Chapter Eleven
Ella had movedinto the barn’s office about a week before. There was air, there was heat, there were bookshelves, file cabinets, and a desk and chair. It had taken much longer than any of them had expected but she was finally going to have her own space and not need to share the library with Chase. And a good thing too. Seeing him so often was too damn tempting. A temptation neither of them had quite managed to ignore. She remembered after her date with Nate how close they’d come to kissing. Remembered? Hell, she couldn’t forget it.
Anything that got her out of Chase’s orbit was a good thing. So why was she depressed?
Because she was an idiot who’d fallen for the wrong man. More than once.
She decided she needed to add her own touch to the place. At the moment it had nothing of hers in it. So, deliberately putting aside those thoughts, she picked up her hammer and nails and decided where she’d hang the charcoal drawing of Midnight and Dawn. She’d had it done from a picture and the artist had captured the deep friendship between the two. She’d framed it and had been waiting to hang it at her new home.
Speak of the devil, Chase knocked on the door and entered. “Hey, I’m going to the feed store. Is there anything we need that isn’t on the list?”
“Let me see the list.” He handed it to her and she quickly scanned it. “I can’t think of anything else,” she said, giving it back to him.
But instead of leaving he shut the door. Clearly he had something on his mind. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you for a long time.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the desk. They hadn’t known each other for a long time. Still, she said, “Fire away.”
“Why do you hate cowboys?”
“I don’t hate cowboys.”
“Okay, why do you hate rodeo cowboys?”
Where was he going with this? “I don’t hate them. I have no use for them. I told you before, my ex was a bareback rider. I don’t hate rodeo cowboys, I’m just damn sure not going to get involved with one again.”
“What did he do? Obviously he had to do something that turned you off of them.”
“What difference does it make? Why do you care?”
“Afraid to answer?”
Annoyed, she said, “He was a bum. First, he cheated on me. And from what I’ve seen, that’s not uncommon.”
“It happens, sure, but you’re painting all men with the same brush. It’s not the case with all of us.”
“Oh, really? Are you going to tell me you’ve never gone to bed with a buckle bunny?”
“No. But I haven’t in several years. And I didn’t cheat on anyone when I did it.”
“Why so long? Obviously you have no trouble with one-night stands.”
He smiled. A wicked, knowing smile. “Right, Ms. Pot.”
She flushed. Damn it, she’d walked right into that one. “I told you that was a total aberration on my part. I was feeling down and—” She shrugged. “It happened.”
“So you’re saying that while you can have a one-night stand and that’s okay because you don’t make it a habit—”
“Once is for damn sure not a habit.”
He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “So it follows because I’m a ‘rodeo cowboy,’” he said making air quotes, “I must have a constant series of one-night stands.”
“Don’t you?”
“Actually, I don’t. Before you I hadn’t had one in years.”
“I find that hard to believe. What about that model you were with the other night?”
“What about her? Nothing happened. Besides, I didn’t say I hadn’t slept with anyone. I said I haven’t had a one-night stand.”
