9. Sawyer
SAWYER
Two more days go by before the road out of the ranch is passable. Two days filled with ranch chores, homecooked meals, and endless sex. My body heats at the memory of fucking on the dining room table, less than an hour ago.
How the hell did I go five years without this?
Maybe Sammie is right.
Maybe being stranded on this ranch with Boone is a sign that I’m meant to be here.
The truth is, I’ve never stopped loving him.
And unless I’m misreading the signs these past few days, he’s never stopped loving me either.
I still owe him an explanation about why I left. It’s a conversation I’ve been putting off since I first woke up in his bed three days ago.
Just as I’m gathering the courage to head out to the barn to find him and finally tell him what happened five years ago, a car pulls up. Mel’s minivan.
Odd.
I don’t remember asking her to come out here.
Did Boone call her?
My heartrate doubles with fear. Have I been misreading the signs?
Though Boone has said more than once that I’m his— only his—he hasn’t told me he still loves me. Or even asked me to stay.
Shit.
Maybe sending my email resignation was premature. I gave them my two weeks’ notice, but my spineless, temper-tantrum throwing manager replied within minutes to let me know my termination as effective immediately.
Jackass.
“Mel, what are you doing here?” I ask, opening the door and inviting her inside.
“Nice to see you too,” she says, her tone heavy with sarcasm.
“I’m glad to see you, I’m just confused. Why?—”
“I asked her to come.” Boone’s tone is almost as cold as his eyes as he stalks across the room toward me.
What the actual fuck?
“Are you kicking me out?” I ask, half a laugh escaping my throat. There’s no way he’s serious. Less than an hour ago, he was coming inside me, telling me that he was never letting me go.
“You were always leaving, Sawyer.” He slaps my cell phone into my palm.
“Boone—”
“Just fucking go, Sawyer.”
My body trembles with hurt, confusion, and shock.
I don’t understand what’s happening right now.
I glance down at the phone screen to see a bunch of missed texts from my sister.
It’s possible I left my phone in the barn this morning—another place we recently had sex.
Did he really just march in here to make sure I didn’t leave my phone behind?
Boone stalks across the house, slamming the back door without another word or even a backward glance.
“What’s going on?” Mel asks, both suspicious and a little uncomfortable.
“I don’t know—” Then I see the most recent text from my sister.
Sammie: Is today too soon to go to Dallas?
“Are you going back to Dallas?” Mel asks me.
“To go dress shopping with Sammie,” I say, shaking my head. This is what the grumpy jerk is all worked up about?
“Maybe it would help if you two did a little more talking,” Mel says, noting the mess on the floor near the dining room table. Everything that was on it before Boone pushed it off to fuck me senseless this morning is still strewn all over the floor.
“Yeah,” I mumble.
“So, go talk.” Mel shoves me toward the door. “But keep your clothes on until you’re finished, mkay?”