Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Gideon
I staggered toward Mae’s house. My legs and ass—hell, my entire core—were sore in a way they hadn’t been in my entire memory. I was both stiff from the previous day and sore from a fresh ten hours in the saddle. The pastures today had had a lot more brush, and a couple of those infuriating hunks of living leather liked to hide.
Tate slapped me on the back. He was just as uptight when he worked, yet there was a casual air about him now. He was serious, diligent, but the ranch was his element. It was likely the same at the distillery. It’d been me and the sale issue that had made him tenser than normal.
I had that effect at my job too.
Except for today. No one had treated me differently than anyone else. When a cow had charged through a copse of trees and I’d gone in after it, getting bitch-slapped by dried branches, they’d had a good laugh. And likewise for me when it had happened to them.
Tate said we’d be done tomorrow. One more day. Then I’d have work from sunup until sundown at my laptop. As if on cue, my phone buzzed. I checked the message just in case it was from Autumn. She’d sent one earlier, saying the plan for the pizza party was still on and she’d be home late.
The new message was from Taya. Seriously. Can you just fucking call? It’s sort of about work.
Sort of about work? That was new, but it still didn’t answer why she couldn’t email. Since she’d given me a tidbit, I gave her a partial answer. I’m wrapped up in something. I’ll call when I can.
I tucked my phone in my pocket and followed the crew inside. Myles and Wynter weren’t out today. Scarlett had brought the kids to Mae’s. When the door opened, the shouts that came out sounded like ten kids were in the house instead of three.
“Grandma?” Chance said, his voice cracking. I barely remembered that age or the whole puberty thing. My mom had just died and the time period was a fog of doing what needed to be done with an increasingly self-pitying dad. “Where do you want this?”
When I entered and the crowd cleared, I found Chance helping Mae put food on the table.
She waved us in. “Come, come. The little ones were ready to charge the table. Chance would’ve led the way.”
Yes. I recalled those days. The constant hunger among the dwindling supply of groceries. Roaming the kitchen while my stomach gnawed at me. And then waking up, only to scrape the remnants of peanut butter out of the jar to cobble together another PB&J .
When Mom had been alive, our kitchen had smelled like this—savory meats and spices. Our house had been warm like this. Though with only three of us, there hadn’t been this hustle and bustle.
This was... nice. A lot nicer than coming home to a dark apartment lit by the Vegas skyline.
I took off my cowboy hat and shrugged out of my coat. Both looked like I’d been wearing them for years instead of days.
Mae sidled up to me, a bowl of steaming peas in her hands. “Do you mind if I make a plate for your dad? Would you be able to drop it off?”
Confusion sparked before my natural resistance to seeing my dad followed. Since we’d helped him the night of the AA meeting, I hadn’t seen him. “You don’t have to. I’m sure he’s eaten already.”
I had no fucking idea.
Her smile was kind, but a hint of obstinance glinted in her eyes. “I made a ton, and with the leftovers from last night, I’m going to be eating pasta and pork chops for weeks. I can also send leftovers for you and Autumn for lunches.” She squeezed my elbow. “Come. Let’s eat.”
She hadn’t taken my subtle no for an answer. I’d get a shitload of food and that would be that.
I sat at the empty seat at the table by Tenor. Teller was across from him. Tate and Chance were closer to Mae, who was flanked by Brinley and Darin. Cruz and Lane took the seats at the end by me. Dishes were passed counterclockwise and I filled my plate. Tate updated his mom about the day, and Tenor and Teller joined in with a story or two to make her laugh. I laughed along with them.
Then Tate asked Chance about school. The other guys peppered the kids with questions. Teller bet Brinley she couldn’t eat more peas than him. She won, but I suspected Teller threw the game.
When was the last time I’d smiled this much? I was nothing but a spectator, yet I felt like part of the group. When the meal wrapped up, I helped clear the table and do the dishes.
Mae dug various plastic containers out of the cupboards and filled those along with a thick paper plate. “Thank you for doing this, Gideon.”
Lane clapped me on the back. “She says it like you have a choice.”
“Hey now.” She shot him a playful glare. “Don’t be selling my secrets.” She patted me on the shoulder. “Tell your dad I said hi.”
I only nodded, dreading the task.
I left on a wave of “See ya tomorrow” and “Bright and early.” I tossed my cowboy hat in the back seat. The food in my stomach molded itself into a bowling ball. How the hell did Mae talk me into this without really discussing it? My headlights lit the familiar stretch of road. A few snow flurries melted on the windshield. They were supposed to add up to nothing, but then later this week, we’d get measurable snow.
