We ride in silence as the sun sets. She’s watching the road. She doesn’t lean into me the way she did a few nights ago. In fact, she’s stiff as a board.
Hell, why does this feel like our first fight?
Is she being a brat because I gave her busy work today to avoid her? Or is it a decoy from whatever it is she’s hiding?
I try not to focus on the distance—since I’m the one who put it between us to begin with.
We’re not a couple.
But the hurt in her eyes when she confronted me about getting rid of her today said otherwise.
I haul the horse to a stop in front of her cottage and help her down. “Thanks for your help today, even if you did google a random vendor in Colorado,” I mutter.
“It wasn’t random,” she mutters back.
“No?” I linger in front of her door, not wanting to leave with the tension between us.
“When I called Hideaway Springs Ranch by accident last week thinking they were a supplier, I spoke to a woman named Tessa. She was really cool. Said if I’m looking for someone reliable, I should try Sal’s. They’re new but they’re trying to make a name for themselves. So I knew damn well they weren’t on your stupid list.” She pouts.
I rub my jaw, covering the humor I find in her attitude. “Levi’s ranch, huh?”
She rolls her eyes. “Is that another rival?”
I nearly laugh. “Friend, actually. Competitor, but the owner’s kinda hard to hate. Keeps to himself, doesn’t start trouble. We trade and help each other out. Good man to have on your side.”
“Well then, glad I could help. Good night,” she says abruptly and turns to head up the porch steps.
I grab her arm. “You upset with me?”
She barely meets my eyes. “No.”
I let go slowly. “Then what’s going on?”
Her eyes are on the grass between our feet. “If, um .?.?. if you had the choice to help someone but you knew they wouldn’t like it—would you still do it?”
“What?”
She shakes her head. “Forget it. It’s nothing.”
I resist the impulse to ask for more. But it doesn’t sound like a work-related conversation, and I need to keep things professional.
That word needs to be stitched to my damn shadow since I keep forgetting it.
I clear my throat and glance back at the house. “Listen, I wanted you to feel safe here at night. I’ve added two porch lights on either side of your door and, uh .?.?. a few extra locks.”
She frowns. “Wha—today?”
I nod. “Sometime after lunch. It’s not seven, but it should do the trick. Keep ’em all locked for me, OK?”
Her lips part as she gazes up at me, her eyes glossy with unshed tears. “Thank you.”
17
Rose
12.13 a.m.
Rose:I’m feeling conflicted.
