It made less sense. Not more.

A funny thing, because he knew that a lot of people thought that men and women couldn’t have that kind of connection.

Now he was beginning to question it. Since theirs had exploded so brilliantly. “I’ve half a mind to drag you into that bathroom over there.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Carve our names on the wall.”

It was a well-known Gold Valley tradition that when people hooked up in the bathroom at the saloon they carved their names there as a memento of the occasion.

“They would know,” she said.

“I thought you didn’t feel shame.”

“I don’t,” she said. “But I am a little bit worried about what will happen with my place in your family if...”

“It’s fine,” he said. “Nothing is going to happen to that.”

She nodded slowly, her eyes full of skepticism.

“Hey,” he said. “One thing I know for sure in this life is that there are certain things you just don’t get through if you don’t have your family. And you are family, Sammy.”

“Not the same, though,” she said softly.

He couldn’t even figure out a way to argue with that, because obviously it wasn’t the same. If it was the same then he wouldn’t have been able to make love to her the way that he had. If it was the same, then he wouldn’t have spent the past seventeen years caught in a strange place that existed somewhere between desire and duty. Between his intention to be like a knight guarding a maiden, a man who would never take advantage of the woman who depended on him the way that she did. And his desire to have her. Hold her.

Lay her down on the bed and press himself inside her the way that he had done only the other night.

His desire now to let things go back to the way they were, and to absolutely cave the face in of that bastard who had come and hit on her. Like she didn’t belong to him.

He knew that was messed up. He didn’t much care.

That was the problem. He was somewhere out in the middle of a vast field where he couldn’t find a single give-a-damn. Not a one. And every bit of intent that he felt as far as not making a scene, doing what was right, all that—he couldn’t access it anymore. It was gone. Even looking over there at his family giving them far more than a cursory bit of attention... Yet, he found he just didn’t care like he should.

“Samantha,” he began. But she darted away toward the bar. And he followed, feeling a little bit irritated by her avoidance.

But when she turned to face him there was something slightly impish on her face, and he had to wonder if he was...being treated to Sammy’s version of flirting. Damn. He didn’t really know what to do with that.

“Two beers,” Sammy said.

Laz looked between the two of them. “Glad to see you worked it out.”