Page 88 of Unguarded

“Fourteen.” I trail a finger around her knee cap.

“Were you close?”

I smile at a memory of her standing in the ranch kitchen, dark hair reaching her waist. “She held our family together. She would sing every morning while she made breakfast. Pops has never been the same since losing her. None of us have.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“Just picture Dolly in twenty years. Caring, kind, and a great cook. We’re all protective of her because when we look at her, we see mom.” A lump rises in my throat. I never talk about my mom.

“She’s lucky to have you, all of you.”

I nod. “What about your parents? Do they ever come to the show?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t even know if my dad is alive. He left when I was a baby. My mom has come twice. She married a millionaire who died suddenly a year later. She’s resourceful with the money. She has a group of friends she travels with. She dates a lot. We talk, sometimes, but she always thought she would be famous. We were really poor growing up, so when Fidel discovered me, she let me move to California and never really checked in. I think she’s proud of me but…she’s proud from a distance.”

I can see the pain etched on her face. Her mother didn’t want to be a part of her life if it meant Monroe would be the one in the spotlight, leaving her in the shadows.

“I need dinner. Something greasy to end this lazy day,” she blurts out.

I stand, grabbing the empty pizza box to take into the kitchen. “Let’s get some shoes on and go grab something in town. Fried chicken?”

Her eyes widen. “Oh my gosh, yes. With extra gravy and French fries!”

I chuckle at the look on her face. “I had no idea you were such a fan of fried chicken.”

“Every girl likes fried chicken. Scratch that. Every person likes fried chicken.”

We put on our shoes and head outside. Monroe rubs her arms over the thin long-sleeved shirt she’s wearing, which matches her leggings. I go back into the bunkhouse and grab my Carhartt work jacket hanging by the door. She slides her arms into it as I hold it out for her.

“Thank you. It got chilly all of a sudden.”

“Texas spring weather is bipolar.” I feel the instinct to reach out for her hand, but I press mine against her lower back to guide her to my truck instead.

I take her to the passenger side and open the door for her. She bites her lip and hops up into it. I walk around to my side and climb in, turning the ignition on and cranking up the heater. Her teeth are chattering.

“You are so warm.” She scoots into the middle seat next to me until our thighs touch.

Warmth spreads through my chest. I reach down, gripping the inside of her thigh. The reality of her being inside my truck when, yesterday, I was telling myself that this would never happen still doesn’t feel real.

“When did you fall in love with her?”

The words have been floating inside my brain sinceKacie said them yesterday morning. I can’t stop myself from thinking about it, about this woman.

I turn the truck onto the dirt road leading to the long driveway and head into town. Monroe lays her head down on my shoulder and sighs.

“So, are we going to talk about it?”

My grip on the steering wheel tightens. She trails her fingers over my forearm. I reach over to turn on the radio. Her voice fills the truck, singing one of her biggest hits about falling for a man she just met.

Does she know I’m in love with her?

“Please don’t make me listen to myself right now.”

I turn the dial to a station that plays ’90s country.

Yesterday, she asked me what my dick tasted like and begged me to fuck her against a hay bale, but she was also as drunk as I’d ever seen her. We’ve been sexually attracted to each other since the first day we met, but the introduction of more isn’t something I ever thought would happen.

Kacie’s right; I don’t do committed relationships or emotional connections. I haven’t been close to a woman since my mother died.

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