Page 70 of Whiskey Proposal

“Because we just had sex.” He holds my gaze to make sure I’m paying attention. “And if I leave, you’re going to think it’s because I’m done with you.”

Anger rises, and I cross my arms, kicking a hip out. “I would not.”

“You don’t think I don’t know what I would’ve returned home to?” Stalking me, he jabs a finger toward the bedroom. “I would’ve wanted that again. I would’ve wanted you to jump in my arms and repeat what we did. I’d want to lose myself inside you for another night.”

Heat slips and slicks through my insides, warming my blood. I hug myself. I would’ve wanted that too. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you’d be hurt. You’d feel like I fucked you and left. You would’ve kept me at arm’s length. Maybe I would’ve come home to turkeys. Or billy goats.”

“Why billy goats?” I ask hoarsely, trying to keep this conversation light. “Why don’t you think I’d buy regular goats?”

“Because billy goats stink.” He’s right in front of me now. “Am I wrong about how you would’ve felt if I’d left you after what we shared together?”

I can’t look at him. I saw an ad for goats for sale before I heard him in the kitchen. “You can’t miss out on your family gathering.”

“It’s okay, Em.” He says it so softly that tears poke the backs of my eyes.

“It’s not okay.” My vision gets fuzzy, and I blink to clear it. “I stood you up, and you’re canceling a family trip for me.”

“You were scared. You didn’t trust me. I understand.”

I shake my head. He can’t be that good of a guy. Not for me. “They’re counting on you, and if you just don’t show, they’re going to— They’re going to⁠—”

“They’re not going to abandon me.” There’s that gentle tone again.

A hot tear rolls down my cheek. He swipes at it with his thumb and pulls me into him. I quit hugging myself and wrap my arms around his strong body. The tears fall, and I don’t know why. I don’t know the Baileys. I don’t even know the Fosters. But they’re all so close.

They have what I’ve always wanted.

I squeeze my eyes shut. He can’t stay for me. I can’t be the one to upend the gathering for him. But he’s not going. For me.

“I’ll go.” I hate how small I sound.

“It really is okay.” He brushes a hand down my hair.

“No.” I push away. I need to pack. “It’s not. If you’ll only go if I go with you, then I’m going to pack.”

He follows me to the guest room. “Can we eat first?”

“Sure.” I drag out my suitcase from the mostly empty closet.

“Jesus, Emerson.” He groans. “If you don’t get some pants on, the pancakes are going to get cold while I’m fucking you again.”

Lust grabs me around the throat, and I whirl around. I’m in nothing but a shirt and he’s fully dressed, boots on and everything. The man is walking sex, and now both my brain and body have gotten more than enough proof of how good he is.

Need twines between my legs, and a steady beat starts. It’ll go away eventually. But he can handle it faster. “I can pack and eat quickly. How fast can you fuck?”

Lane

I wind up the road to Myles’s house, tucked into the foothills of the Beartooth Mountains. Trees surround the place, but there’s a nice clearing with his shop and barn. The shop doors are open.

Emerson has grown quieter the closer we’ve gotten to Bourbon Canyon. I bent her over the dresser in my guest room and plunged into her until we both came, then we ate and she packed as quickly as she said she could. But as soon as we left the house, her demeanor changed.

Her hair is brushed and in a loose braid hanging over her shoulder, but the overalls stayed behind. She picked a skirt that falls to her knees and paired it with cowboy boots and a yellow tank top.

I park by the shop. Emerson’s out of her side of the pickup before I can get around to it.

She’s rubbing a hand down her arm and looking around. “It’s gorgeous out here.”