Page 31 of Wrangling Hearts
A part of me had thought he hadn’t meant what he said that night. That it was just because of the dress and makeup. But he was looking at me with the same intensity now. And that terrified me.
“You know why,” I whispered.
He wiped his hands on his jeans. “Remind me then.”
“Because—” I sighed, looking for a legitimate reason. “Because of our family history. We can’t go there.”
“That has nothing to do with us. Bullshit excuse, what else you got?”
“It is not,” I forced out.
“We were friends when we were kids. Before I left for school.”
“That was completely different.” How could he not see that?
His brows raised a fraction, amusement sweeping across his face. “Is it? Because I remember catching you checkin’ me out a handful of times.”
“You were the only boy I’d been around besides Emmett. It was morbid curiosity. Nothing else.”
“And yet,” he pushed off the fence, stalking toward me. “You never looked at Colt, or Weston, or any of our friends we brought around.” A shaky breath left me as he tilted my chin up, making me look him in the eye. “Just me.”
“Your ego is concerningly large.” My voice came out thin, lacking the insult I meant for it to. He smiled, eyes searching mine. His skin was like fire against mine, trailing heat in his wake as his fingers ran along my jaw before brushing the flyaways from my braid behind my ear.
“And you’re as stubborn as an ass, but I think I like fighting with you.”
I was lost in a daze as his thumb stroked my cheek tenderly. I hardly heard him speak over the pounding of my heart. “You think?”
“I know. You’re sexy as hell when you’re pissed, and I’m desperate to kiss you.”
The brutal honesty of it ripped me from the moment. I backed away, breathing hard. “I can’t do this. I just”—I squeezed my eyes shut—“there’s too much happening. I’m sorry,” I rushed out and went inside, leaving him standing there with his hand still hovering in the air, looking lost.
10
Beau
It’d been nearly a week since Claire fell apart in front of me. Nearly a week of me showing up at Golden Bridle to fix things, trying to show Claire that she could trust me. Regardless of how I felt about her, the girl needed help. She was drowning here with just her and Emmett, and I somehow had never realized it until now. So I suppose coming here was as much about helping her as it was about easing my own guilty conscience.
Emmett and I were working in the back corner of the property, replacing the chicken wire on the coop so nothing could get in and they couldn’t get out. He never said much when we worked together, just kept his head down and stayed busy. I’d seen guys who came back from overseas like that. Withdrawn, avoidant, too quiet for their own good.
“You seeing someone?” Emmett had always been introverted when we were kids, like Colt, except less serious. But this was different. This was total isolation.
“Haven’t really been in the mood to date,” he surprisingly replied.
“That’s not what I meant, but I get it.”
There was a pause. “No, I’m not seeing a therapist.”
I kept stapling chicken wire to the frame so I wouldn’t spook him by coming off too interested. “How come? If you don’t mind me askin’, that is. You can tell me to fuck off, too.”
“They wouldn’t understand,” he said quietly. It was haunting, the way he said it. Enough that it gave me chills.
I cleared my throat, moving to a new section. “You kill people over there?”
Emmett went still, his hand hovering over the chicken wire. I thought I had pushed too far, but then he whispered, voice rough and full of regret, “Yeah.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I just said, “Shit, man. That’s rough.”
“It’s worse than rough.” He went back to stapling wire, faster and harder than before. “I wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. And for a minute, I’m back there, and it terrifies me what I could do to someone in those moments. I’m not dating because I’m too scared, too fucked up, to sleep next to someone to let them in. I’ve heard too many horror stories about guys accidentally hurting people. I just can’t risk it.”
