Page 55 of Rocky Mountain Devil
Walking away?
Forget being an angel. Right then he was a fuckingsaint.
Rafe held the steering wheel tight enough he swore the hard surface creaked under his grip.
Part of him wanted to turn the truck around, hurry back to Laurel’s apartment and finish what they’d started. But driving away was the right choice no matter how much he wanted her.
It hadn’t even been a week yet. It didn’t matter that they had tons of history together. In the long run taking their time wasn’t going to hurt them. Heck, he wasn’t sure if Laurel was a virgin. They had to have a talk about that at some point, soon, so he could be ready.
God. Even the idea of Laurel with another man was enough to set his teeth on edge, which was all kinds of twisted considering he wasn’t a virgin, and he knew damn well she didn’t expect him to be.
So what if it was chauvinistic. Still set off something caveman-like in his gut to think of her with anyone else.
He hit the edge of town and pressed his foot to the floor, tires spinning briefly before he checked himself. No use getting a speeding ticket on top of being sexually frustrated. He slowed to the speed limit, breathing carefully to settle his nerves.
Coming over the rise of the hill and down toward the Coleman property, he laughed when he spotted the speed trap set up at the side of the road. He slowed even further, rolling down the passenger window so he could wave at his cousin, Anna Thompson.
She offered him a grin, then refocused her attention on the radar gun.
Amusement lingered as he drove past the house he’d shared with his cousins not that long ago. Jesse’s truck was parked outside, and he was sitting on the tailgate, throwing a ball for his dog.
Rafe turned in the driveway and parked next to his cousin. Slipped out and joined him, jumping up to sit at his side.
Jesse indicated the case of beer resting behind him, the box cracked open and a couple of empties already slid back into place. “Help yourself.”
Rafe took one and popped off the lid, drinking deeply as he relaxed in the silence. The golden retriever raced back with the ball in his mouth, resting his paws on the metal tailgate and depositing the ball at Jesse’s side before dancing off, glancing back optimistically toward his master.
“You ever wish people were as easy to understand as dogs?” Jesse asked.
“Never really considered it.”
Jesse picked up the ball and stared at it for a moment. “They’re pretty simple when you come down to it. A dog’s goals, I mean. Take Morgan, here. He wants to be fed and watered. A warm place to sleep, and a whole lot of activities that make him happy. And he doesn’t care if those are rabbits to chase, balls to return—”
“—balls to lick,” Rafe offered.
His cousin gave him a dirty look before whipping the toy into the yard. Morgan took off after it like a shot. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation, if you don’t mind.”
“How many beers you had tonight?”
Jesse shrugged. “Not that many.”
Rafe nodded. “Okay. You’re right. A dog’s goals are pretty simple. Anything in particular bring on this deep and philosophical discussion topic?”
“Don’t you think our goals should be just as simple?”
He resisted making another joke about balls. Jesse probably wouldn’t see the humour in it. Not tonight.
Instead Rafe gave it a bit of serious consideration. “What makes you think our goalsaren’tthat simple? We like food and drink and a roof over our heads. And I’m all for a whole bunch of things that make me happy.”
“Dogs don’t do things deliberately to make other people unhappy,” Jesse pointed out. “Humans do that. And sometimes we do things we completely hate because we know somebody else wants us to. Dogs don’t do that.”
“We can make a pretty long list of things dogs don’t do.” Rafe took another drink. “You really want us to spend the night at it?”
His cousin shrugged. “Hell, no. Just figured you’d like something inane to discuss to get your mind off your troubles.”
“My troubles?”
Jesse lifted the bottle to his lips and took a long drink, a slow smile curling his lips. “Laurel get off to bed okay?”
