But Jack didn’t flash her the smile that turned her knees wobbly. He scowled at her. Scowled. At her.
At her own damn engagement party.
Jerk.
Indifferent to their audience, Keely strolled across the room acting like she couldn’t give a crap he’d finally shown up. Which would tick him off.
Still, his heated eyes never left hers.
She latched onto his lapels, using them to draw herself to her tiptoes. “Perfect suit for a funeral, GQ.”
She smashed her mouth to his for a brief, hard kiss.
Jack’s hands circled her upper arms. He appeared to be hauling her closer, when in actuality, he was pushing her back. “You determined to piss me off first thing?”
“Yep. Is it working?”
“You have no idea how much.”
“Oh joy, my life is complete.” She spoke against his throat. “If you would’ve pulled a no-show, I would’ve tracked you down and castrated you, Jack- off.”
“Big talk.”
“How so?”
“I guarantee if you ever put your hands on my junk again, chopping it off will be the last thing on your mind, buttercup.”
She snorted. “Cocky much?”
“Only when it’s warranted.” Jack kissed her temple and nuzzled his face against her head. “Don’t f**king push me, Keely, I’m not in the mood.”
“Aw. And I so give a flying f**k what kind of bad day you’ve had when I’ve been here alone for the last three goddamn days, fielding questions about our supposed relationship.”
“For Christsake, it wasn’t like I was on vacation. I’ve been in Iowa. In cornfield hell.”
“Did you say you got cornholed in Iowa?”
Jack actually growled.
She grinned. Keely one; Jack zero.
Anyone who watched them would see lovers embracing in a private moment. Not the nip Keely placed on his jaw or the answering bite he gave the top of her ear. She sucked in a harsh breath at the sharp pain. “Bastard.”
“Did you miss me?”
“Like I’d miss an oozing canker sore.”
Jack laughed and released her. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to track down my mother.” He pivoted on his dress shoe and sauntered to the kitchen.
Damn frustrating man. She headed the opposite direction even when she wanted to follow him to see what he was up to.
The second Jack disappeared from Keely’s line of vision he closed his eyes and collapsed against the wall. Pulse racing, c**k hard, mouth dry.
Dammit. That smart-mouthed cowgirl would be the death of him yet. Jesus. Did she have to look so goddamn fantastic? One look at Keely’s sinfully curvy body in that skintight p**n -star-meets-country-girl dress, and any objectivity sailed right out of his lust-addled brain. He couldn’t think beyond stopping her insults with his mouth. His lips. His teeth. His tongue.
Get control for f**k’s sake.
“Got a minute, Donohue?”
Startled, Jack’s eyes opened. How had Cord McKay snuck up on him so fast?
You were stuck in a fantasy featuring your sexy fiancée, a woman who’d rather spit on you than swap spit with you.
“Sure, Cord. Glad you could make it to the party.”
The man planted himself in front of Jack, arms crossed, menace in his posture. “Here’s where I’m comin’ from. If you do a single damn thing to hurt her, I will gut you.”
Jack waited, expecting Cord to grin and say, “Just kiddin’, man, welcome to the family.”
But Cord’s fiery blue eyes, identical to Keely’s, refused to break contact. “Understand?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” Cord walked past without another word. But slow enough that Jack glimpsed the knife case attached to Cord’s belt.
This was going to be one goddamn long night.
For the next hour, while friends and family mingled, Jack and Keely stayed as far away from each other as possible. No one noticed, and for the first time Jack was grateful for Keely’s large family.
But he watched her. Constantly. She had a dark-haired, dark-eyed baby girl cocked on her hip as she talked to her cousin Chassie. Two men—Chassie’s husbands—approached, and each kissed Keely’s cheek.
Trevor plucked the grinning baby girl from Keely’s arms while Edgard rubbed Chassie’s belly and murmured to her. A blond boy streaked through their circle before rejoining the roving gang of kids—which looked to be about twenty strong.
More family members joined the group and Jack tried to place them all.
Why? It’s not like it matters if you know their names. This is a charade, remember?
He listened to two older women speculating on how wild Keely’s bachelorette party would be. He refilled his cup for the third time, wishing someone had spiked the punch.
The hair on the back of his neck stood up. Jack slowly turned around. Great. McKay number two.
“Colby. Nice to see you.”
Colby grunted. He looked around and leaned in. “Consider this your one and only warnin’, Donohue.
You ever hurt her, I’ll gut you.”
Jesus. “So noted.”
“Just wanted to be up front.”
“I appreciate it.”
Without another word, Colby strolled back to his sweet-looking wife and rowdy kids.
Jack indulged in small talk with a couple of ranchers who’d worked with the McKays for years. But as he listened politely to talk of drought, high feed prices, low returns and government interference, his gaze continually sought Keely out. She laughed and flitted from group to group, the lovely embodiment of a free spirit. Then he noticed her hand was clenched into a tight fist at her side. Was she looking to punch someone? Who?
You probably.
For some reason, that made Jack smile.
“So as long as you’re hidin’ over here, I wanna take the opportunity to tell you if you harm a single hair on Keely’s head, I will gut you.”
His smile dried up and he looked sideways at Colt McKay.
“We clear on that?”
Jack knew his attempts to reassure the assorted male McKays that he’d never cause precious Keely distress would backfire when the “engagement” went to hell. He kept his lie simple. “Understood.”
Colt nodded and meandered away.
Another two hours remained of the party. If Jack stuck to the crowds, maybe he could avoid the oh-so-fun, one-on-one threat time with Keely’s remaining brothers.
As if she sensed him gawking at her, Keely cocked her head and looked straight at him. Her tight-lipped smile was better than flipping him off, he supposed, but not by much.