Mary scoffs from behind me, and I sigh at the noise. She’s sitting right behind me, and I can see her glaring at me in the side mirror. Her mouth is curled into a pout, brows furrowed, and the sight both annoys me and makes me want to laugh fondly.
She shifts to stare out the window as Tony heads toward the highway. The ride is silent save for the rumble of the motor and the little whistle of the wind coming in where the weather strips on Tony’s windows are starting to decay. I pretend to look out my own window, but I’m just watching the way Mary’s face goes from frustrated to resigned to flat out exhausted in the mirror. Her eyes are starting to slip closed by the time we turn onto the dirt road that leads to the ranch. 20 minutes of total silence, something I wouldn’t have thought Mary capable of just a day ago.
It’s the longest damn car ride of my life.
As soon as Tony parks, she climbs out of the cab. Her boots are on the ground before I can even get my seatbelt unbuckled and pat Tony on the shoulder in thanks. He shoots me a puzzled look as I rush to get out of the truck.
“Ms. Bryce!” I call out.
She’s already making her way toward the house, and I really have no clue what I want to say. When she turns to look at me, though, I figure that’s probably fine. I’d have forgotten anything I wanted to say the second she met my eyes. There’s no excitement on her face, none of the bright joy I’ve become so accustomed to.
All she gives me is a tight-lipped, perfectly professional smile.
It makes my stomach flip.
“I wanted to?—”
“If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Riggs,” she cuts me off casually. “I really need to get back to work. I didn’t bring my laptop with me yesterday, and I haven’t had a chance to check my emails. I’ll find you if anything comes up that needs your attention.”
She turns on her heel, and all I can do is watch her trudge up to the house and disappear through the door. I almost want to run after her, to apologize and blurt out every single thought that’s been bouncing around in my head since last night, but I’m frozen in place. Maybe it’s for the best, in the end. She’s here to do a job, after all.
And last night may not have meant anything to her. A moment of passion, nothing else.
It might be best to let sleeping dogs lie in this situation. What happened last night can stay in the past, where it’s safe. It can be a memory.
Part of me, though, wants more, wants to know if thereismore. Was that kiss just a kiss? A brief flare of physical attraction and opportunity combining at just the right moment, or is there something else here? It could just as easily be my mind searching for things to fit my own desires, but if I walk away from this when it could be something real…
I don’t know what’s more terrifying.
Would it be harder to be wanted and to have to actually try again, or to let go of the first thing I’ve wanted for myself in so long?
MARY
Igot good sleep—shocker, right? Apparently, staying awake all night in a random town after kissing your client will wear you out.
I really need to stop thinking about that. Kissing Everett was a mistake, abigone. I could lose my job over this, or at the very least this project. Just because it’s the single hottest thing that has ever happened to me doesn’t mean I can afford to linger on it. I won’t deny my attraction to Everett—and it wouldn’t do me any good if I tried to now.
What I will do is put this whole fiasco behind me. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right? I can apply that to whatever sleepy little town we got stranded in, too.
I can’t let myself get distracted by Everett Riggs and his breath-stealing kisses.
Nodding to myself in the mirror, I tuck the hem of my shirt into my jeans. Wearing nice clothes on the ranch hasn’t been going all that well for me, so something plain will do. I hardly think Everett is going to scold me for not dressing professionally.
If anything, he’ll probably be happy I found the sneakers buried in the bottom of my bag. Now he won’t have to listen tome bitch about getting my nice shoes dirty, or having to wear those god-awful rubber boots.
Just the thought of them makes me shudder.
My plan is to grab something quick for breakfast and get some pictures of the pastures, but I freeze halfway down the hallway.
Everett’s voice carries from the kitchen, and he sounds more annoyed than usual.
“Yes, she came early,” he says. “Yes, it’s a she. Her name’s Mary.”
I don’t hear anyone responding to him, and the thump of his boots back and forth on the floor sounds like he’s pacing in agitation. On the phone, then.
“Wha—No! I’m not messing things up,” he huffs in frustration. “You’re my daughter, aren’t I supposed to say these things to you?”
Quiet falls for a moment, and I squeeze my nails against my palm, unsure of what to do.
