Page 36 of Cowboy Bull's Promise

“Fine,” I say, short and sweet.

“Good. Did, uh, that guy come back?”

I blink. “What guy? Oh, you mean the one whose face you rearranged for no reason?”

I am goading him. Trying to get a reaction, because really, this man just confuses the shit out of me.

I’m not disappointed.

Kian frowns, eyes on the road, and mutters, “There was a reason.”

I arch a brow. “Do tell.”

If he’s going to play the broody hero card, I wanna know what’s really behind it.

He shrugs, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. “He was bothering you.”

“He was drunk.”

“He shouldn’t talk to you like that. I didn’t like it.”

The way he says it. All low and intense, almost like he’s surprised by how much it bugged him, makes something inside me flutter.

Still, I cross my arms, not letting him off that easy.

“He shouldn’t talk to me like that? Kian, the first time I met you, you literally bowled me over and asked me out before I could catch my breath.”

“Yeah, but I’m not like him.”

I tilt my head, watching him. “Oh? And what makes you so different? He didn’t mean it any more than you did.”

The second the words leave my mouth, something shifts.

His jaw clenches.

But it’s his eyes that grab me.

They’re stormy and deep. A sort of thundercloud gray meets brown, and, in the dashboard glow, I can see they’re flecked with a million shards of gold.

So damn intense.

When his gaze cuts toward me, I can feel it in my bones.

And just like that, the air inside the truck is thick with unspoken things.

Regret.

Longing.

Need.

And something else.

Something I’m afraid to name.

Something he’s clearly not ready to explain.

But suddenly, I’m not so sure I was right about him not meaning it.

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