Page 12 of The Stars in the Sky
I needed to know more before I made a decision.
He finished his call and walked back to me and Trixie, stepping just a little closer to me than societal conventions allowed. I felt him even though I didn’t touch him.
"HowRepublican, Republican are you?"
He leaned into me, his eyes amused, his voice low and certain. "Very."
This meant, as I suspected, that we disagreed on all the things.
Desperately wishing for a way to make this work, a flash of hope ran through me. Maybe we were just arguing semantics.
And I chided myself. How easily I considered setting aside my deeply-held beliefs just because of one hot man. What kind of feminist was I where my brain turned off because my body was turned on? Still, I needed to find out more.
"What do you think of women’s rights? Are you a feminist?"
All the other guys I’d dated said they were. They might have said it to get me naked, but at least they’d said it.
He shook his head. Uh-oh. My stomach dropped and I felt disheartened. This was not acceptable. "Not really. Guys and girls are different. Treat 'em different. You gonna argue with me 'bout that?"
"Obviously."
He raised an eyebrow and gave me that devastating smile.
"Bring it on."
Ohmigod, I wanted him for real now, and I was pissed that he turned my brain to mush. I’m smarter than this. I stepped back, needing space from him and then I realized something. "Since you're not my boss, I can tell you, you're an ignorant dick for saying something like that. Women are still fighting for equal rights. The pay gap and the glass ceiling exist and we have to do something about them."
He smiled again and my fucking panties got wet. "And you're a commie pinko. What else you got?"
Seriously? "Commie pinko? What is this, 1969?"
A wicked look came over his face and he dropped his voice so low I felt it in my groin. "What's that about sixty-nine?"
Walked into that one. And then the idea of my mouth on Will with his mouth on me made me wetter.
No.
I couldn’t.
Or I could.
Gah.
"How old are you?" I finally asked, changing the subject.
"Thirty-four. You?"
"I'm thirty-two."
None of this was helping me to make a decision of whether to go after him. I needed to press him about his backwards thinking. But I also wanted his body pressing into mine.
He let me off the hook by saying, "Tell you what. I'll show you some more of the ranch and you can decide whether you want arguing or arguing plus benefits."
I didn't know if I could stay focused on the tour of the ranch, and judging by the way he had his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans, neither could he.
Still, I knew that I couldn't take him up on it yet. I wanted to, badly, but no.
Maybe.
