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Moonie pipelines would move on to a different ranch, she would be the leech to suck the poor sucker dry, and I would be here.
Thinking about her.
“Come on,” I said softly, bending down to scoop her into my arms. She didn’t fight it. Her green eyes were empty as she looked up at me, her arms around my neck as I held her bridal style.
Fuck, she smelled good, like cherries.
Fucking cherries.
“Are you going to hurt me?” she whispered.
“No.”
“Are you—”
“City Girl, I’m laying you down on my bed. Then, I’m going into the guest room. It’s late. You need to rest and heal. I have a ranch to run. We both need to sleep,” I said, laying her down gently. I pulled the sheets over her wrapped feet and bare legs.
She looked up at me again, her dark hair splayed out over my pillows. The hunter green sheets made her eyes seem brighter and her lips pinker.
Did she taste like cherries too?
I shook my head, turning away from her. “Beau will bring your car ‘round in the morning.”
Then, I was gone.
I didn’t go to the spare bedroom. No, I went downstairs into the living room. I sat on the couch and looked to the rock chair in the back corner. It was out of the way, hidden. You couldn’t see it until you came into the center of the room.
That’s why Mason liked it so much. He used to hide there when we were kids, behind the chair, Momma’s chair. She nursed us in that chair. She rocked us to sleep in that chair. She sang in that chair. That chair was meant for the next woman in this house. Pop told Mason and I that the chair was meant for our wives.
Cathy never got to see this chair. I never let her.
Until the sun came up, I stared at the chair, and I didn’t move until heard steps coming down the stairs.
I shot up, my eyes darting to the front window. Her car was here, parked beside my truck. When I got to the foyer, she was halfway down the stairs.
City Girl was dressed in her day-old clothes, wearing her heels, and biting back a wince every step.
“You shouldn’t be wearing those,” I murmured, my voice low and rough from no sleep. My eyes were on her feet, still wrapped from the night before.
Once she was in front of me, she spoke. “I’ll manage.”
Then she stuck out her hand to me. “Mr. Langston, I would like to thank you for helping me yesterday. You and I have not gotten along but you still brought me into your home and for that—”
“What the fuck are you doing?” I folded my arms across my chest and glared down at her. She was a tall woman, coming up nearly to my shoulder, so I didn’t have to look down far. Her emerald eyes flashed.
“I was trying to be professional,” she stammered.
“Woman, you saw me kill a man yesterday. I think we’re well past that,” I deadpanned. She flinched but recovered quickly.
“Goodbye, Mr. Langston.”
Chapter Twelve
Valerie
“Youalright,Val?”
I jumped and twisted around to see the light cowboy coming towards me. The blonde one. The one who approached me. The friendly one.
