Page 68 of Unstable

It smells great and it’d go against my raising to waste food, so I fork a bite of eggs into my mouth.

Fluffy. Flavorful. Of course he’s a good cook…he’s good at everything.

Except manipulating me. No more. No way in hell.

“Took care of Bourbon. He’s looking much better. Damn glad to see it.”

I can’t not smile at that, I’m beyond glad too. “Thanks again for helping me with him.”

“None needed. Oh, and Hen? I do know what the word let means, which is why I’m gonna let you start. Ask me your questions.”

“Eavesdropping is rude, and, I don’t have any questions,” I snark back.

“None?” His left brow arches. “You sure?”

“Yep.” I take another bite.

“Fine by me, I’ll start, ‘cause I’ve got plenty,” he leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. “Tell me again how you knew I was with Addison last night.”

“That’s not a question, and I wasn’t whispering when I said I saw you.”

“So you were in the bar, with Gatlin?”

My fork clatters on the table and I feel my forehead crease as my eyes narrow. “Obviously, Keaton! These are your burning questions? What’s next, ‘did I breathe air while I was there?’”

“Gonna tan that ass,” he snarls, shaking his head. “How long were you there?”

“One beer. That’s this many,” I sneer, holding up a finger. “I wanted to stay longer, what with the entertainment being so enjoyable and all, but I had to drive.”

“Keep it up, Darlin’. Nothing’d make me happier than pulling you across my lap and lighting up that pretty backside of yours.”

“I am not a child, and if you dare try to spank me, I swear I’ll stab you with this fork!” I pick it back up…might be needing it.

He leans forward, both arms on the table. “You dance while you were there?”

“No.”

“Any drunk fuckers hit on you?” His nostrils flare with the question, his anger spiking at the mere possibility, so I should say yes to further goad him…but then he’d be mad at Gatlin for allowing it, so I answer honestly.

“No.”

“Anyone hassle ya in the parking lot on the way to your truck?”

“No! Why are we reviewing my night?” I raise my voice.

“Because you didn’t have any questions, remember?” I seriously consider making good on my fork threat. That’d wipe that smirk off his face for sure. “Got some now?”

“Nope,” I pop, getting back to my now lukewarm food.

“Okay, my turn again then. How’d you do at the sale?”

There it is—the pang in my chest, remembering how eager I’d been to tell him about it.

“Don’t frown, baby girl. I want to hear it all, and I’m sorry it had to wait. Tell me, Hen.” His soft remorse seems sincere…but what’s real and what’s an act with him?

“Took twelve steers. Sold ‘em all. Ten grand.” I deadpan, spirit crushed.

“Atta girl, Hen!” He whoops. “I’m so fucking proud of you. Let me hug you, baby.”

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