Page 27 of Owned By The Cowboy
The first day, I tell myself he’s busy with work. Construction schedules can be crazy; I know from experience with my dad. I’m thinking maybe he just got tied up on sites. I tell myself that his not responding to my text about finalizing details for the dance could mean anything.
The second day, when I see his truck parked outside Rosie’s Diner but he doesn’t wave back when I drive past, I start to suspect something’s up.
By the third day, when he sends one of his guys to drop off some paperwork at my parents’ house instead of coming himself like he always does, I know for sure.
Blayne Madison is avoiding me.
The realization stings more than it should. We kissed. It was a great kiss, a freaking amazing one to be completely honest, maybe the best of my li… anyway, then we were interrupted. That’s it. That’s the extent of what happened between us. So why is he acting like I threw my coochie at him?
Maybe that’s exactly what he thinks I was doing. Maybe he thinks I’m some desperate divorcée who’s looking for the first available man to latch on to. Maybe he regrets the whole thing and wishes it never happened.
The thought makes my stomach twist with embarrassment and something that feels dangerously close to hurt.
By Thursday, I’m alternating between anger and mortification. By Friday, I’m just plain pissed off.
Saturday drags by with no word from him, despite the fact that the father-daughter dance is next week and we still need to finalize things. I spend the day stress-cleaning my house and snapping at my kids.
“Mom, is something wrong?” Nia finally asks when I yell at her for leaving one of her many books on the coffee table.
“Nothing’s wrong,” I huff out, still energetically wiping the table with a cloth.
“You’re acting like something is, Mama,” Jaylen agrees from the couch, watching me with concern in his big brown eyes. Shit…
“There’s noth…” I start, then stop myself. They’re right. I’m being crazy. And it’s because I can’t stop thinking about a man who is apparently pretending I don’t exist.
On Sunday morning, I wake up with a plan. Tonight’s family dinner. Blayne rarely misses family dinner. I’ll corner him at my parents’, demand an explanation for his behavior, and get this stupid situation sorted out.
Except when we arrive at the house at five o’clock, Blayne’s truck is nowhere in sight.
“Where’s Blayne?” I ask as casually as I can manage regarding the state I’ve been in for most of the week.
“Said he had to take care of something,” my dad replies, not meeting my eyes. “He’ll try to make it next week.”
Had to take care of something? Fucking next week?! Right. The same man who’s never missed a Sunday dinner in more than a decade suddenly has something more important to do.
“What kind of something?” I press.
“Didn’t say.”
Mama gives me a look across the table that’s part sympathy, part knowing amusement. “I’m sure he’ll be around soon, honey.”
“We just need to finish getting organized for the dance,” I lie.
“Of course,” my mother answers in that tone that means she doesn’t believe me for a second.
I catch myself glancing at his empty chair more often than I should. Even the kids seem to notice his absence. Annalise keeps asking where he is, and Jaylen mentions he was hoping to talk to Blayne about football tryouts.
By the time we’re ready to leave, I’m fuming.
“Mom, can I spend the night here?” Annalise asks as we’re getting ready to go. “Grandma said she’d make pancakes in the morning.”
“I want to stay at Emma’s house, please,” Nia jumps in. “Her mom already said it was okay.”
“Can I go to Jake’s?” Jaylen adds his own request. “We’re working on a project for school.”
I look around at my children, who apparently coordinated to abandon me for the evening, and realize this might be exactly what I need.
“Fine,” I say. “But I want you all home by lunch tomorrow.”
