He rested a hand on her back, and, together, they receded deeper into a shaded space, completely out of sight. The younger couple was visible through a gap in the wood. A gap that kept Goldie and Adrian shadowed. She smelled the coolness in the wood and the scent of animal feed, but Adrian’s nearness rendered them both irrelevant. She was close to him, so close.
Hidden as they were, Adrian lowered his voice and tilted in to speak into her ear. “You should know, I had my assistant look into Bethany Harold.”
The hum of his deep voice in the darkness sent a thrill through her. “You have an assistant? Why would you have her do that?”
“I know it’s really been bothering you, and I wanted to help.”
She wasn’t sure whether it was his proximity or the lull of his voice, but either way, he was having a hazy effect on her thought process. “And your brother accused me of being a spy. Sounds like he had the wrong person.”
“I would set the record straight, but it looks like he’s a bit preoccupied at the moment.”
Goldie leaned closer for a peek through the gap. Adrian’s hand moved to her waist, and the touch sizzled like a spark.
Jordan and Taylor faced one another, their gazes attentive. It really was thoughtful of Adrian to allow them a moment alone. Or what they thought was a moment alone.
Goldie cringed. She would have preferred to not be within eavesdropping or peep-holing distance, but under the circumstances, they couldn’t exactly leave without calling attention to themselves now.
Something told her the scent of manure, animals, and feed never completely faded, no matter how much time a person spent in here. She didn’t mind though. In the moment, in the dark, the only thing she was aware of was Adrian. How close he was standing. How heat from his body thrummed and awakened hers. How his eyes danced in the faint light and were pinpointed directly on her.
A horse chuffed nearby. Jordan dipped toward Taylor for a kiss, and then the two pulled away and strolled back out through the open doors.
“The coast is clear,” she whispered. She didn’t know why, but she whispered.
Adrian made no sign of moving. Instead, his eyes glinted with undisclosed humor.
“First kisses in the barn can be pretty romantic,” he said suggestively.
She slanted her gaze at him. She would have folded her arms if there was room. “Exactly how many first kisses have you had in this barn?”
He tilted in. His breath stroked her cheek. “I’ll tell you in a minute.”
Oh boy. She was in trouble.
He paused.
She pulsed.
His hands made it the rest of the way around her. “You have to initiate it, remember?”
Goldie’s pulse ratcheted. Was this really happening? He’d basically invited her to kiss him, and she wanted to. She wanted the connection, the sensation of getting lost here with him in the dark.
But she couldn’t do it yet. She had to tell him something she’d never told anyone else before. Something that seemed vital before opening herself to him like this.
“Goldie isn’t my real name, you know,” she said, placing a hand on his abs and shivering at their rock hard feel.
“Oh? What is it?”
“Gabrielle,” she said, closing her eyes and resting her cheek against his. “My mom loved the name, but it turned first to Gabby. Then, because of my hair, my dad started calling me Goldie, and it just stuck. Even I use the name all the time now.”
His fingers stroked her hair, lifting it from her neck. The touch shivered up her spine. “It’s really something. These highlights of yours. I know a lot of women pay for hair like this, and I’m guessing you didn’t.”
Goldie dipped her chin. “I know. I love my hair.”
“Me too,” he said. “That’s not all I like about you, Gabby. I’m glad you told me your real name.”
Her heart picked up speed. Pressed against him as she was in the confined space, Goldie slipped her hand behind his neck and tiptoed upward. Her body enflamed, palpitating at the prospect, at his touch, at his nearness and his breath, until her lids fluttered closed and she pressed her mouth to his.
It was sunshine, pure and vibrant and pulsing. It was the sky and seclusion. It was the first time she’d ever gotten lost and wanted to stay that way. His hands stroked her jaw as his lips coerced hers, enticing her closer. Goldie pivoted for better access, and his hands traveled along her side, cupping her jaw, keeping her fastened to him.
“That,” he said at last with a breath, “is definitely a favorite part of you.”
“What?”
“You need me to show you again?” He drew her back, kissing her soundly, willingly, without reserve, the way he did everything. Adrian was an open book. He was kind and generous, he was thoughtful and spoke his mind. And his kisses were just as tantalizing as he was.
Slowly, Goldie pulled away and nestled against his chest. “This is so surreal to me. It’s like a story from a fairy tale. Who would have thought I’d meet the most gorgeous guy, sleep in his cabin—”
“Eat his food,” he quipped.
She punched him on the shoulder. “And be living this daydream right now? It’s almost like it’s someone else. Not me.”
“Oh, it’s you all right.” He kissed her once. “And me.” Twice.
“I like the sound of that,” she said, kissing him back. Longer and longer, she lost herself in his affections.
His lips whispered against her skin. “Tell me everything about you. Everything I don’t know.”
“I’m not that interesting.”
“Trust me,” he said with another zingy kiss. “You are exactly that interesting.”
“I love to bake,” she said.
His nose teased her temple. “So you’ve told me.”
Her lashes fluttered. She did her best to keep her thoughts on track. “I’d like to make something for your mom.” The words before I go nearly slipped out, but she held them in. She didn’t want to ruin whatever this was with talk of endings, not when it felt like her life had just begun.
