Page 21 of A Baby for the Texas Cowboy
“You’re running,” he said. “I never pegged you to be the type of woman to back down against her man.”
“You aren’t my man.” And here she’d just been thinking he was easygoing and not arrogant.
“Liar. You want me.”
“In bed.”
“Good. That makes it easier.”
She huffed. “We’re not going there again.”
He laughed. “We so are going there again. Soon.”
“I’m outta here. I have work to do.” She turned on her heel away from the door and walked toward where she’d left her bike—only it wasn’t there.
*
“What?” She breathedout and then swiveled her accusing gaze toward Anders’ truck where her bike was strapped in the bed. “What game are you playing?” she demanded, her beautiful eyes flaring.
“The bike’s not practical for the gravel roads leading to the ranch, especially not the first time. You’re tired and stressed. I’ll drive you.”
“I told you not to manage me,” she said.
“Just looking out for you.”
“That’s not your job.”
“It’s my privilege. You and the baby are mine.”
“Why are you acting so primitive?”
He felt pretty primitive right about now. If he gave in to his instincts, he’d pick her up, toss her over his shoulder, take her home to the ranch and let nature take its course. She was being unreasonable and selfish—two traits not on his perfect wife list. And she was denying the chemistry that zapped between them like a summer lightning storm.
“Let’s get you to the ranch so you can meet with Catalina and see the vineyard.” And hopefully he could get some food in her. He’d grabbed the picnic basket on the way out. If they were both eating something—hopefully, a roast beef sandwich was in there—they’d be less likely to spar on the drive.
Her panic attack and frustration couldn’t be good for the baby. It was his job to keep his cool, but, dang, she was making it hard. He wanted to get everything square with her.
“We’ll sort out the bike later,” he said, already thinking he could store it in the garage near the house so it would be safe until she had the baby.
“It’s my transport,” she said bluntly, but she did move forward toward the truck when he placed his palm on the small of her back. “I’m not going to rely on you for rides. Besides, you’ll be back on the tour in a week. I’m not waiting around for you to return home and gift me with your presence.”
“Really?”
“Really.” She leaned back against his truck, her eyes hooded, and looked him up and down. “You’ll be back on the road, living your dream, expecting me to be safely tucked away waiting for you.”
“Somehow I don’t think it will be that easy.” He beeped the remote to unlock his truck and swung open the door. “But let me have my fantasy for today.”
Her lips kicked up in a smile. “No.”
“Yes, and I’ll behave myself.” He leaned into her, inhaled her sultry scent. She smelled warm, like summer and fresh like the ocean with a hint of grass.
“I wonder what that would look like,” she mused.
He boosted her into the truck, letting his hands linger a little on the curve of her hips. “You’ll just have to wait and see.” His gaze dropped to her lips. He bent his head down as if to kiss her. He shouldn’t. He wasn’t playing fair, but then he wasn’t playing.
Their breath mingled. Her lashes veiled her eyes and everything in the world narrowed down to her creamy skin and the soft pucker of her pink lips.
“Tinsley,” he groaned. He speared his fingers through her hair, rolling the elastic out of her ponytail. He loved her hair, the silk, the color, the texture, the way it flowed over her body when he took her.
