Page 60 of Extreme Romancing in Idaho

At what point had he met the parents? Game night wasmine. Smoot needed to back on out of my way, or I’d … do absolutely nothing because this was the plan all along! I took a deep breath. Okay. I might as well admit it. I was jealous of not only the time he spent with Angie but also of the time he spent with Tony and Nora. At what point had I become so possessive of the Johnsons?

“Have you even ridden a dirt bike? A motorcycle? Anything on two wheels except for a bicycle? And have you forgotten your fear of heights?” My questions came out more intense than I intended. “You’ll be driving that dirt bike on mountain roads that have cliffs.”

She walked past me to the creek. “Iusedto have a fear of heights.”

I pushed the brim of my cowboy hat up, tilted my head, and raised my eyebrows at her.

With one look at my expression, she quickly pressed on. “I’ll get over it. And I can learn to ride a dirt bike. Besides, isn’t it part of the deal for you to prepare me for that?” She hooked a chain around the hitch of the ATV.

“You could barely make it up a telephone pole, and now you think you’re ready to ride a dirt bike up shaly mountain passes?” I straightened the length of the chain and secured it to the tractor, a hard edge in my response.

The longer Smoot was in her life, the more he’d grow to annoy me until he surpassed my brother on that front. I couldn’t let Angie be collateral when that 100-jump wonder’s stupidity caused an accident. Land deal or not.

“I can manage.” The waiver in her voice betrayed her confidence. “You want me to give up, so you win. Spoiler alert. I’mnotgiving in. I’mnotselling my land.”

Oh, she was going to sell. She just didn’t know it yet. I ground out a breath, harnessing the tension in my fingertips. Why did this have to be so difficult? “What do you want me to do this time?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” She threw her arms out in front of her once again. “Teach me to ride a dirt bike. I can do it.” She made her way back to the tractor with a stiff, determined stride.

She’d be led along an abandoned mountain path by a man she’d lied to from day one. A man she memorized lists of terms to even understand what he was saying. A man so conceited he couldn’t take enough time to spot the lies Angie told him. The enigma she presented.

I’d interacted with my share of girls and not one of them was as intriguing as her. Even if she made my life as difficult as putting socks on her devil rooster.

One of the reasons I couldn’t rid myself entirely of my attraction to Angie was, despite being handed one of the hardest challenges life had to offer—watching someone she loved dearly carved away by cancer—her view on the world remained positive. She believed the best in everyone, albeit naively. Re: her blind trust in Smoot.

“I like that about you. You’re optimistic.” The words slipped from my mouth before I had a chance to swallow them.

She paused with her foot propped on her tractor and crinkled her eyebrows together. “Like it’s that hard to ride a dirt bike. I’ll definitely be better at it than you, Mr. I-can’t-forge-a-creek.”

I was almost relieved she interpreted my comment with a sarcastic lens. Upon straightening my shoulders, new life sparked into me. I’d much rather fight with Angie than delve into my true and impossible feelings for her. “Whatever. The first time you tip your bike, you’ll cry like a nanny goat for its mama.”

She laughed. “You say the strangest things. A goat? I remind you of a goat? And a baby goat is a kid, by the way.”

“Nanny goat sounds better.”

“Are all Texans as weird as you?”

“Yes, ma’am. But not as stubborn as you. And that’s saying something. Bless your heart.” I hooked my thumbs in my belt loop and put every ounce of Southern twang I had into my voice.

“Don’t call me ma’am.”

“What’s wrong with calling you ma’am? Just trying to be polite.” I’d been programmed to speak like this since birth. Yes, sir. No, sir. Yes, ma’am. No, ma’am. A bit of a cold relationship with my parents, but at the very least it was respectful.

“Do I look like I’m old enough to be your mama?”

“No.”

“Then don’t call me ma’am.”

“Why are you hell-bent on winning over Smoot anyway?” I veered the subject back to the real thorn in her life. “You shouldn’t have to pretend to be something you’re not to get a man. Not a man worth having.”

“Like you never lie to themanywomen you date?”

“Nope. I’m so honest you could play poker with me over the phone.” I quirked my lips into a half smile.

“Do you ever think you could find one woman to settle down with? Spend forever with?”

My parents’ open-door relationship destroyed the lies I’d been told about true love. Plato’s theory that we were all down here searching for our other half was full of bull honky. I’d chosen not to waste my life on a futile search for my soulmate.

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