The house came into view. A porch light shone in the dark along with the glow from the living room. I parked in front of the walk and stared at the food containers. I’d get this over with and leave. I got out. When I reached the front door, I hesitated. The old wood smell of the porch surrounded me, along with the crisp promise of snow on the breeze. Nostalgia poured into my brain.
“Mom! Dad! Pickles had kittens! ”
Pickles had been my favorite barn cat. She’d disappeared one day, and we’d assumed she’d become food for a larger animal. I’d been distraught, and Dad had taken me fishing.
My throat grew thick. Those memories did me no good. I rapped three times on the door. It swung open on the last knock. The door didn’t make a sound. He’d fixed that too. He was fixing everything but the relationship between us.
Dad’s lined face looked older with his hat off. His hair was trimmed short and mostly gray. He kept his mustache and beard trimmed. I’d gotten much of my looks from my mom, but I could see myself in the sweep of his shoulders and the shape of his face.
“I was wondering if that was you.” His gaze dropped to the plate.
“Mae claims she made too much food.”
His eyes lit up. “Did she now?” He turned away and left the door open. “Come on in.”
“No, I gotta?—”
“That Mae. She’s a good cook.” He looked over his shoulder as he went up the stairs. “You eat yet?”
I was still holding the food. I’d be a real dick if I just left with the goods.
Stepping over the threshold, I steeled myself against the feelings washing over me. “Yeah,” I said gruffly.
The smell was different. I had prepared for a stale-beer smell. A dried, dead yeast smell that was so unlike the thriving fermentation scents of the distillery. Instead, I was hit with a soft cinnamon aroma, so faint it was barely noticeable. The carpets were the same, everything I could see was the same, but it was... clean.
I hadn’t grown up in filth after Mom had died, but we hadn’t been worried about total cleanliness. Things had been grungy. It was one of the reasons I’d been drawn to my immaculate penthouse.
“I had a light dinner,” Dad said, taking the stairs up. “That’s about all I have these days.”
He went to the kitchen and I followed. The living room hadn’t changed other than a couch that might’ve been new ten years ago. Same with the recliner. A flat-screen TV was newer, but still a few years old. He had a show paused. On the far wall was our old family picture. Look at all of us smiling. Memories of that day threatened to intrude. I blocked them out.
I shifted my focus to the kitchen. Nothing had been updated in the kitchen other than the appliances. What had he sold to pay for those?
A tiny tendril of shame spiraled through me. Would I rather he squat in a house with no working fridge or stove and threadbare furniture that smelled like bachelor funk and stale beer?
Maybe I would’ve said yes weeks ago, but for the moment, I was more grateful that he’d kept the house in fairly recognizable condition. I was glad he’d had things to keep him afloat until he had to make the final decision to sell. Him wanting to move to town wasn’t my issue.
He got a second plate and fork out. Then he filled a mug from a drying rack with some coffee from a pot and sat at the table. “There’s no way I can eat all this.” His chuckle was self-deprecating. “I don’t require too much these days, but sandwiches do get old.” He made a delighted noise. “Pork chops! Want half?”
“No, thanks. Save it for lunch tomorrow.” He was only going to eat half a pork chop? I studied him with a more critical eye. He was healthier than I’d seen him last, like I’d thought when Autumn and I had first stopped by, but he was no longer a towering man. The years of alcoholism might’ve done their damage, but he also wasn’t farming and ranching anymore. He was just existing in a house that used to be filled with love and laughter.
“You’ve been helping the Baileys?” he asked around a mouthful of food.
“For a few days. Figured it didn’t hurt to show them I’m not some city asshole.”
“Not all city folk are assholes.”
I grunted. “A lot of them are.”
He chuckled and stabbed a hunk of fried potato. “Same with country folk.”
An easy silence fell between us. When we’d been replacing the fence, he’d filled in the silence with chatter about who was doing what, where my old classmates had moved to and what marriage they were on, and what businesses had come and gone in the time since I’d moved. Before, when he’d been sick, he used to rage about the market price for grains, the diminishing returns for ranching, and the expense of equipment and repairs.
Without his resentment or the work around the place, what did he have to talk about?
“You doing any more work on the shop or fencing?” I asked because speaking was better than realizing how little I knew my dad these days. He wasn’t the same hurt and angry man I’d left behind.
