Shine Not Burn(84)

“That doesn’t explain how you know my personal history. I don’t share that with anyone. Not even my best friends.”

“Sure you do. You shared it with me.” He sounded proud, the jerk.

“No I didn’t.” My voice went higher out of panic.

“Are you calling me a liar?” He glanced at me as he turned onto another road.

“No, I’m just saying … you must be mistaken or something. I don’t share my past with anyone, not even good looking cowboys.”

“Well, you shared it with me. And I’m not just some guy. I’m your husband. You should share that stuff with your husband.” He glanced at me once more. “You didn’t share it with that guy you’re engaged to, did you?”

“Would you stop saying that?” Sweat had broken out on my upper lip and under my arms.

“Saying what?”

“That you’re my husband!” I screeched. He was being too calm about everything, like his hand wasn’t hovering over the bright red button on my console that would set off all the nuclear missiles I kept under lock and key.

“The truth bothers you that much?”

“No, the joke bothers me that much. This is all just a big joke, don’t you get it?” I was panting, not able to get enough oxygen to my brain. Dizzy. I’m dizzy. Why am I so dizzy?

The muscles in his arms jumped a little. “No, I guess I don’t get it. Explain it to me.” He pulled onto the dirt road that had ended my Smart Car.

My left hand came up and started doing chopping-down motions as I explained. He absolutely had to understand this, because if he didn’t, I was going to implode. My voice went up and up, getting nearer and nearer to hysterical proportions with every sentence. “Okay, Mack … here it is. Two years ago I got dumped by a guy and was feeling vulnerable. I had too much to drink and I met you and you were all … you … and I got carried away. We both got carried away, I guess, since you don’t seem the type to go off-plan much either. The next day I woke up, you were gone, and I went home. Okay? Do you get it now? Life went on for both of us, not just me. I started dating Bradley, you started dating Hannah, and now here we are, two years later needing a divorce.” I took a deep breath and let it out, trying to release some of the stress. I felt like my head was going to explode.

“I’m afraid you’re missing part of the story, there, counsellor.” A country drawl was flavoring his words a little and tempting me to smack him upside the head in a very violent way.

“I don’t think so,” I said through gritted teeth.

“I know so.” His phone rang and he picked it up, frowning at the screen. He put it on the seat and ignored it. I glanced down and saw Hannah’s name there.

“Why aren’t you answering it? She’s your girlfriend, and I get the impression she wouldn’t appreciate being blown off.”

“She is not my girlfriend. I don’t know who told you that, but you should probably not listen to that person anymore.”

“It was Hannah who told me, and the fact that you live with her was kind of just a bonus, I guess.”

He blew out a huff of air. “You definitely shouldn’t ever listen to Hannah. And I don’t live with her. She lives with me, temporarily since I was doing a favor for a friend, but that ends today. She’s all packed and ready to go.”

I laughed bitterly. “I think you forgot to mention that little fact to her. She’s in love with you, you know.”

“Bullshit. She’s in love with my family’s ranch, with our money, with my truck, and very possibly my little brother, but she’s not in love with me.”

“If she was, would you go out with her?”

“Hell no. She’s not my type.”

I found that really hard to believe, since Daisy Duke was every country boy’s type and she wasn’t that far off. “What is your type, then if it’s not Daisy Duke?”

He took a few seconds to answer. “Head strong. Smart. Beautiful. Funny. Good at blackjack. Maybe a little more conservative than Hannah Banana.” He glanced at me, smiling devilishly. “I like a little mystery to my women. I think the song lyric says it best: Lady on the street but a freak in the bed.”

I whacked him hard on the arm, my faced burning. “Shut up. I am not your type. And I am not a freak anywhere.”

He reached over and took my hand in his warm one, pulling it against his leg. “I’m your type too, you know.”

“No, you’re not.” I tried to pull my hand away, but he had a hell of a grip.

“Sure I am. I’m educated, business-minded, sexy - you said so yourself, so don’t try to deny it - and I can make you scream like nobody else can.” He lifted my hand and put it on top of his leg, very near his crotch.