Page 59 of Roped in Rawhide

My pulse thuds to a hollow beat. “I don’t understand.”

Her blue eyes glisten when she returns them to mine. “I can’t fall for you again.”

“You still don’t trust me?”

“With my body, but not my heart.” Resolve squares her shoulders, sliding a guard down against me.

“How do I fix it?”

Gemma’s silence might as well be a deafening scream. Clearly, I’ve done a shit job of proving myself so far. It’s time to change that.

I’m mindlessly scrolling on my phone when there’s a knock on the door. It gives me pause. Unexpected visitors rarely get past the locked entrance. That’s the main reason I chose to rent an apartment in this building.

My steps are nearly silent as I creep toward the foyer. I rise onto the balls of my feet and peer into the peephole. A dramatic roll of my eyes immediately follows.

After flipping the deadbolt and twisting the knob, I’m confronting a very sexy cowboy. “Didn’t want to use your key?”

Chance leans at an alluring slant in the open doorway. “And spoil the surprise?”

“Would’ve saved me the moment of panic. I thought you were a random stranger.”

He straightens with a scowl. “How would they slip by the lobby? Security is supposed to be tight.”

“And yet, here you stand.”

His posture relaxes again. “Greg loves me. Besides, I have a key.”

“Mhmm,” I sigh.

It was foolish of me to think Chance would take a day or two to regroup after the harsh reality I revealed at Benson Farmstead not even twenty-four hours ago. My declaration probably acted as an accelerant. Knowing my former best friend as well as I used to, he’s going to come at me even harder.

Resistance might seem futile, but I have to try. Another betrayal from him would completely obliterate me. The weak, infatuated girl stuck inside of me refuses to turn her back on him. I’ve gotten so close to saying fuck it and just letting him do his worst. It might not be all that bad. Or I’m enabling his bad behavior and deserve whatever fallout punishes me.

My shoulders roll as I prepare to dodge another round of temptation. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“Always.” Chance rakes his heated gaze over my baggy lounge shorts and vintage T-shirt that’s seen better eras. “Grab your purse. We’re going out.”

My bare feet stay planted on the wood floor. “I’ll pass, but thanks for not asking.”

“Wildflower,” he drawls. “I’m trying to be romantic and spontaneous. Your heart is on the line. Give me a chance to win you over.”

“I don’t want you to win me over.”

“Agree to disagree.” He swats away my protest as if this conversation is up for debate. “You might want to grab a pair of socks.”

I roll my lips between my teeth, smothering a laugh. “Where do you plan on taking me?”

“It’s a secret.” Chance taps the tip of my nose.

“I’m not moving until you tell me.”

His lips squish to one side and I’m guessing he’s weighing the consequences of tossing me over his shoulder. “It’s something you probably haven’t done in years. Don’t worry about falling. I’ll hold your hand the entire time.”

My eyebrows bounce to the ceiling. “That’s the opposite of comforting.”

“Which part?”

Now I’m the one flailing my arm. “All of it. You can’t just whisk me away whenever your whims catch a wild hair.”