“What about this one?”
A very unladylike snort echoed in the room. “This one is better than that one. There’s no way it’s in my budget.” She sighed. This feeling of missing out was the only reason she hated shoppingfor items to showcase in her shop. There were simply too many beautiful pieces and no way to take care of them all.
When she looked up at Tripp, he was frowning at the typewriter with such a look of concentration, it made her laugh. He brought his eyes to hers, but before he could say something she changed the subject. “I did see some pieces I’d like to get for the shop. Would you mind if we got them now? I don’t really want to come out here again.”
He nodded. “Of course.”
She beamed. “Thank you, Tripp. I really appreciate it. Come on, they’re out this way.” She took her leave first, refusing to glance over her shoulder for one last look at the typewriter. As much as she wanted something like that, she couldn’t rationalize buying it. What did an almost-writer even need with a typewriter? If she couldn’t bring herself to start on the book, what made her think she deserved that gorgeous piece of art? Maybe one day when she had something to show for all her effort.
One day.
Wendy couldn’t helpbut stare as Tripp loaded up the pieces of furniture she’d purchased. She would have never been able to put them into the back of his truck on her own, but he did it with ease. His muscles rippled with the effort it took. Working at Sagebrush Ranch was clearly doing it for him.
He caught her eye and she looked away.
It was utterly shameless.
Heat seared her cheeks as she avoided his gaze. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”
Tripp was quiet—far too quiet for far too long. She squirmed beneath his stare and finally lifted her eyes.
The fire that flowed between them was nothing new. Sometimes it was fueled by irritation. Other times it was this innate sense that there was something more that needed to be explored between them.
Gah! She couldn’t be weak. Not where Tripp was concerned. He wasn’t good for her. She knew it and he probably did, too.
Friends, she chanted in her head.Only friends.
That boyish grin that spread across his lips had her focus shifting to his mouth. Unbidden, memories attacked. Memories of the way his lips felt on hers. The way he tasted and felt in her arms.
Tripp raised an eyebrow, moving closer to her. His voice lowered enough it resembled a growl more than anything else. “You keep looking at me that way and I might have to do something about it.”
She inhaled sharply. “What?” Her gaze found his.
He traced his knuckle along her jaw before dropping his hand to his side.
They stood like that for what felt like ages but in reality, it was only a couple seconds. She held her breath, waiting for him to cross that line they’d both agreed to draw in the sand. But he never did.
Tripp jerked his chin toward the truck. “Come on. Get in and we can take these to the shop.”
Wendy blew out a breath and nodded. Right.
Friends.
There wasn’t a single phrase she despised more in that moment than that word alone. He didn’t move. Didn’t inch out of the way. He just… stood there.
She cleared her throat and took a step forward, expecting him to get out of the way but he didn’t. Wendy let out a nervous laugh and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Excuse me.”
At the sound of her voice, Tripp stiffened. It was like he had to force himself to come out of the trance. She moved around him before she had a chance to do something she might truly regret.
Something like stealing another one of those scorching kisses she couldn’t stop thinking about.
The drive back to the shop was excruciating to say the least. If she thought the tension between them had been painful before, it was so much worse now.
What made her believe she could be in the same vicinity as this man and not get overworked? She’d been so naïve!
Tripp kept his attention on the road, and she shifted so she could change the radio station. As a sweet country song broke the silence, she allowed herself to breathe. They could be friends because it wasn’t like they were forced to spend time with each other. Less time in the other’s company meant less heat that simply wouldn’t go away.
Wendy blew out a breath and stared out the window. Every so often she could feel his gaze on her and it took all her willpower not to turn so she could catch him staring. Each time, she bit down on her lip a little harder. Hopefully it didn’t get to the point where she drew blood.
