Page 31 of Craving Her Cowboy
Neither of them moved.
The ranch behind him came to life. Somewhere, a four-wheeler started up, a dog barked, a door slammed shut in the bunkhouse. None of it touched this moment. There was just the two of them, locked in a staring contest with too much history and not enough nerve.
He stepped onto the porch, closing the distance. Her shoulders squared, arms folding across her chest, letter trapped under one elbow.
“Didn’t think you’d be up this early,” he said. His voice sounded like gravel in a beer can.
She shrugged, but her gaze never left him. “Didn’t sleep.”
The wind whipped across the steps, pulling the scent of soap and clean cotton off her clothes. He took a breath, tried to find words that would land without ricochet. There weren’t any.
“You’re really leaving,” she said. “I guess I’d hoped…”
Not a question.
He nodded, chin dipping once.
She looked down at the page, then back up. “Why couldn’t you just say all this to my face.”
His hands balled at his sides, fingers digging into the meat of his palms. “I’m better at letters.”
She snorted, half a laugh, half a cough. “If you say so.”
A silence. The world didn’t end. He stared at the grain in the wood at her feet. He flexed his hands again.
He reached out, half on instinct, and she let him take the letter from her. He folded it again, then pressed it back into her palm, covering her hand with his.
This time, the contact lingered. Her skin was warm. He didn’t let go until she pulled back, just a little.
“I don’t want to save you. Or have you need me. I just wanted you with me. By my side in this crazy ass world.”
Asha’s face flickered. “That’s what I was afraid of,” she said, voice flat.
He shook his head. “Oh, baby. That’s what I was afraid of, too.”
He looked away, caught sight of the sky cracking pink at the horizon. “I’m not gonna beg. I don’t know how to do that.”
She nodded, slow and careful. “I wouldn’t believe it if you did.”
He almost smiled. It hurt too much.
“I meant what I wrote,” he said. “Even the part about being shit at this.”
She shifted, eyes narrowing. “So that’s it?”
He shrugged. “That’s all I got. You saw the parts of me that no one else did. You know who I am and you still treated me like a normal man. You didn’t give a shit about my family connections or what life I have back in Virginia. For someone like me, that’s the greatest gift you could have given me. I’m not a man to throw around how I feel, but I know we could make it work. I just need you to give me a chance.”
She nodded again, this time a little faster, but didn’t say anything in response to his words.
He turned, boots biting into the gravel, every step loud enough to shatter bone. He walked down the path, not looking back. The wind cut through his jacket, but he didn’t feel it.
When he reached the truck, he popped the lock, tossed the suitcase in the back, and got in without a glance at the ranch behind him. He sat there, hands wrapped around the steering wheel, head bowed, breathing like he’d just run ten miles. He stared through the windshield, waiting for his vision to clear.
A movement in the side mirror. Asha, still on the porch, arms tight, the letter held tight, as if she were afraid to loosen her hold.
He put the truck in gear and began to drive away. He watched the ranch fade in the rearview, every fence post and pasture shrinking to nothing. At the top of the drive, where the ranch met the highway, he slowed, almost stopped.
He looked back.
