I sighed.

Then I smiled.

Gray’s eyes took in my smile then they moved to mine and he ordered gently, “Say you love me, Ivey.”

My body eased under his and I whispered, “I love you, Gray.”

“Welcome home, dollface.”

My hand moved to cup his jaw as my lips whispered, “Thank you, baby.”

His eyes got lazy before he gave me the dimple again.

* * *

Six hours later…

Makeup refreshed, a spritz of perfume, having run my fingers through my hair, re-donning my fitted, fabulous black halter top sundress and strappy, spiked-heeled black sandals, my hand in Gray’s, we were walking across the porch.

And I was trying not to hyperventilate.

Because it was Friday.

And being Friday, we were heading to his truck to go to town for VFW steaks.

I was not ready for this.

Not at all.

“Maybe I should change,” I suggested as Gray walked us down the porch steps.

“You look beautiful, darlin’,” Gray replied on a hand squeeze, leading me around the porch and toward his truck.

The rusted out wreck grew closer and closer as my anxiety grew more and more.

“I have a lot of unpacking to do. Maybe I should get started on that,” I tried.

“Ivey, you don’t have a job. You have plenty of time to unpack,” Gray pointed out, walking me to the passenger side of his truck.

Okay, shit.

Okay, shit.

I didn’t want to face down Mustang, not now. They knew I was a burlesque dancer. They knew I was shacked up with a hotshot who they would never know was gay. These people went to church. They lived in a small town. They were not hardened, seen it all, done it all residents of Vegas.

They would think things about me.

They already thought things about me.

I knew it.

I could handle this if I had time to prepare. But a day full of having sex with Gray broken up to eat turkey and swiss sandwiches and have whispered conversations as we lay naked in his bed, fingers trailing, bodies seeking and gaining contact, legs tangling, lips brushing did not prepare me for dinner at the VFW where most everyone in the town of Mustang would be.

Shit.

Gray stopped me at the passenger side door of his truck, he pulled it open and it creaked loudly. My thoughts of everyone in Mustang judging me fled and my eyes shot down to the door.

Then a smile slowly rose on my lips.

“Get in, honey,” Gray muttered and I looked up at him.

“Same truck?” I asked softly and he focused on me.

Then he grinned.

God, that grin. All the shit that went down, it still came easy.

“It runs, so yeah,” he answered.

“How much do you have to work on it to make it run?” I asked.

“Dollface, it’s American made so not much.”

He was totally lying. This thing was still running on a wing and a prayer.

Whatever.

“It’s twenty years old, Gray,” I told him.

“It’s fifteen years old, Ivey.”

I felt my brows draw together and I asked, “Is it?”

His lips twitched and he answered, “Yeah.”

“Looks older,” I muttered.

“Get in, Ivey.”

“Way older.”

“Get in, Ivey.”

“Way, way older.”

Gray burst out laughing, hooked an arm around my waist, pulled me into his body and kissed me, hard and closed mouthed.

Then he lifted his head and ordered, “Get… in, Ivey.”

“All right, all right,” I muttered, turned and climbed in.

The door creaked loudly when Gray slammed it.

I smiled again.

Then I looked around the interior.

Candy bar wrappers. Gum wrappers. Chip bags. Receipts. Empty pop cans. The ashtray open and filled to overflowing with change that had fallen down and therefore was also on the floor.

Gray’s door creaked loudly, he angled in then it creaked loudly again as he slammed it.

He’d fired the old girl up, reversed and we were on our way down the lane when I queried, “Have you tidied the old girl up since I left?”

“The old girl?”

“Your truck.”

“Right,” he muttered, I looked at his profile to see he was grinning. Then he answered, “Probably.”

“By the looks of it, I’m not sure you’re telling me the truth.”

Gray glanced at me then back out the windshield before he replied, “Ivey, I’m a guy. This is a truck. It’s not a new truck. It’s not even a five year old truck. It’s a fifteen year old truck. I don’t tidy anything and definitely not a fifteen year old truck.”

“Now you’ll often have a classy albeit ex-showgirl in your truck Gray,” I reminded him.

“Good, so you can tidy it,” Gray replied and I giggled.

