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“Fine,” I grit. “But you still won’t make a mockery of me. No more women while we are ‘together.’” I make air quotes with my fingers. “As for everything before that, we’ll say we were keeping it a secret until we were more serious. The women you were seen with were just friends until I was ready to be seen with you publicly.”
He looks at me for a long, hard moment. “Why wouldn’t you be ready to step out with me publicly?”
“You don’t have the best reputation with women, Chance, and I’m not someone that just has one-night stands. I don’t buy into hookup culture. I think that would be a pretty good reason why I wouldn’t want to be seen with you.”
Chance reels back as if I’d slapped him. While I feel a little bad about hurting him like that, it’s the truth. I’ll also admit, I appreciate the physical distance it puts between us. It’s too hard trying to think, having him so close.
“Fine,” he barks. “We’ll make it look like you weren’t ready to publicly associate with the likes of me, as long as you keep up your end of the bargain. We are happily in love and all that shit.”
“You’re so romantic,” I scoff. “I don’t know why you have such a hard time finding someone to stick around.”
“Look, just because we’re doing this doesn’t mean I have to like it. In fact, I hate all this bullshit. It’s no one’s business but mine who I spend my personal time with. I don’t need you judging me from your pedestal.”
Who the fuck does he think he is talking to me like that? Like I’m some love-struck bunny that’s trying to reform him.
I jump to my feet, feeling my blood pressure spike. Even though I’m a good foot shorter than him, only coming to his chest, I don’t let that stop me. I will not back down from this.
“I’m not judging. I’m commenting on what I see, and what I see is a definite level two of the asshole-o-meter.”
“The asshole-o-meter?” He smirks that frustratingly sexy smile of his while he rubs a finger over his lower lip.
Why is that so sexy? I’m mad, not turned on!
“Yes, that’s how I tell who’s an asshole and who’s not. I wasn’t sure where you landed on it until now!” Letting my frustration get the better of me, I raise my voice and thrust my hands to my hips. “Just because I’m going through with this doesn’t mean I like it either. The more you speak, the less I like you. But I agree; I helped put us in this situation so I will play along.”
I grab my purse from the counter, sliding it onto my shoulder.
“Where do you think you’re going? We aren’t done talking.”
“Yes, we are.” Reaching into my purse, I grab my card and slam it onto the counter. “When you’re done being an ass, text me and we’ll work out the next steps. Right now, I need to get as far away from you as I can.”
And get a very large, stiff drink.
“Whatever you say, princess.” I don’t miss his lighter, mocking tone. Narrowing my eyes at him, I huff as I turn, making my way toward the door. Slipping my shoes back on, I almost barge back in to keep giving him a piece of my mind when I hear that low chuckle.
The sound echoes through my brain as I slam the door and stomp down the steps.
Damn him!
Chapter Six
Chance
Ican’t take my eyes off the little white card I’m spinning through my fingers. I don’t know how long it’s been since I sat at my desk, picking up this piece of card stock, refusing to acknowledge what it means. It’s been three days since Dakota left my kitchen. Three days since I’ve been able to get the beautiful, yet infuriating, lawyer out of my head. I spent my days working the fields from sunup to sundown, riding every fence line, fixing every break on my own, just trying to clear my head.
Nothing works.
Every night I’m back in the house I hate, trying to fall asleep while not thinking of her long dark hair or her whiskey eyes. Trying not to take myself in my hand, searching for some sort of relief from this torment. But every day is the same, and every night ends with her name on my lips.
I know I need to contact her to set up our first ‘date.’ We need to be seen around town before the gala if we want to make it believable. Otherwise, she would just be another woman on my arm, and that won’t do. Not to make the sponsors happy.
“Will you just man up and call her already?” Wyatt grumbles.
I look up, seeing my friend leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest.
“I’m getting to it.” I look back down at the card. I’ll eventually get to it.
“You’re not one to shy away from sweet talking a woman into doing what you want. What’s the difference here?” Wyatt pushes off the frame and crosses the floor, taking a seat in the chair across the desk from me.
