Page 34 of Passion in Bloom

I gave up on unlocking the box for a moment, turning to face the guy. I recognized him, but just vaguely. He was another Grand River ranch hand.

“I don’t have a man either.”

Shit. I knew very well which man would be going around town and claiming that I was taken.

David.

“Roarke,” the ranch hand said with a chuckle as he moved forward in line. “He sure looked a little rough this morning.”

Oh, shit.

I tensed. First, because anyone would claim that Roarke was “my man” when I was so desperate to be independent. And second, because he’d been in a fight. I didn’t need to think long and hard who he couldn’t been fighting. When he’d intervened that day David came to my door, I was half certain he’d punch him then and there.

“Oh, yeah,” a woman said from behind the man. She nodded and smiled. “I was there at the bar when it happened.” She winked at me. “He sure landed that pretty boy on his ass.”

The ranch hand laughed. “Not surprised.”

Shit!

It seemed that when I reiterated it to Roarke that I wanted him to back off, that I didn’t want to talk about David or deal with anyone poking in my business where my ex was concerned, he didn’t understand a single word I spoke.

“Roarke fought someone at the bar?” Fergus asked.

“Yeah. Some smug jerk named Davis?” the woman said. “My sister was picking up a shift tending bar and she said the dude was acting like a tool.” She rolled her eyes. “Probably deserved it.”

David deserved a lot more than a fight with Roarke. He deserved a lot of agony and pain for how horrible of a person he was. To me and everyone else in his life.

But Roarke was not supposed to be the one to show him that.

“David,” Fergus said, glancing at me. “Right. Nance asked me if I’d seen him at the bank...”

I tugged on Fergus’s sleeve, eager to leave. This was snowballing too fast. Roarke wasn’t supposed to fight David, and I didn’t have to wonder why he might have. It seemed I’d need to remind him—again—to butt out of my life and stop meddling with David.

“Wait,” Fergus protested as I ushered him out of the post office lobby. “You didn’t check the donation box yet—”

“I will. Later.”

“Then what’s the rush to get out of there?” He frowned at me on the sidewalk again.

“I need to go. Tell, um, tell Janelle I’m taking an early lunch.”

He nodded, but his brow was still creased with concern. “Why, though?”

“I’m going to go to the ranch and make sure Roarke is okay.”

“From a bar fight?” He huffed, then grinned. “You have seen that tall, hulking, fine piece of male specimen before, right?”

Oh, I’ve seen all of him.

“He can handle a little fight.”

“But—” I shook my head, unable to explain why I really needed to rush out and see him.

Not only to see that he was all right and unharmed—which I suspected he would be—but furthermore to scold him for not backing off. For being so careless to get into a fight with David at all!

It might have started as wishful thinking, but I had to cling to the hope that this wasn’t necessary. That if I could wait out David and mind my own business by not engaging in any interactions with him, he’d eventually have to give up on me someday. He would have to lose interest. He couldn’t stay away from work indefinitely. Sure, he was rich and had money. But he couldn’t make chasing me and having me under his control his whole life.

Right?