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My hand startled to tremble, anger and mortification at war in my chest. I put the coffee pot down so I didn’t drop it.
“Oh, don’t be so hard on the poor girl,” her friend replied. “Beau is smooth as molasses. In my younger days, I would have melted into a puddle if he turned his charms on me.”
“Well, Rory didn’t take to his charms for years,” Mrs. Galligan countered. “I don’t see why she had to cave now. Besides, Beau isn’t the marrying kind. He might be handsome, but he won’t settle down. Rory knows better.”
Heat prickled the back of my neck. Ash Ridge was a small town. People talked and word spread like wildfire. I should have been used to it by now, but it felt like my worst fears had been plucked right out of my head and heart, raw and vulnerable, for all to see.
Chapter Eleven
Beau
Rory was on my mind all day. Every now and then—despite the smell of sweat, mud, and cattle—I still managed to catch the faint, lingering scent of her on my clothes. Yeasty sourdough, zesty lemon.
God, I couldn’t wait to see her again.
Bowen cast a knowing glance in my direction, but he didn’t say anything about my noticeably good mood.
After nightfall, when the work was done for the day, that’s when the ache in my chest began. I knew Rory and I had a second date setup for later in the week, but it was still excruciating to be away from her. I’d never felt this…clingy…before. Almost as if I couldn’t breathe when she wasn’t around.
I found the last of Rory’s pie covered with plastic wrap in the refrigerator. Scooping it up, I grabbed a fork, taking a seat at the picnic table outside the bunkhouse. The first bite was heavenly—full-bodied bourbon, sweet peaches and brown sugar, warm cloves, and buttery crust. The urge to hear her voice again was overwhelming and I dug my phone out of my back pocket. She was probably busy closing the bakery by now.
“Hey, darlin’,” I said when she picked up. “Thought I’d check in and make sure another cowboy hadn’t swept you off your feet in my absence.”
Rory gave a quiet hum, sounding faintly tired and a little distracted.
“Beau, it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours since you left my apartment this morning. How could anyone sweep me off my feet in that amount of time?”
“So, you’re saying I should call again tomorrow? Just to be safe.”
“I’d like that,” she replied with a smile in her voice.
The ache of missing her began to ease. Talking on the phone wasn’t the same as physically being together, let alone sharing the same bed for the night, but I would take what I could get.
“Where are you now?” I asked. “Still locking up the bakery?”
She stifled a yawn.
“Just walked into my apartment. Kicking off my shoes, ditching the bra.”
“If I was there, I’d gladly help you with that last part.”
Her yawn turned into the breath of a laugh.
“Yeah, I bet you would. Along with the rest of my clothes.”
I propped an elbow on the table, licking my fork clean.
“Since you’re not at work, does that mean I get to ask what color panties you’re wearing?”
The shuffle of fabric and the clatter of dishes echoed on the other end of the phone.
“You can ask, but you’re not getting an answer.”
“Come on, darlin’. Throw a starving man a bone here.”
Rory snorted.
“I know for a fact you’re not starving, Beau. Besides…” She trailed off and lowered her voice. “You’re not getting an answer because I’m not wearing any.”
