“Come over tonight,” I say, closing the space between us. “I’m sick of it being like this.”
She sighs and I can see her turning it over in her head—probably making a list of pros and cons.
“You’ve been dodging me all week,” I press, trying for light but feeling too damn raw. “The least you can do is come over and watch a movie with me.”
She hesitates, lips pressing together. “I’ll think about it.”
I roll my eyes. She’s always been a terrible liar. “Uh-huh. You act like I don’t know you well enough to know that’s a definite no.”
“It’s not definite,” she mutters. “I’m just not sure it’s a good idea.”
“Quinnie, please?” I take off my hat and rake a hand through my hair. “Just because Sawyer and Allie know doesn’t mean we can’t still hang out. I’m sorry I fucked it all up and made it weird.”
Her expression softens, and the little flicker of guilt I catch hits me right in the gut.
“You didn’t make it weird,” she says. “This one’s all on me.”
I don’t want her to feel bad. I just wanther. However long I get to have her.
I step close enough to smell her shampoo. My hand slides around her waist, fingers splaying across the small of her back. She’s warm againstmy palm, and within seconds the tension seeps out of her body and she leans against me, eyes going hazy.
I’m done for. No matter how many times I tell myself I can keep my feelings in check, the second she melts into me, I’m at her feet begging for any piece of her she’s willing to give.
“Come over tonight once Pops goes to bed,” I say quietly. “We’ll talk it out.”
Her eyes lift to mine, searching. For what, I don’t know. Maybe for a reason to say no. But instead, she just nods. “Alright.”
I give her hip a gentle squeeze before forcing myself to let go. “Alright. I’ll see you tonight.”
When I walk out of the barn, the air feels colder. I know I’m only making it more difficult for myself—falling harder every minute we spend together. But I’d rather take the pain later than miss what’s right in front of me now.
Smart Girls Don't Lose Their Heads Over Cowboys
Quinn
I’d been so careful the past few days—keeping busy whenever Tripp was around, finding excuses to stay out of the barn or disappear into chores. Avoidance had become my specialty. But he’d found a way to corner me anyway.
I’d tried to stay pragmatic, telling myself putting some distance between us was the smart thing to do. But then he’d hit me with that damn pleading look—the one that turned his eyes all big and round with sad-puppy charm. Saying no to him was impossible. He knew exactly howto get under my skin.
I still hadn’t told him about the job in Denver. I knew I should, but I didn’t know how. And I couldn't bear the idea that he'd ask me to stay—to give up my career and goals so he could keep his.
But the silence I've kept had its own weight, pressing down on everything between us and making it hard to breathe—impossible to think of anything but him.
I knew what he wanted. Worse, I knew how easy it would be to want it too. And with everything else already spinning out in my head, being with him for real would only make the mess even harder to untangle.
The thought sits heavy in my chest, following me down the hall.
I wince when I spot Pops still watching TV in the living room. I’d hoped he’d be in bed by now, but he’s been getting stronger and has more energy these days—which means I’ve got to come up with an excuse for leaving the house at seven p.m.
“I’m going to go hang out with some friends,” I say, praying he doesn’t notice the red creeping into my cheeks.
“Which friends are those?” he asks, eyes still glued to the television. “Allie and Sawyer or the guy you think I don’t know about?”
I gape at him.
His mustache twitches as he glances at me. “Close your mouth, Quinn. You look like a trout.”
The horror I feel must be written all over my face. I’m so bad at hiding things from the people I care about. Lying has never been my forte, but I give it a try anyway, scrambling for something to say.
