Page 21 of Sinful Sharing

I swallow. “Yeah.”

For a moment, neither of us moves. Then he breaks eye contact, shattering the spell and shifting past me. As I turn around, he grabs the box of bulbs from the table and presses it into my arms. His expression turns granite. “Don’t break my goddamn bulbs, understand?”

The words land with enough force to leave a sting. Before I can respond, he stomps past me. Three long strides carry him to the door, and he slams it behind him hard enough to rattle the frame. I stand in silence, gaping, confusion twisting my stomach.

Because I’m not sure what concerns me more: my step-uncle being attracted to me or what I’m starting to feel for him.

13

Jude

A middle-aged brunette flashes a welcoming smile as I push through the battered door. “Welcome to Murphy’s—oh, hey Jude!“ Her smile widens. “Long time no see!”

“I was here last month, Shelley,” I respond with dry amusement.

“Last month?” she tuts. “You’re usually here every night.” She points a finger at me. “If I find out you’ve been cheating on us with that old dive—“

“Never. My heart belongs Murphy’s. You know that.“ Leaning in, I kiss her cheek. She huffs, then fondly pats my arm. “Alright, go on.”

I move forward, almost bumping into Sandy, a cute blonde with a tray filled with foaming beers. She recovers nicely, refuses my offer to help, then saunters toward a nearby table.

The familiar chorus of clinking glasses, country music, and rough laughter washes over me as I head the other way. Pool balls crack together in the back corner, and somebody’s losing money at the dartboard if the swearing is anything to go by. This is my home away from home. It’s where I come to either get laid or clear my head.

Sometimes both.

Settling on a bar stool around the long wooden counter, I wave at Murphy, Shelly’s husband. He’s been running this bar longer than I’ve been alive. Gray hair pokes out beneath his faded cap, and deep lines crease around his eyes from decades of smiling at drunks.

Without asking, he slides a glass of bourbon in front of me. “The usual.”

I wrap my fingers around the cool glass. “Thanks.”

Murphy leans both hands against the counter. “Haven’t seen you in a hot minute,” he drawls.

Taking a slow sip, I let the bourbon burn all the way down. “Been busy.”

“Oh?”

“Getting Silver Sage ready to reopen.”

Understanding settles across his weathered face. “That’ll do it.”

He nods toward the window as though he can somehow see the ranch from here. “Silver Sage has been a part of this town for decades. It used to be one of the prettiest places around. Such a shame what has happened to it over the years.”

I stare into my drink, listening. I’ve seen photos of the ranch during its glory days, and he’s right. It’s fucked up. What Roman’s stepbrother did was pure evil.

“But I’ll give Roman credit.” Murphy scratches his beard. “Most folks would’ve sold the place years ago. Takes guts to keep fighting for something everybody else has written off.”

A small smile pulls at my mouth. “He’s stubborn.”

Murphy chuckles. “That’s one word for it.” He reaches for a towel and starts wiping down the counter. “I hope things turn around for you boys.”

I lift my glass. “I’ll drink to that.”

Another customer waves him down. He gives me a nod before wandering off. I nurse my drink, staring absentmindedly at the baseball match on the large screen. Normally, I’d be scanning the room, deciding on my next bed partner. Or partners. Options are plenty, even in a small town like this. It’s easy—no promises or complications, just enough distraction to quiet my head until morning.

Tonight, though...

I’m still waiting to feel the urge.