Page 21 of The Cowboy Contract
Leland looked as rough as she felt. His hair was messy. His eyes were creased and a little bloodshot. His normally clean-shaven jaw was covered with stubble, and his skin looked a little paler than normal.
But very little of that registered because he was also just wearing his underwear. And now that she’d broken the seal on not knowing anything about his dick, her eyeballs couldn’t seem to find anything besides it.
“Paige.” He scrubbed one hand along the back of his neck. “What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”
She shifted on her feet, already feeling awkward and terrified and uncomfortable. “Everything’s okay. Umm.” She forced her eyes up, locking them to the overhang above her head. “I just thought we should talk.”
The second the words were out, she already regretted them. Already wished she could take them back. Maybe if she’d just stayed away from him a few more days, they both could have forgotten?—
“You’re right.” Leland stepped back, his back bracing the door. “Come in. I’ll make you some coffee and breakfast.”
She walked inside, smoothing down the hair she’d spent way too much time styling this morning in an attempt to hide how little she’d been sleeping. “You don’t have to do that. I’m fine.”
Leland angled a brow at her. “Did you already eat?”
She chewed her lower lip. “No.”
It was a blanket answer. Honestly, she couldn’t remember the last time she ate. It was definitely the previous day, but which meal was it? Probably not dinner. Not unless a few olives, two Luxardo cherries, and a handful of spicy bar mix counted.
And Leland definitely would not count it.
“Then I’m making you breakfast.” One hand came to rest along her back, the warm width of it making her spine stiffen as she tried to stop herself from leaning into his palm.
It would be so easy. So natural. But considering the man had been avoiding her like the plague, could also be so unwanted. And that possibility had her stomach churning.
She let Leland urge her through his home, taking her past his sparsely furnished living room, the mostly empty dining room, and into a kitchen most would describe as a little utilitarian.
She’d been in his house hundreds of times, but looking at it now made her a little sad at how empty it was. It wasn’t that his house wasn’t nice—it was—it just didn’t feel homey. Cozy. It wasn’t the sort of place someone like him deserved to come home to every night.
To be fair, she’d spent an extraordinary amount of time and money making her house comfortable and homey. The kind of place she wanted to come home to at night. And it hadn’t made her any happier, so what the fuck did she know?
Honestly, in spite of its shortcomings, she loved coming here. Not necessarily because she preferred his place, but because she would rather be with him, regardless of where it was.
Even now. When she was ready to throw up on her shoes or cry. Filled with panic and distressed that everything she had of value—real value—could be gone before the day was over.
All because of fucking Carlton and his inability to take no for an answer. The next time she saw that asshat he was for sure taking a tray to the face. And maybe a knee to the crotch. Possibly a finger to the eyeball.
Unless there was a cliff readily available. Then she was shoving his ass right off the edge. Depending on how this conversation went, she might be right behind him.
Leland pulled out a chair at the small kitchen table, his hand finally leaving her body as he said, “Sit.”
She lowered into the seat, the awkwardness between them stretching into silence as Leland worked on starting a pot of coffee.
It was fucking awful feeling like this around him. Way worse than she’d even imagined all those times she considered telling him how she felt, and worrying about the ramifications that might come from it.
Rubbing both palms down the front of her jeans, she tried to calm the panic playing pickle ball inside her ribcage. But it was an impossible feat, and soon she was standing. “Never mind. We can talk lat?—”
Leland turned, crossing both arms over his broad—and still very naked—chest as his dark eyes glued her in place. “I think we should probably talk now.”
Paige tried to smile, but the expression that ended up happening felt more like a grimace. She slowly lowered to the chair, stomach rolling. “Okay.”
His eyes moved over her a second longer before Leland went back to the task of making coffee. Like the awful friend she was, Paige couldn’t make herself ignore the flex and bunch of the solid bands of muscle across his back and shoulders as he worked. Even the fading lines of the farmer-style tan he’d gained while working outside over the summer were sexy.
Probably because she was completely gone for this man. In every capacity. And now she was going to have to admit it. Confess the full litany of her sins against their friendship.
Maybe not the one where she thought about grinding on his dick in his sister’s bed, though. That one should probably stay a deep, dark secret for all of eternity.
She was so entranced by the hypnotic movements of his body—and so absorbed in the panicky chaos of her thoughts—that when Leland turned around, her eyes didn’t find their way to his face the way they should have. Instead, they stayed locked at their current altitude, now fusing to his pecs and abs.
