Page 15 of Wrong Number Right Cowboy
Though Boone has said more than once that I’m his—onlyhis—he hasn’t told me he still loves me. Or even asked me to stay.
Shit.
Maybe sending my email resignation was premature. I gave them my two weeks’ notice, but my spineless, temper-tantrum throwing manager replied within minutes to let me know my termination as effective immediately.
Jackass.
“Mel, what are you doing here?” I ask, opening the door and inviting her inside.
“Nice to see you too,” she says, her tone heavy with sarcasm.
“I’m glad to see you, I’m just confused. Why?—”
“I asked her to come.” Boone’s tone is almost as cold as his eyes as he stalks across the room toward me.
What the actual fuck?
“Are you kicking me out?” I ask, half a laugh escaping my throat. There’s no way he’s serious. Less than an hour ago, he was coming inside me, telling me that he was never letting me go.
“You were always leaving, Sawyer.” He slaps my cell phone into my palm.
“Boone—”
“Just fucking go, Sawyer.”
My body trembles with hurt, confusion, and shock. I don’t understand what’s happening right now. I glance down at the phone screen to see a bunch of missed texts from my sister. It’s possible I left my phone in the barn this morning—another place we recently had sex. Did he really just march in here to make sure I didn’t leave my phone behind?
Boone stalks across the house, slamming the back door without another word or even a backward glance.
“What’s going on?” Mel asks, both suspicious and a little uncomfortable.
“I don’t know—” Then I see the most recent text from my sister.
Sammie:Is today too soon to go to Dallas?
“Are you going back to Dallas?” Mel asks me.
“To go dress shopping with Sammie,” I say, shaking my head.Thisis what the grumpy jerk is all worked up about?
“Maybe it would help if you two did a little more talking,” Mel says, noting the mess on the floor near the dining room table. Everything that was on it before Boone pushed it off to fuck me senseless this morning is still strewn all over the floor.
“Yeah,” I mumble.
“So, go talk.” Mel shoves me toward the door. “But keep your clothes on until you’re finished, mkay?”
10
BOONE
I shovelanother forkful of hay into a freshly cleaned stall, waiting to hear the fading engine of Mel’s minivan. What the fuck is taking them so long? Sawyer didn’t exactly show up with a suitcase full of belongings. She has nothing to pack. So why can’t she just get it over with already and fucking leave?
She’s good at that.
Leaving.
“Fuck,” I grumble, feeling judged by Lina, the mama cow who’s been sticking close to her calf since almost losing her in the storm. That’s what I thought I was doing with Sawyer. I thought that if I kept her close, that maybe this time she would stay.
But then her phone pinged in the barn.
