Page 51 of Falling For You

Owen chuckled. “You never give up, do you?”

I grinned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just trying a new way to glean intel from me, making it sound smooth. Trying a new angle,” he said softly. “I respect that. I like people who are persistent.”

I laughed, feeling that same joyful and nervous energy wash through me. “Well, I’m definitely persistent. Some liken me to a gnat.”

Owen laughed and nodded. “I could see it.”

“Of course you could,” I said wryly.

“Or maybe a mosquito? Out for blood,” he offered.

“Someone like you would say that.”

His brows lifted teasingly. “What’s that supposed to mean? Someone like me?”

“You know,” I said, playing with the edge of my napkin. “A guy like you doesn’t want a woman like me getting in your way.”

“Oh, yeah?” His gaze stayed on me. “I didn’t mind your getting in my way up in the room earlier.”

My cheeks flushed from his words and the way he looked at me. It was as if he wanted to do things to me I’d never even dreamed of, and the thought was more than enticing.

“That was merely a thank you,” I muttered.

“Oh, yeah? That’s how you thank people in Buttercup Lake?” He laughed and shook his head. “I’ll have to remember that.”

“Just special people,” I corrected as the server came over for our drink orders. We both ordered a local beer, and the woman trundled away.

“You’ve got this mysterious, city-guy vibe going on. I’m pretty sure you don’t run into too many water troughs in your everyday life.” I eyed him. “So, I’m glad you recognized it as a hazard.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “When a woman yelps and her two feet are sticking straight up into the air out of a bucket, it tends to wave some pretty serious red flags.”

“You know…” I shrugged. “I haven’t given up on finding my answers.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“And I’m not falling for your wardrobe of new flannel shirts, even though you look incredible in them.” I eyed him. “You’re still a city slicker.”

“Takes one to know one.” Owen smirked, leaning in slightly, his gaze sweeping to my lips and up again. “What, you think I’m too fancy for the country life?”

“I mean, I don’t see you wrangling cattle or chopping firewood anytime soon.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised,” he said, his voice dropping just a bit, making it feel like we were sharing some private joke. “I can chop firewood like a pro. And I’ve been known to wrangle a cow or two in my day. I can ride a horse with the best of them.”

Something about those words nearly unhinged me. Imagining Owen riding anything turned my body temperature up too many degrees.

I quirked an eyebrow, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of believing his stories.

“Uh-huh. Sure. What was that—when you were, what, five or six? On a school field trip? Playing cowboy?”

Owen grinned, shaking his head. “I know my way around a ranch.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the image of him trying to handle farm chores in a suit and tie, but there was somethingabout how Owen said it, with his teasing grin, that made it impossible to resist.

“Okay, fine, I’ll take your word for it. But just so you know, if you ever try to chop firewood for me, I’m definitely filming it. Or better yet, if you try milking anything, I will be there in a heartbeat. You know, for blackmail purposes or whatever comes my way.”

“Blackmail?” He raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. “You’re already planning ways to sabotage me, and we haven’t even ordered our dinner yet.”

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