“I’m replacing a few posts here and there.”
I waited as he took a few more bites and made a delighted noise. The question burning on my tongue spilled out. “Are you the one keeping up the memorial where Mom died?”
He stalled chewing, then swallowed hard. “Yeah,” he said gruffly and wiped off his mouth. “Yeah, I figured I’d better get out there one more time, you know, before the snow flies.”
Before he’d be considered a trespasser.
“After the closing, I’ll continue sprucing up her grave. You should see how big the trees at the cemetery have gotten.”
I didn’t give a fuck about the trees. I wouldn’t be going to the cemetery. My only memory of that place was Mom’s burial. My grandparents hadn’t had a service, so there’d been no need for me to return for that.
Time for a subject change. “Tate said you help at the food pantry.”
He paused briefly while sawing a chunk of his pork chop. “Yeah. I had to use it enough, thought it was time to give back.”
“You had to use it?”
He shrugged. “Happens when you mismanage your business.” He stuffed a bite in his mouth and chewed, his expression introspective. “I’m glad I made it until your grandfather passed. He would’ve been delighted to see me in line for some canned goods. Just another way to point out how I’d ruined everything.”
The sympathy that rose was surprising. “You two talked after I left?”
“I wouldn’t call it talking. He wheezed and I listened, like always. Out of respect for your mother. Like always.” He studied his food, his brow furrowed and his expression heavy. “Ya know, I was never cut out for this life.”
“You were born and raised on a farm. ”
His smile was understanding. “A small one. My parents never took on more than they could handle and they were never interested in expanding. They each liked their jobs in town. I had to work for the farm, but I also got to do my own thing. Then I met Jenni.” The corners of his eyes crinkled with his smile. “This was her place. The whole operation was her family’s, and it was either jump in with both feet or leave her behind. She couldn’t leave.” His smile faded. “Well. You know which I chose.”
And then when she’d passed, he’d been left with a business that included both farming and ranching. Percival was more than a hobby. This place had to become his life.
“Why didn’t you ramp down?” Surprisingly, there was no judgment in my voice. “You could’ve sold off the herd, leased the pastures, even the farmland, and then you could’ve gotten work in town.”
He rewrapped the plate. Only half the food had been eaten. “In the end, it was my decision.” He spoke deliberately, like acknowledging his role in everything was critical to the conversation. “At the time, I got a lot of pressure from your grandparents.”
“Mom’s parents?”
He nodded. “Percival was everything to them. Your grandpa grew up hearing the story and getting told about legacies. Their pride was strong. So damn strong.” His gaze fell to the laminate of the table surface, sadness and regret in his eyes. “I was already panicking about how I would do all this on my own. Jenni and I could barely handle everything when her parents had to step down.”
“You were struggling?” I had never thought to ask these questions before, but then he’d never seemed ready to answer them before.
His features pinched. “You’d never know it from how she acted, but yes. We were struggling.”
My hackles rose. “Are you blaming Mom?”
A long sigh left him. “After all this time, maybe a little.” He put a hand up. My building ire must’ve shown on my face. “I take plenty of blame, but back then, the two of us should’ve been more of a team. I was treated like the hired man instead.”
I recoiled. I’d felt the same from him after Mom had died. Yet he couldn’t put this all on Mom when she wasn’t here to defend herself. “Why didn’t you hire someone?”
“I wasn’t fit to be a boss. I followed Jenni’s lead. And when she was gone...” A heavy sigh left him. “I wasn’t fit for much.”
He acknowledged all the troubles so easily now. “I went to Vegas to earn enough money to buy Percival.”
“Your grandpa told you to.”
Astonished, I gawked at him. “How do you know that?”
“He told me.” The muscles at the corners of his jaw clenched. “Several times. He boasted about it.”
Dismay settled across my shoulders, heavy and dark. “That’s why you’re not selling to me.”
“No, Giddy. I’m selling because we all should get to live our own lives.”
He said it so simply, as if I should understand. “Nothing about that answer explains why you wouldn’t let me even make an offer. Percival should be mine. It’s my life. It’s my family legacy.”
“That’s your grandfather talking. ”
“Mom wanted me to have it.”
“She wanted you to have choices. She wanted the world for you.”
“Percival is my world and you’re locking me out of it!”
Solemnity lined his face. “Your world is that amazing wife of yours, but all I hear is you putting some old blathering of your grandpa’s before her.”
