"You’ve already made that perfectly clear." How many times did he plan on rejecting me? I almost asked him but didn’t want to seem more pathetic than I already felt.
"I mean it."
"I heard you the first two times." I leaned back against the booth and crossed my arms. "You want this to stay professional. Fine. It's professional. But don’t try to act like I'm the one making things complicated."
His eyes darkened, and I caught a flash of something flickering behind the control he kept locked down tight. "I'm not?—"
"You kissed me. Not the other way around.” I kept my voice low and quiet to minimize the chance that another customer might overhear. “And now you're standing here trying to set rules like I'm the one who crossed a line."
"I didn't mean?—"
"I know what you meant." I kept my voice level steady though my pulse pounded through my ears. "You want distance. You want boundaries. I'm giving them to you. But don't pretend this is something I'm pushing when you're the one who can't decide what you actually want."
His jaw tightened. "I know what I want."
"Do you?" The question hung in the charged air between us.
He didn't answer right away. Just stared at me like he was working through a problem he didn’t know how to solve, and I watched the frustration build in the set of his shoulders, and the tightness around his eyes.
"This can't go anywhere," he said finally. "You know that."
"I'm not asking it to."
"Then what are you asking?"
"Nothing." I picked up my coffee again, took another sip. "You said you'd evaluate horses. I'm holding you to that. Everything else is noise."
"It's not that simple."
"It is if you let it be."
He shook his head, the movement small and frustrated. "People are already talking."
"Let them talk."
"You don't understand what that means here."
"I understand fine." I met his gaze again and held it. "But I'm not going to apologize for existing in the same town as you, and I'm not going to tiptoe around you because people have opinions. If that's a problem, say so now."
"It's not a problem."
"Then stop acting like it is."
His mouth opened, closed again. He looked like he wanted to push back but couldn't come up with the right words.
"I'm trying to keep this from getting messy," he said.
"Then keep it simple." I set the mug down, straightened. "You evaluate horses. I pay you for your time. We stay professional. That's what you want, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"Good." I picked up my fork. "Then we're on the same page."
He didn't move out of my way. Just stood there, close enough that I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands stayed locked at his sides like he didn't trust what they'd do if he let them loose.
"Waverly."
I paused, waited.
