She hates me.
Deservedly so, but it doesn’t make the confirmation that I’m a complete asshole any easier.
Romy… how many times have I said that name? Probably a shit-ton if I add up all my dreams and every time I fist myself with her name on my lips.
Her blonde hair is pulled up into a ponytail, and her cheeks are flushed. Once upon a time, I coaxed that blush from her with just a smile in her direction. Now her cheeks are red from anger, and I’m the one who flipped the switch.
How the hell did I get here?
Did my manager, Beau, not do any investigation as to whose ranch this is and put two and two together? He’s supposed to be in charge of details and shit. All I ever knew was when Romy would arrive and when she had to leave. Although each time I begged her to stay just one more night. That’s when I realized I was in too deep with her. That last night, when I was glaring at her small suitcase by the door as though it had personally offended me, I knew that every second with her was putting me on the verge of destruction.
Either I was always just distracted by Romy, or I didn’t hear her ever tell me about this place. All I knew was that she had a big family and ran a venue that was a restored barn. Honestly, when she was with me, I’m not sure I was ever fully listening because she was doing something to me that no one else had. My attention was on the cute dimple in her left cheek, the bow of her rosy top lip, and the way her body weaved with mine as the miles stretched out on the tour bus.
Fuck. I need to get a hold of myself.
We drive to a big hill covered in daisies after we’ve already ridden past the cattle ranch and the cornfield that looks as if it’s being mapped out for a corn maze now that the season is over.
“This is Daisy Hill,” Scarlett calls over her shoulder before stopping the UTV.
Romy’s mom gets out of the driver’s seat. “Let’s go pay our respects,” she says, looking over at me and then her daughter. “You two don’t have to join us.”
Everyone else climbs out of the UTV.
“Mom…” Romy sounds annoyed that they all think she wants to be alone with me. They couldn’t be more wrong.
DeSoto glances at me from the other UTV to see if I’m going to go, but Romy hasn’t slid out of her side yet.
“Are you going?” I ask.
She glances at me and climbs out, but instead of going up the hill like the rest of her family, she walks in the opposite direction.
DeSoto’s head volleys between her and back to me, waiting to see what I want to do.
I should stay right where I am. I definitely shouldn’t follow her.
“Damn it,” I mumble and jog after her. DeSoto moves to join me, but I put out my hand. “I’m fine. Stay with them.”
“Okay,” he says, ever the faithful employee.
It takes me only a few moments to catch up, but she doesn’t slow her pace. Thankfully, I have longer legs.
“Hey,” I say like an idiot when I finally catch up to her. My hand reaches out to grasp her elbow, but I retract it before I touch her.
“It’s a really big ranch.” She walks steadily, not slowing her pace or looking in my direction. “So big that two people can coexist on it and not ever have to see each other.”
She continues walking, crossing her arms. Her closed-off body language is like a set of iron gates with chains across them. And she’s right to keep them in place where I’m concerned.
But she doesn’t see me. Not the true me. She sees Zander Shaw, the man who sings songs about love and heartbreak I’ve never experienced because to do that, I’d have to allow someone to get close enough to break me.
“So, it’s fine. And this will be really good for the ranch. You can film your video here, and my family will benefit from it. Which is good. Didn’t you always say any type of publicity is good?”
Is she throwing that in my face from that night I lost my shit because a guy grabbed her arm on the way to the tour bus?
“We’ll make it work. You being here and all. Scarlett is great, and she’ll make sure you’ve got everything you need. Jensen, my other cousin, is a great chef, so you’ll eat well at The Getaway Lodge. Might want to tell him about your shellfish allergy, though.”
“You remember that?” I didn’t even know where she lived, and she remembered my stupid story about when I went into anaphylactic shock from shrimp.
She stops finally. Thank God, because my heart is racing, and I’m winded. I thought I was in shape until this mile-long trek along uneven ground in my cowboy boots.
