Page 32 of Ride Me Cowboy

“I’m not your responsibility,” I reiterate. “I should have known to ask.”

His jaw tightens and I can tell this is something he’s never going to give way on. He sees everyone as his responsibility—which much be completely exhausting.

“It was a guest house,” he says, turning his attention. “A few years back, a pine tree came down and cracked through the roof. We got as far as repairing the back wall, but that’s about it.”

“What a shame,” I say. “It’s so lovely inside.”

“You think?”

“Oh, God, yes. It’s so old and charming. I can just imagine it all set up.”

He grunts.

“Why not fix it now? You could rent it out.”

“To tourists? Who might go try becoming coyote bait?” he teases.

I roll my eyes. “I mean, why not? It’s a shame to have it sit empty.”

He makes a noise that I think could be agreement, but maybe he’s just trying to close down the conversation.

“It’d cost too much,” he says.

I consider that, imagining what the repair bill would be. Even if he and his family did a lot of the manual labor, there’s still materials to buy. But surely the ranch could support that?

“And we’re all too busy,” he adds. “It’s pretty low down on my list, to be honest.”

“But isn’t there a risk that in leaving it like this, it will gradually just fall further and further apart?”

His lips form a grim line and when he looks at me, there are emotions in his face I don’t understand. “Yeah, that’s a risk. You ready to get back?”

The sun has started to set, and the beauty of this landscape catches in my throat. I take a moment to enjoy it, to really soak it in, and then nod.

“You know, you’re pretty fit,” I say, starting to jog toward the house.

He keeps pace easily, not behind me this time, but right at my side, and I don’t mind one bit.

“I could say the same about you.”

“I’ve always loved running,” I say, though I’ve told him that already. “I got out of the habit of it for a while.”

“Why?”

I open my mouth to say something, but how can I answer that? “Just lifestyle,” I say, finally. “I couldn’t make it work.”

“That’s a shame. You look damn fine doing it.”

I realize he regrets it as soon as he says it, by the way he turns away from me and his body goes taut, but I don’t care. I will take that compliment—that admission that he looks at me as a man looks at a woman—and keep it wrapped tight in my chest, to examine later.

At least, that’s my plan. But with every step I take, every footstep of mine that his matches, something sparks inside of me. Curiosity. Confusion. Anger. Disappointment.

Hedoeslike me. He is attracted to me. I’m damn sure of it. So why didn’t he kiss me back the other night? Why did he walk away from me?

I know I should let it drop. The last thing I want is a repeat of that particular experience. And yet, there is something about Cole that emboldens me, that makes me feel like I can say anything I want to with him. Even when I’m embarrassed afterwards, it still seems better to be honest and open with him than to box myself away like I did with Christopher.

“There’s something I don’t understand,” I say, as we reach the edges of the rose garden and begin to walk, side by side, up to the house. The kitchen light is on, and I wonder if it’s Beau or Austin inside, or maybe Mackenzie?

“The other night, why didn’t you kiss me back?”

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