Page 8

AMOS

I ’ll go grab us some coffee and pastries from the breakfast buffet. Take your time.”

Morning light streams through the windows, catching the gold highlights in Rebecca’s tousled hair. I’ve never woken up feeling this content with life, that everything is right in my life, and the woman at my side is the one I want to spend a lifetime with.

“Sounds perfect. I could get used to this.” She stretches sensuously under the sheets, her eyes sleepy as she smiles up at me.

I press a tender kiss to her forehead before heading for the door. “Be right back, Spice Queen.”

The elevator ride down feels like floating. Every muscle in my body carries the pleasant ache of last night’s passion, but it’s more than that. For the first time in my life, I know what it is to feel like I belong somewhere. I’ve found my home in Rebecca.

The breakfast area bustles with families preparing for the final day’s events. I select a variety of options for Rebecca—a chocolate croissant, some fresh fruit, a blueberry muffin—and balance a tray of coffee as I make my way back to the elevators.

The circuit doesn’t have to mean constant travel anymore. Maybe I could base myself closer to Rebecca’s family, compete regionally, build something stable enough to deserve the kind of love she offers so freely. I could find work on a ranch.

I’m imagining Sunday dinners with Rebecca’s family as I step off the elevator onto her floor, when I round the corner of the hallway and nearly collide with a woman.

“Apologies, ma’am,” I say, nodding at her as I keep walking.

“There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

The blonde woman moves in front of me, blocking my path, her smile predatory and confident.

She’s wearing a low-cut blouse that reveals the lace edge of her bra, and her body language screams availability.

I recognize the type immediately—the kind of woman who follows the circuit looking for cowboys, hoping to catch one permanently and step into the spotlight at his side.

“I’m sorry, but I’m with someone.” I step to the side, but she moves to block me again.

“That chubby girl I saw you with at the square dance? Please.” Her laugh is sharp and dismissive. “It’s cute you gave her a good time, but we both know she’s not your type. I know what cowboys like you really want.”

The dismissive cruelty in her voice makes my jaw clench.

The way she describes Rebecca, like her curves and substance somehow make her less worthy, ignites a furious protectiveness in me.

I’ve met dozens of women like this over the years, but never has a woman infuriated me so completely as the one standing in front of me.

“You don’t know anything about what I want. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” I say pointedly

“Don’t be in such a hurry.” When I try to step around her again, she reaches out and presses her hand against my chest, cornering me with my back against the wall. “I promise I can show you a better time than she can.”

I sigh in frustration. My hands are full, so I can’t physically extricate myself from her. If only this woman knew that she had zero chance with me, maybe she’d stop trying so hard. Hell, she should go find Wyatt if all she wants is to fuck a cowboy.

“Remove your hand from my chest. Now.”

But she steps closer with the persistence of someone used to getting what she wants, pressing her hand more tightly against my chest, her fingers gripping the fabric of my shirt. The coffee tray wavers in my other hand as I try to maintain balance.

“Just think about it. One night with someone who knows how to please a man like—”

“I said stop it.”

Just as I’m working to pry her fingers loose without dropping the coffee, I catch movement in my peripheral vision.

Rebecca’s hotel room door opens down the hall, and our eyes meet across the distance.

My heart sinks like a stone when I watch her expression change from confusion to sadness to anger, in the space of a few seconds.

When she steps back into her room and then slams the door, it’s clear how hurt she is.

“Shit.” I drop the pastry bag and forcibly remove the woman’s hand from my chest. “Get away from me.”

“But—”

“Now!” I snap, bending over to pick up the pastries and rush to Rebecca’s door, my heart hammering against my ribs. After last night, she has to know that what she saw wasn’t something I wanted. Right? Please don’t let her think that I played her. I’m not that man anymore.

“Rebecca! Let me explain, please! It’s not what you think!”

Silence from inside the room.

“Rebecca, please. She grabbed me. I didn’t invite that attention at all – she’s not the woman I want. You’re the only woman for me, Spice Queen.”

“Go away.” Her voice comes through the door, clear and tight with pain, and the sound cuts through me like a blade.

I lean my forehead against the door, desperate to fix this. “Darlin’, please let me explain what happened.”

More silence. I can picture her on the other side, assuming the worst about me and my intentions. After everything we shared last night, everything we confessed to each other, I’m terrified I’m about to lose her, and not for anything I did.

“I’ll leave the coffee and pastries here. When you’re ready to listen, I’ll be waiting.”

I set the tray by her door and walk away, every step feeling like a mistake. But pushing harder will only make things worse. I know enough about women to know Rebecca needs some space, and then we can talk.

If she’ll let me talk to her.

Three excruciating hours later, I spot Rebecca loading equipment into her car in the hotel parking lot. The sight of her preparing to leave sends panic shooting through my chest. If she drives away now, whatever we have dies with this misunderstanding.

“Rebecca, wait. Please let me explain what you saw.”

