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“But you know that all the shit you would pull with your normal rotation of women doesn’t work with her. She doesn’t want to be wooed.”
“Wooed?” I ask, turning to face him, my eyebrow raised. “Did we travel back in time? I don’t fucking ‘woo’ women.”
“No, and maybe that’s your problem.” He challenges me by standing straight and not looking away. He’s one of the few men that will do that, which always makes me respect him more. I’m sure part of it is knowing each other since we were kids, but mostly because he has more balls than most of the bulls around here.
“I’ve learned she doesn’t want flowers. She doesn’t care about fancy meals.”
“She wants honesty. She wants you to be authentic.”
“No she doesn’t. Or she wouldn’t if she knew what that meant she was getting from me.”
“You aren’t giving yourself enough credit, Chance.” He looks to the side, breaking the tension between us. “I heard talk at the last auction. One that might help you.”
I wait a breath for him to continue, but when he doesn’t, I can’t help but let my snarky tone and sarcasm leak through. “Are you going to share this tidbit with me?”
“I wouldn’t start with that attitude,” he says with a smirk. “You need to make a big gesture. Something that will show everyone that you’re in it for real. You can commit. For the long haul.”
“Even though I’m not,” I say more to myself than Wyatt.
I let his words hang between us. He looks at me expectantly, as if he revealed some sort of big secret that was going to solve all of my problems. I’m not sure what it is exactly he thinks I am going to gain from it.
“What…” But then it hits me.
Commit.
Long haul.
My eyes open wide. “No. No! You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. You can’t seriously be suggesting that.”
“I’m suggesting you apologize to Dakota in a way that she needs you to; get her back on your good side and have a big gesture at the dinner the night before the rodeo starts. Anything else you think of or may have thought I implied is on you.”
The wide smile on his face tells me I inferred exactly what he wanted me to.
“You’re an asshole. You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“That the perpetual playboy is being forced into a fake relationship to save his ass? Yes, I’m enjoying this quite a bit.”
“Fucker.” There isn’t any heat in my words. I know if the roles were reversed, I would be enjoy watching him suffer.
“You know I’m right. Just don’t fuck it up—again.” He claps my shoulder and walks away.
I turn my attention back to the cows, noting that they don’t have to worry about impressing anyone. Not in a way that is within their control. Lives don’t depend on them. There isn’t a town whose economy relies on the rodeo my ranch puts on.
I know what I need to do, but it’s the last thing I want to do. I can apologize to Dakota. I can come up with some way to make her come around until the end of the rodeo.
But what the sponsors want me to do? That might be more than I’m willing to offer. More than I can offer.
Even if it’s not real.
Because with Dakota, I’m starting to realize that all the feelings that are supposed to be fake, aren’t fake at all.
Chapter Seventeen
Dakota
“Ella, have we received the documents for the Bronson file yet?” I can’t help but keep the impatience out of my voice as I find her desk in our waiting area. It’s not her fault that every file I’ve touched this week has gone to shit. It’s not her fault that the judge that showed up to court for my trial this morning just so happens to be the same one that I always lose against. It’s certainly not her fault that I can’t seem to keep Chance out of my brain, no matter how hard I try.
So here I am, short with everyone, in a shitty mood, and ready for today to be over.
