Page 47 of Ride Me Cowboy

“That was very brave of her.”

“I don’t know if she felt she had much choice.”

Her lips tug sideways and my gut rolls. My own lips tingle with a physical ache to kiss her.

“Still, it takes courage…”

“I guess.”

And damn it, if my hand doesn’t find its way from her hip to her cheek, to rest there a second, before my thumb steals across her lower lip, slowly, smudging it like I want to with my tongue.

She shivers a little, and closes her eyes.

“Cole,” she murmurs, blinking up at me. “The other night?—,”

I bring my hand back to her hip, but then, clasp them behind her back, drawing her closer to me.

“Shouldn’t have happened. It’s okay.” Nor should this dance, I remind myself. Everything we’re doing is wrong.

“No, I was going to say?—,”

“Beth, I know. Your husband died, and you miss him like hell. I know a thing or two about that. You’re sad and confused and there’s no way on earth I’m going to be the guy who takes advantage of you right now. I’m not denying I want to,” I mutter. “Or that thoughts of it don’t keep me up at night. But it’s not right—it ain’t gonna happen. You putting a stop to it—it was good. The best thing you could have done.”

She shakes her head, frustration in her features.

“Will you let me talk?”

“Okay, y’all! Get going, we’re closin’ up.” Randy’s voice is loud across the bar, and the lights flicker on in a disconcerting display of fluorescence. I’ve never seen it like this, because I’ve never been here at closing time.

Beth drops her hands, looking up at me with that same expression of frustration, but I’m glad for the interruption, because the whole playing with fire thing was starting to get seriously out of hand. Again.

We head back to the table where she grabs her handbag. I catch a glimpse of her profile; she’s lost in thought.

Feeling like I’ve bungled something, and I don’t really know what, when we get to the car, I hold the door open for her.

“If you ever want to talk about it, about him, I’m here,” I say. It’s something I heard a lot after dad died, though I never took anyone up on it.

“Talking about Christopher is the last thing I want to do, believe me,” she says, with a shiver. “Especially with you.”

Chapter Fourteen

Cole

HER WORDS RING IN my mind as I pull onto the street. I’m conscious of every movement she makes. The way her hands fidget in her lap, and her chest moves as she breathes, the way her hair catches in the breeze of the air conditioner, flying loose around her face. It takes all my willpower not to look at her. Not to push Beth to talk about her late husband.

Especially with you.

I don’t know why she’s singling me out like that. Maybe she knows I’m not regarded as a fantastic conversationalist. Or perhaps it’s what happened between us the other night, and the fact she feels like it was a betrayal of the man she still loves, and will never see again.

“I’ve been thinking,” she says, softly, after a few minutes of silence. I zone back into the car, frowning, to realize we’re almost halfway home. I’ve driven here on autopilot, barelyconcentrating. I angle my face to her briefly, catch the way she’s looking at me, and turn back to the road, chest pounding.

The one woman who makes me want to start something up and she’s unavailable. Of course. I tighten my grip on the steering wheel ‘til my knuckles glow white.

“That house, with the hole in the roof—the one the tree fell onto?”

“What about it?”

“Just about its potential,” she says. “I know you joked about having tourists on the property, but farm stays are a total thing. You could document the renovations on TikTok or Insta, get people along on the journey, build a following even before you decide to open the doors.”

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