I drew a careful sigh, wetting my lips as my eyes fixed on the road. “I guess I’m just a slow kind of girl.”
“I can deal with that. How about I just cook you dinner sometime? Call it an early night? No pressure.”
My fingers drummed on the wheel. “You know what I’d really like? I’d like to warm up by a crackling fireplace and hear more of your poetry.”
“My poetry?” He went quiet. “Why would you want that?”
“Why not? It’s beautiful. It’s what caught my notice about you.”
“But I’m here! Right now. You and me, together in the same truck. We…” He huffed. “I don’t get why that’s important. This is what matters.”
“I just like it. What’s wrong with that? I get to see things from your imagination that people don’t talk about. Things that aren’t easy to say or show, but I can feel them in your writing.”
He shook his head. “I’m not comfortable with that.” He cleared his throat and adjusted his hat. “Kind of private, you know?”
“Oh.” I glanced in my mirrors, then stared back at the road. “I’m sorry. You let me read them before, so I thought…”
“I’d rather not bring them up again.” He frowned, scratched his chin, and lifted his shoulders. “A guy just doesn’t read that stuff out loud, and… I’d rather not.”
“I see.”
“No hard feelings, though, huh?”
I made up a smile. I was good at that. “No. Of course not.” Except that was pretty much my idea of a perfect evening with the kind of man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Put in a hard day of work, side by side if possible, and then while away those last precious minutes of the day dreaming together. But Austen didn’t seem to get that.
I stared straight forward as the truck cut through the streaks of falling snow. The flakes were getting heavier now, big clumpy things that powdered the windshield and caught the glare of my headlights. I didn’t even get out of the truck to kiss Austen good night when I stopped at his house. All I wanted to do was get home.
Chapter 18
Dusty
Myfacewasnumb,and my ears were aching with cold by the time I stumbled into the house that evening. Work didn’t stop just because I’d taken a few hours away, and I had a long list of things to do when I got home. I plowed through my chores, not even going in the house to grab something to eat first. There’d be leftovers, and I wasn’t feeling very sociable yet.
What could an intelligent woman like Jess see in that pretender? I’ll admit it; I was fooled at first, too. For me to buy that apology of his today, I’d have to see a lot more behind it. Time, like I told him. And I was just willing to bet that he couldn’t play it straight long enough to change my mind.
But that didn’t matter anyway. Who cared what I thought of Austen Conrad? Precisely nobody. Except for Luke, who had decided to hate him for me out of solidarity. I’d never even told him about Austen’s change of face—it was enough that Austen was dating the woman I loved, and Luke decided the guy was no good. He was a great brother that way.
“There’s stew in the fridge,” Luke called when I hung my hat at the door.
My lip curled but I managed to hide it. “Thanks.” Toast sounded good. “Where’s Dad?”
Luke pointed to the den. “He and Evan are talking business. Might get something in your belly before you beard the lions.”
“Huh.” I rummaged around in the fridge, scraped up fixings for a roast beef sandwich, then plunked down at the table to scroll through my phone. I hadn’t checked my emails all day.
“Things go good today at the therapy program?” Luke asked.
I didn’t look up. If he saw my eyes, he’d know. I just nodded as I chewed.
“How’d my mare do?”
This time I did glance at him with a sideways grin. “Mymare, you mean?”
“Like fun, she is. Remember who found her. We gotta get some practice runs in, or we’ll never clean up next season. Been kind of busy with Marshall out.”
“I know, and me being gone two afternoons a week isn’t helping, either.”
Luke shrugged. “We’ll manage. You got a good reason to be there.”