Cowboys Don't Have a Secret Romance by Jessie Gussman

Author:Jessie Gussman [Gussman, Jessie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jessie Gussman
Published: 2019-09-24T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Reina finished her sandwich, glad of the distraction.

Clay had been talking about pain like he understood it. His thoughts were more discerning than she was used to. Most of the time, and in her counseling, when she went, she focused on getting past it.

Clay seemed to want her to accept it. Acknowledge it. Maybe even wonder what it might be like if it weren’t there.

Then there was some balderdash about the bad things in her life working out for good. She couldn’t wrap her mind around that. Being used as a sex slave was supposed to somehow be a good thing? Getting pregnant as a teen by a man she didn’t even know the name of and giving up her child would somehow work out for good?

Impossible. It didn’t matter what Clay said, she would never believe that. Anger simmered in her chest at the idea that he would even suggest such a thing.

But the anger was tempered by the idea that Clay seemed to be hinting that he didn’t care about her past.

Could that be true? How could anyone not care?

She balled her garbage up and threw it back in the cooler, grabbing one of the cold water bottles. It was still partially frozen, and she relished the coolness, feeling it slide down her throat and spread into her stomach, soothing the balled heat there.

She didn’t want to think about her past and the pain and the baggage that hung around her neck like a bucket of sharp stones anymore.

So she wouldn’t. She pushed it all aside.

After her near miss yesterday, she didn’t want to put so much as a toe in the water, but even that was preferable to digging up and facing the past that she’d rather keep deeply, and safely, buried.

Clay had finished his sandwich a few minutes ago, and he sat, relaxed and calm, holding his water in one big hand and staring at the calm water, an easy expression of contentment on his face. Like they did this all the time. Like there was nothing odd about them being together. Like she truly belonged here, with the river flowing softly beside, and the wide-open sky overhead, and the leaves on the trees and bushes rustling softly in the never-ending, wholesome breeze.

Like they could be a couple out on a romantic picnic and he was satisfied with their silence, because just being with her was enough.

If only.

She couldn’t live her life wishing for “if only.”

That thought made her stand more abruptly than she meant to.

Clay’s head jerked to hers, his eyes moving over her as though scanning for a cause before his brows raised in question.

“I’m ready,” she said. Then she realized her shoes were still on. She knelt to remove them.

“I’d leave them on, if I were you,” he said as he put his garbage in the cooler and stood, his movements strangely graceful, hinting at controlled power.

Why couldn’t she look away?

Her eyes traveled up his long legs, past the narrow waist, and lingered on the broad shoulders.

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