“Not bad, though I don’t know how important it is to you, so the powder room is through there.”
He pointed across the room.
“Be back,” she murmured, hustling that way.
The dogs chased after her.
“Stop!” he ordered. “Enough!”
They skidded, turned and raced to him.
And when they arrived at him, he nearly went down.
Gage was petitioning for another one.
Duncan’s youngest had some asinine argument about how having five pets upset the balance of the universe because the number needed to be even. He was hoping for a cat, but Sully, who’d bought into this shit, was pushing for another dog.
Duncan’s response was, “When you flunk out of U of A, you can get another animal because you’ll be around to feed them and take care of them as well as the horses, chickens, and anything else I make you do to be all over your ass for flunking out of college.”
That ended the discussion.
But right then, he gave orders for the ones he had to cool it, which Shasta and Rocco did, but Killer totally ignored him, and he ignored his baby girl doing that.
He then heard a noise coming from the garage and was still smiling when Genny came out of the bathroom.
“Now what’s amusing you?” she asked on her way over.
“Your daughter took my car.”
She stopped dead in the middle of the room, arched far back with her hands clenched at her chest, and called to God, “Please, please let there be a partner out there who can handle the handful she is or make her a woman who is perfectly fine in her own company for eternity. Please.”
“Babe?” he called.
She looked his way.
“That sedation you considered for your ex?”
She nodded.
“It wasn’t because she’s a handful. It was because she’s a handful. He knows that. She’s the reason shit like duels was invented. You should be praying for the guys, or gals, or whatever she’s into. Because there’s probably a pack of them she’s already laid waste to in her wake. They’re the ones who need your prayers.”
“Now I think I need sedation,” she said, finishing making her way to him.
“Sorry, I only got coffee.”
She grinned and stopped at the island.
The dogs fanned out all around her, hoping she’d collapse on the floor and play.
Instead, she looked to his laptop and a hint of worry shadowed her face.
“Do you need to work?”
There was no denying it.
All that was happening, he was getting behind.
Gen in his house for the first time, there because she was ready to talk things through, no way in fuck he was working.
“No.”
She nodded, biting her lip.
She started to say something, but he asked, “You wanna meet the horses?”
“I want to meet the horses and see the chickens, but Bowie, maybe we should talk.”
He closed his laptop, kept his hand on it, rested his weight in his other hand on the counter, and queried, “Something new on your mind?”
But she was staring at his laptop.
“Genny, I don’t need to work,” he assured.
“You did that,” she told his hand.
“Sorry?”
Her eyes came to his. “Even back then when things weren’t…” she lifted a hand a circled it, “heavy, like they are now. If something was on my mind, you dropped everything. And listened.”
“Genny,” he said softly.
She drew in breath and let it out, saying, “I’ve had my coffee. I try to keep it at two cups, only in the morning. But I can hang if you want to make another cup and maybe we can go on the back porch and chat?”
He was a coffee fiend. Always had been. Drank it all day. Caffeine didn’t affect him, or his sleep.
She knew that, but even if she didn’t remember, it didn’t matter.
It was time.
And he’d pushed for this.
But he was fucking dreading it.
He refreshed his cup. Led the way to the back porch.
Genny came with him.
She settled in an Adirondack chair that was angled to the lake.
He settled in standing and leaning against a roof post, facing her.
She didn’t look at his view.
Her gaze was glued to him.
It was time to do this.
Then face the consequences.
“I’ll start,” he said.
“Please do,” she replied quietly.
“I never felt good enough for you.”
Pain slashed through her features and it took all he had to stay where he was.
But she whispered, “I know.”
“It wasn’t you.”
“I know.”
“It was my dad.”
She nodded.
“And Corey played us both.”
She nodded again.
“I let him because that was where my head was at. Yesterday, I realized, there was a part of me that nagged day in and day out since it happened that I knew to my soul you didn’t step out on me. But I jumped on that excuse to let you go because I had to. Because I needed to set you free for you. But also, for me, because I had something to prove.”
She rolled her head on her shoulders. Pressed her lips together.