Page 97 of Pretend To Be My Cowboy
Nash winced at his father’s useless sputtering. Not many people had put Patrick Donahue in his place, and he clearly had no idea how to handle it.
Nash ought to intervene, but he didn’t want to step on Emma’s toes. This was her moment, and he wasn’t about to ruin it for her or take her power away by showing up like some unwanted and unnecessary knight in shining armor.
He’d already made enough of a mess by trying to fight her battles behind her back, and he wasn’t about to repeat his mistakes.
Between his father’s blustering and the way Emma’s clenched hands shook, Nash nearly lost his resolve and rushed in. But then, just when he thought his father would lose his temper and say something rash...Patrick surprised him.
“I...guess I can respect that,” he said grudgingly.
Emma’s shoulder slumped slightly in obvious relief.
“I, uh…” Patrick looked down at his boots, his voice gruff. “I’m sorry, Emma. I know I come on strong…”
Emma arched one brow and Patrick let out a little huff of amusement.
Nash just barely held back a snort of laughter as well. He now knew exactly why Emma was so good with little children. She didn’t have to raise her voice to express her dissatisfaction with Patrick’s excuses. One look was more than enough.
“All right, all right,” his father said. “I was out of line, and I apologize.” He met her gaze evenly and without any of his earlier condescension. “I’ve only ever wanted what’s best for my family, but I know that sometimes means I have blinders on. I get so focused on the end result, I lose sight of who I might be hurting in the process.”
She nodded. “I can understand family loyalty. And I’m sure you can understand that my first priority is connecting with all of Frank O’Sullivan’s daughters and ensuring that whatever decision we make going forward, is in the best interest of all of us.”
Patrick’s expression was serious, and Nash was almost certain he caught a gleam of approval in his father’s eyes. “I do understand that, Emma.”
There was a silence, and this was Nash’s cue. He took a deep breath, ready to announce his presence, but his father’s next question, quiet and gentle, caught him off guard.
“If you don’t mind me asking, why are you so certain Nash will never ask for your hand? Do you not see a future for you two?”
Nash’s throat went dry and his lungs seized up in panic. Even if he’d wanted to intervene, he couldn’t say a word. It felt like his entire future hung in the balance.
All that self-righteous anger seemed to seep out of Emma, and she wilted right in front of his eyes. Oh, she was still standing straight and proud, but he felt like he could see her deflate, and the sight nearly killed him.
Had he done that? Had he hurt her more than she was letting on?
She looked down at her feet. “I’d rather not talk about Nash with you, if you don’t mind.”
She wasn’t looking at Patrick, but Nash saw his father’s pained expression and it matched how he was feeling perfectly. Helpless in the face of her sadness.
“I know he cares about you,” his father started, sounding just as uncomfortable as he looked.
Patrick was just as averse to talk of love and romance as Nash was, if not more.
Nash should be the one telling her how much he cared, but he couldn’t stop staring at Emma. Would she even want to hear it?
“Maybe,” she said so softly he almost missed it. “But my life is in Chicago. I don’t belong here.”
His chest felt like it was being torn in two. She did belong here, couldn’t she see that?
Or was it his actions that made her want to run back home?
Or maybe it was the fact she never thought of this place as home. She was a city girl after all, even if she made life here look so easy.
His father spotted him and froze, his mouth twisting in a grimace of regret—maybe even pity.
“Nash,” he said. “There you are. We were just talking about you.”
Emma’s head came up quickly, her eyes were wide with surprise...and maybe fear.
Aw heck. His chest throbbed in pain. He’d done this. He’d taken this kind woman’s trust and let her down.
