Page 97 of Dusty Spur Ranch Cowboys

“What was I supposed to do?” she shoots back, throwing her hands into the air. “Stand there and wave while he wandered off?”

“I expected you to use your damn head.”

She folds her arms across her chest, every bit as stubborn as the day she rolled into Colter Creek. “I did.”

“You ran straight into the woods after somebody who could’ve been carrying a gun.”

“I would’ve dealt with it.”

“You don’t even know what ‘it’ was.”

She steps closer, refusing to give an inch. “I’ve looked after myself for a long time, Red.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“And I’m still here.”

“You’ve been lucky.”

Her eyes flash. “I’ve survived because I know what I’m doing.”

I let out a humorless laugh and shake my head. “You sprinted into a burning trailer yesterday, and today you chased a stranger through the trees. You keep calling that survival like it’s proof you’re making good decisions.”

“He wanted somebody to notice him.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know enough to wonder why he ran.”

She opens her mouth, but I don’t give her the chance. “He saw you looking at him, then disappeared into the trees, and you followed him exactly where he wanted you.”

Her confidence wavers, just enough for me to see the thought taking hold. “You don’t know he wanted me to follow.”

“I don’t.”

I step closer until barely any space separates us, and she lifts her chin instead of backing away. “That’s the problem, Arizona. Neither of us knows a damn thing about him. He could’ve had a weapon tucked under his jacket. He could’ve had three more men waiting in those woods. He could’ve been counting on you charging after him because you never stop to think somebody else might be setting the trap.”

She presses a finger against my chest. “You don’t get to tell me who I am.”

“I get to tell you what I saw. You nearly became the person somebody else had to save.”

She exhales hard and drags her hand through her hair. “You make me sound reckless.”

“You make reckless look like a hobby.” Her lips part, ready with another argument, but I keep going because once I stop, I’m afraid I won’t say any of it. “I kept imagining what would’ve happened if he’d turned around instead of running. I pictured you bleeding out somewhere in those woods while the rest of us searched every acre of this ranch wondering why you never came back.”

I brush a loose strand of copper hair behind her ear, my fingertips skimming her cheek as she leans into my hand.

She watches me with those stubborn green eyes, waiting for me to say the one thing that’ll make this whole fight disappear, and I can’t give it to her because I’m still picturing her vanishing into those trees while my imagination filled in every ending I never wanted to see.

“You drive me absolutely fucking crazy,” I mutter, unable to look anywhere but at her.

The corner of her mouth lifts. “Yeah, I’ve been getting that impression.”

Her smug little smile pushes every ounce of restraint right out of me. I cup her jaw and drag her against me, crushing my mouth to hers before she can throw another smart-ass comment my way.

She stiffens with surprise, then grabs the front of my shirt and kisses me right back with enough fire to make my blood boil all over again. I can’t decide whether I want to shake her or kiss her senseless, so I do both in the only way I can, pouring every bit of fear, anger, and relief into her mouth.

Every image of her running headlong into those woods keeps crashing through my head, and I answer each one by kissing her harder, refusing to let her pull away until I finally force myself to stop.