Three

      Late Saturday night after he was home, Gabe sent a brief text asking Meg to go to a dinner dance at the Downly Country Club in honor of its renovation. She sent a return text immediately, accepting his invitation.

      He thought about their deal—a month-long fake engagement. Her request had surprised him. But it was her kiss that had stunned him, and from the wide-eyed look he had received, she had been as shocked as he had. He had never expected kissing Meg to be anything except sweet and he had been amused when he’d teased her about it beforehand. He’d expected his request to throw her into a quandary, that they’d have a sweet kiss and that would be all there was to it. He had never envisioned what had actually happened. Maybe he should have guessed because he’d had a sexual reaction to her at the ranch, but he’d never dreamed kissing her would be akin to a nuclear meltdown.

      Her searing kiss had shifted their relationship forever. He would never again view her the same way he had before. With that kiss he wanted her in his bed.

      His common sense rejected that possibility completely. She was still Meg, still his best friend, still Hank’s big sister. She was earnest, sweet, trustworthy, intelligent, and if she had a real relationship he was sure she would be into commitment and marriage. He suspected that had never really happened. They had lost touch through her college years and he didn’t know if she’d had boyfriends, but he would bet the ranch there was no guy in her bed on a regular basis at any point in time.

      Meg was the type to equate love, kisses and bed with vows, marriage and home.

      Regardless, the woman had caused him a sleepless night. She had him all wound up and wanting to hold and kiss her. That reaction still stunned him. He’d never thought about kissing her and never for one second expected any kind of positive reaction on his part. Now Meg’s steamy kiss was something he had to deal with in the coming month.

      Just remembering her kiss could put him in a sweat. He wanted to pick up the phone and ask her out tomorrow night and seduce her. But that would make him a sneaking, dirty rat who could no longer be called her best friend, and he would feel like the jerk of the year if he didn’t propose to her. Neither outcome looked good.

      He hadn’t imagined what he’d felt and it wasn’t because he hadn’t been out with a woman in a long time. And it wasn’t faulty memory. As impossible as it seemed, Meg was hot and sexy.

      He had thought, as sweet as Meg was, this fake engagement might get tedious before a month was over. Now his worries had swung the other way. Now this fake engagement might be too tempting to resist seduction.

      He didn’t like Justin and was happy to see that she wanted to break off seeing him. But now he could understand why Justin was all for this marriage of convenience.

      Gabe groaned. “Damn, how will I get through a month with her?”

      He thought he would plan to be out of town on business a lot of the time. A month wasn’t long. At least it wasn’t long until he thought it would mean thirty nights when he might be with her, kissing her, having to resist temptation. He put his head in his hands.

      When he told her he would go along with the fake engagement, he hadn’t given a thought to kissing her. Now he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

      Saturday night he needed to keep a clear head and not do anything he would regret later. He had to keep one thought paramount in his mind: Meg was the marrying kind, and if he ever took her into his bed, he’d have to marry her for real.

      And that was the one thing that could never happen.

      * * *

      After a restless night, the last thing Meg needed was a day with her family. But the next day, after joining her family at church, she took a homemade peach cobbler to her parents’ house for Sunday dinner.

      As they sat around the dining room table, eating slices of tender roast beef and mashed potatoes with brown gravy, the topic she was loath to hear came up.

      “I saw Justin’s mother last night and she said he was out of town. If we’d known, you could have gone to dinner with us last night,” her mother said.

      “Thanks. I ran into an old friend and we went out last night,” she said, glancing around the table. Her dad didn’t react; he was concentrating on his meal, the gray in his light brown hair shining in the dining room chandelier. He still wore his best brown suit and tie from church. Carlotta Aldridge, her paternal grandmother, sat on his right. Carlotta’s short, straight brown-and-gray hair hung just below her ears. She was the grandmother who had spent hours reading to Meg when she had been small. Carlotta wore her favorite color, a frilly pink dress. Next to her was Meg’s paternal grandfather, Mason Aldridge, whose thick gray hair was slightly curly above his long, thin face. He had been a rancher all his life and it showed in his weathered brown skin and rough, callused hands. He had taught Meg to ride a horse and take care of her pets.

      Seated beside Meg was her maternal grandmother, Lurline Wills, whose round, jolly face had bright blue eyes and a perpetual smile. Meg and her brothers called her Lolo. Meg’s maternal grandfather was Harry Wills, another oil and gas man who had worked with her dad most of her life and was as angry and bitter as her dad toward Dirkson Callahan. They were all talking, set to enjoy another delicious Sunday feast, and she was going to end their peaceful Sunday gathering.

      “Who’s the old friend?” her mother asked, passing hot rolls around the table. “Here’s honey. Also raspberry jam,” she said, passing small dishes.

      “Gabe Callahan and I went out. It was fun to see him again,” Meg said, taking a roll and aware all conversation had stopped and the room had gone silent.

      “Oh, dear. Megan, we don’t speak to the Callahans,” Grandma Lurline said, frowning and pushing her glasses up on her nose to stare at Meg. “We haven’t spoken to any of those dreadful Callahans for years.”

      Meg glanced around the table and smiled while everyone else frowned. Both sets of grandparents sat scowling at her. “Gabe and I have always been friends. We had a very good time,” Meg said cheerfully. “And we do speak to each other. As a matter of fact, we’re going out again next weekend.”

      Her mother dropped her fork. “Oh, no. Megan, you can’t do that.”

      “Of course I can,” Meg replied. “I’ve got a date with him.”

      “What about Justin?” her dad asked, his face getting red.

      She took a deep breath. “I’m not dating Justin. I’m sorry if spending a little time with Gabe upsets all of you, but I have my friends and Gabe isn’t responsible for what his father did or does. Dirkson Callahan hurt his sons, so don’t blame Gabe for his dad’s actions. And as for Justin—I’ve said all along, I am not interested in Justin and he isn’t interested in me. We’re not getting engaged or married. We’re finished.”

      “Justin and his family think you’re serious,” her mother said. “Justin has said you are both talking about marriage and making plans. That’s what Francis told me.”

      “That isn’t my view because we’re not making plans.” She picked up her fork and speared a slice of meat. “Mom, you, Grana and Lolo have worked hard fixing a wonderful Sunday dinner. Let’s enjoy this delicious roast.”

      For an instant, all of them stared at her in silence and then her mother smiled. “You’re right. We can talk about it later. We did work too hard on this to let it get cold and go uneaten,” she said, smiling