Page 110 of Buck ’Em Cowgirl

“You got here first technically.”

“And you’re a better conversationalist.”

They pushed at each other, a silent battle of wills, until Harleigh finally snapped. “Oh my God, just sit down.”

I sniffed my armpit and deadpanned, “Didn’t think I smelled that bad, Cowgirl.”

Fable let out an exaggerated sigh and dropped into the seat next to me while Harleigh slid in beside her.

Harleigh leaned into her. “You’re so brave.”

“Shut up,” Fable muttered, but even she was fighting a smile as we gave the waitress our orders.

As she walked away, I turned toward Fable, catching the way she sank into her seat like she was trying to disappear. Like she could slip between the cracks of conversation and avoid the one thing sitting thick between us.

The kiss in front of the entire arena.

I let my knee press lightly against hers, not missing the way she tensed. “You’re quiet,” I murmured, tilting my head slightly. “That because of earlier?”

She shot me a sharp look. I could almost see the words forming, but instead of saying them, she exhaled through her nose and looked away.

My chest tightened.

Was she pissed about the kiss? About me saying it in front of everyone before we’d even had the chance to talk? I’d told her we’d clear the air after dinner and then I went and made a damn spectacle anyway. Claimed her with my mouth and a microphone instead of my words.

Coward.

Her scent wrapped around me. The soft brush of her denim jacket dragged against my arm as she shifted, still not looking at me.

I leaned in, my lips grazing beneath her ear. “I’m sorry, baby,” I murmured, low enough that only she could hear. “I shouldn’t have done that out there. Not before we talked.”

Her breath hitched, barely, but I caught it. I didn’t care that we were in a crowded restaurant, surrounded by my friends—er, coworkers—who were definitely side-eyeing, even as they pretended not to.

In that moment, it was all about her.

She turned to face me while the dull restaurant noises faded in the background. “It’s me,” she mumbled. “It’s me who’s embarrassed.” She sighed. “Although that kiss was unexpected, and I hate being the center of attention, so please don’t do that again, but that’s beside the point.”

“It’s not you, Fable. It’s me. I know I’m playing with fire. I know I fucked you and ran, never called, never checked in. Then you show up here, and I act like some angry caveman⁠—”

She giggled, pressing a hand over her mouth to stifle it, but I still caught the sparkle in her eyes. “You were kinda like rawr rawr, feed me, mine.”

I barked out a laugh, shaking my head as I reached under the table, finding her thigh. I gave it a quick squeeze, testing, waiting—seeing how much I could get away with.

She didn’t pull away.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured. “I had no right to come in and make demands of you when I couldn’t even be honest with you to start.”

“I know, but I should’ve realized how scared I was.”

“I messed up,” I said softly, my thumb tracing slow circles on her thigh beneath the table.

“I did too.”

“Can we . . . start over?” I glanced sideways, catching her gaze. “No more running. No more avoiding each other.”

Her green eyes searched mine, and she gave a small nod. “No more running.”

“You lovers done quarreling?” Dalton’s voice interrupted from across the table.