“Okay then. What did you have in mind?”
“What about monkey bread?”
Adrian sputtered a laugh.
“I’m serious.”
“Monkey bread isn’t a thing.”
“Yes, it is. And it’s delicious.”
His thumb caressed her jaw. “All right then. When are we making it?”
She took a step back, finding her way out of the cozy nook they’d found. The enclosed space, and his hands around her waist, had prevented her from moving much further, and she needed some ventilation to clear him from her senses.
It was brighter out here, and not just because of the sunlight. “I think you mean me,” she said. “When am I making it?”
“A gentleman doesn’t allow a lady to make monkey bread alone.”
She quirked a brow. “That’s not Shakespeare.”
“I never said it was.”
She laughed. “Fine. Tonight?” She really needed to correct those papers. She’d also considered dropping by her aunt’s house again. Time was running out, and she couldn’t have come all this way for nothing.
Glancing at Adrian, though, and pressing a finger to her swollen lips, she realized it wasn’t completely for nothing.
“My mom and Jordan are heading out to an FFA meeting tonight. Future Farmers of America. We’ll have the house to ourselves.”
Her breath hitched. “The house, as in—?”
“As in my house. Where I’ve been staying.”
Not the bed and breakfast. His house. Goldie forgot how to breathe altogether.
She paused before a collection of saddles hanging on pegs on the wall. “Are you sure you don’t have anything better to do than keep me company? I can go to a hotel, Adrian. I know you wanted to go back to Chicago once that fundraiser was over. You said your business needs you.”
“My business will be fine. I delayed my plans, and tonight, I have no other agenda than monkey bread.”
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Goldie’s stomach burned. She wanted this to be sincere. She wanted to believe he was as interested in her as he seemed to be. A warning wedged itself into her chest. She knew better than to let herself get closer to him. It would only make things harder when her time here was up. When his time here was up.
She couldn’t let this pass her by, though.
“Fair enough. Eight o’clock?”
He wove his fingers through hers, lifted her hand to his lips, and kissed it. “Can’t wait.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
ADRIAN WALKED GOLDIE—NO, GABBY—BACK TO the main house. He wanted to kiss her again, but decided not to out where others could see. Her cheeks were filled with a pretty blush, and he burned with pride that maybe, just maybe, he had something to do with it. Their kisses had been amazing, after all.
He was so glad she’d opened up to him. It seemed like a big deal to her, to admit her name. It fit her, he decided. Gabrielle. A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.
She waved to him before stepping inside, and he turned on his heel with a little zip-a-dee-do-dah in his step. He’d never been one for whistling, but he could probably bust out a tune right about now.
His phone rang, jerking him from his post-kiss delirium. He answered, and Rita spoke without an initial greeting.
“I found her.”
It took him a few blinks before he remembered who she was talking about. Right. The late-night request he’d made.
“Bethany Harold? Who is she? Where is she?”
“She’s a woman on your father’s payroll,” Rita said.
This surprised him. First Danica, now Gabby’s aunt? “She worked for my dad?”
“Still does,” Rita said. “As for her background—I’m assuming you wanted info on her background?”
“Give me everything you’ve got,” Adrian said, quickening his pace. It was true, he wanted to know as much as he could. Anything that could help Gabby. He couldn’t help but refer to her by her real name. Goldie had been too literal a name for her. Gabby was much better suited, not only to her features but to her.
“Bethany was born in Deer Lodge and moved to Two Pines when she was twelve years old. She never married, no school or education or anything like that, and she’s lived there ever since.” Rita spoke as if in recitation. “She did have a baby and placed it for adoption years ago, and she’s mostly kept to herself.”
“A baby? How long ago?”
Rita paused before continuing. “Looks like about twenty-eight years ago. Her sister was the one who took the baby and moved to Wisconsin.”
Adrian lost the ability to breathe. She couldn’t be serious. “Are you saying what I think you are?”
“That depends,” Rita said. “What do you think I’m saying?”
He didn’t answer her, but his mind screamed it so loud he could hardly think.
“What was the baby’s name?” he asked. He had to clear his throat to get the words out. Gabby had told him she was twenty-seven. This was too coincidental to be a fluke.
“It doesn’t say. Why do you ask?”
He sank against the side of the barn, unsure of how or when he’d returned to it. He’d been heading past the barn toward his mom’s place after dropping Goldie off, but his mind reeled and he must have taken a subconscious detour. The call had thrown him completely off.
He tried to return his thoughts to the matter at hand. This baby Rita was referring to. Maybe it was Gabby’s sister. It had to be—it couldn’t be what he thought. Except Gabby had told him herself—she was an only child.
“You say she works for my dad. Any chance you have a contact number for her?”
“You’re seriously going overboard, boss.”
“I promise it’s not anything suspicious.”
“This whole thing is suspicious,” she grumbled, but she read him the number. Adrian did his best to repeat the numbers in his mind. He didn’t want to forget before he got the chance to write it down.
“Thanks, Rita. I owe you one.”
“More than one,” she said, but he’d already hung up.