She doesn’t look up from loading her grandfather’s cast-iron pot into the trunk. “You don’t owe me any explanations. Thank you for helping me. I’ll figure out something to tell Polly Williamson.”

The abrupt dismissal hits harder than any anger would have. She’s shutting down.

“Do you really think I’d treat you like that? Roll out from your bed, after having the best night of my life, and entertain the advances of a woman while I was on my way back to you?”

“What else could it be?” Now she does look at me, and the careful blankness in her expression is worse than tears. “You’re a rodeo star who could have any woman he wants. I’m just the girl who helped you pass some time at a county fair.”

The words are like physical blows. That she could think so little of herself, of what we shared, proves how badly I’ve screwed this up.

“Let me help you with that.” I reach for the heavy equipment case she’s struggling with, and after a moment’s hesitation, she lets me take it.

We work in tense silence, loading her car with the cooking gear.

“Can we sit for a minute? Please. Just let me tell you what happened.”

She studies my face for a long moment, and I hold my breath, hoping she’ll see something worth hearing out.

“Five minutes.”

We settle on a bench underneath some oak trees near the fairgrounds, far enough from the crowds to have privacy. The morning heat is already building, but the shade provides some measure of relief.

“That woman cornered me in the hallway. I was coming back to you with coffee when she blocked my path and wouldn’t let me pass. I was trying to get away from her when you saw us.”

Rebecca’s expression doesn’t change, but I press on.

“She said things about you that made me furious. Called you names, acted like you weren’t good enough for me. When the truth is, I’m not good enough for you.”

“How do I know this isn’t just part of the performance?”

The question cuts deep because I understand her doubt. My reputation precedes me—charming cowboy who moves through towns and women with equal ease. Why should she believe I’m any different now?

I gently take her hands in mind, my heart flip-flopping when she doesn’t resist. When I feel her shudder as I trace circles on her palm with my fingertip, I know I have a chance.

“Because I’m sitting under a tree in a parking lot, begging you not to leave. If I were performing, don’t you think I’d be flattering you instead of being terrified you’re going to leave me?”

Rebecca’s blue eyes soften as they meet mine, and I can see her doubt dissolving.

“I want to meet your family. Sunday dinners, family reunions, all of it. I want to be part of what you have. Will you let me show you how much I care for you?” My voice chokes and I dip my head, terrified of seeing the look in her eyes if she says no.

“Amos,” she says softly, her hand reaching up to stroke my jaw. “I do want to give this a shot. You’re not the only one who’s been taken by surprise these last few days.”

“I’m scared of being another stop on your tour.”

“I’m scared of not being worth the kind of love your family gives freely.”

She lets me take her hands in mine as we sit in silence and stare out at the cars starting to fill the parking lot.

“What if we’re scared together?”

Rebecca’s question echoes what I said last night, and this time, she’s the one offering the solution.

“I called my mother this morning,” I tell her. “Left a message saying things are going to be different after this season. That I met a woman I want to build a family with.”

“What did she say?”

“Haven’t heard back yet. But Rebecca, I mean every word. I want everything with you, and I’m willing to do anything to prove that to you.”

“Not immediately, but I want to meet your mother. Help you rebuild that relationship.”

The ease with which she offers to help heal the most broken part of my life leaves me speechless. This woman, who has every reason to doubt me, still sees something worth loving in me.

She studies my face with those intelligent eyes that see too much. “This is terrifying.”

“The best things usually are.”

After a long moment, she nods. “Okay. We’ll try this. For real this time.”

My body shakes as relief floods through me so intensely that I have to close my eyes. When I open them, Rebecca is watching me with a soft and hopeful look in her eyes.

“There’s one condition.”

“Anything.”

“No more rodeo groupies. I know they’re part of your world, but I can’t handle wondering if you’re going to be tempted every time some woman throws herself at you. I trust you, but I don’t trust them.”

“There are no other women.” I take her hands again, needing touch her as I state the most important truth.

“There’s only you, Rebecca. You’re the only one I see, the only one I want.

Everything else is just noise. There is nothing any of those women could say or do that would make me falter for even a second.

I swear on everything—you have nothing to worry about. ”

The conviction in my voice must reach her because more of the tension leaves her shoulders.

“The awards ceremony is this afternoon. Win or lose, I want to be there with you. As your real boyfriend this time, not your fake one.”

“Even if I don’t win?”

“Even if you don’t win. Though for the record, your grandfather’s recipe is going to destroy the competition,” I smile at her, and her blue eyes glisten.

This time her smile is genuine, bright enough to chase away the last shadows of our misunderstanding.

“Come on.” I stand and offer her my hand. “Let’s go win you a championship.”

As we walk toward the fairgrounds hand in hand, I realize something fundamental has shifted. What started as a fake has become the most real thing in my life. And for the first time in a long time, I’m not afraid of the future.

I’m excited to build it with the woman walking beside me.