Page 43 of Rough Ride with the Grumpy Cowboy
It’ll be good to have Beck back. He’s been gone for almost six months.
Game night turns out to be not so bad, and I actually end up enjoying myself. The girls call it a night earlier than we do, and I stick around for two more rounds before I leave for my cabin.
Another night where I’m sleeping alone. She was with me for three nights, and I’ve been hoping she’d come back since then. There’s something seriously wrong with me! I shouldn’t be missing her, but I am, no matter how hard I try to deny it.
17
AVA
For the first time since I arrived back at Wrangler Creek, I am having a good morning. Not to sound cliché, but the birds were chirping, the wind was calm, and I actually slept well.
I can finally say that I have perfectly settled at the ranch. I have the music classes at the rec center to look forward to every Saturday—like today—Zane is actually being civil toward me, and I am no longer ruining things by sneaking into his bed every night.
Our night together is still stuck in my mind because even though it was just a distraction to Zane, it meant the world to me. But that is okay—I was the one who came onto him, and since it might never happen again, I’ll hold onto those precious memories.
Currently, I’m in the kitchen alone, writing music as I try to eat breakfast while Ella is helping Daisy with her hair because we have to leave soon.
“Sounds like another hit,” Zane’s unmistakable voice rumbles behind me.
I thought I was alone in the kitchen, so his presence surprises me. I end up jumping up and spilling some coffee on my hand. Good thing it’s cooled down; otherwise it would have burned me.
“Jesus! You scared me!” I exclaim, grabbing a tissue to clean myself up.
He walks around to face me and shrugs unapologetically.
“How long have you been standing there?”
“A few minutes.”
“Creepy,” I mutter under my breath, wondering why he wouldn’t say something when he walked in.
Was he just watching me?!
He opens the fridge, grabs a carton of milk, and pours it into a glass. I’ve never pegged him for a milk-drinking guy. But instead of drinking it, he grabs my coffee mug instead and replaces it with the milk.
“It’s better for you.”
I look at the glass distastefully. I have nothing against milk—I just prefer my coffee. I push it away with the tip of my finger and reach for my coffee mug, but he grabs it before I can and drinks it all.
I sit there, mouth open in shock, wondering why he’s hell-bent on bullying me. He even has the audacity to belch when he’s done.
“Milk,” he asserts firmly, pushing the glass closer to me.
“I don’t want it,” I defy.
“You can either drink it of your own volition or I’ll feed it to you like a baby bird,” he warns.
“You wouldn’t dare,” I scoff, crossing my arms over my chest.
He cocks his eyebrow challengingly before walking around the counter like a man on a mission. Is he serious? He can’t be. He reaches out to grab the glass, but this time I’m faster and get it before he does, bringing it to my lips.
He stops in his tracks and watches me until I drink the whole glass.
“There, are you happy now?” I grit out, slamming the glass down.
“Very.”
Now that he’s gotten what he wanted, I expect him to leave, but instead he gets even closer to me. What now?
