Page 16 of Destined for the Cowboy

And he felt surprisingly relaxed. Once they had gotten past the awkward moment about her late husband, the drive had been pleasant, and they’d found they had many things in common, from the love of reading and history to values. But he was glad they’d had that moment about David Carhart, because he’d needed the reminder again. He told himself he was just intrigued, that’s all. Intrigued because they had so many similar interests, because despite what she’d been through she still had a sense of humor, and because they could practically finish each other’s sentences.

But that’s all it was.

He glanced at her now, liking the way she wanted to see every angle of the horses, the way the little one made her smile and the leader made her shake her head as if in awe, even the way she crouched down and tilted her head to look at the fountain structure that made the water splash around their hooves exactly as if they were real and racing across the stream.

Because that’s the way you look at them? Because she’d lingered over the baby of the herd the same way you did?

He liked even more that she spent a long time simply appreciating, before she got out her phone and started taking the photos Nic had asked for. He left her to it, going back to his own perusal and enjoyment of the incredible little herd that seemed so alive to him. And fighting off the other thoughts that wanted to intrude.

Tris was, no doubt, an amazing woman. And not just beautiful. Being Jackson’s sister, that was only to be expected, he supposed. But there was so much more to her, so much depth and inner beauty…

He shook his head sharply. Decisively. Because he had to believe her grief, the fact that she was one of his employers’ sister, and the obvious fact that she still loved her husband, created enough of a barrier that he could spend time with her like this, enjoying their conversations. Because it would never turn into anything else.

Even if he wanted it to.

And that last sentence that formed in his mind nearly put him on his ass right there next to the edge of the fountain. He didn’t want it to. He couldn’t want it to. For so many reasons, not just the ones he’d just carefully gone through in his mind.

You’ve never pushed yourself on an uninterested or unwilling woman before, and you’re not going to start now, Fox. You’re no comparison to David Carhart anyway.

Besides, he was content with his life the way it was. It had taken him years to accept that this was what he liked, that solitude gave him comfort, and that whenever he spent time dealing with a lot of people, he needed time to recharge. There were a few exceptions, of course. He found that he could take being around the kids at the therapy riding center, maybe because he could almost feel their inner pain and turmoil and itovercame his natural reticence. And Nic, who had the best way with horses he’d ever seen, yet wasn’t above calling him when something wasn’t working. He didn’t mind Jackson, either, because he admired the courage it had taken to do what he’d done, walk away from a career most in his business would kill for.

And Jackson’s sister?

He couldn’t just take being around her, he enjoyed it. A lot. He could actually talk to her, as he’d seen other people talk together.

Normally, you mean?

He smothered a sigh. His quirky personality had been both the bane and the bedrock of his life. He had resigned himself to it, to the way his brain worked and didn’t work, and thought it would never change. Yet with Tris, he felt…different. As if it didn’t matter that he wasn’t a guy who could charm total strangers, unless they were the equine variety.

Not that he wanted to charm her. He thought he’d successfully built that wall. But he couldn’t deny that even more than he liked being with her, he liked that she apparently liked being with him. Of course it was entirely possible he was reading her wrong. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time he’d misread a woman. After all, he’d actually believed Gretchen had cared about him. And she—

His train of thought derailed abruptly as Tris came up to him and slipped a hand around his arm. “It’s official,” she said, grinning in that almost crooked way that charmed him.

He was almost afraid to ask. “It is?”

She nodded. “My stomach just growled so loudly it distracted me.”

He relaxed. Hungry, he could deal with.

As long as it’s for food.

He bit the inside of his lip, needed the sharp chastisement to rein in his unruly thoughts. “One of the places here?” he asked, knowing there were several eateries close by. “Or do you want to go someplace else?”

“Here’s fine, and just might be close enough,” she said, and he thought he heard the growl then. “I think some of the Cork and Pig’s decadent mac ’n’ cheese might just do it.”

He smiled back at the mention of the tavern that was his usual stopping place. “I have a weakness for their barbecue chicken pizza.”

“We could share, then. I love that too,” she said.

Share. Love.

He had to shake off the odd feeling the words gave him, even in that innocent context. He tried to focus on how he’d expected her, in her lingering grief, to be quiet and grim most of the time. Yet she was smiling, laughing, enjoying. So his expectations obviously needed some work.

“Fair warning, I like the cilantro.”

Her smile widened. “That’s okay. I don’t have the soap gene.”

He somehow knew she would know about that, that those who had a quirk in the olfactory receptors strongly sensed the soapy aldehydes in the leaves of the herb that made the flavor—which was tasty to him—too strong for them to ignore.

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