“Autumn is none of your business,” I growled. Fuck this. Dad refused to hear me, and I was done. I rose. “You have two weeks to understand that you’re severing everything between us. Again.”
I stormed out of the house. He didn’t run after me. Or call my name. He sat at the table and let me leave, just like he had all those years ago.
Autumn
It was another quiet Wednesday night at the bar. Gideon had helped move cattle for the last three days. He’d dropped the car off for me and said Tenor would give him a ride to the bar after they were done.
Last night, he’d returned home with a dark cloud over his head. I had seen it in his eyes and the way he’d moved his body. I’d asked if everything was okay, but he’d just said the day was fine, fun even, and that he was tired. Then he’d fucked me into oblivion before we’d made it to the bedroom. After we’d been in bed, he’d sunk deep into contemplation and hadn’t shared his thoughts with me .
We were just over the halfway point of our short time together.
A couple of guys waved to me as they walked out. The whole distillery had been quiet this week with all the bosses out except for Summer. She covered for Teller and Tenor, and Wynter’s team was used to her working out of the office much of the time.
I peered out the window.
Summer tapped on the bar top. “Are you seriously that lonely without him for three nights?”
I scowled at her. “I haven’t been without him for three nights. Besides, you’re just as bad.”
“My marriage is real though.”
“Ouch.”
She lifted a shoulder. Her verbal hit had been intentional. She was testing me. “I heard about Halloween.”
“I’m sorry, I should’ve called and invited you and Jonah over. I was panicking about dressing in my Pinocchio costume around Gideon.”
“Don’t worry about the invite. We were at his parents’ new place. I swear they acted as if they’d never met the Jonah who hands out candy.”
“Has he ever?”
“Good point. Probably not. Anyway, was Gideon horrified about the long nose?”
“It was the suspenders he was fascinated with.” To distract from my blush, I took out my notebook and wrote down some ideas I’d had for new cocktails. We had frozen huckleberries on hand, and I wanted to make more syrup for flavoring.
Summer leaned over and spied on my writing. “So it’s like that. ”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I couldn’t meet her eyes.
“You’re obsessed with him.” She sat back on her stool. “I’m worried about you. Hank shows no signs of hitting pause.”
“I know.”
“The marriage arrangement hasn’t changed yet?”
“No reason to.” I continued scribbling. I needed to make more candied cherries and lemon wedges. I’d gotten behind on the stock since I’d been wrapped up in Gideon.
“Remember when you told me to talk to Jonah?” she said quietly. “I think you should do the same. You care for him.”
“What would I talk to him about? He married me as a last-ditch effort. Yes, he’s helped his dad and the guys, but nothing’s changed.”
“You don’t know that. A lot might have changed for him.”
“What if it’s like cosplaying to him? I’m nothing but a distraction, and you know what? I’m okay with that.” I was a way for him to pass the time and get laid while we were pretending to be married for a month. I was fine with that. Whenever I dreamed of more, I pictured the divorce papers.
“What if you’re not just a distraction?”
Then what? “And he’ll live happily ever after with me while my family works what he thinks should’ve been his? While they till up the memories he has of his parents when they were happy? When he has to ask permission to pay his respects at the place where his mom died?”
She winced and sympathy filled her expression. “You know he’ll be able to go out there whenever he wants for that.”
“For that , Summer. The place where he grew up. The home he thought would be his forever, to pass down to his kids.”
“Which you said he doesn’t want.”
She wasn’t taking it easy on me. “I said he’s weird about them.” I sighed. “Why would he want to stay married to me when I’m nothing but a reminder of why he doesn’t have anything?”
“You know you’re not.”
I knew that. Would Gideon think that way? “Did you come here to shit on my time with him? I know you don’t like him.”
She stiffened. “How much I do or don’t like him depends on how he makes you feel and how he treats you. I couldn’t give a crap about him otherwise.”
“Well, I do. But I’m being realistic. His life isn’t here, and it’s not looking like it’ll ever be. He knows it. I know it. We have a deal. You all keep treating me like I’ve got no brain when it comes to him. Let me have this fantasy, okay? I like pretending I have a sexy husband who can’t get enough of me.”
Her exhale was quiet. “I’m sorry. It’s just that you have such a big heart. I hope he doesn’t break it.” She pushed off her stool and came around the counter. “You forgive me for being a pushy older sister?”
I hugged her. “I’ll be salty about it for a while.”
“I expect no less. Need help with anything? I’m not leaving until your man gets here.”
