Page 58 of Roped in Rawhide
“You need something,” Gemma mutters.
“A shower? You can try to scrub me clean, but it only made me more filthy last time.”
Her eyes bug out. “Will you quit it?”
“That’s like asking me to watch you date other men, but I’ll cool it for now. We can discuss our upcoming road trip instead.”
She flattens her lush lips into a firm line. “It’s not our road trip.”
“That’s not what Mama June told me.”
“You talked to my mother?”
“Of course,” I grunt. “She couldn’t wait to give me all the details. Why didn’t you tell me you’re buying another horse?”
“Maybe because it’s none of your concern.” Gemma bends to grab a different brush for Wren to use on Barney.
“You’re not going alone, and you’re not going with anyone but me.”
Her posture stiffens into a solid oak board. “That’s for me to decide.”
And that’s my cue to back off. “Will you at least consider what I said earlier?”
“We’re not discussing children unless you’re referring to the one currently in my arms.”
A dry chuckle rumbles from me. “I meant Saturday.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
I shrug. “Will you?”
“It’s the farmer’s market. I’ll be at the store.”
A cluck from my tongue calls her out. “That doesn’t go all day.”
“I need to ride.”
“Is that an invite or another excuse?” My gaze feasts on her ass tucked into those snug jeans.
Gemma catches me checking her out. “You’re impossible.”
“I prefer relentless.”
Her stony exterior cracks for me again. The slightest grin peeks through, but it’s a huge win. “Will you settle for a maybe?”
“It’s better than a no, but you’ll have to give me an actual answer eventually. These wishy-washy responses are stacking up.”
When Wren wriggles to get free, Gemma puts her down and whirls to fully face me. “I’m trying to preserve our boundaries.”
“And I respect that, but hanging out with me isn’t detrimental.”
“That’s what you think.”
I recoil as if struck. My stare roves over her defensive pose. Under my perusal, she tucks into herself even more. It’s as if we’ve taken three steps backward. Damage control isn’t my specialty.
“Am I that bad, Wildflower?”
“No!” She lowers her gaze and I feel the loss of our connection like a door slamming shut. “That’s the problem.”
