Rob’s name flashes across the screen. He calls now and then when the coast is clear. And I know I shouldn’t answer, but our connections are so tangled that it’s hard to tell right from wrong where he’s concerned.
“Hey, what’s up?” I shuck off my boots and flop into the armchair in the corner.
“Checking to see how you’re feeling.”
He always says that, and I don’t believe him anymore.
“I’m fine. What’s up?”
“I saw you on TV tonight.”
My brows knit together. “For what?”
“At a rodeo. Giving thumbs up to some bull rider.”
Ah. There it is. Anytime he sees me potentially moving on, he swoops in. I used to think it meant I had a chance to get him back. Now, I’m old enough to know it’s his power play, it’s how he keeps me in line. Under his thumb.
He sees my attention shift, and he dangles a carrot into my line of vision, thinking he’ll make me lose focus. The problem is, I’m not all that into carrots these days. I’m favoring whiskey and leather.
“Yup. Listen, is there something wrong? I get worried when you call me that something is wrong.”
“I just worry about you. You need to be careful. Specifically with guys like that.”
I almost scoff, but there’s still this pathetic part of me that purrs when he says things like that. Things that make me feel like he cares about me. Rob has groomed me almost beyond repair.
“I’m good, thanks. Don’t need you looking out for me.” My patience frays. I’m tired. I’m cold. And truth be told, I’m horny. This weekend has been jam-packed full of too much testosterone for one simple city girl to withstand.
I also have to confess I don’t appreciate him talking about Rhett the way he is.
“Listen...”
“Yup,” I cut him off. “It’s bedtime for me here. We’ll chat at my next appointment. Bye.” I hang up on him.
Agitated, but also cast back in time, I stay in the chair, lost in memories of Rob and my times with him, for I don’t know how long.
All I know is I can’t feel my toes when a knock at the door pulls me out of my jog down memory lane. I woodenly move toward the door, trying to shake my chilled limbs out as I go. When I tug the door open, Rhett is freshly showered, smelling delicious, and looking even better.
His arms are across his chest and his eyes peruse the full length of my body—cream-colored sweater dress and camel peacoat. When I pulled the coat on, it reminded me of Rhett’s chaps.
I wore it because it looked good, not because it’s all that warm. And now, with his eyes tracing my body, I shiver.
“So, you’re cold.” His jaw pops as his teeth grind together, and he pushes past me into the room. “Summer. It’s fucking freezing in here.” The bite in his voice makes me flinch. “I thought they were fixing this today.”
I lean against the wall, kind of enjoying watching him stalk around my room like a caveman. The only thing missing is a club in his hand. “I guess they didn’t.”
“You’re not sleeping in here.” His hands land on his hips when he turns and stares at me square in the eye.
“Oh, yes. I’ll just take my pillow and blanket out into the hallway and sleep there.” I smile at Rhett, but he doesn’t smile back.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll sleep in my room.”
I blink slowly a few times, waiting for the punch line. And when it doesn’t come, I burst out laughing. “That”—I point at him—“is not happening.”
“I’ll sleep in the chair. You can have the bed.”
“That will be just great for your shoulder. No chance.”
“Then I’ll take my pillow and a blanket, and I’ll sleep on the floor.”