Page 80 of Flippin' Cowboy
Karla’s words haunted Winnie for the rest of the day. Various scenarios played out in her mind as she moved mechanically through her list of tasks.
But no matter how often she argued with herself that Nick had been the one to react badly, she kept coming around to the fact that he had grounds to be angry with her.
He’d overreacted, but she hadn’t treated him with the respect that her partner deserved.
And she missed him. Even if he no longer wanted a romantic relationship after this—and that thought filled her heart with ice, heavy as lead and achingly cold—she still wanted to be his friend. Or, at the very least, be back on speaking terms with him again.
She returned to her cottage after work and changed out of her dusty overalls and long-sleeved tee. Then she plodded to the kitchen and contemplated her dinner options. She wasn’t hungry, but she needed to eat.
I can’t keep doing this, she thought. Misery sat like a lump in her stomach.Karla’s right. I need to talk to him. What do I have tolose? The worst he can do is tell me it’s over. Then at least I’ll know, instead of being in limbo like this.
Winnie gathered up her courage. She decided to walk over to Nick’s place right now and clear the air between them.
She’d wound her scarf around her neck and was zipping up her coat when someone pounded on her door.
“Winnie?” It was Nick.
Her heart began pounding crazily in mingled terror and hope. She took a deep breath to steady herself and opened the door.
He stood on her small porch, his hands tucked behind his back. He looked as tired and strained as she felt.
Somehow, though, seeing him instantly lightened the cold weight embedded in her chest.
“Can I come in?” he asked.
Mutely, she stepped back and let him enter. Trying not to get her hopes up, she closed the door and turned to face him. “Nick—”
“Winnie,” Nick said hoarsely at the same time.
Then one arm whipped out from behind his back. He thrust a gigantic bouquet of red and pink roses at her.
Disbelief and impossible joy bubbled up inside her as she took the flowers.
“I’m sorry. I’ve been an ass—” he began.
“Me first,” she interrupted. “I’m sorry, too. You were right. I shouldn’t have made that deal with Geoff and Donna Morris without looping you in.”
His eyes widened.
She continued, “You’re my partner on this project, and you should’ve gotten a vote. I apologize. And I won’t do it again.”
Nick’s expression softened. “Apology accepted. But I was wrong to fly off the handle like that. I knew you were between a rock and a hard place, and I should’ve been more understanding.” His mouth twisted. “I don’t want to lose you, Winnie. Not over some jackass who likes to paint vintage mahogany.”
Tears stung Winnie’s eyes. Unlike the past three days, they were tears of relief and dawning happiness this time.
“You’re never going to let that go, are you?” Her voice broke halfway through that sentence.
“It was unforgiveable,” he assured her solemnly.
Then he reached out and pulled her into his arms. “God, I’ve missed you,” he murmured just before his mouth claimed hers.
He kissed her until her knees turned to jelly. She dropped the bouquet and clung to him. Then he pulled back and gazed into her eyes. “We good?”
Breathlessly, she nodded. “Better than good.” She buried her face against the front of his parka. “I missed you so much.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” he said, with a trace of his old cockiness. And his hands slid down to squeeze her butt. “And for the record, I don’t just lust after your gorgeous body,” he said. “I like the whole package, including your amazing general contractor mojo. Come June, I want to show the world how we’ve given The Soiled Dove Inn new life.”
“I’m so glad we’re still partners,” she said, trying not to sniffle.
