Page 67 of Wyoming Heart

SHEWAITEDWHILEhe settled the bill and then they got into the truck for the long drive home.

He reached for her soft hand and tucked it into his as he drove. “Will it embarrass you if I tell you that I’ve never enjoyed a woman so much?”

She gasped.

“I guess it would,” he said.

“You’ve been around,” she began.

“Yes. Around. With sophisticated, selfish women who wanted pleasure but weren’t disposed to give it without a lot of incentive.” By which he meant, unknown to her, rich gifts. He glanced at her. “You gave me your innocence. I wasn’t worthy of such a gift,” he added quietly.

“I was drunk,” she said.

He laughed. “I was drunk, too. That doesn’t change what I said. You were meant for a different sort of man altogether. Not me.”

Her heart sank. “There’s never been anybody I felt that way with before,” she said after a minute.

Pride glowed in him. “Not even McGuire?” he asked, hating his own jealousy.

“I don’t feel like that about Jake. About anybody.”

His fingers curled into hers. He was lost for words. He felt guilty and vaguely ashamed, but she was taking it on the chin, without blaming him, without tears. It made him feel even worse.

She turned her head toward him and said, “I know you like being free. Cowboys don’t settle down, ever. They move from place to place and just enjoy where they are. So I don’t expect you to start making me promises or apologies or anything,” she added. “I’m the last person who’d ever try to tie you down.”

His heart jumped. “Plenty have tried,” he said before he thought, and he sounded as disillusioned as he felt.

“That’s not right. You shouldn’t let people use guilt to make you do things.”

“You’re very forgiving for a woman.”

She smiled. “I’ve had a hard life,” she said. “Hatred and anger just well up inside you, like a wound, and fester. They destroy people. I watched it destroy my mother. She hated my father. She hated me. She drank because she hated us so much, and in the end, it killed her. I don’t want to end up like that.”

“You’re not like that,” he said.

“Well, I did sort of fall into bed with you,” she returned, flushing.

“You were inebriated,” he pointed out.

“I guess so.” She hesitated. “You know a lot about what to do with women,” she added.

“I suppose I shocked you to the back teeth.”

She smiled. “You did.” She felt the heat rush into her cheeks. “I never knew...”

“Not even from reading all those torrid romance novels?” he teased.

“They were nothing like what happened,” she said. “And they had scenes about how people felt, but, gosh, in real life, it’s...” She swallowed. “I thought the first time would be awful.”

“Maybe it is sometimes,” he said. “Men can be cruel. Some are heartless.”

“You aren’t. You were...” She swallowed again. “Sorry. It’s hard to talk about.”

His fingers contracted gently. “You can talk to me about anything.”

And she realized suddenly that she could. Anything at all.

“You don’t think I’m like my mother?” she worried.