Page 25 of Breaking the Cowboy's Rules

“Behave away.” Nico settled next to him, pulling the blanket up a little higher. “It will be an interesting change.”

“Don’t men usually behave with you?” If he’d been a dog, his hackles would have raised. Everything about her—her flame hair, rockin’ body, steady and discerning eye contact, and easy wry delivery—spoke of a confident, in-control woman. But there had been that flash of dismay and vulnerability he’d seen when she’d first walked into Grey’s.

He’d been looking for a mark, but he would ensure her safety.

She’d probably laugh if she knew I had such primitive thoughts.

If she were a cowgirl, she might slap him. Bodhi had never been slapped by a woman, but he’d seen plenty of cowboys sporting a handprint, bossed out of a too-pushy flirtation, who’d been handed their hats and shown the door.

“Nico.” He spoke into the silence, thinking how to word what he wanted to say. What words could he give her to earn her trust? Actions were the gold standard. And time. Time that he didn’t really have.

A week or two and he’d be back on the road.

But he didn’t think it would take that long. Beck would fling himself down on bended knee and take the matrimonial plunge. Save Granddad from any health concerns or whatever was making him waver and make himself and Ash happy. Keep the Ballantyne legacy alive.

Even if Bodhi might not be around long enough to enjoy it, his family would be safe and where they belonged.

“Where’d you go?”

Bodhi flinched. He’d gone to a dark place. Again. But not something he’d admit to anyone, especially a beautiful woman.

“Don’t lie,” she interrupted and balanced on her knees, bottom resting on the back of her calves, and her finger whispered against his lips. “We agreed to be as honest as we can this next week. I need that.”

“Who’s been lying to you?”

Why was he asking that question? It wasn’t like he made it a habit to lie, but he sure didn’t share much of himself. He showed only what he wanted people to see.

“Everyone,” she said, her unusual eyes—they looked more light green instead of hazel now in the better lit Graff lobby—searched his. “I think I lied to myself as much as anyone,” she admitted. “And I want to get away from that. Start over.” She hesitated. “I’m not even sure I believe I can.”

“Change is always possible. Human beings are capable of tremendous change,” he said, believing that to his bones. “We are capable of honing our incredible wills.”

She nodded slowly.

“I think so. Or I hope so. I listened to a lot of podcasts as I drove here. Mindfulness. But it was the eight rules of improv that really resonated.”

“Yes, andis the first,” Bodhi remembered from Ashni’s theater days.

“You know the rules?”

“If there was a list of rules, my first impulse was to break them,” Bodhi admitted. “I know you’re supposed to go with what happened before and add on to the scene.”

“Have you studied acting?”

Had he? His whole persona could be considered an act. But hardly something he wanted to admit.

“No. But my cousin’s girlfriend did a lot of theater in high school and college. Sometimes she would run lines with me. Or make me and Beck do improv exercises with her.”

“You enjoyed it,” Nico said, her voice warm, soft, knowing.

Where’d she get that idea? He’d felt exposed. Scared he’d say something he meant. Confess. But he had liked putting Beck in hella awkward scene situations and watch him struggle to get out.

“There were moments.”

“Moments you enjoyed. Your whole face changed right now while you were thinking and then talking. You were upset, but then you remembered something pleasant.”

Jesus! Did he pluck a mind reader out of a bar full of women? Before he realized he moved, he was out of the bed of the truck. Nico sat back, sipped her hot chocolate, and raised one eyebrow at him.

“Ouch?”

---