I step back. “Uh… yeah, sure.”
She walks past me, eyes scanning the room. “Not surprised they gave you the honeymoon suite.” She scoffs as if I’m undeserving.
“It’s the biggest room.” I shrug.
She shakes her head but doesn’t comment. Instead, she crosses the space to the farthest corner, deliberately keeping her distance from me. There’s resolve in her face and a tightness in her shoulders.
“Listen,” she says, her voice firmer than I’ve heard prior, “I know this is uncomfortable. But I’m not here to stalk you. I haven’t told my family what happened between us, so you don’t have to worry about them hating you on my behalf.”
I clench my jaw.
“I overheard Beau telling Scarlett you want out.”
“I do.” I force myself to hold her gaze.
She nods once. “Then let me make this easy for you. You don’t have to worry about me. I get it—it was a fling. Less than a fling. I was just another rabid screaming female in the crowd you picked out to pass the time with.”
My chest tightens. I want to stop her. Tell her she wasn’t like the others. That she’s still under my skin. But if I do that, I’ll give her hope that this can be something it can never be. Hope that I might be a different person than she thinks. That would make me even more of a bastard.
“Just…” She swallows hard, her voice catching. “I know you don’t owe me anything, but please… stay. Film the video here.”
Her words slice deeper than I expect. I study her. She’s flushed, but not the way she used to be when I kissed her. This looks more like exhaustion.
“Help me understand,” I say, arms crossing, feet planted wide.
Her eyes narrow. “You don’t have to understand.”
“Then I’m leaving.”
Her jaw drops open, disbelief sparking in her eyes.
You’re being a dick. Stop it.
“God, isn’t my asking enough?” Her voice rises, sharp edges breaking through. “Do you think I’d humiliate myself like this if I wasn’t desperate?”
Her fierce gaze locks with mine. And just like that, I’m dragged back to the memory of her beneath me as I slid into her. How I wanted to slow down, savor her, memorize every second because I knew even then she was too good for me.
“So, in just a few hours, you’ve changed your mind?” I ask, my words sharper than I intend. “What happened to it’s a big ranch. We don’t have to cross paths?”
Her annoyance spikes. “Fine. Whatever. Leave. I’m not surprised.” She storms toward the door, putting as much space between us as possible.
Let her go. Let her go. Get off this ranch.
But my hand betrays me, reaching out, fingers curling around her wrist.
She freezes. But she doesn’t turn or pull away.
“Fine,” I say, my voice low. “If it matters that much to you… I’ll stay.”
She exhales as though the air’s been punched from her lungs. I force myself not to trace the pulse on the inside of her wrist with my thumb. We just stand there, breathing the same air.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
I let go, and after a beat, she walks to the door.
“Romy,” I say.
Her hand stills on the knob, but she doesn’t look back. “You should be careful,” she warns. “This might be a small town, but there are plenty of women who’d kill to get into this room. Maybe DeSoto should stick to the hallway instead of raiding the complimentary peanut butter cookies downstairs.”
