Page 12 of The Texan's Secrets

“You seem...” She gestured to him, up and down. “I don’t know. Uncertain.”

“Uncertain of what?”

The answer made no sense. Was she referring to his riding? He might not be the best rider in the world. He was nothing compared to Rafe. But he was at least competent.

“Of me. Of this. I get the feeling you’d rather have canceled this thing altogether.”

“Ourdate?” He was truly baffled now. “Why would I want to cancel our date?” That was the last thing he wanted to do.

He hadn’t learned much about her yet, but he liked what he had, and if the sizzle of attraction running through him was any indication, their kisses—assuming they got to any kisses—were going to be spectacular.

She was quiet for a long minute.

He waited.

“You got very quiet back there.”

“Back where?” He thought he’d done fine holding up his end of the conversation. If anyone had turned quiet, it was her.

“While we were walking to the barn. You went from joking around to thinking deeply. Like you were contemplating—I don’t know—how to escape or something.”

As soon as she said it, he knew what she meant. It was right after she’d told him that her roommate had met Rafe, the moment when his cover was in danger of being blown. But she had it backward.

“It wasn’t you,” he said.

She skeptically arched her brow. “It was you?”

“Yes. I apologize. I got distracted for a moment.”

“By?” she challenged.

“Your beauty and your grace.”

“Nice try, cowboy.” But she was fighting a smile.

“A work thing,” he told her honestly.

“You were figuring out a problem?”

“Something like that.”

She tilted her head, gaze narrowing. “Let me get this straight. You’re coding inside your head instead of interacting with your date? You’re really not helping the computer nerd stereotype.”

He laughed, appreciating her joke. Then he held up his hands in surrender. “Guilty as charged.”

He clipped a lead rope on Belle-Blue, led her away and tied her up next to Dancer. The ropes were long enough that they could stand and graze.

“What were you coding?” she asked as they made their way into the shelter.

“Now who’s perpetuating the stereotype?”

“You’ve got me professionally curious.”

It was an easy answer. “Rafe asked me to develop an app for his family’s ranch.”

“A custom app?”

The sun was heading for the western horizon, leaving a chill in the air. So, Nico peeled off a few sheets of newspaper from a kindling box near the fireplace. “Their software is hopelessly out of date.”

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