The Rancher's Christmas Reunion by Brenda Harlen

Author:Brenda Harlen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2023-06-21T21:43:16+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

MG wasn’t in a hurry to go back to the Circle G when he left Back in the Game, and the fact that he was avoiding his own home because he knew that Hope would be there only added to his annoyance.

Maybe he’d call a buddy and make plans to meet for a beer and a bite at Diggers’. That would kill a few hours. Except the last time he’d been to Diggers’ had been with Hope, and he definitely didn’t want to be thinking about that night and how it ended versus how he’d hoped it would end, especially when he had to go home and climb into a bed that was less than twenty feet away from the one in which she’d be sleeping.

So the Diggers’ option was definitely out, but there was no reason he couldn’t stop by to say hi to his brother’s family. No reason except that it was getting close to dinnertime and he didn’t want Lindsay to think he was trying to mooch a meal. Not to mention that if Mitch knew about their mom offering his old room in the bunkhouse to Hope, his brother would immediately guess that MG was avoiding her—and he wouldn’t be wrong.

Which left MG grumbling behind the wheel of his truck but headed toward home.

He started to lift his hand to knock on the side door, then dropped it to grasp the knob. It was his house, dammit. And he wasn’t going to let the presence of some Hollywood celebrity reduce him to knocking on his own damn door.

He took off his boots in the mudroom and set his hat on a hook. “Let’s go figure out dinner,” he said to Bernie.

Except that Bernie wasn’t there.

His canine companion always met him at the door when MG walked through it at the end of the day—unless he was walking through the door with him.

“Bernie?” He made his way through the laundry room and into the kitchen where the dog was sitting by Hope’s sexy bare feet with crimson-painted toenails. “There you are.”

His uninvited houseguest swiveled her head, looking surprised but happy to see him. “Were you looking for me?”

“Oh. Um. No.” He pointed to the dog. “I was looking for Bernie.”

Her easy smile faded. “Oh.”

“He’s usually at the back door when I come in.”

“My fault,” she admitted. “He’s been hanging around the kitchen while I’ve been cooking, hoping for a handout. But don’t worry—I haven’t given him any treats. Though I did drop a piece of carrot on the floor and he gobbled it up before I could get to it.” She gave the dog a look, and Bernie had the decency to feign shame for half a second before his eyes shifted to the counter again, obviously hoping for something else to fall.

“What are you making?”

“Penne with sausage and peppers, garden salad and garlic bread.”

He looked at the dining room table, already set with plates and cutlery. There was a bowl of salad with serving tongs and an open bottle of pinot noir and two wine glasses waiting to be filled.

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