Page 7 of Blame It On Midnight

“Can we focus on the one reason it could work?”

“What’s that?

“I love him.”

“What you’re feeling is still up for debate as far as I’m concerned. It doesn’t change the fact that it’s not enough.”

“Love?”

“Your feelings.”

Kip was doubling down. His words didn’t hurt, his dismissal of her very real feelings hurt.

“You’re going to ambush this man, and I don’t see that ending well. Anonymous one-night stands are supposed to stay in the dark.”

“I love him. That has to count for something.”

“Like I said, it’s not enough.”

“It might not be right now, but it’s a start.”

“You’re not going to listen to me, are you?”

She asked for the check and slid off her stool. “It’s four o’clock. We’re expected at the ranch in half an hour.”

“It’s Ivy’s night. I don’t want it ruined.” There was warning in his voice.

“I promise not to do anything to make Ivy or Mike Paul mad, but I won’t promise to stay away. I need to see him.”

“You’re really doing this.”

“I am.”

“Shit.” Kip tossed a twenty onto the bar and thanked Jo. “Come on,” he grumbled. “Just remember, I only have one fighting arm.”

“It’s okay.” She grinned. “I have two.”

Chapter Three

“Daddy do you like my dress?”

Benton Bridgestone was pulling on his boots when his daughter, Nora, came crashing into his bedroom with all the energy of a five-year-old. And then some. As always, the sight of her damn near melted his heart. This kid could wreck him without trying.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

“You’re going to get dizzy if you keep that up.” He got off the bed and walked over to her.

Her hair could use some brushing, so he pointed to his bathroom. “Pigtails or pony?”

She marched ahead of him, her leopard print tights clashing with her sparkly purple dress and shiny baby-blue cowboy boots. It was hot as hell out there, but Nora had a stubborn streak a mile long when it came to her wardrobe. He’d learned early on which battles to pick with his daughter, and clothing wasn’t one of them.

“Can I have it long?” She smiled up at him and handed him a brush.

“With the purple clips?” he asked.

She nodded and leaned back onto him while he pulled the brush through her waves. Her hair was getting long. He’d tried cutting it once and had damn near taken off her ear because she wouldn’t sit still. He’d decided after that the only person to touch her head would be a professional. He’d give Dolly a call and take her to the salon.

Once he was done brushing out the tangles, he handed her two clips, and she carefully pulled the front back on either side and pinned down the curls.

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