Page 40 of Never Say Yes To A Stranger

“Not entirely.”

“Ahh. About the last time we did the hot bedding, how we went against the contract, and what was said and done.” I’m not sure which part he’s tense about, so I think a blanket statement is best.

“Yes.” His hands open and close. Then, he catches himself doing it after one time and pushes them into his pockets. He looks like a dark god standing there, holding the whole barn on his shoulders. Also? That pose and all his brooding beauty would break someone’s camera if they were here to capture this moment.

Well, I’m here, and I’ll frame that shot in my brain forever.

“I’m afraid I—”

“Whoa,” I gasp. I have to put up a hand to stop him. “You’re not afraid of anything.”

More jaw clenching on his part. His poor teeth. I know he’s rich and can afford whatever dentistry he needs, but my goodness. I’m going to shut up now. Right now.

“What happened—what I said, I’m…”

Another eternity. More fossils. More dust. The cats get up. Baby moves closer to Mama, and Mama starts licking imaginary leftover breakfast off her face and then moves up to her ears. It’s heartwarming. More sun streams through, and it brushes the tips of Beau’s expensive shoes. Shoes that probably cost a fortune. Shoe that shouldn’t even be here on a farm getting dirty.

Even if he doesn’t blend in here, even if he’s a pain in the ass, I’m going to miss him when he leaves. He doesn’t belong in the country, he doesn’t belong in my life, and he doesn’t have any business taking up an inch of feelings I’m in no place to feel. But still, I can’t imagine never seeing this man again, even if that should bring me a ton of joy because it means I’ll be free to live my old life.

“You’re what?” I don’t want to prompt him, but I’m also getting hungry out here.

The cats are bored with our conversation by now, so they stroll through the barn and then race off as soon as they hit the grass, off on a day of adventures.

“I’m…” He looks twisted up. Like the words are painful.

It can’t possibly beI’m sorry.That’s not what he’s going to say. He doesn’t have to apologize. What happened just happened, and it shouldn’t have. We both get that. I crossed the line, and he crossed it back. We needed each other for a few minutes, and we met that need. Then, we both snapped back to reality and stopped letting our bodies and hormones dictate our lives. It’s fine. It’s seriously fine.

He straightens, and the slightly vulnerable stormy look gets wiped completely off his face in favor of his usual tough guy, hard-ass attitude. In just a second, he goes from almost human to entirely unattainable. I didn’t realize what I was waiting for or what I expected to hear, or maybe how much I longed for just any conversation that was real between us after days of purposely trying to ignore each other and nearly two weeks of forced coexistence, but I’m a fool for ever expecting or wanting that or thinking it could happen.

“I need you to know I’ve been damaged to the point where I can no longer afford to have feelings. I cut them off, and I don’t want them back. Ever. I’d say I’m not capable, but my past proves me wrong. What I want now might not be what’s healthy or what anyone else desires, but it’s truly how I want to live my life.”

“Okayyyyyyyy,” I respond, dragging the word out as I stand up slowly with careful movements. Not for his sake, but for mine. If I move too fast, my heart might fall out of my chest. As it is, my stomach is already spinning sickly. I’m such a dummy. Such. A. Freaking. Idiot. “Yeah.” I have to nod. It looks all wrong, like a creepy doll with an expressionless face, except the flapping eyes that open and close keep going wonky.

There’s nothing else to say about this. I’m no longer starving. What I really want is to go up to my room, shut the door, and have a good cry. I haven’t given myself the luxury of that since I fled my old life and ended up here. I thought if I cried, really cried, I’d never stop. And I needed to be strong, or I wouldn’t have been able to do any of this.

I don’t walk like I’m mad. Because I’m not. I don’t storm away like I’m petulant or disappointed, either. I just walk normally. I think we’ve both said all we had to say.

Beau doesn’t walk right on my heels, but I can feel his larger-than-life presence back there, shadowing me back to the house. He’s here to keep me safe. We have a contract for that. He’s here to sleep on one side of my bed for one day a week because we have a contract for that, too. There’s nothing more. We don’t have it, and we never will.

Once I get the door closed, I reach my limit of how long I can wait before the tears start coming, so I race up to my room, shut the door, and lean my back heavily against it. Maybe it’s the separation or the safety of this room, but the tears dry up and refuse to come. I’m not in a sunny, smiling mood either, but at least I don’t feel like flinging myself on the bed and bawling about the things I can’t change. Maybe I’ve found the last ounce of strength I have left. This is almost over. It truly is. Soon, I’ll be able to see my family again. I’ll be able to be me.

That makes my eyes burn, but it’s not the angry, bitter, and ugly kind of tears I wanted to cry on the way back from the barn. They’ve gone somewhere deep inside me, and instead, I keep seeing my mom and dad’s faces. As well as Katie’s. It makes me soft inside, so all the nastiness and stomach-churning I felt in the barn gives way to the softness.

Until I hear a thump on the other side of the door.

What the hell?

“Ignacia?” Beau’s voice comes deep and commanding and still somehow off. There’s something in it I haven’t heard before. Worry? He probably thinks I’m summoning demons on his ass in here.

“It’s fine. I’m fine. I meant what I said a few nights ago and out there. I understand, Beau. I’m an adult. It’s all good.”

Another thud, like he set one hand on the doorframe, and now he’s set the other. I imagine him leaning against it. I imagine the way his shoulders would jut out, his shoulder bones pressing against the back, his biceps bulging, and the outline of his hard chest, abs, and pecs apparent under the soft, expensive fabric.

I peel my back off the door and turn slowly. I find one hand reaching out before I can stop it. Then the other. I arrange myself in a mirrored pose, clutching the wood, my hands to his hands. He doesn’t make a sound out there. And I’m probably being silly.

“I need you to understand, though.” I must be crazy because it sounds a little like he’sbegging,and that’s something this man would never do.

“I do. It’s fine,” I reply.

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