Page 6 of Claiming Cowboy
Because I’ve just found my new favorite place in Aspenbrook.
Over the week I prove it. I show up every day, trying to vary the time so I can catch Paige on break. Every day I fail, but I make sure that she knows I want her. I watch and enjoyher.I listen to Paige say that the peanut butter pie is her favorite when she needs something sweet – the same pie she’s given me the last three times I’ve ordered.
I notice she keeps distance between her and people she doesn’t know, but is happy to chat and be close with Maya and the woman who runs the bookstore next to the bakery. And I just enjoy the view, enjoying seeing her with other people.
She dances to music when she doesn’t think people are watching. She mouths the words and loses herself in it. She always sets something aside for Maya and Oliver and even if she’s quieter and introverted, when Maya teases her innocently, Paige joins in. She’s willing to be goofy, she’s willing to open up, but it takes trust. I respect it. I like it. She knows the value of giving someone her time. She trusts people once they’ve earned it.
She’s the only woman I watch. I try whatever pie she recommends, never leave without talking to her first, and flirt as much as she allows.
“I could always ask Maya to make sure you have a break. I promise it’ll be worth it. Even ten minutes of your time is worth more than a day with anyone else,” I say. “And I wouldn’t be a proper man if I didn’t make sure you wantedmorethan ten minutes.”
Her face burns. “Ryder, my break really isn’t-”
“She’s saying a proper date would be better,” Maya cuts in before she can finish, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. “This morning she was worried you might be allergic to strawberries when we were making the tarts. She didn’t want to accidentally poison the cowboy she’s been pretending not to look at all week.”
Paige’s mouth opens, then shuts again. She shoots her friend a mortified glare. “I just… you said he’s the town star, and that—”
“I’m flattered, sunshine,” I interrupt, leaning against the counter like I’ve got all day. My gaze drifts over her, slow and deliberate, until it settles on her flushed face. “But I think it’s only fair I show you how attentive I can be too.”
Maya laughs softly and slips away before Paige can chase her. Paige bites her bottom lip, clearly trying to keep it together.
“We could go on a proper date. I have plenty of things I think you’d enjoy,” I comment.
Her eyes dip down my body before snapping back up to my face. “I… um… do you want more pie?”
I chuckle softly, brushing my fingers over hers in a light, teasing stroke. “Tomorrow, I’ll let you pick for me. I’m notallergic to anything. I’ll eat anything you make, Paige. Anything you offer me.”
She draws in an unsteady breath, her tongue sweeping over her bottom lip. “You really can’tnotbe intense, can you?”
That flicker of worry about being too much for her, too wild for her, slips back in. But she doesn’t pull away. Our fingers keep moving against each other, a quiet game neither of us started but neither wants to stop.
“I’m just your daily dose of intensity,” I say with a low laugh, giving her hand a light squeeze. “But I won’t ask you out today. That would make it seem like it was all Maya’s idea. And I think I made myself pretty clear the first time we met.”
“Cocky,” she whispers, the word soft but not entirely disapproving.
“Honest,” I counter easily. Then I catch the tiny shake of her head and grin wider. “Maybe a little cocky, sunshine. But I like to make things clear.”
I start to walk away, even though I can feel her questioning what I meant. It’s not subtle anymore. Half the town’s picked up on the fact that I want her. The women who used to linger near me at the bakery have stopped trying. Everyone but Paige seems to understand just how locked in I am on her — how hyper-aware I am of every breath she takes when I’m around.
The next day’s a mess of riding practice and catching up on everything I’ve neglected at home. By the time I make it to the bakery, there’s barely twenty minutes before closing. The place is quiet, empty except for the warm smell of sugar and cinnamon. My chest tightens when I don’t see her at the counter. I want to curse myself for being late.
Seeing her every day has become the only thing that steadies me.
A sudden clatter snaps my attention to the side, and there she is — Paige, wiping down a table. She freezes when she sees me, her eyes widening for just a second. Relief flashes across her face, quickly replaced by something soft and nervous.
We’re alone.
And for a heartbeat, that thought sinks deep. I want to touch her. I want to feel her. I want to wrap myself around her and finally thank her for being the one thing in my day that feels right. But I know the second I touch more than her fingers, I’ll lose control. I’ll kiss her like I’ve imagined a hundred times, and stopping won’t be an option.
“There’s… caramel apple pie today,” she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes flick away from mine, a little too quickly. “I think there’s… oh, the oven!”
She spins toward the back, and I can’t help the grin tugging at my mouth. She’s nervous. I make her nervous. And God, I like that.
I walk with her, slipping behind the counter as my heartbeat goes erratic in my chest. She’s so damn plush. She’s so sexy. “You should come to the rodeo more.”
“It’s not really my scene.” She explains while taking out a batch of muffins.
“What is your scene?”