Headlights flashed out the window. I tucked my notebook away. “He’s here. I’ve gotta clean up yet.” I’d spent tonight chatting with customers and talking to Summer. “Thanks for staying with me.” Whenever Wynter and I worked the bar, the rest of the family watched over us so we weren’t alone. All the customers had gone by now.
The door opened and Gideon stepped inside. He was in one hundred percent cowboy mode. A lunch bag was tucked under one arm and a grocery bag hung from the same hand. He took off his cowboy hat. His gaze landed on me first and warmed. My belly flipped in response. Would I ever get used to his focus being on me? I’d been twined around this man last night and for so many nights before that, and I still couldn’t believe this was happening.
He glanced at Summer and gave her a nod, then his gaze was back on me.
I loved my sisters, but this never happened. A guy never gave me more attention than Summer, Junie, or Wynter. They never dismissed my sisters like Gideon did, like he absolutely had no interest in them.
“There it is,” Summer murmured, turning her back to Gideon as she gave me a quick hug. “Like he wants to eat you alive. That isn’t pretend.” She pulled back. “I’ll lock up on my way out.”
Gideon set the grocery bag on the counter. His water bottle was inside, but there was also an old-school green Stanley mug. He took it out. “Mae wanted to send some hot chocolate home. She said you like it for breakfast.”
I’d take Mama’s hot chocolate any time of day. “Did you eat yet?” My stomach rumbled. I’d eaten Mama’s leftovers for lunch today and that’d been hours ago.
“No. I figured you hadn’t either, so I asked your mom if I could take food to go.” He was subdued again, but he was still thoughtful. How could I not get too wrapped up in this guy? He didn’t have to hang out with me, but he chose to anyway.
“Long day?”
“No.” He continued to unload the containers of food Mama had packed. Fried chicken, a couple of twice-baked potatoes, and green beans she’d canned from the garden this summer. I had helped. “Today was easier than the rest, and all the cows are closer to home for the winter. I promised your mom I’d wash and return all the containers.”
Warmth settled deep in my bones. His respect for Mama only added to how much I wished there could be more between us. But like I’d told Summer, I had to be practical. “You know that’s her way of getting you back out there.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “You’d think she’d be tired of hosting everyone for a huge meal every night after babysitting all day.”
“No, she’s in her zone. She loves the chaos.” I grabbed a couple of plates from a little-used cabinet in the corner where we stored our holiday cups and glasses. It wasn’t unheard of to bring family parties to the bar after hours.
“I can’t imagine.”
“I’m sure your house was quieter than mine when you were young. I don’t think three sisters and I caused as much noise as three boys.”
He doled out food and I got us a glass of water.
As we ate, he told me about how he and Teller had had to stop and fix a flat on the horse trailer first thing this morning, and then how he’d found a calf with an issue in his hoof. He’d stayed with Tenor until the vet could get to them. When he talked, his voice was light and his eyes danced, like when the kids at school would tell me about some cool thing they’d done over the weekend. Did he realize the way he talked about the last three days was vastly different than when he discussed his work with the casino?
When he mentioned Silver, he turned serious. Almost grim. Silver was nothing but business. There was no passion. Did he realize he’d rarely talked about Silver in the last week? The most he’d said was that he had to answer some emails or that he had a meeting he couldn’t get out of. He’d never chatted about his coworkers, and he definitely hadn’t brought up Taya.
We finished eating, and I started cleaning up. I ran soapy water into the sink, but when I turned, he took my place and started rolling up his sleeves.
“You’ve been working all day.” I still took the opportunity to admire his strong forearms.
“So have you, and you’ve been waiting on people all night.”
“It’s not bad. Wednesdays are regulars. Our neighbor Jason is nearly to the point where he pours his own drinks. He’ll even wipe the bar down if I turn my back on him.”
“Good. I’m glad you have customers like that.”
I got another rag and cleaned up the tables and the bar top.
“Wait on that. Sit.” He was almost done washing the containers.
“Why?”
The look he gave me was pure CEO. He didn’t want an argument. I took the stool I’d sat in to eat.
He dried his hands and reached into the lunch bag. The baggie he withdrew was full of large stuffed olives .
“Olives?”
“You devoured them the night we met. These are stuffed with blue cheese. I didn’t expect to find them in the fridge, but Mae said she gets them for you.”
“We’ve been known to make a fancy Bloody Mary or two.”
