Page 30 of Rogue Cowboy
His palm cupped her chin, forced her to face him.He searched her eyes, his expression serious.
“Did you feel it too or was that stunt a death wish?”
“What?No,” she objected.“I did feel good,” she remembered.“Even at the worst, Cole, I never once…”
He pulled her into his arms, and she went, relaxed, breathed him in and, for a moment, closed her eyes and just let go, imagined she could keep him, if only for the weekend.
But that wasn’t fair.And she’d spent nearly six years hiding what had happened from her family, and she didn’t want all that good undone by Cole’s presence.What would they think of her if they knew she’d lied?She pushed away.
“I don’t want to keep talking about the past,” she said firmly.“I don’t want to keep dragging all my baggage out and have you insisting I pick through it.”
She saw the flash of frustration before he buried it.
Maybe he should try acting.He’d be a marvelous hit on one of those westerns or a law enforcement show.
“You want us to get to know each other?Okay.We can—as friends, but I don’t want it to be about the past—what happened.”Something that felt like anger scorched her throat when she thought how unfair it was—all she’d lost—her music, her dreams, her desire for a husband who adored her and a family, Cole’s admiration.And he’d lost his freedom, but he’d see after this weekend a path to take it back.
“Today…” she bit her lip, reached for a chip, but ended up crushing it in her hands “…for the first time I felt like myself again.Me before.”She brushed the crumbs in her hands onto the plate.“I don’t want to keep sliding back.”
He didn’t answer right away, and she wondered what arguments he was formulating against her plan, and if it would be worth the scene to rush out, as she’d wanted to earlier.But no.That was childish.Dramatic teenage Riley.Not Riley, her mother’s assistant at the Telford Family Ranch.The horse breeder and trainer Riley.
“Then that’s where we’ll start.”He reached for a chip, scooped some guac, and held it to her lips.
She took the bite.It felt like the most intimate thing she’d ever done, and the brush of her lips against his finger made her tummy flip in a weird way.
“But not where we’ll end.”
She shoved at his chest—the dang cowboy always had to push.Had he even listened to what she’d said?
“Not going to tell you again.I’m not focusing on the past.If you want to stay there, fine.But not me.I’m not devastating my family.What happened in LA, stays in LA.”
She felt exhausted by her speech to the point that when Cole cupped her face and pressed his forehead to hers, she didn’t put up one ounce of resistance.He felt and smelled so good, and if she could freeze a moment in time and savor it, this would be the top.
“That’s the problem, baby.What happened in LA is the ghost that followed you home.”
*
Riley slowly walkeddown Main Street, head tilted back.He’d expected her to run.She’d bolted from the table, looking like a wild mustang, all fire and power and fear.He’d weighed his reaction.Follow or give her space?
But hell, she’d had damn near six years of space, and she was still running.
So, pursue.
She’d scanned the room, her breathing elevated and inappropriately sexy, and he’d again reminded himself to go slow.The room had quieted.People had stared.He’d eaten another chip and guac like they weren’t the center of attention, and Riley, anticlimactically had sat down.
The rest of the dinner had been less emotionally fraught.She’d talked about her family, helping her mom with her small horse-breeding enterprise, caring for the horses that boarded with them, training horses for cutting or barrel racing.He couldn’t help but notice that the girl he’d briefly known, seemed to have taken a back seat in her own life.It was all her mother’s dreams.Her family’s ranch.She’d even shared, her head ducked low, shoulders hunched, that the ranch wasn’t profitable enough to support them all, and that she was the only one without a secondary career and revenue stream.
Rohan had started some kind of survival adventure program for rich idiots—his summation, not hers.His wife was a teacher.Boone had a nonprofit rodeo school.His wife was a masseuse.His eldest brother was an orthopedic surgeon, and his wife had sold her boutique in the Graff Hotel and now was an agent for artists and organized the farmers’ market in the spring and summer.
They’d each built homes on the ranch and had bought supplemental property, except Rohan and his wife lived in town.
Riley was her mom’s assistant.
“You told me you made money from your music downloads when you were still in school, and from local performances and songwriting.”He hadn’t understood all the internet stuff and platforms and social media, as his career necessitated flying under everyone’s radar.But even when he’d been in school, he’d ducked attention.Riley had thrived on it, seemed like.One more thing for him to stuff down—for now.
She was doing enough running for both of them.
But that stopped now.This weekend.
