The Boss and His Cowgirl(31)

“I’m not?”

“No. You aren’t convenient at all.”

“Oh.” This conversation was going downhill quickly.

“I want to be honest with you, Georgie.”

“Ohh...kay.”

“I can’t promise forever. Not right now. But I’d sure like to give this a try, see what happens. I...” He rocked back to sit on his heels and removed his palm from her cheek to rub it through his messy hair. “I want to see if maybe there’s a future for us. You make me want all sorts of things. I want to take care of you. Make you smile. And I damn sure want to make love to you again.”

He gave her hand a little squeeze and waited for her to respond. She just sat there, staring. He wanted to date her? Her inner fangirl squeed and bounced in excitement before her brain caught up. This was wrong on so many levels, but that didn’t matter. He wanted to take care of her. To explore the feelings blossoming between them. That was the message she received from his words, from the expression on his face—a face she knew so intimately because she’d studied it, working with him to add nuance to the words she wrote for him. The man was a spectacular speaker, but this was no act. Please, she whispered up to the universe. Let it be real. Let this...us...be real.

“Okay.”

He arched a brow at her. “That’s not exactly the reaction I was hoping for,” he replied drily.

Before she stopped to think about it, she cupped his face in her palms, leaned forward and kissed him. She focused all her feelings, all the pent-up hopes and dreams of a nerdy young woman yearning for something—someone—she never thought she’d have a chance with.

When they finally broke the breathless kiss, Clay laughed softly. “Yeah, that’s more like it. Now get dressed. I need coffee.”

He rose and backed out, shutting the door. Georgie found her panties and pulled them on before yanking on the sweats. She had to roll the waist of the pants after tying the drawstring as tight as she could. The thing still rode low on her generous hips, but she was pretty sure they wouldn’t fall off. The long-sleeved henley covered the jerry-rigged waistline.

It wasn’t until she walked out that another thought hit. “Shoes.” With a disgruntled curl of her lip, she added, “I can’t very well wear my heels to the local coffee shop.”

“Yeah, I can see how wearing those with sweats might not go over with the fashion police.”

Georgie stared at him then blinked several times. “Fashion police?”

Glancing toward the ceiling, Clay exhaled deeply. “I spent way too much time around Giselle. Then again, she wouldn’t be caught dead wearing my sweats.”

Georgie cringed at his words and hunched her shoulders.

“Which is stupid because I think it’s sexy as hell.”

Well, didn’t that just perk her right up. She pressed her lips together to keep from giggling. “Well, I spend most of my life in fashion jail but I’m revolting simply because those suckers hurt my feet.”

Clay ducked out, calling over his shoulder, “Wait...”

Following him out, Georgie watched him trot downstairs and heard him rummaging around. He reappeared with a pair of rain boots in his hands.

“Aha! I thought I remembered you’d left these over here. I’ll get socks for you to wear.” He climbed the steps, tossed her the boots and headed into the bedroom.

She followed, her brows knit in consternation. “Are you sure these are mine? I don’t remember leaving them here.” In fact, she didn’t remember the boots at all.

He peered at her from the closet. “Pretty sure those are yours. The only other woman who’s been over here is Giselle and she wouldn’t be caught dead wearing those.”

Georgie’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?” She caught the pair of socks he threw with one hand. “Why wouldn’t she?”

“Too practical. And they don’t carry a designer label.”

Clay studied her expression for a long moment then strode across the room, a second pair of socks in his hand. He dropped the socks into one of the boots and cupped his fingers over her shoulders. “Let me explain, sweet pea. Giselle is a sports car—built for speed and high maintenance. You? You’re a Ford pickup, built for comfort and long distance.” He kissed her before she could protest. “And trust me, this Oklahoma boy will come home to comfort every time. Now put your boots on. I want coffee and food. You wore me out last night.”

He disappeared downstairs before she could process what he’d said. A truck? He compared her to a truck? And called her...comfortable. Georgie sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled on his socks. He’d been smart to give her two pairs of socks. The galoshes were made to be worn over shoes. She needed the extra padding. Clomping down the stairs, she found Clay standing by the front door, holding up a jacket. She slipped her arms into the sleeves and was surprised when he dropped a kiss on the top of her head.