”

Such a surprise that she preferred his crappy trailer to her house in town. Wait. Did she consider his place…home?

She stayed in the middle of the bench seat, tucking herself against his side so no space remained between them. Tell idly played with her hair, letting music from the radio fill the silence on the drive to house.

Once they were inside his trailer, he noticed her cradling her arm. “What’s wrong?”

“I keep forgetting about my tattoo and then I rub against it.”

He frowned. “When did you get a tat?”

“Before I went to the cemetery. It’s a memorial tattoo India did for RJ. So I don’t forget what he meant to me.”

Oh. Sweetness. You are such a beautiful woman. Inside and out.
“Does it hurt?”

“A little.” She blew out a long breath. “Okay. It hurt a lot. I cried while she was doing it. I cried when she finished.”

“Maybe the tears weren’t only from the pain of the needle?” he murmured.

Her beautiful eyes were wet again. “No. How did you know?”

He just stared at her.

“I’m sorry. Thoughtless of me, isn’t it? Sometimes I’m so…selfish in my grief I forget I’m not the only one in the world who’s lost a brother.”

“But you’re the only one who’s lost
your
brother,” Tell said gently.

Georgia touched his face, her palms lightly resting on his jaw as her thumbs stroked his cheekbones and his temples. “You are a good man, Tell McKay. Everyone underestimates you, don’t they? Believing you’re just a laid-back, fun-loving guy out for a good time. You keep things light because you don’t want people to realize the intensity of emotion inside you.”

How in the hell had she seen that?

“Thank you for letting me see that part of you. Thank you for letting me have some of your strength.”

“Anytime, sweetness. Anytime.”

She looked down and tears dripped on her jeans. “I’m so tired.”

“I know. C’mere.” Tell hauled her onto his lap.

She wiggled until she found her spot and sighed.

He kissed her crown. “Rest. I’ve got ya.”

They both dozed off.

Georgia shifted and something sticky rubbed on his arm.

He glanced down and saw blood. He kissed her forehead, wanting to wake her up gently. “Georgia? You’re bleeding through the gauze.”

“Guess that’s my sign it’s time to clean the skin and change the bandage.” She sat up. “Are you squeamish?”

“No. Why? Do you need help?”

“Probably.”

Tell followed her to the bathroom.

She ripped off the gauze and surgical tape. She wet a big cotton square with water and squirted on antibacterial soap, dabbing at the crusted blood. After rinsing with clean water, she patted the area dry. “Wanna see it?”

“Hell yeah.”

Georgia showed him the inside of her forearm. Black block initials RJ outside a red circle. But upon closer inspection, the circle appeared to be in 3D, like a woman’s rounded belly, with the yin and yang symbols at the center.

“This is perfect. Did you design it?”

“Just the rough sketches. India did the real design work.”

Tell stroked the crease of her elbow. “This wasn’t a spur of the moment thing for you.”

She shook her head. “That’s how you end up with bad tattoos, with random, meaningless Chinese symbols, according to India. I scheduled an appointment for today several weeks ago. Right after I decided to make a permanent mark on my body to match the permanent mark I’ve had on my soul ever since RJ died.”