Page 12 of Waiting for the Rancher
“True.”
Maverick inhaled a deep breath, feeling suddenly lighter than he had since the wedding. “So you believe everything I’ve just told you?”
Hazel was still resting her hands on his. As if realizing it, she let go and stepped back. “I believe everything, Maverick. You were just trying to help Sterling by bringing Violet back up to the house. And maybe the kiss was her final desperate way to stop everything.”
“Then you don’t think I led her on?”
Hazel didn’t respond right away. She gazed absently at the foal, a sturdy colt that was now nuzzling his mama, likely hungry after all the activity of the morning.
Maverick had been thinking through all his interactions with Violet over the past year and trying to figure out if he’d done anything to make her think he was interested in her. If he had, he hadn’t meant to.
“In all honesty, Maverick,” Hazel said, “you’re a terrible flirt and sling around your smile anddarlin’s without any holding back.”
“Darlin’s?”
“You okay, darlin’?” She mimicked his tone. “You want some help, darlin’? ’Cause I got plenty of help to give you.”
He fought back a grin at hearing her reflection of his flirtation. “That bad, huh?”
“Worse.”
He quickly sobered. “I never meant to flirt with Violet.”
Hazel shrugged. “Sometimes I don’t think you can help yourself.”
Most of the time he was just trying to be friendly, but what if women took it the wrong way? “Blast,” he whispered. “Why didn’t Sterling say something?”
“Maybe he didn’t want to admit to himself that Violet didn’t love him back the way he loved her?”
Was Hazel right? Her theories made more sense than anything else. “How’d you get so smart?”
“Certainly not from hanging around you and Sterling.” Her sarcastic statement was tempered by a tender smile.
A smile of his own broke free. There was just something about Hazel that had the power to comfort him and make him feel better. He wasn’t sure what it was, but she had a calming, soothing, level-headed way that had always held her—and everyone around her—in good stead.
A gust of cold wind swept into the corral and swirled the dust. She crossed her arms and rubbed at her shirt sleeves as if to bring them warmth. The motion only seemed to accentuate her bosom, showing more of her curvy form and her creamy skin where her blouse curved low.
Had she ever worn the blouse before? Because for the love of all that was holy, it revealed miles of skin that led to her defined collarbones and her slender neck. Was her skin as smooth as it appeared?
As though she’d caught him staring at her chest or sensed the direction of his wayward thoughts, she lifted a hand and splayed it across the bare flesh.
He jerked his attention away, released the railing, and pivoted so that he was peering at the barns. What was wrong with him? And what was he doing?
She didn’t move, stood frozen with her hand over her chest as though she was too shocked by his ogling to react.
He raised a hand and pinched the back of his neck, the tension swiftly rising there. He had to say something to excusehimself and apologize for his lust. But what could he say that wouldn’t make things more awkward?
“Reckon I better head into the barn and check on that Clydesdale.”
“Okay.”
He didn’t move, couldn’t make his feet carry him away the way he should.
She didn’t budge from where she was still standing with her hand over her chest.
He cleared his throat. “Thanks for letting me explain myself, Hazel.”
“I’m glad you did.” Her voice was soft.
