Gentling the Cowboy(49)
Some things were worth keeping an open mind about, though.
And he was sure there wasn’t a man alive who wouldn’t agree with him.
Chapter Thirteen
A few days later, Sarah catnapped beside Tony on the couch, snuggled beneath a light comforter. Time was passing too quickly—a blur of showering together between games they often didn’t finish because one of them lost patience and leaned in for a heated kiss that would lead them both astray.
Although Sarah had left her notebook in the car, she knew when she returned to it, her writing would be stronger. Plus, she wasn’t worried that she would forget the wonder of one kiss, one touch, or a single moment they’d spent together.
Not even the unexpected revelations.
Even days filled with passion and laughter can be enhanced by the use of a toothbrush and a dash of deodorant. I’ll leave that tidbit out of my romance. No one will want to hear about how fast the heroine’s leg stubble can grow or that unsuccessful attempts to pretend she can cook may lead to a condition called, “The nervous fart that must be held in at all costs.”
If romances were a bit more realistic, I may have looked less maniacal about the latter discovery.
One definite perk of remaining unpredictable with Tony was that he didn’t question her need to do a naked, solo, outdoor lap around the house before they had sex the night before. She’d waited for him to ask, but he hadn’t.
Smart man.
She closed her eyes and chuckled as she remembered the contents of the care package Carl had left along with the supplies they’d ordered: a huge box of condoms, all the fixings to make an ice-cream sundae except the ice cream, and vitamins. She and Tony had burst out laughing at the sight of the last item, but decided not to question the wisdom of a self-proclaimed expert.
When she opened her eyes, she found Tony watching her.
“What do you do for your parents’ business?” he asked, surprising her. They had avoided personal questions since their talk near the stream.
“I file, bill people, set up appointments.”
“You like it?”
“I hate it.”
“I didn’t take you for someone who would tolerate doing something you didn’t like for very long.”
“You’d be surprised. But I’m working on that. That’s what this trip is about—figuring out what I really want.”
“And then you’ll go home.” It was a statement, not a question.
Not if you ask me to stay. “Maybe, maybe not.”
“A woman like you would never be happy out here.”
A woman like me? His words stung like a slap. “What is that supposed to mean?”
He held up her perfectly manicured nails, running his work-roughened thumb over the soft palm of her hand. “You don’t have a callus on you, do you?”
She snatched her hand away. “I didn’t know they were a prerequisite to visiting Texas.”
“Don’t get all riled up by an observation.”
“Then don’t try to tell me where I could or couldn’t be happy. A callus or lack of one doesn’t mean a thing.”
“I’ve seen your horse.”
She huffed. “What’s wrong with my horse?”
“Probably nothing where you come from. But most people down here don’t put glitter on hooves and bows in manes.”
“So the extra time I take grooming my horse is proof that I wouldn’t fit in here?”
“I never said that.”
“Then what are you saying?”
He sighed. “It’s just a different way of looking at things.”
“You think it’s better to not even know the name of the horse you ride?”
“I know my horses.”
“Do you? I never hear you talk about them. I can’t believe you can have all those horses and not love one.”
“No need to get attached to something that’s not staying.”
Like me? Sarah thought with a shudder. She countered with more emotion than she knew the topic called for. “What a sad way to live.”
Tony looked up at the ceiling, shifting so he could tuck an arm beneath his head. “Not sad, just practical.”
Sarah moved so that she was above him, blocking his view. “Look me in the eye and tell me you never had a horse you were attached to.”
For a moment he looked cornered, angry. His whole body tensed, but she didn’t back down, she just raised her eyebrows and waited.
“I had a mare when I was twelve. My dad had gotten her for free from someone who couldn’t handle her. He’d hoped to train her a bit and sell her for a profit, but he couldn’t stay on her long enough to teach her anything.”
Sarah laid a hand on Tony’s chest, felt the heavy thud of his heart, and knew from the tension in him that she’d stumbled on another of his scars. “But you rode her?”