Page 53 of Wild Rose
Willow:Speed-dating???
Rose:Yeah, I was thinking, the white blouse with the royal blue skirt and gold buckle.
Willow:How does this help with getting over your crush? Oh .?.?. I just got it. Well, be careful, Rebel. Also, speed-dating sounds fun. Can we do that when you’re back home?
Rose:What if we like the same guy?
Willow:I’d be into that .?.?.
12
Wilder
Not this cowboy.
I’d be lying if I said I’m not usually an ass when a woman’s got her eye on me.
Ever since Bonnie, I like to keep things simple. No strings, just a good time. Trust doesn’t come easy for me these days.
No one’s worth the trouble.
Never mind the fact that I’m not about to one-night-stand my best friend’s kid sister, but a girl like Rose—as much fun as we might have—I couldn’t give her more.
And I’m one hundred percent sure she wouldn’t either.
I don’t need another woman changing her mind.
But, man, if it didn’t shock the hell out of me to see the hurt in her eyes when I said those three words.
Had she been hoping?
I don’t really think her run-ins with me were on purpose. The flush in her cheeks is too real for them to be premeditated.
But fuck if I can’t shake the feeling of her in my arms. Her breath on my skin. It’s like a flame, a rush of pure fire.
It’s bad enough that I’ve pushed some limits with my self-control lately. But knowing she feels it too—that’s a disaster waiting to happen.
On all fronts.
After the evening checks, I take a ride with Tuscan along the river as the sun sets on Saturday. My eyes scan the amber fields for stray cattle or broken lampposts. I’m only half certain I’m paying attention to either. My mind’s been on this mystery man that stopped by yesterday.
And what the hell he wants with my brother.
Still can’t shake the feeling he’ll be back.
Stepping in through the back door, I find Dallas and Dad in the kitchen, the smell of fried onions and ground beef filling the air. Dallas is at the stove, and I can tell from the way Dad’s sitting back and watching, he’d come over to drag his grieving son out of bed.
“Dad.” I nod curtly and he lifts his chin in response.
“Land looks good tonight,” he starts, but he can’t end the compliment there. “Check that south gate?”
“I did,” I answer flatly, taking my hat off and hanging it on the hook by the door. “Smells good.”
Dallas swings his head back. “We’ll see if tastes good. Hungry? I’m making meatloaf.” He cocks his head back. “Dad’s way.”
I roll my eyes. “With soy sauce?”
“Didn’t hear you boys complainin’ when you were eatin’ at my house.”
