Page 18 of Craving Her Cowboy
Asha finally turned, face set in that perfect deadpan. “Alright.”
The pause stretched.
He wanted to say something sharp. He wanted to cut this down to nothing, take the whole memory of last night and shred it into something manageable. But his mouth wouldn’t cooperate.
She broke the silence. “If this is about what happened, you don’t have to worry. I’m not going to get weird about it.”
He tensed. “You think I’m worried?”
She smirked, the curve of her mouth soft and mean at the same time. “You look like you haven’t slept in a week and it’s been less than twelve hours since we slept together. Had no idea I would have effect on you.”
He stepped closer, watching her body for the flinch that never came. “About last night—”
She cut him off. “It was a mistake. I get it. You don’t have to say anything.”
He clenched his jaw. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”
“Does it matter?” She kept her gaze steady, but her hands were tight fists at her sides. “We both had a shit day. We both got a little drunk on adrenaline. It happens.”
He wanted to call her a liar, but couldn’t. Instead, he looked past her, at the curve of the mare’s neck, the glint of chestnut coat in the light. “Didn’t mean anything,” he said, the words heavy as stone.
She nodded, too quickly. “Of course not.”
She reached for the brush again, but her hand missed the rail. She had to steady herself, just for a second, and he caught it.
He moved closer, so close he could smell the soap on her skin. “You always this good at pretending?”
She bristled, turning to face him full-on. “You want to hash this out, or you want to keep dancing around it?”
He exhaled sharply. “I’m not good at this.”
“Neither am I.” Her voice dropped. “I’m just better at hiding it.”
They stood there, the gulf between them measured in inches but feeling a mile wide.
He flexed his hands, desperate for something to grab onto. “I don’t want this to screw up things. I’m only here for a short time and we both have shit we need to work through.”
“I’m not trying to mess anything up. What the hell, Gavin. We’re both adults.”
He tried again. “I don’t want to be the reason you leave.”
This time, the mask broke. Just for a heartbeat, her eyes went soft. “You’re not that important,” she said, but there was no force in it.
He let the silence fill in the rest.
She stepped past him, grabbing her jacket off the hook and slinging it over her shoulder. She paused at the door, back to him, shoulders squared.
He wanted to reach out, wanted to say something that would fix this, but the words were gone. All he could do was watch her go.
As she walked out, the scent of her hair, the sound of her boots, lingered in the air. He waited until the barn was empty before letting out the breath he’d been holding. Being that close to her only made him want more. He liked how she didn’t let him get away with any bullshit. He’d had plenty of women in the pastand they all served a purpose, but none of them challenged him the way Asha did.
Fuck. He had overreacted to what happened last night. But the vulnerability she brought out of him was uncomfortable. Gavin didn’t know how to respond to the feeling of wanting to be around her all the time. Of doing anything he could just to see those beautiful brown eyes focused on him.
He leaned against the rail, knuckles white, staring at the empty space where she’d been. He wasn’t sure what came next, but he knew he didn’t want her to leave.
Chapter 8
Asha mapped out the flow of Gavin’s movements over the past week and started getting up early enough to avoid running into him before he could leave his cabin for the day. He usually started with a run and some push-ups on his cabin porch, then made a beeline to the mess for a quick breakfast after getting cleaned up. From there, straight to whichever job Andy Harvey had assigned for the day, and he never once doubled back.
