Page 46 of The Backdraft
Just don’t fall for me.
I hadn’t fallen for him, I knew that for certain, but it didn’t feel like I was on steady ground either. It felt like I was one loose stone or lifted root away from not just falling for him, but smashing face-first into the ground. The more time I spent around him, the more I could see how easy it would be to love him, and just how much it’d hurt when he inevitably turned me away.
Shayna looked back over her shoulder at me as she pulled a pair of boot-cut jeans up her legs, an expectant expression arching her brows. I hadn’t responded.
“You and me both,” I agreed.
She walked to her dresser, grabbing a stick of deep red lipstain and applying it. “So what does this mean for you two? Are you guys friends with benefits, or . . .”
I groaned. “Honestly, Shayna, I have no idea. I don’t think it meant anything to him.”
Her eyes met mine in the mirror. “But to you?”
“It wasn’t that deep for me either,” I answered.
Shayna pressed her lips together, attempting and failing to stifle a laugh. “From the sounds of it, it was pretty deep.”
Rolling my eyes, I snorted. “Please, never change, but also, shut up. You know what I mean. It just . . . happened. I haven’t really thought that much about it.”
“Ha! Yeah, right. You texted me at seven this morning. Seven! I bet you were up all night thinking about it. I bet your vibrator is dead too.”
I scowled at her back as she disappeared into her walk-in closet. When she returned she had a flannel tied loosely around her waist, and she held a cowboy hat in her hands.
“What on earth are you wearing?” I questioned.
She glanced down at her outfit. “What? Does it not match? I thought it looked cute.”
Leave it to her to think I was calling her outfit ugly. I shook my head. “You look great—like a cowboy’s wet dream. Where is this guy taking you exactly?”
“To a rodeo. He’s real big into bull riding.”
I looked at her skeptically. “You, Shayna Quinn, are going to a rodeo?”
“Sure! Why not?”
“You hate country music! You hate the country, period!”
She giggled, shooting me a wink as she flipped the hat up onto her head. It was a move that looked practised, but I’m sure she hadn’t. “All the more reason to ride the cowboy. You’re not going to catch me dead on a horse.”
“Chase is going to have his hands full with you, does he know that?”
The look she gave me was unamused. “His name is Chevy.”
Of course it was.
I opened my mouth to respond when she cut me off, a manicured nail pointed in my direction. “Hey! You’re in no position to judge love lives, Miss. Preggo-And-Currently-Fake-Dating-Her-Maybe-Baby-Daddy.”
Laughing, I held up my hands in surrender. She had me there. “All right, all right! Fair enough!”
“Speaking of,” she segued as she pulled a pair of black, leather cowboy boots on. “Have you gotten the results of the paternity test back yet?”
“Not yet, but I haven’t checked my email today.”
She motioned to my phone sitting on the bed beside me. “Well? Check it!”
I reached over and grabbed it, plugging my password in and heading straight to the mail app. I scrolled through a dozen spam emails, and almost called it quits when I saw it.
“Shit,” I muttered under my breath, still not having clicked on it. Blood whooshed loudly in my ears, my pulse beating frantically, and my palms growing slick with sweat.
