Page 20 of Rodeo Cowboy
“It’s a bit swollen. You could put ice on it just to be safe.” Our eyes lock. The concerned look on his face fades into desire.
I pull my ankle away, draw both legs against my front, and wrap my arms around them. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”
The tension builds as an awkward silence stretches between us.
“Did you burst in here for something specific? Or just to stare at me naked?”
“Shit. Sorry.” He’s on his feet, turned away, and walks to the window. “My family is here.”
I rise and wiggle into a pair of jeans. It’s not as quick and easy with my sore ankle. “I know. I saw them.”
“They’re here for breakfast.”
“And?” I pull a T-shirt over my head and tuck it into the waistband of my pants.
He doesn’t answer immediately, so I lean against the bed and watch his backside.
His shoulders rise in a deep breath. “They’re here to have breakfast with you.”
“I’m not having breakfast with your family. I don’t even want to talk to you right now. Not after last night.”
“Are you dressed?”
“No.” I sit on the edge of the bed, fully dressed, and lift my feet onto the frame. I rub the tender area of my ankle.
“Ayla, I was an ass last night.”
“Agreed.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You should be.”
He pauses. “You’re dressed, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
His movements are smooth and effortless as he turns to face me. Only then do I notice his face bears the tell-tale signs of exhaustion: dark circles under his eyes, creases etched deeply into his forehead, and a mouth that seems permanently downturned.
“It had been a long few days with getting hitched in Vegas, then your house burning down, and facing my family—it drained everything out of me.”
I fold my arms over my front. “I only agreed to make an appearance at the party last night. I did it. We’re done, Sammy.” I carefully slide off the bed. “I’m arranging for someone to pick the kids and me up, and we’re heading back to Arizona. I think it’s best for all of us if you don’t come back.”
I collect my pajamas off the floor and stuff them in my overnight bag. I head into the adjoined bathroom to get my toothbrush. It’s a cheap one I grabbed at the discount store. I could leave the toothbrush, but I need distance from Sammy. After the fire, we didn’t have anything. A quick stop got us each a bag of clothes and essentials.
“They came to welcome you to the family. My ma is making her famous fresh toast, which you’ll have to fight my niece Libby and Dean for.” The relaxed way he talks about his family gives me insight into another side of Sammy. He has so many sides I can’t keep up. “You can’t just disappear now.”
“I can. And as I recall, you told me to leave last night.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Too late.”
“Ayla, please.” The desperation in his voice makes it impossible to ignore him. I turn to face him. “I promise to make it up to you. Anything. I don’t want my family to think I’m broken.”
“You are broken.”
“I know.” The deep, guttural how of agony escapes his throat sounds like a wounded animal. “But I don’t want them to know.”
