Page 115 of Property of Bob

“Huh?” she repeated.

“What do you want me to say?” Unconscious me knew what I wanted. Now admitting it when I was awake was a little more daunting.

“I don’t know. Maybe sorry?”

“You didn’t want me to do it?”

“No.”

“Then I’m not sorry.” I sure the hell wasn’t.

She tried to turn away, but I tightened my arm before she could.

“Bob.” Her voice was different now. Quieter.

I loosened my arm enough that she could move if she wanted. She didn’t. Instead, Ramona rolled onto her back.

My arm slid away from her waist as I gave her room. She turned her head on the pillow until she was looking directly at me.

We were close. Really fucking close. A few inches separated our faces, and I could see the tiny lines at the corners of her eyes. The faint pink in her cheeks. The way she pressed her lips together and then let them part again.

I lifted my hand and then stopped.

For some reason, touching her face felt like a bigger fucking deal than having my arm wrapped around her stomach.

“Can I?” I asked.

Ramona looked at my hand and then back at me. “Yeah.”

I brushed a piece of hair away from her cheek. That was it. Just my fingers against her skin, but Ramona’s breath caught.

I slid my hand into her hair and rested it lightly against the side of her neck.

Her eyes stayed on mine. “You still think of me as Ashland?” I asked.

The question came out before I could stop it.

Ramona blinked. “Sometimes.”

I didn’t know why that answer bothered me.

Maybe because Ashland belonged to twenty years ago. He was the kid who’d hung around with Clint. The kid who had walked into a bad situation and done the only thing he could think to do.

Bob was who I was now.

Ramona studied my face. “Mostly Bob,” she whispered.

“Good.”

Her mouth curved. “You really hated your name, huh? Why the heck did you end up with Bob?”

I groaned. “Don’t ask.”

“Oh,” she laughed. “I am certainly asking. Spill it.”

I shook my head, but knew if I didn’t tell her now, she would just keep bugging me. “Kiddie pool.”

She blinked. “Uh, what?”