Page 56 of Seaside Cowboy's Fairy Tale

Rachel slapped herself on her forehead. No wonder she had a better relationship with mice than people. If Tex hadn’t been running away from her already, she’d send him running now. “Right. You did.” She didn’t say sorry, though. Once she’d grown a hard core around her heart, she’d rarely allowed herself to go back.

“I can’t wait to see you.” His voice softened.

Then why don’t you?

That question she did manage to hold back. Her fingers tightened around her smooth phone as she leaned against the counter, breathing in the cookie aroma that smelled like home. The right kind of home, not the kind where she’d grown up.

In her childhood, any cookie aroma usually meant she’d had to make them, lucky to snatch a little raw cookie dough before her stepmother locked the cookies away to keep them for herself and her own daughters only. Like the mice in the attic, Rachel got only crumbs.

Shaking off the memories, she replied to Tex, “Me, too.”

She couldn’t wait to get lost in his baby blues, wrap her arms around his neck, and kiss him with abandonment. Her pulse went wild at the thought. But he clearly didn’t feel the same, and it broke her heart. Now what was she supposed to do with this irritating and growing love?

Maybe it would be easier to cut all ties and start anew, but her entire being protested the idea of walking away from him. Yet she wasn’t the kind of girl to sit around and wait while Prince Charming wandered somewhere, forlorn with a lost shoe. “How about dinner tonight?”

There was a pause, and her stomach sank to the tile. That was an answer in itself, but she hoped he was rearranging his busy schedule.

Kennedy’s puppy wandered into the room, and Rachel scooped her up before the little one could get into any mischief. She’d begged her parents for a puppy, but her stepmother was against it. Never mind that she’d later gotten one for her biological children. Rachel had to clean up after their puppy, bathe him, and feed him, but she wasn’t allowed to play with him. When she grew up, she’d traveled a lot, which would be unfair to a dog, so she’d avoided getting any pet other than mice. Mice required way less care and could also travel the world with more ease.

Now tenderness filled her as the puppy licked her face.

Then anger fueled her words. “You know what? All my life I had to make do. With Dad gone, I didn’t have friends of my own, siblings of my own, dogs of my own. My stepmom never stopped reminding me that nothing in the house belonged to me except for hand-me-down clothes and backpacks and textbooks.”

“I’m very sorry that happened to you.”

But the compassion coating his voice only caused more words to tumble out of her mouth. The puppy squirmed in her hands, and she placed her on the floor and let her go as the little one ran away to other, more welcoming people. “Even as I became independent, I continued on the same path. But now I want it all. I want friends of my own. I want a family of my own. I want a house of my own. And yes, I want a dog of my own.”

The women’s laughter from the living room as they shared snacks or put some final touches on the baby shower made her chuckle. “Children down the road. And you know what else I want? I want a man of my own. A man who loves being by my side and stands by me. I get it that you have a busy job. I’d be thrilled to eat cheeseburgers together at ten o’clock at night in your office while you type away at your computer. Just once in a blue cheese moon. So how about we have a late dinner tonight or tomorrow or any day this week? I don’t care how late.”

He had to eat sometimes, so why not with her?

“I–I can’t.” He gulped. “I’m sorry.”

“Of course.” Tears burned behind her eyes, and a lump formed in her throat. “You have more pressing issues.”

“It’s not—listen, another thing I wanted to tell you is I talked to my assistant, and she received an inheritance from her aunt.” His topic change wasn’t subtle. “So she decided to buy the house. I had it checked, and she was telling the truth. Besides, Jennifer’s been with me for many years. I don’t think she was bought.”

“Thanks.” She filed it in her mental file, but she’d process it later. A strange thought formed in her mind, then another one. She might’ve been searching for the thief in the wrong place all along. But tears were choking her right now, so she’d have to analyze the new suspicions later.

“I just need some time.” His voice turned sad.

“How long? A week? A month? A year? A decade?” She couldn’t bear to lose him, but really, how could one lose something one never had?

She didn’t mind waiting, but for what? A mouse could squeeze through a pencil-size hole, but Rachel couldn’t squeeze into his busy life. And she deserved better than stealing crumbs of his attention once in a long while. She’d grown up with hand-me-downs and leftovers, but she deserved something of her own.

“I don’t know,” he said.

At least, he didn’t give her false hope, didn’t string her along.

Her legs went weak, and she resisted slipping down to the kitchen floor. The lump in her throat grew. Even if he was okay with the fact that she wasn’t a rich socialite, maybe he preferred someone... someone warmer and softer? She was far from a purring cat. She was rough around the edges, blunt, and threw punches where other people faked smiles.

She wasn’t going to change her personality for someone else or surgically remove the backbone it had taken her so long to grow. So she straightened her spine to its full capacity. “We should take a break from seeing each other. Until you have an opening in your schedule again.” She blinked, fighting tears, and swallowed around the lump. “But I can’t guarantee that, whenever you’re ready for a relationship with me, I’ll be here waiting.”

Then she disconnected before he could talk her out of taking time off—or worse before he wouldn’t even protest.

For so long, she’d avoided attachments. She’d been careful not to let people close. Only to lose her heart to someone who didn’t care for it at all. But she wasn’t as fragile as Cinderella’s crystal slipper. Rachel’s hands fisted, but she uncoiled her fingers and pasted on a smile before going to the living room with upbeat decorations for a happy event.

Pulling her shoulders back, she marched forward. She’d live through this heartbreak, survive, and be joyful again.

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