Page 34 of Scarred

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I turn, ready to apologize. Or run. Or jump him. I’m not sure which. Instead of any of those, I let out a laugh.

He’s dressed in tattered jeans, a plain white T-shirt—although it’s not all that white any longer—and brown boots. Army boots maybe? They’re not cowboy boots and they’re filthy. His face is shiny with sweat and his gorgeous dark hair is plastered to his temples. He sports a purplish bruise on his sculpted jawline where Chance clocked him last night.

“What’s so funny?” He glances down at himself.

“You look…worn.”

He lifts his head and frowns. “Chance had me up at six. Miles and I have been mending fences all morning.”

“Don’t you have people to do that?”

“Hell, yeah, we have people to do that. Lots of ranch hands. But…” He shakes his head. “It’s a long and boring story about how I’m now a cowboy-in-training, and I’d much rather talk about you. Are you all right?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

My question is ridiculous, of course. I left the bar last night without a word to him after yelling at the entire crowd. All this after he had his hand in my panties, his fingers working me like an expert and getting me to the brink.

He thinks I’m a mess.

In many ways, I am. Especially when it comes to men. Specifically him.

But these are my issues and I can’t let him feel guilty. He didn’t do anything wrong. Neither of us did, even though I’m still slightly mortified.

“I just…” He shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans and looks down. “I’m sorry, Carly.”

My stomach drops, right along with all hope and expectation of things with Austin being different. Right. Here it comes. “For what, exactly?”

He lifts his gaze, but not his head, so his dark eyes meet mine through his ridiculously long man-lashes. “I didn’t know. If I’d known, I never would have—”

I want to stomp my foot in frustration, like a toddler. Instead, I set my hands on my hips. “Which is exactly why I didn’t want you to know, Austin. I’m not ashamed of what we did, and you shouldn’t be either.”

I’m embarrassed that Chance caught us and that everyone in the bar knew what we’d been up to, but I’m not at all ashamed of what we did together.

He pops his head up and his eyes widen. “Ashamed? Carly, I’m not ashamed. I…” He snaps his mouth shut as he runs a hand over the back of his neck.

Is he nervous? Confused? Well, so am I.

“What?”

“I like you, a lot. I just…”

“Oh, for God’s sake.” I brush past him because he sounds like a thirteen-year-old. I don’t want that. I want a man. The guy who had me pressed against the side of the bar, his fingers inside me. Pointing out how wet I was for him. How eager. “I’m going to lunch.”

His long strides overtake me in an instant, and he stands between me and the office door. He’s so big he practically fills the space. I can’t get around him and I should feel threatened, but instead, I just feel small. Feminine.

“Please. Talk to me.”

I have to tip my chin up to look into his dark eyes so he can see the annoyance in mine. I set my arms across my chest and fortify myself for the same old argument. I only hoped I wouldn’t have to do it with him. “About what? About how broken I am and why I shouldn’t be letting strange men into my pants outside a bar at night? Thanks, but no.”

“Carly…” My name comes out of him like a groan.

I purse my lips and tap my toe on the floor. “I only have an hour for lunch. Now get out of my way.”

He grins. “You can have as long as you want for lunch. Seems I’m your boss.”

I shake my head. “Lexie’s my boss. And I will only take an hour. I take this position seriously. I need it.”

I’m not going to tell him it’s for more than money. I need the experience…and the independence. The freedom.


Tags: Vanessa Vale Billionaire Romance