I played back her “sorry, not sorry” spiel last night several times in my mind. And no matter how many times I heard it, not once did it sound .?.?. bratty. Impulsive, sure, but the girl wanted something.
And she went for it by any means necessary.
Also, if I’m not mistaken, she texted me at seven this morning, which means .?.?. she was going to be on time.
“What time did you get to bed last night?”
She looks anywhere but at me. “Hit the sack soon as I got in.”
It’s a lie.
Don’t know why or how I know, but it’s a lie.
Letting it go, I take a sip of my water. “How’s your arm?”
Slowly, she slides her right arm off the table, setting it on her lap. “It’s fine, why?”
“I meant your other arm.” I shift my gaze to the covered skin just beneath her shoulder.
“Oh. It’s nothing—” She smiles playfully. “Serves me right for getting into it with a thorny bush.”
“Agree.” I smile and wink.
And it does something to her, if the way her eyes flash and her gaze lingers appreciatively is any indication.
Whatishappening?
How did I get here? One minute ready to throw this untamable troublemaker out the door, and the next .?.?. feeling a flutter stir in my stomach because my smile made her happy.
This isn’t right.
She’s been here three days and every coy smirk, every lingering glance, every accidental touch drags me in deeper.
I need to pull back. Create some distance if I have any chance of making it through this summer unscathed.
She can’t hurt me. No one can. Not after Bonnie.
A flicker of my ex’s face threatens to surface but I push it down, burying those feelings where they belong. She sure as hell had none when she said goodbye.
I was ready to give it all up for her. Lost myself in something that was never real.
Rose isn’t Bonnie. That much is clear from a mile off. But the risk is one hundred percent the same.
I need to shut this down before it gets any further.
But one wrong move, and others would suffer. Wesley, the ranch, and who knows .?.?. maybe even Rose.
No. I won’t play this game.
These inappropriate comments, the brush of skin, it all stops.
Today.
9
Rose
It’s my fourth day of work and I’m off to a late start, again. I’ve been at least an hour late every day this week.
