BRENDON HATED HIMSELF for bringing up the subject, but the internal war that was waging had been too much for him to deal with. They were alone in the truck, with at least three hours of driving left ahead of them, and he hadn’t known what else to talk about. Either they bust out the difficult conversation, or they’d resort to the game of Twenty-One Questions once again. He figured—despite the weight of the topic—this was better than telling her whether he wore boxers or briefs—which she already knew at this point anyway.
But now he had to wonder whether he’d gone too far. Wanting to tell her what he felt and actually doing it were two frighteningly different things. However, he had jumped in with both feet and now she wasn’t saying anything.
Needless to say, he was beginning to panic.
The only good thing was that she was still holding his hand. Not that he was going to let her go anyway. He needed to touch her, to be touched by her. If he had his way, he’d just pull over on the side of the road, recline his seat back and let her perch right there on his dick just so he could feel connected to her.
He didn’t figure that was any way to conclude this discussion, so he forced his dick to heel.
It wasn’t listening.
And now he had the image of her riding him and he was aching to feel her wrapped around him.
Glancing at the navigation, he realized they still had two hours and forty-five minutes to go.
Fucking fantastic.
THOSE TWO HOURS and forty-five minutes were the longest minutes of his life. The company had been stellar, but his dick had been hard since his first fantasy of taking her in the truck. Now that they were entering the nursing home, that was no longer an issue, but he was more than eager to get her back to the hotel.
Hell, maybe he’d take her in the parking lot before they went in.
Shaking the thoughts from his head, Brendon followed Cheyenne to the front desk, where a young woman sat waiting for them to approach. Her eyes widened, recognition dawning, and Brendon wondered if Cheyenne had meant to leave her disguise at home.
“Ms. Montgomery, it’s so good to see you,” the woman said.
Obviously she knew who Cheyenne was, so the disguise probably wouldn’t have mattered.
“Hi, Jane. I wanted to come see my grandmother.”
“Sure,” Jane replied. “If you’ll just sign in.”
Brendon grinned. Signing in was practically an autograph and he wondered if the young woman even realized that. She probably did.
“Is she in her room?” Cheyenne asked after filling out the required information.
“She is. I know she’ll be happy to see you.”
Cheyenne smiled and then took Brendon’s hand, leading him through an open waiting area that looked like a homey hotel lobby, where a few elderly people sat, along with what appeared to be family members. They continued to a set of double doors. Cheyenne tapped a button on the wall and the doors swung inward, allowing them entrance.
Once they were on the other side of the doors, Brendon noted that the décor was more sterile, less inviting. The white walls were lined with brown doors, the fluorescent lights overhead shining brightly on the large white tiles on the floor. A nurse’s station sat at the point where four hallways met. As Cheyenne passed, she greeted an older woman sitting at a computer, waving as they turned right down another long hallway.
Cheyenne stopped at one of the doors and glanced up at Brendon before knocking lightly.
There was no answer on the other side, but Cheyenne entered anyway.
Brendon followed her into the room and closed the door behind him.
“Grams?” Cheyenne said softly.
The older woman in the bed was tiny—like Cheyenne. No bigger than a child and she looked frail. A brief flash of confusion crossed the old woman’s face before recognition replaced it.
“Cheyenne.”
Cheyenne moved to her grandmother’s side, leaning over and hugging her tightly before standing upright. “Grams, I’d like you to meet someone. This is Brendon.”
“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” Brendon said, not moving.
“You must be the young man who’s takin’ good care of my baby,” the woman said with a smile.
“Yes, ma’am. I’m tryin’ to anyway.”
“You’re a handsome fellow.”
Brendon couldn’t help it, he blushed. And he couldn’t help but think that made Cheyenne’s grandmother very, very happy.
chapter THIRTY-TWO
When they pulled into the hotel, the sun had already gone down, leaving them surrounded by inky blackness. Brendon parked under the portico and asked her to stay in the truck while he went and checked them in.