Page 19 of Rocky Mountain Devil
“We can stop talking about it if we want to go somewhere so we can do more of it. I’m good with that scenario.”
She rolled her eyes. “Rafe. How about we slow down to something a little more manageable?”
“We did slow down. All summer long.” He stepped closer, stroking his fingers through her hair. “It’s time we get things rolling.”
While she mostly agreed, she was exhausted and confused, and what she really needed was to get away from the people glancing at them with curiosity. “I can’t do this now. I know you were trying to help, and I was a little shaky for a while there, but I’m okay. Let’s plan to get together tomorrow.”
His amusement faded, concern rising in its place. “My mom’s waiting for me, and I have to drive her home, but how about I stop by your place a little later?”
It was like a flashback to high school when he’d get on a topic and hound her over and over until she caved. Not this time. “The sheep must’ve been really loud this afternoon.”
He eyed her. “Not particularly, why?”
“Because you’ve obviously lost your hearing. I said not today. It’s not even the sixth,” she pointed out triumphantly. “So, text me or something. I’ve got to go.”
Laurel twirled on her heel, head held high, ready to…
She grumbled in frustration. Her departure couldn’t be nearly as impressive as she’d intended. She desperately wanted to avoid meeting up with Jeff, or her father, or her mother or—anyone, really.
So instead of marching away like a strong, determined woman, she ducked into the coffee tent and took the long way around to where her car was parked, crawling into the tiny thing to escape as quietly as possible.
Of course, checking in her rearview mirror she discovered Rafe stood there in plain sight, waving after her until she turned onto the main road.
Well. That wasn’t what he’d expected from the afternoon.
Rafe drove his mom home and unloaded the animals, heading back to his place bemused by the whole situation.
Obviously there was some history between Laurel and Jeff, and he couldn’t wait to get to the bottom of it.
He didn’t feel guilty for having deceived the fellow about Laurel and him going out. He might have rushed the truth a little, but who the hell cared? It was time they both did something for themselves. She’d make him happy, and he’d make her happy at the same time.
Rafe hurried through another shower while scrolling through the long list of things he needed to deal with as soon as possible.
He should drop in at Gabe and Allison’s to catch up with his brother regarding plans for the next few weeks. He should touch base with the cousins he’d been ignoring all summer, especially Jesse and Trevor. The memory of him feeding Trevor a cock-and-bull story earlier that summer about how dating Laurel was an impossible dream flashed back and made him laugh. He couldn’t wait to see Trevor’s face when he realized he’d been played.
Yeah, there were a whole lot of things he should do that night, but what he needed most was to see Laurel and make sure things were clear between them.
Still, he couldn’t toss off everything entirely. He hauled out his phone and sent Gabe a text.
Rafe:I’mback. Obviously. What’s on for this week?
The answer came not a minute later.
Gabe:Glad you survived the summer, bro. Sleep in. Stop by the house for lunch and we’ll get caught up.
Rafe:Deal. Want me to grab anything?
Gabe:Nah. We’ve been saving leftovers for you for weeks.
Rafe smiled as he put away his phone, able to focus on his more immediate plans. Laurel. There was one way to approach this—full steam ahead.
Only in light of having gotten her back up, even though he’d been trying to help, Rafe made a slight detour before parking on the street and making his way to the stairs that led down to her small basement apartment.
He carefully made his way down the stone steps to the entrance to her basement suite. There wasn’t even a peephole in the door.
Thankfully when she opened to his knock, only a thin crack of light appeared as she peered at him past the security chain. “Rafe?”
He held forward the batch of flowers. “It’s September sixth somewhere.”
