Page 11 of Claiming Cowboy
She rolls her eyes, but the little grin that follows ruins her attempt to look unimpressed. She leans in, kisses me softly, and it’s nothing like the heat from earlier. It’s slower, sweeter, a promise wrapped in warmth.
I stay there until her taillights disappear down the road, then finally head to my truck. For the first time in a long time, I breathe without feeling like something’s missing.
**
I go into the bakery in the afternoon, almost whistling to myself. I know today won’t be as intense as last night, but I can’tnotsee my girl. Paige is mine. I’m not going anywhere, and I want her to know it. What we did was more than fucking. It was more than sex. It was a leap into a future we can both have.
But when she takes my order and moves right alone, gold and nervous, giving me her ‘polite’ smile and customer service talk instead of letting her gaze linger on me, I know something’s going on.
Normally, it’s the kind of thing I’d comment on. I’d ask her if winter came early or if there’s an arctic breeze blowing in, but her distance feels like a warning, especially since she keeps her hand off the counter we made the most of last night.
I put on a smile when she gives me the slice of pie and clear my throat. “Thanks, Paige.”
Her eyes meet mine, then she looks away.
The shift is obvious. Last night, she was talkative, bubbly, starting to open up to me, but now she’s drawing back.Was I toointense? Did she think about the age difference?Fourteen years can feel like a lifetime and my life hasn’t exactly been easy. Is sex all she wanted from me? To scratch the itch and calm the tension between us? No, this is notmyPaige.
Did I jump the gun?
She wanted it, I know she did. She dared me, encouraged me on verbally and physically, but was it too soon for her? Did we both get caught up in our emotions? Did she start overthinking on the ride home? Was I too rough?
I try to process it while I eat.
“Paige, I know what that girl said, but-” Maya starts.
“It’s okay. I think I should practice icing for that birthday cake we have. My letters are still off,” she answers.
Maya watches her go with something like regret in her eyes, but she nibbles her bottom lip and manes the counter. Her eyes flick to me and away. Maybe Paige’s distance isn’t about me. Maybe she’s just not ready to let anyone know aboutusyet. We did jump into this fast, and I can’t blame her for wanting to keep it quiet for a while. She’s careful. Private.
Tomorrow will be easier. I’ll show her I’m not going to push or out us before she’s ready. She can trust me with this. Withus.
The next day, I come in again. Consistency is important. Even if I’m not here at the same time, Paige stays behind the counter this time. I flash her a warm smile. “Good to seeyouagain. How’s your day been?”
“Good. Do you want the special today?” She asks.
Such a short reply. My brow furrows. There’s almost no one here. Maya isn’t behind her. Who would find out? I cock my head to the side and clear my throat. “That would be great. If you have a second, that would be better.”
She hands me another slice of pie and steps back, dodging eye-contact.. “Anything to drink?”
“What do you recommend?” I ask, eager for more of her time, more conversation, more of anything.
Her eyes flick to me, then away. No lingering. No wonder. Doesn’t she feel this too? She has to. I’m not insane. I don’t lose my mind over a woman like this. It’s unique, it’s rare. It wounds me to think that I read her wrong, that I’m reading too much into this.
So I take the lemonade that pairs perfectly with the cherry pie and chew while I think. I want to beg her for answers since her silence is so damn loud. It’s suffocating.
But I have my pride. I won’t beg. I won’t. She’s not chasing me and she hasn’t since the start. She’s not like so many other people in my life. So I’ll prove I’m not what she expects either. Paige is worth it.
I catch bits of her voice as she talks with others, light and polite. She’s sweet, friendly, professional. She smiles for them. She makes small talk. She lets them in, even if only a little.
But not me.
I’m the only one she doesn’t talk to. And that silence hits harder than I want to admit. It burns. It’s personal.
The next day, her silence speaks louder than any words could. She sets another summery pie and a drink in front of me, then drifts away like she’s afraid of standing too close for too long. A distance that wasn’t there before.
And then it happens. A quick glance. The faintest blush. A flash of something she doesn’t say.
It twists inside me like a hook.