“It’s my turn to make a Bloody Mary, this time with Copper Summit bourbon.”
My interest piqued. “You’re waiting on me?”
He searched the little fridge for the mix. “I’m serving you.”
“Mr. James, are you trying to get me drunk?”
His expression turned knowing. “I don’t have to get you drunk to get what I want.”
The thrum started between my legs. “And what is it you want?”
He speared the olives and rested them across the glass’s opening. “I want you to relax and tell me about your day.”
“Nothing was different about today than any other day.” This was different. Right now with Gideon was not a normal part of any day outside of the last few weeks.
He pushed the glass over and rested his hands on the table. “Autumn, you’ve been grilling me for three days about moving cattle and how I felt about it. You rarely talk about your job.”
Was he keeping me from asking him deeper questions about how he was feeling? Like what had been bothering him last night? “I’m just a teacher, and I’m not supposed to talk about the students.”
“Yet the house is full of lesson plans and sample Thanksgiving crafts. You can tell me about those.”
“Handmade turkeys are so last century. I’m trying to figure out another way to make turkeys that doesn’t take two hours.”
“Good start. Tell me more.”
I snatched an olive and popped it into my mouth. “That’s just it,” I said around the mouthful. I was full, but I’d down anything he made me. “You run a casino that makes how much a year?”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“Three hundred and fifty million. I looked it up.” I swirled the sword of olives in the liquid. “I know teaching kids is important, but everyone’s been to school. Everyone knows what teachers do.”
“I want to hear what you do.”
“But for how long?” Had I really asked that? I shoved another olive in my mouth.
He waited. I took a drink. How had that question slipped out? Dammit, Summer. She’d gotten it in my head that I could talk with Gideon, tell him I was falling for him—I’d crashed hard when I’d first seen him—but I was veering out of my fantasy world.
“What do you mean?” he asked when I swallowed.
“Nothing. I just don’t see how my day compares to the casino or even what you’ve been doing all week.”
“You grew up doing the same.”
“You’re right. I ran a local casino when I was eight.”
Humor lightened the green of his eyes. “I happen to find smart-asses sexy.”
“How convenient you’re married to one.”
He smiled, but it faded. The grimness returned.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked softly.
He pressed his hands on the counter and cocked a foot back. I braced for him to tell me that whatever he was feeling was none of my business. “Your mom had me take a plate of food to Hank last night.”
No wonder he’d been in his head when he’d come home. “I don’t think she meant to meddle.”
He cocked a brow.
“She’s usually there for us, but she’s not intrusive. She probably heard about how you worked with him for a few days and then helped tow his truck.”
“But she knows he’s still selling.”
I phrased my next words carefully. This topic was a sticking point and I knew where his opinions rested. Still, it needed to be said. “Being on speaking terms with your dad doesn’t necessarily hinge on whether he sells or not.”
His gaze went hard. “It does.”
I nodded. I hadn’t expected a different response. “How’d it go?”
“He said something I can’t figure out, and he expects me to know what he meant.” His flinty gaze was aimed out the wall of windows. “He said he’s selling because we all need to live our own lives.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Exactly.”
His dad had been telling him over and over again that he would continue with the sale. “He’s pretty determined.”
“Yeah.”
I swallowed hard. My drink was forgotten. “Are you going to stay until they close?”
His eyes sharpened. “Why wouldn’t I?”
A little glow that had nothing to do with the Bloody Mary ignited inside me.
“I still have time to get through to him. ”
The spark died. Right. The land came first. That was his priority. Convenient distraction, that was me.
“Autumn.”
I was glowering at my drink. I lifted my gaze to his.
“I’m enjoying my time with you. But when this is over, don’t take it personally. I’m not good for marriage.”
He’d been pretty fucking good for the last couple of weeks. I had two more weeks with him and I didn’t want to cry or beg. “I’m just going to miss you. That’s all.”
An exhale gusted out of him. “Fuck, Autumn. I’m going to miss you too. The thought of going back to my life... it won’t be as easy as I thought it’d be. You’re a special person. Any guy would be lucky to have you.”
A murderous expression flitted through his eyes. I blinked and it was gone.
The guy would have to want me first. And then I’d have to be into him. That seemed like an impossibility with Gideon in front of me. Long after he was gone from my house and his scent had been washed from the sheets, would I be able to meet another man and not compare him to Gideon?
Instead of moving my life forward when I’d married him, I’d stalled out. By saying my vows, I’d screwed myself out of the future I wanted.