Page 44 of Cowboy and the Convict

Only the door didn’t slam behind her.

By the time the lack of sound registered, turning her back toward the door, Devon was inside, shutting it behind him, eyes still locked on her. “Take a breath.”

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do.” She sucked in air anyway, but it wasn’t to calm down, it was to fill her lungs so she could unleash everything boiling over. “You’re a fucking hypocrite. You want me to be an open book but won’t give me the same.” She laughed, the sound bitter and broken. “It’s the same fucking thing that always happens. I knew I should have—”

“Janie.” Devon’s tone was calm and cool, which only pissed her off more.

“—told you to fuck all the way off.” She pointed an accusing finger at his face. “I knew you were too good to be true. I knew—”

“Janie.” He kept coming closer. Kept saying her name in that calm way that sent her already explosive rage into spontaneous combustion.

“—this is what would happen, and you made me think—” Her voice broke and she looked around for something to throw. Wanting to make him hurt as much as she did.

Just as she reached for the decorative bowl she used to store her fruit, Devon was on her, one hand gripping her outstretched wrist and the other wrapping around her back, pinning her free arm to her side. “Janie. Will you let me get a fucking word in?”

“I don’t want to hear any more of your words.” She sniffled, throat aching, but she’d be damned if he got to see her cry. “They’re all bullshit.”

She’d been here before. Thought things were finally going to be different. But just like all those times before, she was wrong.

“Not a single word I’ve said to you is bullshit.” Devon’s tone was suddenly sharp. Angry. “And I think you know that. I think you’re looking for reasons to believe this isn’t what it is, because you’re scared.”

She scoffed. “So you not telling me I’m living in your wife’s old house is just me being scared? You’re a real—”

“You’re right. I should have told you.” He didn’t shy away from it the way she thought he would. “I fucked up and I’m sorry. But I can promise you I’m going to fuck up again one day, so we need to figure out how we’re going to get through that shit. What’s going on with us is real, J, and real relationships are messy sometimes.” He shifted his hold on her, pulling her a little closer. “You were less than sober the night I found out where you lived, and then I got sidetracked.” His lips curved. “Distracted by horseback rides and football games and fire pits.”

A little of her anger bled away at his apology. At his claim of what was between them. He wasn’t walking away or shutting down. He wasn’t yelling or swinging low blows. “You should have told me.”

“I should have.” He dropped his forehead down to rest against hers the way he had the night before. “I’m sure there’s a lot more shit I should tell you, but it will take time.”

The reminder was sobering. “That’s not really something available to either of us.”

She wanted to believe him. Wanted to think Devon would have told her the next time it came up. But would it matter if he did? He still had three daughters to take care of. She still had two jobs—three, counting cleaning his house—to work.

And then there was the debt lingering between them. It hadn’t seemed like a big deal at first, but if she did what he was suggesting and let this be more, it would become a big deal.

Sorta like his mother-in-law owning her rental.

“That’s why we have to make time.” Devon’s body pressed into hers, urging her backward. “Like me coming over here after work instead of going to the gym because I’d rather see you than sweat my ass off and you’ll like me even if I get soft.”

Someone making a sacrifice to spend time with her wasn’t something she was used to. Normally she was the one bending over backwards to make it happen. “You’re putting words in my mouth.”

“Mmm.” Devon hummed, the sound a low rumble through his chest. “Are we already talking about where we want to put our mouths?” He continued using his body to direct her, leading her down the short hall and into her bedroom. “Because that’s actually the reason I came here.”

She was supposed to be mad. Outraged that he kept something so relevant from her. Instead, her stomach and thighs were clenching in anticipation. “You should have come here to tell me your mother-in-law owned my house.”

“I should have.” His arm tightened at her back and her feet left the floor. “For the record, I probably would have remembered to tell you tonight.” He hauled her body against his, pinning her to him as he walked over her mattress on his knees. “But probably not until I was done putting my mouth in various places. Telling you before probably would have ruined the mood.”

“Probably.” She grabbed onto him as Devon leaned forward, dropping her back to the bed. “Then again, I wouldn’t be questioning just about everything.”

“That’s fair.” Devon didn’t back away at her bluntness. He stayed close, his nose running alongside hers. “But we have plenty of time for you to figure it all out.”

Did they though? Because she sure as hell didn’t. Especially not now that she knew Sharon was planning to sell her home out from under her, adding ‘find a new place to live’ to her already full schedule. “How exactly am I going to do that?”

“You don’t have to do anything.” Devon hooked one hand behind her knee, bending it alongside his hip in a move that settled his body between her thighs. “I’ll show you everything you need to see.”

It sounded so good. So simple.

But things like this were never simple. Not for her.

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