Page 5 of Her Cowboy Christmas
“Yes.”
“Okay, I can pick you up from the bank, and we can go get supplies.We’ll be able to fit more in my truck than in your car.”
She nods, looking relieved.“Okay, sounds good.”
Blair enters it into her calendar, and I smile at how cute she is.
We finish our food and talk about ideas.I read her some of the examples from the email, and we have a rough plan by the time the server returns with the bill.I pay it before Blair can.
She frowns.“You didn’t have to pay.”
“It’s my pleasure,” I tell her honestly.
We stand, and I set my hand on the small of her back to escort her through the crowded diner.It’s snowing when we step outside, and Blair wraps her coat tighter around her.
“Let me give you a ride,” I say, nodding to my truck.
“You don’t have to do that,” she protests.
“It’s not a big deal.Come on.”
Pushing on the small of her back, I steer her toward my truck.I open the door for her and help her inside.When I go to buckle her in, she stops me.
“I’m not an idiot!”she snaps.“I can take care of myself.”
“I know you can,” I say in surprise.“I didn’t… I know how smart you are.”
She looks out the windshield, her teeth gritted.
“Hey,” I say softly.“I didn’t mean to upset you.I… I like taking care of you.I know you can do that yourself, and I didn’t mean to insult you.”
“It’s okay,” she whispers.“I’m sorry I snapped at you.”
“No apologies necessary.”
I close her door and round the truck, climbing behind the wheel.
“When my family and classmates found out I was dyslexic, they treated me differently.Like I was an idiot or damaged goods,” she admits bitterly.
“They shouldn’t have done that.There’s not a damn thing wrong with you,” I tell her firmly.
She lets out a bitter laugh.“There’s so much wrong with me.”
I shake my head.“No.”
“Look at me!I’m fat?—”
“Curvy,” I interrupt.
“I can’t read?—”
“Takes you longer, but you can read.”
“I don’t fit in?—”
“Everyone around here who knows you loves you,” I correct.
“Cole!”