Then I looked out the windshield as Gray turned us on the road to Mustang. “So, if you don’t tidy anything, are you saying that even with Mrs. Cody gone, Macy still comes to clean your house?”

“Yep, every two weeks.”

“That’s weird, Gray,” I noted softly.

“Why?”

“Well, you’re a grown man and you have use of all four limbs, ten fingers, ten toes. Not to mention, your uncles are assholes and she’s married to one of them.”

“Yeah, they are. But they don’t come and clean my house. Macy’s not an asshole. Macy also knows I planted a shitload of trees two years ago, adopted more horses and had a fuckload of problems. So I’ve been busy and one of the things I don’t have to get busy doin’ is cleanin’ my house. It’s cool she does it and I’m grateful. Though,” I turned my head to see he’d done the same to glance at me grinning before his eyes went back to the road, “she doesn’t leave flowers anymore.”

“Well, at least there’s that,” I muttered and Gray chuckled.

“By the way,” I began to note after he quit chuckling, “you leave your ashtray open like that with change in it, you’re practically begging for someone to break into this wreck.”

“They wanna make that kinda effort for four some odd dollars of change, they can have it.”

There you go.

We fell silent as the old girl’s wheels took us closer to Mustang.

Shit.

As if sensing my thoughts went back to my worries, Gray said softly, “No one thinks bad things about you, baby.”

Right.

“Gray, you wouldn’t know. If they did, they wouldn’t tell you but I’ll feel it.”

“They know we got played and they know what you did for me, for Gran, no one thinks shit about you.”

We would see.

I didn’t reply.

When I didn’t, Gray ordered, “Give me your hand, Ivey.”

I looked to him to see he had an arm extended to me, palm up. I put my hand in his and his fingers closed around tight.

Then he whispered, “No one thinks shit. They did, you think I’d put you in my truck and take you to town?”

He had a point there.

“No,” I said quietly.

“Then relax.”

I drew in breath.

Then I said, “Okay.”

His hand gave me a squeeze and he repeated my, “Okay.”

We drove to town, Gray holding my hand between us on the bench seat and me trying to be calm. The Gray I knew seven years ago would never make me endure something unpleasant. And, as far as I could tell, the Gray of now would be the same.

He parked, our doors creaked, we got out and Gray came around my side to claim me. He did this by sliding an arm around my shoulders and pointing me to the front doors of the VFW lodge. I slid my arm around his waist and let it pour over me, walking again with Gray, tucked to his side close, his arm around me.

So behind those doors might be good people who nevertheless held judgmental thoughts about me.

But I had Gray.

I’d be okay.

Gray pushed through the doors taking me with him.

Seven years hadn’t changed this either. The long tables with their benches were packed. Conversation hummed through the large space. And the smell of steak was in the air.

We took two steps in, me in my expensive dress and shoes, Gray in his jeans and tee.

Eyes came to us.

I should have changed. I was way overdressed.

More eyes came to us.

I definitely should have changed.

More eyes and conversation started dimming.

No greetings were called out to Gray as he led me down the aisle between the two sides of tables and it dawned on me maybe I couldn’t do this.

We hit a table where there were empty spaces across from each other three folks in and Gray stopped me but by this point the lodge was silent and I knew all eyes were on me.

I didn’t have my heavy makeup, my sequins or a spotlight to hide behind.

No, I couldn’t do this.

Gray’s arm tensed around my shoulders, my head started to tip back as my body curled close to his so I could whisper to him I wanted to leave when it happened.

Someone started clapping.

My head turned in that direction and I saw Sonny walking down the aisle toward us, his hands smacking against each other, the sound booming loud in the silence of the space and an intense expression on his face.

What on earth?

Someone else started clapping and I whipped my head around to see Janie’s man Danny was doing it and as my eyes hit him he rose to his feet.

Someone else started clapping and my eyes again turned to see Barry and Gene both rising from their seats, their eyes on me, their faces split in grins, their hands cracking together. Then someone else started clapping. Then another. Then another. Then suddenly everyone around us was getting to their feet, clapping, hooting, catcalling and someone shouted, “Way to go, Ivey!”