Montana Rancher's Kiss by Kaylie Newell

Author:Kaylie Newell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction
ISBN: 9781953647573
Publisher: Tule Publishing Group, LLC
Published: 2021-01-12T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

A good Chardonnay goes with everything.

Brooks glanced over at his father who was leaning his head out the passenger’s side window of the truck. His shaggy blond hair blew in the wind, the diamond studs in his earlobe, sparkled in the late day sun.

Smiling, Brooks looked back at the highway ahead. They were on their way back from the grocery store where they’d picked up some wine for Daisy’s fish dinner that had her darting around the ranch’s kitchen in a nervous panic.

When he’d hired her, there had definitely been a part of him that was hoping she’d fail, just so he could gloat a little. But she’d surprised him—bowing up her back and leaning into the challenge like the Daisy he used to know. It had left him wanting to help where he could, so when he’d told her he was going to pick up his dad earlier, he’d asked if she needed anything in town. She’d looked up from the stove, her silky blond hair piled high on her head, and her readers perched precariously on the tip of her nose. You’re a lifesaver! she’d said. I forgot the wine.

It felt dangerously domestic, having her living in his house, and he fought the urge to wonder if she’d been his wife all this time, instead of Alex’s, if she would’ve stayed. If he could have made her happy. It didn’t matter, of course. There was no point in revisiting that particular question, but it still bothered him just the same. Or maybe it was that kiss that was bothering him. Burrowing down into the most protected parts of his heart, to freeze there and shatter later, no doubt.

“I can’t believe you’re giving her guitar lessons,” he mumbled, half to himself.

“Excuse me?”

He glanced over at his dad again, whose thinning hair was now defying logic. It was sticking up all over his head from the wind. Too much mousse, apparently. Combined with too much open window.

“Guitar lessons,” Brooks said. “I heard.”

“Well, you heard right, my boy. That’s what I do now, remember?”

“Yeah, but Daisy?”

“I didn’t know who she was at first. But even if I had, I’m an equal opportunity music teacher.”

Brooks grit his teeth. But it was impossible to stay irritated at the guy. He looked like a cartoon character. He’d dressed up for dinner, wearing a gray silk shirt buttoned only to his sternum, where chains of various thicknesses lay nestled in his chest hair.

“Don’t go asking her about Boston, Dad.”

“I’m not going to go asking her about Boston. But if Boston happens to come up, I’ll listen politely.”

Brooks knew better. His father had a way of coaxing information out of people before they even knew what happened. Daisy had no idea what she was stepping into.

He slowed the truck as the sign for Diamond in the Rough came into view, then turned on his blinker out of sheer habit. The highway stretched toward Copper Mountain in the distance looking empty and burnt orange in the early evening light.

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