Buried in Secrets (Carly Moore #4) - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,97
us.
Chapter Twenty-Five
We began to move to the country song about a man and his truck and something about a cow. Despite my worries, I laughed. “This is our song?”
He laughed too. “You know I’m pretty fond of the Explorer.”
I lifted my brow. “And the cow?” My eyes narrowed. “That better not be me.”
“Never.” He released my back and grabbed my hand, spinning me out and then reeling me in, catching me with my back to his chest. He placed a kiss at the base of my neck, and a shiver ran down my spine.
“If Bart hangs around much longer, I say we leave,” he whispered in my ear.
“And if he leaves?” I asked breathlessly, torn between wanting to take Marco home and wanting to stay and enjoy a rare night of frivolity.
He wrapped an arm around my stomach and turned me around to face him. “I’m dying to get you home, but I also know that nights like this are rare. You deserve to have fun, Carly, to forget about everything for at least a few moments, and I’m determined to make sure you can.”
“I love you,” I said, losing myself in his blue-green eyes.
He smiled. “I love you too.”
“Get a room,” teased an older man I recognized as a customer as he danced near us with his wife.
“I would, Barry,” Marco said. “But I heard you rented the last one at the Alpine Inn.”
Barry and his wife laughed, and we laughed with them, and I let myself forget that Bart was watching me. He knew I was with Marco, so there was nothing I could do about that, but I could at least deny him the satisfaction of knowing his presence was bothering me. So I laughed and danced and occasionally caught a glimpse of him while Marco spun me around the lot. I wanted Bart to see my happiness, but I couldn’t help feeling like I was poking more hornets’ nests.
The song we were dancing to stopped and Jerry tapped Marco’s shoulder. “Excuse me, but can I cut in?” He was wearing a clean pair of jeans and a button-down shirt that looked brand new. His hair was neatly combed, and he looked happier than I’d ever seen him.
“Just don’t steal my girl,” Marco teased.
“I know she’s yours,” he joked. A slow song came on, and Jerry held out his arms.
I put my hands on Jerry’s thin shoulders, pleased that he smelled like aftershave and not the cheap soap Max stocked in the bathrooms at the Alpine Inn. Despite my worry, I was happy to see him doing so well.
His hands rested on my waist and we stood about a foot apart as we swayed to the music.
“I’m so glad you came,” I said, my voice breaking. “I’ve missed you.”
“I didn’t move away,” he said with a smile. “Just moved on to bigger and better things. I’ve got my own cabin on the Drummond property. With curtains and everything. The Drummond housekeeper even said she’d change my linens and towels.”
“That all sounds wonderful, Jerry. I’m very happy for you.”
“I know you think I’m foolish,” he said, glancing down. “But it all seems on the up and up.”
“Jerry.” His gaze lifted to mine. “You are an amazing man, and Bart Drummond is damn lucky to have you. But if at any time you feel that’s changed, you tell me, okay? Don’t worry about where you’ll stay or anything. You can always stay with us. Just tell me, and we’ll sort it out. Together.”
He made a wry face. “You think Hank Chalmers would let me stay with him?” He released a sharp laugh, then shrugged. “Maybe he’s changed.”
I stared at him in surprise. “You and Hank have bad blood, Jerry?”
“It was a misunderstanding,” Jerry said, then waved his hand. “I’m sure he’s plumb forgotten.”
Did it have anything to do with Hank’s daughter? It had only recently come to light that Jerry had witnessed a sheriff’s deputy murder Barb’s boyfriend. But Jerry, terrified for his life, had kept it to himself.
“I’m glad you’re with Marco and not the other Drummond boy,” Jerry said.
“Wyatt?”
He nodded. “He’s up to something no good. I can feel it.”
I frowned. “Like what?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. Got no proof. Just a feelin’. He’s not gonna like it that you’re with Marco, so you both better watch your backs.”
I stared at him in disbelief. “You think he’d hurt one of us?”
“Nah,” he said with a grimace. “But the Drummonds have plenty of other ways.”