His brain was a propeller, spinning faster and faster and threatening to take him forward too quickly. It couldn’t be what he thought it was. But if what Rita was saying was true, was this Bethany Harold really Gabby’s mother? If so, how could he even tell her?
***
Goldie made her way through a few papers, laughing out loud at one student’s parody on cowboy boots verses high heels. She checked her email a few times for good measure.
Nothing. Which left the evening with Adrian. Alone, in his house.
The pit of her stomach curled. She braved a visit to town to gather the ingredients they needed and to fill her truck with gas. Fortunately, she’d made the trip often enough now she recognized a few landmarks.
After returning, she ate dinner and then sat on the porch swing with a sense of change in her bones. Something about tonight was different. Maybe it was the lightheaded cloud she’d been walking on since her kisses with Adrian. She couldn’t remember ever feeling comfortable enough with someone to admit her real name. She hadn’t even told her roommate, Sadie, what it was. To everyone, she was Goldie Bybanks.
To Adrian… She wasn’t sure what she was. Fake girlfriend, but how could that be when she’d been so real with him? She was Gabrielle. And he knew it now.
In the distance, Mrs. Bear and Jordan were making their way down the path before the barn and to the parking lot where her car waited. Goldie waited until they drove away, and then, groceries in hand, she made her way past the barn, past Kimmy and Chase’s house, and to the Bear’s residence on the outskirts. Fading sunlight cast a golden, purple glow along the grassland. She paused a moment to take in the sight.
Adrian was standing on the porch, his hair gloriously windswept and a shadow of stubble speckling his jawline. He carried a bundle beneath one arm and beamed at her.
“I was just about to come pick you up,” he said, offering her the bundle. It was a package wrapped in brown paper.
“What’s this for?”
“Open it.”
Goldie placed her bag of groceries on the step and tore the brown wrappings. Inside was a pair of cream aprons with little green chili peppers on them.
“Matching?” she said with a smile.
“Not quite. Would you rather I take the ruffled one for myself?” He fanned it out and held it to his chest.
Goldie laughed. It was just that much different from the more squared-off version in her hands. “Don’t knock the ruffles. I take it you don’t bake much.”
A shrug. “No better time to start. Here.” He slipped the apron over his head and tied it around his waist. Then he did the same for her, allowing his fingers to linger on her waist as he rotated her to tie hers. He then whipped out his phone and tilted in close.
Man, he smelled good. Goldie’s heart pounded as he pressed his cheek to hers.
“Smile,” he said, but she already was. It came so naturally with him. The phone made a snapping sound, and he rotated it for them both to see.
The image of her face with his cemented him into her heart that much more. “We look good together,” she said. On impulse, she added, “Will you send me a copy of that?”
He took a minute on his screen and then said, “Done. Now then. Ready to go? What do you have here?” Still in his apron, he bent for her bag of groceries.
“Supplies,” she said, opening the door.
The house was much as she expected. She wondered if this and Chase’s house had been built at similar times. The carpet, the layout, the granite on the counters, were all of similar shades to what the younger family’s home boasted. This one was just sans toys.
“It’s so nice here,” she said, circling on the kitchen tile and taking in the dark shade of the cabinets, the luxurious space. “It reminds me of your cabin.”
“After my mom decided to renovate the house and turn it into a B & B, she hired similar builders for this house,
Chase’s and the cabin,” he said.
“You mean the main house used to be your family home?”
“Yep,” he said, leaning against the counter. She flattened the recipe on the countertop beside him.
“So. What’s first?” he asked.
She chewed her lip. She’d considered how to make this baking venture more interesting. In the moment, she wasn’t sure about suggesting it, but, throwing caution to the winds, she decided, why not?
“We assemble the ingredients…” she began.
“Perfect,” he said, rubbing his hands together.
Here goes. “But we have to do it one-handed.”
He quirked a brow. “Is that specified in the recipe?”
“Nope. Just my recipe with you.”
“Okay, then.” He tucked a hand behind his back. “One-handed it is.” Goldie did the same, tucking her arm behind her back. Together, they approached the counter.
“It would take forever if we made our own bread dough,” she said. “I got some refrigerated biscuits that we’ll use instead.”
“Perfect.” Adrian picked up the can. He stared at it before lowering it. “Exactly how am I supposed to open this one-handed?”
Goldie edged in, leaning against his arm as she offered her available hand to peel at the blue flap as he held it. “Teamwork,” she said.
Adrian’s eyes sparked. He held the can and she peeled. Her hand brushed his, and she thrilled at the feel of his skin and the excuse to touch him. Together, they pounded the can against the counter until it popped, startling her.
“I think you’re onto something here, with this one-handed thing,” he said. Their fingers had to touch as they peeled the pieces of refrigerated dough apart and placed them on the pan.
The touch alone was one thing. Add to it the sticky texture of the dough between their fingertips, and the intimacy rose to an intriguing level, becoming almost provocative. It tingled straight through her arm with every stroke.
“Now we need sugar,” she said, turning to the small bag she’d picked up from the store. She could have used Mrs. Bear’s ingredients, she supposed, but that kind of defeated the purpose.
“How much?” Adrian dug the measuring cup from its drawer and joined her side.
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