“I was actually thinking of starting a women’s poker group,” she said.
Morgan laughed and clapped her hands. “I love it! I’m in. About time we get something more interesting than knitting and book clubs.”
“Even erotic book clubs?” Cal pointed out, his eyes teasing.
“Oh, hush. Will you be featuring cocktails, too?”
“Definitely. I plan to keep them on the lighter side and use some of the Skinnygirl products to balance the calories. When Dalton is done with the stools and tables, I’ll set up an introductory class so everyone who doesn’t already know how to play can learn.”
Cal groaned. “I just lost my woman on a weekly basis, and maybe my money.”
Morgan tossed her head. “Charming, I make my own money, and I’ll win or lose it of my own accord, thank you very much.”
Raven laughed at his chastised look. It was fun to see her plans for the bar garner the excitement she’d dreamed of. She hoped others would be as enthusiastic, or she’d be hanging out with just Morgan on poker night.
“Cal and I were going to sit on the porch for a bit. Why don’t you join us?”
“Oh, no, thanks. I have to get back. Long day tomorrow.”
“Of course, we understand. We’d love to have you for dinner next week if you’re free.”
She tried not to react. She’d be inside the Pierce house. See where their mother had lived. Gather more clues.
Be with Dalton.
Her thoughts whirled, and she forced a smile. “That’s nice of you, but I’m sure I’ll be slammed with the renovations and party planning.”
Morgan sighed. “I need more girls around here. I’m overwhelmed by testosterone. But I understand; let me know if your schedule clears up.”
“I will.” She moved back toward the truck for her escape. “Have a good night.”
Dalton watched her with the quiet of a predator but finally tipped his head to his brother and slid into the driver’s seat. Halfway to her house, he spoke. “Morgan likes you. Don’t punish her because you don’t want to be around me.”
She gasped. “I’m not punishing her for anything! I happen to like Morgan, but I told the truth. I’m busy with work right now, and that’s my priority. Why would you care anyway?”
“Because Morgan brought back a joy in our lives we’d been missing for a long time.” His hands clenched around the steering wheel. “Because I love her and want her to be happy.”
She sucked in her breath. Stared at his profile. He kept his gaze on the road while his confession rolled through her like rollicking waves drenching the sand.
He loved her. Said so simply, so honestly, it cut right into her heart. This was a man who could love and had no problem saying it aloud. This was a man who treasured and cared about his family. This was a man with the potential to surprise her and destroy all her safe, manageable barriers.
He pulled into her driveway.
“Thanks. See you tomorrow.” Frantic to escape, she practically fell out of the passenger seat, and hit the ground running.
She didn’t look back.
chapter twelve
He was back to fucking square one.
Dalton brooded and tried to concentrate on the stools in front of him. It had only been a few days since the earth-shattering, rocket-blasting, volcano-exploding kiss.
Unfortunately, she was pretending it had never happened.
Even worse, she avoided his company and was unfailingly polite. No more veiled insults or sarcastic comments or withering glances. It was the worst type of rejection possible. She wanted to forget not only the kiss, but the budding relationship they’d begun to seed in the past week.
He wasn’t sure what to do. His brain told him to forget her and move on. Was this really worth it? She didn’t want him, whether or not they shared a red-hot chemistry. She was stuck on marrying some faceless guy who’d offer her stability, a low-APR mortgage, and exciting nights revolving around the DVR.
She’d die a slow, painful, boring death in a matter of months.
The blare of happy pop music didn’t pick up his mood. He gritted his teeth and finished sanding the stools, admiring the curved backs he’d done with horizontal spokes rather than vertical. He’d mixed up the tones to give a beautiful impression of light and dark, blending in with the bar and the brick. The hinges were installed and they swiveled around to a perfect one-hundred-eighty-degree arc. He’d done the bulk of the work in his studio but decided to finish up at the bar in some adolescent hope she’d pay a bit of attention to him.
Instead, she’d been noticeably absent during the day, and dealing with a revolving array of people when she was there. She was definitely avoiding him. He only had a few more days before the place reopened, and the rest of the work could be done off premises.