Tobin mentioning horses sent her thoughts back to how she’d lusted after him, seeing him in his element. Had he known he’d affected her that way? Is that why he’d been acting friendlier?
Friendlier? Mr. Sexy Voice had his hand on your butt as he whispered in your ear. From the moment you showed up here, you know you skipped straight from adversaries to . . .
“Am I boring you?” Tobin asked, startling her out of her thoughts.
“No! Why would you ask that?”
“Just paranoid, I guess. Some people say I talk too much.”
“I could listen to you talk all night.”
His heated gaze rolled over her with such intensity her palms—and other places—started to sweat. “You know I’m gonna make you prove that sooner rather than later.”
Holy moly. When Tobin turned it on, he turned it on. She had to look away. That’s when she noticed they were headed for a tree. She yelled, “Look out!”
He reset their course, but she swore they’d gotten close enough the golf cart would have scratches from the bark. “Relax, sweetheart, I’ve got it under control.”
She muttered, “I’m glad someone does.”
Tobin kept his focus on the road until he parked next to a white metal fence. “Hop out and I’ll show you the rodeo grounds.”
They walked slowly, side by side up a walkway made out of crushed rock. He stopped and rested his forearms on the top of the fence.
“Not that I know anything about rodeo, but isn’t it unusual that this place has rodeo grounds?”
“The Split Rock caters to those looking for a ‘real’ western experience. We provide guests with an opportunity to ride a bull or a bronc.”
Jade frowned. “Why would anyone choose to do those things?”
“Some guys want to try it and there’s criteria to meet besides bein’ macho. The local guys who help us out used to rodeo. I can’t think of another place like this that has a bullfighter and a bull rider at their disposal.”
The pride in his voice was unmistakable. “Are you a former rodeo cowboy?”
“Nope. Too risky for my blood.”
“I’m not a huge risk taker either.”
“I’m not surprised. It’s your type A personality.”
Jade shook her head. “I’d be more successful if I was type A. I’m more type . . . C plus.”
He laughed. “You? With three part-time jobs? Doubtful. How many degrees do you have?”
“Uh, one.”
“One bachelor’s of science and one bachelor’s of art kind of thing?”
“No. One bachelor’s of arts, but I did double concentrations, not that it counts as two majors. Heck, it barely counts as one degree.”
He studied her. “What’s your degree in?”
“History with concentrations in medieval and Renaissance studies and music.”
Tobin blinked at her.
Jade poked him in the chest. “Yes, Mr. Hale, it is exactly what you’re thinking. That is not an employable degree, as I’ve discovered.”
“Your parents were fine letting you pick that major? Of all the—”
“Useful, employable majors I could’ve chosen? Why yes, they thought it was admirable I turned my love of obscure history into . . . well, it should’ve been a career. Hence the need for three part-time jobs.” Jade wondered why her parents hadn’t pulled her up short and demanded she pick a normal major. “What about you?” Right after she’d said it, she wanted to take it back. Chances were that Tobin hadn’t gone to college; he’d probably gone straight to work.
He dropped his hands and adjusted his cowboy hat.
Of course the question put him on edge. Before she could tell him to forget it, he sighed.
“I graduated from the University of Wyoming. I have a bachelor’s of science in animal sciences with a minor in reproductive biology. I have a master’s degree in animal sciences.”
Stunned, Jade kept her jaw from hitting the dirt.
That seemed to amuse Tobin. “Shocked, Miz Columbia?”
“Actually, I’m embarrassed for assuming . . .”
Tobin shrugged. “No worries. We agreed to no more assumptions. Besides, most people see the cowboy first and never a scholar.”
“Is that what you consider yourself first?”
His gaze shuttered. “To be honest, Jade, I don’t know anymore.”
The allusion of defeat in his tone, the lack of guile in his eyes and his body language . . . confused her. She waited for him to say something else, but he remained mum. “Tobin? You okay?”
He shook himself out of the moment of melancholy, smirked and gave her a light punch in the arm. “Peachy keen, jelly bean.”