Page 25 of My Cowboy Valentine

“Then, don’t say it,” I scold tenderly, turning in his arms and kissing him.

I tangle my fingers in his thick, black bedhead hair, savoring his large periwinkle eyes and his unshaven cheeks. “But?—”

“No.” I kiss him again, my lips feathering over his. “We don’t need to talk.” I stroke his stubbly cheek, making a scratchy sound with my nails and admiring him for a long moment.

I wish our engagement were real…

The realization smacks into me hard, yet there’s no denying my feelings. I need Rowdy. I need the comfortable, satisfied, safe feelings he instills in me… I’ve missed him, Alpha Ridge Creek, and my family more than I care to admit.Can I really let go of them again?

But he’s too good for me. If he knew half the horrible things I’ve done to get ahead…he’d never look at me the same. And that’s not even mentioning the current situation with Pharrell. Wrapping his big, strong arms around me, he grins, “Alright, no more talking for tonight. Just kissing and loving.”

His thick rod firms against my leg as his lips melt into mine, his hot tongue thrusting suggestively between my lips. My breath catches in my throat, and now I’m the one inching back to speak. “What’s the worst thing you could ever imagine doing to save your company?” I grill him.

Taken aback by the unexpected question, his brows furrow, and he lies back on his pillow, looking at the ceiling. “The worst thing?” He side-eyes me, grimacing. “Is this a trick question to ensure I’m a dedicated enough business partner?”

I shake my head, the corners of my mouth turning down. If only that were the case.

“Umm…”

“Alright. Maybe that’s too specific. What’s the worst thing you can think of doingever, Rowdy?”

Turning back towards me, he palms my cheek, staring intensely into my eyes. “Murder. That’s the worst thing I can think of doing.”

“Murder?” I ask, my eyebrows arching.

“Well, it’s not like I’ve done it or anything. Don’t freak out, Red. But yeah, murder. There’s two people I’ve seriously contemplated killing.”

“Okay,” I nod.

“My father?—”

“Your father?” I gasp.

“Yeah, he was a bad man. Beat the shit out of me more times than I can count. Do you remember that time I went to the hospital? When I was nine?”

I nod. “He beat me to a pulp for helping Billy toilet paper Mrs. Manchester’s place. I thought you were the one who snitched on me, and that’s why I mercilessly pranked you later. Now, looking back, I understand the man had a black fucking soul, and drinking brought out the devil in him. Fortunately, that beating—despite the broken arm, the broken nose, and thetwo black eyes—made your dad step up and confront my piece of shit father. And that’s why I got to start living at your place.”

“Really?” I ask, searching his face. “I remember you with your cast and your bruised face. It was awful to see you like that. But you told me you fell down the stairs.”

“I had plenty of lies like that to cover up for my father.”

Dangerously close to tears, I stare into his beautiful blue eyes, remembering the boy he was. How could anyone hurt a child like that? But I remember how terrifying his dad was, so it doesn’t totally shock me. Fighting back the tears trying to form, I whisper, “And for the record, I never snitched on you. Your dad scared me way too much to talk to.”

“With good reason,” he growls. The muscle in his jaw jumps, and his eyes narrow. “I’m sorry, by the way.”

“For what?”

He strokes my cheek with a pensive smile. “For assuming you snitched on me and then holding a grudge.”

“And?” I arch an eyebrow.

He frowns, shaking his head.

I nudge him. “Don’t you think it’s about time you apologize for all your stupid practical jokes? You tortured the hell out of me, Rowdy.”

“Hell, nah. Teasing you was the highlight of my childhood,” he says with a hearty laugh.

I smack his shoulder, immediately regretting the move. It’s rock hard, and my fingers sting.

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