She kissed the top of his head. “See you in the morning.” She bussed her father’s cheek and whispered, “I have my cell if you need anything. Don’t wait up.”
Her nerves nearly got the best of her when she pulled up to Kane’s trailer and saw four other pickups parked in the drive. Was he having a party?
What if one of those trucks was Daphne’s?
She stomped up the steps and pounded on the aluminum screen door.
The porch light went on. The inner door opened. A tall, lanky and deeply dimpled cutie poked his head out. “Please tell me that you’re the surprise entertainment. And you’ll be actin’ out the, ‘I’m havin’
car trouble and these winter clothes are so constricting’ fantasy.”
“No pasties under my coat. But I can come back later if this is a bad time?”
The kid was jerked out of the doorway and Kane opened the screen door. “Ginger? What the devil are you doin’ here?”
Not good. “Sorry to disappoint you. Sounds like you were expecting a stripper?” she said tightly.
“For Christsake, Dalton, what the hell did you say to her?” Kane shook his head at whatever was said behind him. “Ignore my bonehead cousin and come on in.”
All of a sudden this seemed like a really lousy idea. “I didn’t mean to crash your party.”
“It ain’t a party. Just a poker game and…Jesus Christ. Are you wearing…snow boots?”
She swiveled her toe in the snow. “Yes. That’s why I came over.”
His intense gaze didn’t waver from her eyes. “You drove all the way out here to show me your new snow boots?”
“Yes, since you nag at me for not wearing proper winter wear, I thought I’d prove that I do listen to you. You are a smart man, who’s usually right, and I am an idiot.”
Kane continued to give her an inscrutable look.
“Shit. Sorry. Dumb idea. I’ll go.”
Then he was right in her face. “You take one step off the porch, Red, and I’ll tackle you in the snow and drag your ass inside my house by the heels of your new snow boots.”
Oh. Wow. That caveman growl was sexy as hell.
“What the f**k, Kane? I know your mama raised you better than to let a beautiful woman shiver outside in this frigid weather. Come on in, darlin’. I’ll warm you up.”
Laughter.
“You touch her, I break your hand,” Kane snarled.
Really Neanderthal behavior. Really hot behavior.
Kane grabbed her by her coat sleeve and led her inside.
Four guys—all dark-haired, ranging in age from early twenties to late twenties—grinned at her and crowded around her, despite Kane’s back-off vibe.
“Hey, Ginger, nice to see you,” Bennett McKay said. “You’re lookin’ fantastic as usual.”
Kane made a growling noise.
“Thanks, Ben.”
Brandt McKay leaned forward. “I ain’t gonna offer my hand, bein’s psycho here—” he pointed to Kane, “—would probably cut it off. But I’ll echo Ben’s sentiments. You are lookin’ mighty fine tonight.”
“Thank you, Brandt. Is every one of you McKays born with a silver tongue?”
“Absolutely,” the cute, lanky one said. “The more we use our tongues the better we get with them.”
He held out his hand. “Dalton McKay, at your service.”
Ginger bit back a smile the same time Kane reached around and cuffed the impudent Dalton in the back of the head. “Dalton, don’t make me grind you into dust.”
“Always with the violence, cuz. Do you want Miz Ginger here to think we’re all as uncivilized as you?” Tell McKay winked at her. “Some of us do have manners.”
Ginger had grown up surrounded by hot guys in California. Surfer types. The All-American types.
The brooding types. The small town sports hero wannabe Hollywood-star types. But the Wyoming McKays were in a class by themselves. Talk about an irresistible natural charm. Lord. No wonder every woman wanted a piece of them.
“Speaking of bad manners, I’m sorry I interrupted.”
Kane said, “No, they were just leavin’.” He stared at each one of his cousins hard.
“Ah, yeah. Right. Poker night is over at…ten o’clock on a Saturday night?” Ben said, glancing at his watch.
“I’m tired of givin’ all my money to Dalton anyway,” Tell complained. “Let’s hit the Golden Boot.”
“Hell yeah,” Dalton said. “I’ll buy the first round.”
“You guys do what you want. I’m out. I’m headin’ home,” Brandt said.
“Home?” Dalton repeated.
Brandt glared at him.
“Dalton. Let it be,” Tell warned.
“The f**k I will. We both know he ain’t goin’ home, bein’s she called less than ten minutes ago.”
Dalton sneered. “Forget about her—”
Both Brandt and Tell cuffed their younger brother upside the head, shutting him up. “Thanks for the game, Kane. We’ll see you in church tomorrow mornin’, right?”
“Get the f**k out.”
Amused male laughter.
Ginger ducked her head to keep from joining in.
Four men donned boots, hats and outwear, taking their own sweet time, bullshitting among themselves, trying to engage her in conversation, while Kane folded his arms over his chest and glared at them.
Finally the trucks roared off and they were alone.
Kane began to stalk her with that look in his eye. The look that told her when he caught her, he’d do all sort of naughty, wicked things to her, without apology, and probably, without her permission.
Ginger stopped.
Kane didn’t until he crowded her against the wall. “Why are you really here?”
Damn, he smelled good. Even with whiskey on his breath. His body heat permeated her clothing, seeping into her skin, setting her needs on fire. She wanted to lick him up one side and down the other.
Bury her face in his neck. His chest. His groin.
“Ginger?” he prompted. “Are you gonna answer the question?”
Question. Right. Refocus. “Umm. I’m here because you were right today. I lied. I was jealous of Daphne. Really jealous and I feel stupid about it because that’s never happened to me before.”
He offered her a feral smile. “A lawyer recanting? Sugar, you sure your license to practice law ain’t gonna be revoked?”
“Funny.”