Page 43 of Beat around the Bush
“I’msosorry that I inconvenienced you, but I didn’t ask you to drive me to your house. Nor did I ask you to cuddle me all night!” Her voice raised as she pulled her hands free from the pocket with force, sending the keys flying to the snow-covered ground.
I bent to grab them, holding them between our too-close bodies. “I didn’t have a choice when you were practically freezing to fucking death.”
She grabbed the keys from my hand, her fingertips grazing my palm. “Sorry for fucking calling you,” she muttered as she stormed past me toward the driver’s side door.
My hand wrapped around her forearm, stopping her before she could get to the door. “I’ll be the first person you call if something like that happens again, got it?”
Her eyes were practically throwing green flames at me with the emotions battling inside of her right now. “Why the hell would I do that? You’ve made it perfectly clear that I ruined your night. Did I interrupt something between you and some girl? Is that why you’re so mad?”
“I haven’t thought of any other woman since the night you slammed into the back of my truck. So no, you didn’t interrupt me getting off with some girl. And you’re going to call me because I fucking said so.”
She ripped her arm from my hand, which wasn’t too hard as I barely had any grip on her. “You can boss me around at work, Lennon, but not out here. I’m not just your employee. I’m a person, too.”
I dropped my hand to my side, searching her eyes. “No, you’re not,” I said quietly. She wasn’t just my employee, and my mind was starting to realize that.
“What?”
I shook my head as I noticed a snowflake land in her hair. The color difference was astronomical. Oakley was all fire with her amber hair, rosy cheeks, and flaming eyes. Somehow, she looked even more beautiful with that snowflake against the red strands.
“Do you need a driving lesson?” I asked, my voice softer now.
“What?” she squeaked again, taken back slightly by the change in my tone.
“Do you need me to teach you how to drive in the snow?”
She blinked, shaking her head like she was trying to comprehend what I was saying. I didn’t want to keep going at it with her. There was no reason to. She was stressed, and igniting the flame with my concern for her wellbeing wasn’t going to make things better right now. It didn’t make any sense to her, and it sure as hell didn’t make any sense to me.
“I grew up in Denver,” she replied, like that was answer enough.
“City streets are different than out here, and you’ve got a long stretch of freeway to get back.”
“I’ll be fine. Plus, I’m sure you’ll stick to my ass the whole way anyway.”
I shrugged, opening the driver's side door for her. Anger was still prevalent on her face as she slid behind the wheel and punched the button to start the car.
“Drive safe,” I clipped before closing the door and walking around the building to my truck parked out front. I slid in to find my jacket Oakley had left on the middle seat.
God, I was an idiot.
18
Lennon
I’d followed her all the way home. Even though her house was out of the way for getting to the feed store, I wanted to make sure she got home safe and didn’t slide off into another ditch.
The rental car cut through the snow no problem, and by the time I had made it to work, the snow was coming down in thick sheets of white.
After a long day at work, I clicked on my blinker, my windshield wipers doing their best to keep my view clear, and turned onto Callan’s road. He lived a few minutes from Bottom of the Buckle Ranch, but I wasn’t up for seeing everyone tonight, so I’d asked him if we could hang out at his place. I didn’t want to go home and wash the sweats Oakley wore or make the bed she slept in.
I ran a hand over my mouth, frustrated with myself at the effect Oakley was having on me.
Shifting the truck into park, I got out with my six-pack of beer and climbed the porch steps, letting myself in. Callan’s house was a small, white farmhouse on a couple acres with a wrap-around porch and a porch swing. It was a three-bed, two-bath house, but he was the only one who lived here. He taught kids how to ride horses for a living, and it made me wonder why he hadn’t started a family of his own since he loved kids so much.
I found Callan on the couch watching the rodeo that was being streamed on TV.
“Beckham on there?” I asked as I set the six-pack in the fridge and grabbed two for me and Callan, uncapping them and tossing the bottle caps in the trash.
“He’s next,” Callan said when I sat down on the couch, handing him his beer.
