“No,” she admitted.
“A-ha! There you go. ” He addressed the whole room, saying, “I tell you, it’s more fun in the snow. More of a challenge. ”
Billy asked, “What do you hunt with?”
“Twenty-eight-gauge. ”
“That’s big for quail,” her dad grunted from his recliner.
Damien turned to face him, not missing a beat. “Mister Bailey, when it comes to shooting, Rhett Akins gets it right. ” He warbled out the lyrics, “‘A gun’s like a woman…it’s all how you hold her. ’”
Her father’s laugh was explosive. He nodded sagely, his eyes brimming with warmth.
Maybe Bear should be the one dating Damien. She stood. “Boy talk. I’m outta here. ”
But Damien snagged his hand in her jeans pocket, catching her before she could escape. The gesture embarrassed her.
He tugged her back to the couch. “What’s eating at you, babe?”
She shifted out from his grip. That was the thing—she wasn’t exactly sure what was eating at her. “I thought you were supposed to have a big meeting with your dad today. ”
With a gusty exhale, Damien flopped back on the couch. “Oh, that. Yeah, we tabled it for another day. It was the old man who convinced me to go hunting instead. What was I supposed to do? He’s the boss. ”
Of course Dabney could convince his son to get out of the office—the world could be ending, and Damien would still jump at the chance to spend a day outdoors. The Simmons men had been butting heads over environmental issues, and Damien had been gaining support in the company. But the Simmons employees adored his dad, and Dabney probably wanted to buy time to remind them of that fact.
“He’s just trying to distract you,” she said.
Looking at Billy, Damien explained, “My dad and I have a long-running argument when it comes to how much we should cut down and where. ” He paused, mimicking his dad’s booming voice, “‘People need paper, son. ’ But there’s a way to do it mindful of the native habitat, you know? That’s just good PR. And hell, it’s good for the wildlife, too. ”
The men got to talking about the logging business, and she took that as her excuse to finally make her escape.
Her mom followed her into the kitchen, her voice a frantic whisper. “Sorrow Ann Bailey. ”
Sorr
ow stopped. “Uh-oh. The middle name—I must be in trouble now. What is it, Mom?”
“You be a good hostess and ask that boyfriend of yours to eat with us. ”
“He knows he can eat with us. ”
“I didn’t hear you invite him. A man needs to hear you say it. ”
She rolled her eyes. “What is this, 1950?”
“Hey, Bailey. ” Damien appeared in the doorway. “Got enough food for one more?”
Her mother gave her a pointed look before scurrying from the room. Something about this whole situation put Sorrow out of joint. She turned on Damien. “Do you have to call me Bailey?”
“I’ve been calling you Bailey since junior high. ” He reached for her hair, twirling a wave around his finger. “Sorrow’s just such a…I don’t know…a mopey name. ”
Mopey. “Yeah, and it’s all mine. ”
He pulled her close, nestling her body against his. “C’mon, mopey. Give me a proper hello. ”
It was nice having a man who cared. Nice not to be alone. Wonderful how he’d gotten her out of so many jams. Was she taking him for granted? She should want him around when she didn’t need his help.
She tried to put herself into the moment. That hard body of his felt good. She glanced up. Damien sure looked good, too. So why did she feel so put-upon? Shouldn’t she feel all melty at his touch? It was nice, but shouldn’t it be electrifying, too?