Page 123 of The Wildest Ride

“You’re not in love with me.” Her voice was high and thin.

This time he put effort into keeping his tone even. “Yes, I am.”

“You’re in love with rodeo.”

It took him a moment to process her words, but as soon as he did sparks of temper flickered that he’d thought had been long ago doused.

“I am a grown man, Lilian.”

She shook her head, and he could swear he saw her digging phantom heels in. “You think you love me. But you don’t. You can’t. You can’t settle down. You can’t even retire.” She picked up both volume and speed as she spoke, the taut lines of her neck lending a note of panic to the whole delivery. She was freaking out.

And even though he’d heard them before, the words took on a new sting when it was Lil throwing them back in his face after he’d trusted her with them.

But she was acting like he’d backed her into a corner, so he kept his voice even when he repeated: “I’m a grown man, Lil.”

She either didn’t hear or didn’t heed the warning his words carried. Still pitchy and strange, she said, “No, AJ. You’re a rodeo cowboy and I’m not. You’re not going to be able to stay and I’m not willing to get hurt when you leave.”

He heard what she said like it was coming from far away and through a tunnel. Blood rushed in his ears as she went on, deciding for both of them.

“We don’t suit. You want to travel and ride and dance. There’s no dancing like that in Muskogee...”

The strain and tension she radiated were like knives against the thin skin of his temper.

There was danger in the flatness of his voice when he said, “You’re afraid.”

She didn’t hear it. She was spiraling too much off on her own. “Afraid?” she scoffed, young and foolish and completely unaware of the fire she stoked. “I’m not afraid of anything. You’re just mad that I’m right.”

He swatted away her ridiculous attempts at baiting with his next words: “You already said it. You’re afraid to get hurt.”

Her voice rasped out. “I’m practical. I’m the one who gets left with a broken heart—and maybe more—when you get bored.”

“That’s your cowboy bullshit, Lil. Not mine.”

She glared and he turned right, pulling into the hotel parking lot.

“You’ve been retired for three years, yet here you are. You can’t quit rodeo any more than I can leave the ranch.”

Instead of answering, he parked, got out of the car, and walked around to open her door. He unbuckled her seat belt and she sat there, staring up at him. He could feel the heat from her body and smell the smoky vanilla that was her scent. She was beautiful—her dress smooth over her lap, her hair thick and curly, falling around her back and shoulders, and he wasn’t willing to accept anything less than all of her. He couldn’t. It wasn’t in his nature.

So when he spoke, his voice was raw and abrasive, stripping them both bare: “I’m not playing the role of passing-through cowboy here, Lil. You are. If you walk away from this, you’re a coward. Just like every other cowboy who rode off into the sunset rather than stick around and take a risk.”Just like my dad,he thought.Just like your dad.

He held out a hand to her, and she took it, even though her eyes were angry and glistening. After helping her out of the car, he closed the door behind her and walked her in silence to the hotel’s rear entrance.

“Good night, Lil. See you tomorrow,” he said.

But he didn’t kiss her.

34

If Lil’s eyes were puffy when she woke up at least there was no one in her room to see it. And if she’d cried angry, hot tears alone in her bed, well, there was no one in the world she’d ever share it with.

He’d called her a coward. Her? A coward? A woman who’d never backed down from a challenge in her whole damn life. She wasn’t a coward. She was a realist. AJ was used to women with stars in their eyes and he just didn’t like the fact that she called it like it was.

She was no coward. Through the night, she’d thought about it all. She’d pictured AJ riding fences with her, using his greater strength to break through the tough, hard dirt of high summer when a fence post had to be replaced. She’d imagined him walking through the front door over and over, at every time of day, in every season, taking his hat off and smiling at her, fresh and happy from tending the things they grew together and her stomach had clenched with a stabbing sensation that stole her breath and brought tears to her eyes.

He’d better be grateful, she ground out in her mind, because while she was saving him, it was killing her along the way.

This is good, though, she said to herself over again. She needed to focus on the competition.

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