She’ll be back tomorrow.
My vacation’s drawing to an end.
“No,” I say slowly. “I don’t miss the city at all. I sure don’t miss the stress.”
“Your job?”
“What?” I laugh and shake my head. “No.”
“What about your home?”
“God, no. My bedroom’s as small as a closet. It’s seriously crammed. But if you’re talking about my family…” I shrug. “They’re constantly traveling, barely calling. I rarely see them. I think it’s safe to say that I’m closer to my neighbors. You?”
“Me?” His lips twitch. “What about me?”
“Do you miss the city?”
“Nah.” He shakes his head, turning his eyes back to the lake. “Not at all.”
“Not even your car?”
He shrugs. “Money can’t buy you everything.”
I nod and let out a small sigh. “Maybe, but money can make your life easier. A lot easier.”
He remains silent for a while.
“That’s true,” he says at last. “But it doesn’t buy you happiness, nor does it make your life less complicated, or less of a mess. It sure hasn’t made mine.”
And here it is again—a hint of his past without revealing too much.
But his tone is different, as though he wants to talk but just can’t. As though opening up to someone doesn’t come easily to him, but maybe, just maybe, he feels as though opening up to me may be a possibility in the future.
The past few days, I’ve been wondering what’s happening to him. It’s hard to believe that Kellan Boyd is the same man I met three months ago. The arrogance is still here, and the confidence, and as before, he exudes raw sex, but something is missing.
I cannot pinpoint what it is.
It’s as if one part of him died. But what part?
There is the cowboy, wild at heart, loving the country and his family.
And there is the rich, superficial guy with the expensive car, who is more concerned with sex and appearance than with human relationships.
Who is he?
It’s the one question that keeps haunting me. Kellan keeps denying that he’s involved with Club 69. He’s adamant that he’s a silent shareholder and nothing more. I want to believe him, and yet I cannot. Because I have no idea what he really does.
Sure, he seems to know how to take care of a farm, but I’m not stupid enough to believe that a bit of livestock can earn him enough money to buy a Lamborghini and wear tailored clothes.
Just like the lake in front of me, Kellan is still as much of a mystery to me as the day I arrived, and I have no idea how to get to the truth without being pushy.
I have tried to get him to open up by confiding things I would never have told a stranger, like about my parents and their expectations of me. I have tried to be patient—all to no avail.
He is a closed book, revealing little, if anything, while asking questions about my life.
“What are you thinking?” he asks.
I grow silent as I pry my eyes away from his stunning lips. “Just life, you know. What you said about happiness.”
“It’s the country,” he whispers. “That’s why I love it here. Everything is still. It’s as if time has stopped. Don’t you think?”
I turn to him, eyeing him again. “Yeah. It’s probably the part I’ll miss the most.” I didn’t mean to be so honest, but the words are out before I can stop them.
“Not me?” he asks, brows raised.
“No, not you.” I scowl and slap his arm playfully. “Obviously, you’re a jerk.”
“Still?”
“Very much.” I nod. “Big time. I have yet to forgive you for embarrassing me in front of your brother.”
He lets out a laugh. “Relax. Ryder told me you had a nice body. That’s good feedback.”
“It’s still embarrassing.”
“Not around here, it isn’t. We’re like one huge family.”
Maybe that part’s true, but I still don’t want my family to walk in on me having the time of my life with a guy.
“You know what I don’t get?” I say, changing the subject. “Back in NY, you were this huge pain in the ass, and here you’re this Texan cowboy.”
“I’m a Montana cowboy. Don’t compare us.” He winks at me. It’s hard to say whether he’s joking or really taking something so trivial seriously.
“Why not?”
“Because we differ in too many ways. We talk differently. We fuck differently. The weather around here is different. Don’t even get me started on attitude and culture.”
This is the longest he’s talked. I don’t even care what we’re talking about. I just like his sudden openness; the fact that he lets me glimpse into his soul.
“Give me an example,” I say, eager to prolong our conversation for as long as I can.
“Let me think.” Kellan pauses for a moment, thinking. “You can legally toke up in Montana, but if you try that in Texas, you’ll get your ass thrown in jail.”