Change of Hart (Wells Ranch, #3)(39)
“Denver,” she breathes out my name, shoulders rolling forward slightly. “I can’t.”
“Okay, so the weekend after. Or…midweek? I can probably make that work.”
I mean, hell, if Red could drive to town every night after work to win over his lady, so can I. I’ll tell Austin to kiss my ass if he fights me on it.
“I can’t go out with you. I came back here to help take care of Mom, not to partake in whatever it is you do to women. If that’s what I wanted, I would’ve come home before now.”
My heart plummets to my stomach. She’s made it clear she thinks I’m nothing but a fuckboy now. That all I want is to get her into bed. And I can see why she gets that impression, if people have been filling her head with rumors.
What if it’s all my fault she didn’t come back sooner? She thought I’d moved on, or I was a manwhore, or whatever the fuck. When the truth is that I wouldn’t have even looked at another woman, had I suspected Blair might be back one day.
I want to tell her that, but instead I blurt out, “What I’m doing to women? Damn, people caught on about my serial killer M.O., eh?”
“Yup, that’s it.”
I nudge the fries toward her, because suddenly she’s pounding back the rest of her drink, and she’s going to need something to soak it up.
“Anyway, it doesn’t matter. You’re free to do whatever—whoever—you want. But I r-really need to go.” Her voice cracks and she stands up, white-knuckling the table edge.
“I’ll take you.”
“No, it’s fine. I can get myself home.” All the progress it felt like I was making with her is gone in the blink of an eye. A couple minutes ago, I held her soft, warm hand in mine and, even though it was only for show, the glimmer in her eyes was the first sign of hope I’ve seen from her.
“I can’t let you wander off alone at night. I’ll throw you over my shoulder, if I have to.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” Her lips purse in defiance.
“I wouldn’t?”
I step into her and my hands find their way to her waist in the same way they have hundreds of times. Only this time I’m shaking, and she jolts like I’ve electrocuted her, jumping back and bumping into a passing stranger. Wide-eyed, she runs her fingers across her bottom lip.
“Come with me to find Colt.” My tone’s more pleading than I intended. Although, it seems to convince her, because she nods silently.
* * *
—
With Colt secured, the three of us weave between vehicles until we find his truck. His blue heeler, Betty, barks aggressively as we approach.
“Betty, don’t be a hag,” Colt yells, shutting her up immediately. Then he turns to Blair and adds, “She’s really a sweetie. Don’t let the bark fool you.”
He unties the dog from the flat deck of his truck, and she rushes to hop into the small single cab, settling onto the middle of the bench seat.
“So, uh, we’ll have to get pretty friendly, if we’re all going to fit. Betty doesn’t share her spot.”
Colt walks around the side of his truck and climbs into the driver’s seat, and Blair’s staring at me. The moon’s reflected in her doe eyes, and she fidgets with the hem of her shirt. It’s nice to see her like this—dressed in jeans and a simple T-shirt, looking a lot like the way I remember her.
“I guess I’ll sit on your lap?”
“Guess so.” I try my best to hide my excitement, slipping onto the seat and taking a deep breath of night air and diesel fumes, waiting for her to settle onto my lap and shut the truck door.
“Hi, baby,” she coos, reaching out to give Betty a scratch behind the ear. And even though it wasn’t directed at me, Blair saying that word makes me desperate to hear her call me “baby” again.
When the truck dips into a pothole, Blair’s back presses firmly into my chest. Instinctively, I wrap my arm around her waist in a makeshift seat belt, holding her warm body to mine. And I can smell her—fuck, the same spicy perfume I caught whiffs of at her house, and a clean shampoo scent as her hair brushes my cheek.
“You good?” I mutter, my free hand clutching the edge of the seat for dear life. Fighting like hell to stop myself from rubbing her thigh.
“Great,” she says under her breath.
We turn onto the main road, and she rolls her hips slightly, sending a rush of blood to my cock. Not the time, I remind myself. This isn’t a flirty ride home before a one-night stand.
Colt careens the truck around a corner, a little faster than I would’ve taken it, and Blair’s hand clutches mine against her stomach. Body heat permeates through her thin shirt fabric and I can feel her racing pulse. She relaxes into me, letting our fingers subtly interlace in the dark of the pickup truck barreling down the side streets toward Blair’s home. I need to know if she feels the same spark between us.
There’s nothing to lose.
My free hand slides across the upholstered seat and up my denim-clad thigh before resting on the side of her leg. Drawing slow circles, I take notice of how her breathing pattern changes when I touch her.
When I slip to the top of her leg, fingertips toying with the inner seam of her jeans, cautiously moving up the length of her inner thigh, I almost become completely feral. Because Blair’s breath stops altogether, and her knees fall away from each other. Melting under my touch the way she always has. Her grip on my hand tightens, and there’s no way she doesn’t feel my chest thundering against her back.