Page 24 of My Cowboy Valentine

“Yeah, her,” I confirm with an unhappy nod. “No offense, but I could not stand watching you two suck face on camera…”

“That sounds like jealousy, Red,” he says, palming my breasts and licking and biting my ear until I shiver with delight.

“Maybe.”

“That’s how I felt about your dumbass ex, too, you know. He was never good enough for you. Not by a long shot. Speaking of that motherfucker, I’m still puzzled by something you said in the living room earlier.” His hands continue to knead and play with my nipples and breasts, making it impossible to concentrate.

“What?” I squeak.

His hands stop. “When you said the card was mean-spirited. Why would you care?”

“You congratulated him for dodging the bullet of being married to me. Tell me how that isn’t mean-spirited and hurtful?”

Clearing his throat, he says darkly, “Sometimes I wonder how you get things so twisted. No wonder you hate me. Red, I was congratulating him on making the right choice and dodging the bullet of me coming to New York City to beat the shit out of him for how he treated and disrespected you in the press. He never mentioned anything about me paying him a visit?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about…”

He explains, “I know I shouldn’t have butted in, but your divorce was highly publicized, and everyone knew about his infidelities. It was inexcusable, Red. So, I paid him a personal visit a little over seven months ago in New York, and I gave him three options—quit fucking around with other women and reconcile with you, finalize the divorce and quit wasting your money and time, or prepare to have more than his face rearranged.”

“I can’t believe you did that,” I stammer, the backs of my eyes stinging. “Thinking back on it now, I do remember Roger derisively mentioning seeing one of my hick friends in New York. But he never said it was you. He sure did give me a quick divorce after that, though.”

“Because I wasn’t playing,” the cowboy grumbles. “I hope you can forgive me. I know you hate people messing in your business, but I couldn’t put up with it any longer. Nobody hurts my girl. And I mean that whether you want to act like my sister, my friend, a total fucking stranger, my enemy, or my lover. You will always be my girl, and I won’t let anyone hurt you if I have any say in the matter.”

“I don’t deserve you,” I whisper. “You’re far too good for someone like me.”

“That’s not true, Lesley. Not at all. But if we’re being honest, I have been disappointed by something over the years, and I need to get it off my chest.”

His words flood me with foreboding. “Maybe we should save this for another night. We are buzzed and naked and wiped out from crazy sex. This is no time for a deep conversation.”

“I have to say this while I have the chance. Before you run back to New York and forget about me and your family again.”

“Why would you say something like that?”

“Because that’s what you do. Ask your parents. Ask your brother. Ask everyone in this goddamn town. You turned your backs on all of us to pursue your hoity-toity, big-city dreams, never giving any of us a second thought.”

“That is not true,” I counter, my cheeks flushing.

“So, you watched Billy and me occasionally on ESPN, whoopty fuckin’ doo. How many invitations did I send you to watch us live? We wanted to share our wins with you…our PRCA Championship. The after-parties were off the hook, and I wanted you there. But you never came. Not once. Hell, you didn’t even tell us you weren’t coming. Like those invitations meant nothing to you.”

I shake my head, frowning. “Like you would have come to one of my fashion shows…”

“You never asked,” he says quietly.

“Well, if I’m such an awful person, why the hell do you want anything to do with me now?” The last thing I need is a guilt trip from somebody I’m still actively fucking over.

“How can you even ask me something like that? You act like we’re strangers sometimes. I don’t get it.”

“More like enemies. And might I remind you, this began as a hate fuck…in your own words, not lovemaking. You trying to muddy the waters after the fact isn’t fair.”

“Then, you are planning on running away again despite being a half-owner of Jameson & Cash…and despite tonight. I thought so,” he says, a harsh edge to his voice.

“Maybe I should go now…before things get any weirder between us,” I say, trying to stir from the bed. But he holds me like a precious jewel.

“Nope, you’re all mine tonight. No matter what. I’ll quit fucking talking…and thinking… It’s just…”

Uncertain I want to know, curiosity gets the better of me. “It’s just what?”

“You’re not going to like what I have to say…”