The Angels' Share (The Bourbon Kings #2) - J. R. Ward Page 0,48
too many ways to count. And she was going to figure that out.
And there was nothing that Edward could do about it.
Or should do about it, for heaven’s sake. Come on, what the hell was wrong with him? Why in the good goddamn would he want to cheat her out of a potentially fulfilling, happy, healthy relationship—
Because I want her for myself.
As his inner voice went center stage and bullhorn, the only thing that stopped him from driving into a tree just to shut the thing up was the fact that he had no right to wreck Shelby’s truck.
So he settled for banging the steering wheel a couple of times and carpet-bombing the inside of the cab with the f-word.
Many miles and miles later, when Edward finally decided to actually go to the Red & Black instead of drive around like a sixteen-year-old kid whose cheerleader girlfriend was going to the prom with another football player, he discovered that he’d managed to burn through half a tank of Shelby’s gas. Pulling into a Shell station, he eased up to one of three vacant pumps and went for his credit card—but nope. No wallet.
Cursing, he got back in and went on to the Red & Black’s main entrance. As he turned in between the two stone pillars, he was no closer to feeling at peace, but driving around all night and leaving Shelby on empty wasn’t the solution. All that was going to get him was a hitchhike proposition and an embarrassing conversation when she and Moe and/or Joey had to go and bring her truck home.
After parking in front of Barn B, Edward took the keys with him and then doubled back to crank the window up. Limping over to the cottage, he opened the door and expected it to be empty.
Instead, Shelby was asleep in his chair, her legs tucked up to her chest and her head kicked to the side. Looking past her, he saw the kitchen had been cleaned up, and he would have bet the last of his mobility that there was a bowl full of that stew waiting in the refrigerator for him.
He shut the door softly. “Shelby?”
She came awake, jumping from the chair with a lithe surge he envied. Her ponytail had gotten shoved out of place, and she yanked the tie free, her hair tumbling around her shoulders.
It was longer than he’d thought. Blonder, too.
“What time is it?” she said as she regathered the waves, tying them back up again.
“Almost ten o’clock.”
“The mare isn’t coming in now, is she?”
“No, she is not.”
“I left you a bowl in the refrigerator.”
“I know.” He found himself tracking her movements, everything from the subtle shift of her feet to the way she tucked that stray hair behind her ear. “I know you did. Thank you.”
“I’ll see you in the morning, then.”
As she went by him, he took her arm. “Don’t go.”
She didn’t look at him. Her eyes … they stayed on the floorboards beneath their boots. But her breath quickened and he knew what her answer was going to be.
“Stay with me tonight,” he heard himself say. “Not for sex. Just … stay with me.”
Shelby didn’t move for the longest time.
But in the end, she took his hand, and he followed her into the dim bedroom. The glow from the security lights on the barns bled through the homemade gingham curtains, casting gentle shadows off the plain bureau and the modest, queen-sized bed that didn’t even have a head-board.
He wasn’t sure there were sheets under the duvet.
He’d been sleeping in that chair a lot since he’d moved in. Or passing out in the damn thing was more like it.
Edward went into the bathroom and used the facilities before brushing his teeth. When he came out, she had pulled the covers back.
“I washed these yesterday,” she said as he approached the other side of the bed. “I wasn’t sure whether you slept in here or not.”
“You shouldn’t take care of me.”
“I know.”
She got in first, fully clothed, and once again he envied her easy movements, her legs stretching out without cracking, her back reclining with no hitches or gasps. His trip to the horizontal, in contrast, was paved with groans and curses, and he had to catch his breath when he finally got his head on the thin pillow.
Shelby turned to him, and her hand moved across his hollow stomach. He stiffened, even though he had a T-shirt on. And a fleece.