The Maisey Yates Collection : Cowboy Heroes. Maisey Yates
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know. I’m just saying, don’t act like you punched me in the face when all I did was—”
“There’s no need to get descriptive. I was here. I remember.”
She snorted. “You should remember.” She turned away from him, clenching her hands into fists, hoping he didn’t notice that they were shaking. “And I hope you remember it next time you go talking about us not having chemistry.”
“Do you want us to have chemistry?”
She whirled around. “No. But I have some pride. You were comparing me to all these other women. Well, compare that.”
“I...can’t.”
She planted her hands on her hips. “Damn straight.”
“We can’t... We can’t do this again,” he said, shaking his head and walking away.
For some reason, that made her feel awful. For some reason, it hurt. Stabbed like a rusty knife deep in her gut.
“I don’t want to do it again. I mean, you’re welcome, but I didn’t exactly get anything out of it.”
He stopped, turning to face her, his expression tense. “I didn’t ask you to do anything.”
“I’m aware.” She shook her head. “I think we’re done for tonight.”
“Yeah. I already said that.”
“Well,” she said, feeling furious now, “now I’m saying it.”
She was mad at herself. For taking it this far. For being upset, and raw, and wounded over something that she had chosen to do. Over his reaction, which was nothing more than the completely predictable response. He didn’t want her. Not really.
And she knew that. This evening’s events weren’t going to change it. An orgasm on the floor of the shop she rented from him was hardly going to alter the course of fifteen years of friendship.
An orgasm. Oh, dear Lord, what had she done? She really had to get out of here. There was no amount of bravado left in her that would save her from the meltdown that was pending.
“I have to go.”
* * *
She was gone before he had a chance to protest. He should be glad she was gone. If she had stayed, there was no telling what he might have done. What other stupid bit of nonsense he might have committed.
He had limited brainpower at the moment. All of his blood was still somewhere south of his belt.
He turned, surveying the empty shop. Then, in a fit of rage, he kicked something metal that was just to the right of the chair. And hurt his foot. And probably broke the thing. He had no idea if it was important or not. He hoped it wasn’t. Or maybe he hoped it was. She deserved to have some of her tractor shit get broken. What had she been thinking?
He hadn’t been able to think. But it was a well-known fact that if a man’s dick was in a woman’s mouth, he was not doing much problem solving. Which meant Chase was completely absolved of any wrongdoing here.
Completely.
He gritted his teeth, closing his eyes and taking in a sharp breath. He was going to have to figure out how to get a handle on himself between now and the next time he saw Anna. Because there was no way things could continue on like this. There weren’t a whole lot of people who stuck around in his world. There had never been a special woman. After the death of his and Sam’s parents, relatives had passed through, but none of them had put down roots. And, well, their parents, they might not have chosen to leave, but they were gone all the same. He couldn’t afford to lose anyone else. Sam and Anna were basically all he had.
Which meant when it came to Sam’s moods and general crankiness, Chase just dealt with it. And when it came to Anna...no more touching. No more... No more of any of that.
For one second, he allowed himself to replay the moment when she had unzipped his pants. When she had leaned forward and tasted him. When that white-hot streak of release had undone him completely.
He blinked. Yeah, he knew what he had been thinking. That it felt good. Amazing. Too good to stop her. But physical pleasure was cheap. A friendship like theirs represented years of investment. One simply wasn’t worth sacrificing the other for. And now that he was thinking clearly he realized that. So that meant no more. No more. Never.
Next time he saw her, he was going to make sure she knew that.
Anna was beneath three blankets, and she was starting to swelter. If she hadn’t been too lazy to sit up and grab hold of her ice-cream container, she might not be quite so sweaty.
The fact that she was something of a cliché of what it meant to be a woman behind closed doors was not lost on her. Blankets, old movies, Ben & Jerry’s. But hey, she spent most of the day up to her elbows in engine grease, so she supposed she was entitled to a few stereotypes.
She reached her spoon out from beneath the blankets and scraped the top of the ice cream in the container, gathering up a modest amount.
“Oklahoma!” she sang, humming the rest of the line while taking the bite of marshmallow and chocolate ice cream and sighing as the sugar did its good work. Full-fat dairy products were the way to happiness. Or at least the best way she knew to stop from obsessing.
Her phone buzzed and she looked down, cringing when she saw Chase’s name. She swiped open the lock screen and read the message.
In your driveway. Didn’t want to give you a heart attack.
Why are you in my dr—
She didn’t get a chance to finish the message before there was a knock on her front door.
She closed her eyes, groaning. She really didn’t want to deal with him right now. In fact, he was the last person on earth she wanted to deal with. He was the reason she was currently baking beneath a stack of blankets, seeking solace in the bosom of old movies.
Still, she couldn’t ignore him. That would make things weirder. He was still her best friend, even if she had— Well, she wasn’t going to think about what she had. If she ignored him, it would only cater to the weirdness. It would make events from earlier today seem more important than they needed to be. They did not need to be treated as though they were important.
Sure, she had never exactly done that with a man. Sure, she hadn’t even had sexual contact of any kind with a man for the past several years. And sure, she had never had that kind of contact with Chase. But that was no reason to go assigning meaning. People got ribbons and stickers for their first trips to the dentist. They did not get them for giving their first blow job.
She groaned. Then she rolled off the couch, pushing herself into a standing position before she padded through the small living area to the entryway. She jerked the door open, pushing her hair out of her face and trying to look casual.
Too late, she realized that she was wearing her pajamas. Which were perfectly decent, in that they covered every inch of her body. But they were also baggy, fuzzy and covered in porcupines.
All things considered, it just wasn’t the most glorious of moments.
“Hello,” she said, keeping her body firmly planted in the center of the doorway.
“Hi,” he returned. Then he proceeded to study her pajamas.
“Porcupines,” she informed him, just for something to say.
“Good choice. Not an obvious one.”
“I guess not. Considering they aren’t all that cuddly. But neither am I. So maybe it’s a more obvious choice than it originally appears.”
“Maybe. We’ll have to debate animal-patterned pajama philosophy another time.”