Page 80 of Space Cowgirl: Houston, All Systems Go
Startled, Jules steps back, turning to me, her eyes wide with shock. “Jesus, Holt. When did you turn into an asshole?”
“Probably the moment I met you.” I hate the words coming out of my mouth. I hate myself even more for saying them.
“Fuck you.”
“Already did.” Jesus, I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore except I feel a need to hurt her, hurt her like she’s hurting me.
She stills once more, looking at me like I’m a stranger. Then, without uttering a single word, she snags her leather jacket hanging on the corner chair.
The room echoes with my sick laugh. “That’s it? After all you did?”
Frowning, Jules’ stance softens. “What did I do?”
My emotions overload. All the doubts and panic about everything that’s been happening bubble up. “The wedding, the renovations, promising those kids a trip to NASA, telling me I should give up the ranch and do something else.” She opens her mouth but I cut her off. “Until you came along, flirting with everything in sight and making me lose my goddamn mind, I was perfectly happy.”
She blinks first, stunned, and then laughs. It’s harder and more unkind than mine was, and a part of me knows I deserve it. “You give me too much credit, cowboy.” Smirking, she shrugs into her jacket. “And you’re delusional if you think you were happy.” She grabs her stack of lists off the table, and I watch as one flutters to the floor. “Isuggestedyou work more with the kids because any fool can see they make you happy. Way happier than ranching does.”
I scoff.
“You wake your rich ass up at dawn every morning and work a ranch that you don’t want to be working.”
“Wha—”
“You’ve spent every year since your parents died pushing your brother and sister to find their happiness, but you’re too afraid to push yourself.” She slides her lists in a side pocket. “The first time I saw you smile out there in the West fields was when those kids were here.” She closes the final zipper. “And it wasn’t some fake-ass PR smile.” Facing me, her eyes go hard. “I know all about those.”
She straightens from packing, hands at her side, looking relaxed and unbothered while I’m burning up inside.
“You’ve built yourself a nice little safe place, haven’t you, Holt? One responsibility after another stacked up so high, you could build your own barn with them.”
“That’s rich coming from someone who hasnofamily responsibilities.”
Her chin jerks up like I slapped her. I’d been wanting a reaction, but it doesn’t satisfy me like I thought it would.
“You’re right, I don’t.Myfamily had their own ideas on how I should live and who and what I should be.You’rethe only one putting expectations on yourself. Rose and Flynn would support you even if you burned this whole place to the ground as long as it put a smile on your face, but you’re so busy running from what your parents did, you don’t even know your legs are moving.”
Another buzz, this time loud, as her phone is on the nightstand. Without thinking, I take two quick steps and pick it up.
“Hey!” Jules lunges, but she’s too slow.
Though the screen is locked, the notification comes up clear as day.I can’t wait to see you…
She snatches the phone away from me, reading the screen. “Fuck.” She sighs, running a hand through her hair. “It isn’t what you think.”
My laugh sounds hollow. “You know how many times I heard my mom say that to my dad?”
“Fuck, Holt. I’m not your damn mom.” She draws in a breath like she’s about to yell, but then releases, her shoulders slumping slightly. “Can’t you just…trust me?”
“Trust you? Ha. That’s funny. Trust the flirt. The one always maneuvering people around to get what she wants. The one with a million smiles and none of them genuine.” I don’t even know what I’m saying now, the words leaving my mouth like distant echoes of my dad’s tirades. With each accusation, Jules’ back straightens until she’s so stiff she could be standing in front of a firing squad. Which is basically what I am right now.
“Did that make you feel better?” Her expression has cleared, her eyes, usually glinting with intelligence and mischief, dull.
No it didn’t. But I don’t admit it. I don’t say anything.
She nods, taking my silence as affirmation. “So just because I’m attractive and have a friendly personality, I’m a flirt? Just because I know how to get shit done and do it, I’m manipulative? And just because I’m not career suicidal enough to tell reporters to go fuck themselves, I’m disingenuous?” Her head shakes slowly from side to side. Like she’s disappointed in me. And that hurts more than her anger.
“If I was a man, I’d be a great networker. A team leader. A smooth talker. But no. I’m a flirt. I’m manipulative. I’m fake. I—” She stops, frowning, and then a bitter laugh escapes through the heartbreaking smile on her lips. “Aren’t we a pair?”
Not sure of her meaning, I stay still.
