“I’ll get some work done around here today and take my own advice, join the folks for dinner at the main house.”
“They probably wonder where you’ve been the past three weeks.”
He had that thoughtful look again as he asked, “Later tonight, then?”
She felt this tug, like a hungry little ache in the vicinity of her heart, as though a strong, secret thread held her bound to him, a thread that pulled her toward him. She wanted tonight with him. She wantedallthe nights with him. “Yes—I mean, if that’s okay?”
“It’s more than okay.” He touched her cheek, a slow, light caress. Her nerve endings heated and fired in response. “What time?”
“Nineish?”
“I’ll be here.”
“Okay, then. I’ll just grab my stuff and get going.”
Fifteen minutes later, Vanessa came out of the bedroom with her suitcase.
Jameson played it easy and cool, though he had a bad feeling about this. She seemed withdrawn. He worried that she’d find some reason not to keep her date with him tonight.
But then he reminded himself that they both needed to pay attention to the other people in their lives. He had work he’d been putting off in order to spend more time with her.
Today, he’d get stuff done, burn ditches, check fence lines, move ornery cattle to fresh pastures. And tonight—unless she freaked and didn’t show—he would find his reward in her arms.
He kissed her at the door, took comfort in the way her body pressed, warm and willing, against him. After her SUV disappeared down the ranch road, he went back inside to change into work clothes.
In the closet, he saw that she’d taken all her clothes with her.
Not a good sign.
They needed to talk—about changing the rules. About taking the next step.
Too bad he had no idea how to broach that loaded subject with her. At least he still had weeks left of summer to find a way to convince her that they could have it all if she’d only give them a half a chance.
When Van let herself into the apartment, Callie wasn’t there. She gave her roomie a call.
“Honey, I’m home,” she teased when Callie answered.
“Who is this?” Callie razzed her back. “How did you get this number?”
They laughed together and Van said, “I tore myself away from my sexy secret cowboy lover.” She put on a sad voice. “But you’re not here and I’m all alone.”
“Yeah, I’m working till four.”
“What about dinner? I’m going to Mom’s and you’re invited.”
“I would love that.”
By four thirty, when Callie got home, Van had done laundry, cleaned the apartment top to bottom, showered and changed.
Callie took one look at her and asked, “What’s wrong?”
“It’s just...” She hardly knew where to start.
“When your voice trails off like that, there’s only one thing to do. Have a glass of wine with me and tell me everything.”
Callie poured the wine. They sat on the sofa and Van cried on her friend’s shoulder because her fun summer romance had grown way too important to her.
When she finally fell silent, Callie asked, “What exactly are you telling me? Does he want to break it off?”
