Page 165 of Saltwater Cowboy

I swallowed hard and turned toward Blythe, bracing myself for the storm I knew was coming.

Because if there was anyone who could make me answer for my mistakes, it was her.

And judging by the look on her face, she was about to let me have it.

Blythe didn’t wait for me to respond. She just turned on her heel and walked toward the hallway, fully expecting me to follow.

Charlie muttered something under his breath, sounding way too entertained by my impending doom, but I ignored him. I knew better than to make Blythe ask twice.

I trailed behind her, feeling like a kid about to get sent to the principal’s office. But when we reached one of the guest rooms, she just didn’t pull me inside.

She grabbed Rose by the wrist as she passed, earning a sharp, “What the hell, Blythe?” before tugging her into the room too.

The door shut.

Rose spun around, eyes narrowing. “Seriously?”

Blythe crossed her arms, her expression firm. “You’re in here until you both talk this out.”

I ran a hand down my face. “Blythe—”

“Nope.” She held up a hand. “I don’t want to hear it. You two are miserable and making the rest of us miserable in the process.”

Rose folded her arms, lips pressing into a thin line. She looked like she wanted to argue, but Blythe wasn’t done. “When you decide on your relationship status, then I’ll unlock the door.”

Rose let out a sharp laugh, completely humorless. “That’s ridiculous.”

Blythe shrugged, already backing toward the door. “Maybe. But I have zero interest in watching you two tiptoe around each other all afternoon. So figure it out.”

With that, she turned and walked away, leaving us trapped together.

The lock clicked.

Rose exhaled, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Unbelievable.”

I leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “Could be worse.”

Her eyes snapped to mine. “How?”

I smirked, knowing it would only piss her off more. “Could be locked in here without me.”

Her nostrils flared. “At the current moment, I’d prefer that.”

I nodded, letting her have that one. I deserved it.

Silence stretched between us. I watched as she shifted her weight, arms still crossed like she needed to physically hold herself together.

Finally, I sighed. “Look, Rose—”

“Don’t,” she cut in. “I don’t want to hear another half-assed apology or an excuse. If you have something real to say, say it. Otherwise, save it.”

Her voice didn’t waver, but there was something raw in her expression, something unguarded that made my chest ache.

I pushed off the wall, taking a slow step closer. “I know I hurt you.”

Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t look away.

I swallowed hard. “And I hate myself for it.”