“That’s about the most useless piece of information I’ve ever heard.” I grin at him. “What else?”
“People don’t seem to care about keeping up with the Joneses. They just keep to themselves. You’ll notice the pace here is slower. We’re a close-knit community. We stick together. People are more down to earth. In so many ways, I think Texas has lost what Montana still has.”
“Is that the reason why you’re back?” I ask gently.
He peers at me, brows raised. “What makes you think I ever lived elsewhere?”
I shrug. “Your chick magnet sports car?”
He stays silent for a few moments, then shrugs. “That doesn’t say anything.”
He’s evading giving me an answer again.
“This is where I was born; where I grew up. It’s hard to get the same feeling elsewhere,” Kellan says.
“What feeling?” I follow his line of vision. He’s staring out at the lake now. It’s so serene and quiet. Except for the birds and the soft rustling of leaves, nothing stirs.
“Home,” he says. “The vast space. The air. The people. My happiest memories are here.” He turns to regard me again, his green gaze dark and hooded, filled with a past I wish I experienced with him. “Fun fact about Montana: we have plenty of cowboys here, but most of them ride bikes instead of horses.”
“Except you.” I smile.
“I prefer the old-fashioned way in everything.”
He’s drifting off again, expertly maneuvering my questions so he avoids answering any of them. But I’ve never been one to give up easily.
“Because your family goes back generations?” I ask.
“You might be onto something.” He pulls me to him, and I know in that moment that he’s done talking about himself. “Tell me, how are you feeling?”
“Good,” I say, wondering where he’s heading.
He frowns. “Just good?”
“Yeah, good. I couldn’t be better.” I smile at him to convey that yes, I like both his home and his company. “You’ve been asking me this question every morning.”
“Because I like to know I’ve left my woman satisfied.”
I laugh again. “You do. You’re a good host, but…”
“But what?”
“You promised to teach me to ride and you haven’t.”
“As far as I remember, we did plenty of riding.”
“Except horses.” In spite of the relaxed conversation, I can’t help but feel a little melancholy. “All in all, I’m happy and satisfied.”
“Good.” Kellan moves his arm around me and pulls me to his chest. “I’ve turned you into a country girl, then?”
“Fat chance. I still have a lot to learn.”
“Yeah? Like what.”
Like how to be what he wants and needs.
I shrug, as though my thoughts don’t matter. As though it doesn’t matter that I wish we met under different circumstances, in a different lifetime, with both of us ready for more than just a fling. “You still haven’t shown me around,” I say, implementing my own change in subject.
“I’d be happy to give you the tour.”
Except I’m leaving tomorrow.
That reminds me we have less than twenty-four hours left. We’ve barely spent a week together, and yet it feels like an eternity has passed between us. Mandy was right. It feels like we’re an old couple. There’s chemistry, and yet there’s no safety net.
I’m falling with no safety net.
I don’t know what’s worse. Falling in love with a beautiful cowboy I’ll never see again or falling in love with a jerk I know will break my heart.
In the end, it doesn’t matter. Both outcomes suck big time.
We stay silent for a few minutes.
Kellan resumes the conversation first. “Why don’t you move here?”
His question takes me by surprise. I look up to search his green eyes. He averts his gaze as though he doesn’t mind saying the words but he doesn’t want me to look into his soul while he says them.
“We could escape the madness of the past. Leave everything behind,” he adds. “We’d have all the time in the world. I could teach you everything you want to know.”
I straighten, my heart thumping harder in my chest. “Do you want me to stay?”
He shrugs. “I don’t think it’s bad here. And frankly, I think there’s a country girl somewhere inside you. I think deep down you want to help me with the farm.”
He must be joking.
Stupid, crazy hope.
For a moment, I really thought—
I shake my head, my mood suddenly plummeting to a new low in my life. “You wouldn’t pay me for my hard work.”
“Probably not. That’s because I already pay people to do most of the farm work.” He sighs. “But I’m a great cook, can offer you a warm bed, and let’s not forget, I’ll always make sure you come first.”
“Wow.” I grin at him. “You’re extremely generous.”
“Or a good host,” he says, his expression sober.
I give him a little shove. He laughs and lies back, squeezing his hands beneath his head. For a moment, I consider snuggling against his chest, but decide against it.