Chapter 15 #2
I pulled out one of the chairs at the table with my foot and dropped into it, still clutching the coffee and the half-eaten Danish. Beau hesitated for a moment before sitting down next to me, leaning his elbows on his knees.
“Listen,” he started like he was treading carefully. “I think we got off on the wrong foot.”
“We didn’t get off on any foot because we never got off.”
The corner of Beau’s stupid mouth twisted into that infuriating smirk. “I don’t remember that being true. You were screaming my name as you came—”
“Shut up,” I groaned and set my coffee on the table, my cheeks burning as a blush hit me.
His smile faltered, and before I could react, he reached out and gently wrapped his hand around mine. My eyes flitted to where his rough fingers rested against my skin, brushing over my still-red palms, but his unwavering gaze stayed locked on mine.
“That’s why I’m here. I want to talk to you about that stuff.”
“What stuff?” I asked, pulling my hand away as casually as I could, masking the rising tension by taking another sip of coffee.
“I’m sorry,” he started, his jaw tightening slightly. “When we . . . when we hooked up or whatever, I didn’t realize I’d have to see you again.”
I scoffed, the sound bitter even to my own ears. “Of course you didn’t. I was just a one-night stand.”
The words hung heavy in the air, laced with more resentment than I’d meant to show, but they were there.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said softly. His deep brown eyes were wide, and his hands shifted uncomfortably in his lap.
He leaned forward, his mustache twitching slightly as if he were about to speak again. He moved his hand to the table, his fingers creeping toward me, pausing just inches away before he pulled back.
I nodded, but the pins-and-needles feeling was creeping in again, clawing its way up my chest and into my throat. My fingers tightened around the coffee cup as I forced a shrug.
“It is what it was,” I said, keeping my voice steady.
“I’m fucking this all up,” he mumbled, dragging his hands back into his lap. “Listen, we’re going to be seeing each other a lot. I practice with the bulls here most of the time.” He pointed out the window, toward the arena past the pastures. “Right there, actually.”
“Joy,” I deadpanned and sipped my coffee.
It was going to be harder to ignore the twitch in my stomach every time I saw him. Harder to ignore the quick pattering of my heart or the memory of the way he made me fall apart that night—the most intense, consuming release I’d ever felt.
“I’m just saying,” Beau said, his voice pulling me back. “I came here to offer you a peace offering. Before I thought you were dying and broke in. I want to be friends. We’ll be working near each other. We should be friends.”
“Should we?” I asked, tilting my head.
His shoulders slumped slightly, and I felt a twinge of guilt for giving him a hard time.
“Listen, I just got out of a serious relationship—”
“You told me. I remember.” His voice was soft and his eyes were wide, taking it all in.
I nodded, chewing my cheek. “Yeah, well, it kind of fucked me up. We were. . . whatever.”
“Whatever?” he repeated, his brow arching slightly.
“Whatever.” I chuckled softly.
Mike was just whatever in my life. I didn’t know it then, and maybe I still don’t fully know it, but the truth was, he wasn’t worth a second of my time, especially since he was giving Trishelle most of his.
For a moment, the tension between us felt lighter. “Alright. Is that why you walked out on me?”
My smile fell, and I glanced down at the table.
“I’m sorry about that,” I said quietly. “I got out of the shower and saw you were gone. Figured you left me, to be honest. I saw your stuff still there, but before I could think, I imagined I’d never see you again.
I thought I was going to have a job in Chicago.
I never expected to end up here, and then Harleigh said you lived in Dallas. ”
“I did.”
“You did?”
He nodded, leaning back in his chair. His shoulders flexed with the movement, and it was impossible not to notice the way the muscles pulled against his tight shirt.
“Yeah. I was living in Dallas for a while, but then I decided I needed to come back. So, I bought the property next to Kline a few months ago.”
“Lucky me,” I muttered, but my heart betrayed me with a flutter, as if it knew this was anything but luck.
“How did you get out of the hotel?” He leaned forward in his chair again, and this time, I got a glimpse at his thick thighs inside his jeans. “I was in the lobby dealing with Dalton’s bullshit, so I figured I’d see you walk out.”
“I left out of the back of the hotel. I walked down to the road and took a rideshare, wanting to avoid you at all costs in case I did see you.”
“Jesus, Cowgirl. Was it really that bad? Way to hit my ego.”
“Stop.” I playfully swatted at his knee.
The moment my hand made contact, we both froze. His gaze dropped to where my hand had landed, lingering just a second too long. I coughed, pulling my hand back awkwardly, desperate to shift the conversation somewhere else.
“So,” I muttered, grasping for something—anything—to change the mood. “What were you saying about being friends?”
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat, shifting in his chair. “I, uh, wanted to come here and extend a peace offering.”
He gestured toward the bag and held up his coffee cup. “Figured we’d be seeing a lot of each other, so I wanted to put everything behind us. Thought maybe we could start fresh.”
“Does that mean you’ll stop with the innuendos?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at him, though I couldn’t quite keep the smile off my lips.
The edge of his mustache twitched, a telltale sign of the smirk he was fighting. “If I tell you I’ll do my best, does that count?”
I giggled softly, the sound surprising me.
“I think I can work with that, but as a first order of business, you have to promise to never break into my house again,” I said, crossing my arms.
“You took my key,” he pointed out, nodding toward my pocket.
“Okay, fine. No more spares?”
He let go of his mug and leaned back in his chair, holding his hands up like he was swearing an oath. “No more.” He gestured toward the door. “Got some time, then? I could show you around the ranch.”
“I’m meeting Harleigh and Roger later—”
“No shit.” He cut in, and that stupid smirk spread across his face again, making my stomach flip in the worst—best—way. My mind betrayed me with an image of wiping it clean off his face . . . with my tongue.
No.
No. No. No.
Stop it. Seriously, stop it, brain.
“You’re going to dinner too?” I asked flatly.
“Of course I am,” he said, leaning forward slightly, his tone dripping with fake innocence. “Roger invited me himself.”
I groaned, shoving my chair back as I stood. “Why are you everywhere I am?”
He stood, too, and suddenly we were too close. His chest was brushing against mine, and I had to tilt my head back to meet his gaze.
“Come on, Cowgirl.” That teasing smile was still taunting me. “You coming? Or are you not ready to get a little dirty?”
If only he knew the depth of that statement . . . if only.