Chapter Twenty-Three
Chase knew he’dsurprised Ella when he mentioned separate rooms. It was up to her if she wanted to change accommodations. Once they’d begun talking about barns she’d finally relaxed and the rest of the drive had passed much more quickly than the—to him—miserably silent first hour.
He wondered what Ella would say when she found out they were picking up Sugar Lips instead of an anonymous paint. That alone probably wouldn’t convince her how serious he was about retiring and raising bucking horses. But it would certainly help.
He had nothing but time now, since he’d finished up the rodeos he’d entered. Eventually, though, she’d realize they both wanted the same thing. To share a life that didn’t include him being on the road for months out of the year. To raise rodeo stock, eventually, he hoped, the best bucking horses in the business. Of course, that wasn’t going to happen overnight.
The hotel clerk told them of a local steakhouse that was supposed to be excellent, so they went there for dinner. They both ordered beer, steak, and potatoes. The food came out on steaming platters with a loaf of homemade bread and honey butter on the side.
“Oh, my God, this food is delicious,” Ella said. “I think I’m going to founder.”
Chase laughed. “Save room for dessert.”
“I don’t think I can.”
“You can always take it back to the room and eat it later.”
“Good idea. So where is this ranch we’re going to tomorrow?”
“Outside of town but not far. He’s got a big operation.” Raising rodeo stock, though, not paints.
It wasn’t much after nine when they got back to the hotel. “Want to watch a movie?” Chase asked Ella.
“I’d better not. We need to get out of here early since it will take even longer to get home.”
“Okay. See you in the morning.” He’d surprised her again, he knew. He was getting good at pretending all this being together but nottogetherwasn’t hard on him. He’d bet it was just as hard on her, though, which definitely helped. If he was going to be frustrated then at least she should be too.
About half an hour later he heard a knock on his door. He still wore his jeans but he was barefoot and shirtless. He didn’t bother looking through the peephole. Who else would it be but Ella?
“I didn’t wake you, did I?”
He opened the door wider to let her in. “No. What’s up?”
“I can’t sleep.”
“Did you change your mind about the movie?”
“Can we just talk?”
He motioned for her to sit on the fabric chair in the corner. He sat on the king-sized bed, facing her, feet on the floor. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Us.”
He waited a minute and when she didn’t speak further he said, “There isn’t an us. Unless you meant us as in friends. But lately we haven’t been friends either.”
“We had a nice day today. I think that proves we can be friends.”
“Is that what you want? To be friends?”
“I—I don’t know.”
“I think you do know. If all you wanted was friendship you wouldn’t be here right now.”
She closed her eyes and looked away. “I miss you. I miss seeing you. Talking to you. Just…being with you.”
“And?”
“I miss making love with you.”
