Page 67 of Buck ’Em Cowgirl

I exhaled, nodding as I latched onto Harleigh’s elbow. “Come on, let’s go get some dessert.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked as I used my hip to push her out of the door and walk back down the hall toward the dining table.

“It’s just a silly misunderstanding.” I tried to brush it off.

Harleigh linked hands with me, guiding me back to the table, but it was impossible to ignore the way Beau’s gaze stayed locked on mine. Even as I sat down. Even as I eased myself back into the conversation.

Even as his foot tapped mine under the table—a reminder that he was still there.

22

Beau

“Damn, it’s pouring out there.” Roger pointed out.

I was at the sink helping Roger finish up the dishes while the girls sat in the front room, finishing up their drinks.

“Yeah, probably why Gat and Dalton left early,” I added.

“You ready for the event this weekend?”

I scrubbed a dish a little too long, eyes drifting toward the girl in the corner of the room. Honey-blonde hair, skirt riding high on her thigh. My grip on the sponge tightened as my mind betrayed me, dragging me back to that night at the hotel—her skin against mine, the way she felt, the way she moved her tight little ass⁠—

“You good there?” Roger’s voice snapped me back.

I blinked, looking up at him, nodding and shaking my head at the same time. “Yeah, yeah. This weekend’s my first shot at placing for the world championship in the spring. It’ll be tight, but I think I’ve got it handled.”

“Wisconsin, right?”

“Yeah, Milwaukee.”

Roger cocked his head in the direction of the girls. “Fancy Fable?”

“No. Definitely not. We’re just friends,” I said, though the words felt somewhat like sandpaper coming out.

“Harleigh said she’d gotten out of a shitty relationship before this. Treat her right.”

Curiosity got the best of me. “Was it serious?”

He shrugged. “Don’t think it was serious, more so a long relationship.”

That was better. I could handle a shitty relationship in her past, but I couldn’t deal with an ex coming back into the picture.

Wait . . .

Fuck.

I couldn’t do any of it because we were just friends.

I dropped the sponge onto the counter and gave Roger a pat on the shoulder. “We should head back before things get worse out there.”

“You sure you don’t want to wait out the storm?”

I shook my head, already crossing into the living room. “You ready?”

I kept my gaze anywhere but on her, because if I let myself look too long, those big green eyes would pull me in again. Why was it so damn hard to just be friends with her?

Maybe if I got another taste, I could get her out of my system. Maybe that was all it was—proximity, temptation, the way she was close enough to touch, yet forbidden.