Page 19 of Westin
“Miss Dulcie would never sell off part of Golden Sphinx. She doesn’t want it to change a single inch from the way it was when Asa was still alive. She sees it as her caretaking his legacy.”
“To be so devoted to a man’s memory.” Rena sighed like it was the most romantic thing she’d ever heard. Westin often found himself wondering how he’d feel if a woman devoted herself to protecting something he cared for. The problem was, he wasn’t sure the one thing he cared the most about would ever belong to him.
“I suppose your father is very interested in me courting you, isn’t he? Your future husband will have a lot to say about what happens to Rocking D, too.”
“True. In fact, my daddy is constantly trying to set me up with boys he thinks are appropriate for me. The problem is, none of them are my type.”
“And what is your type, Rena?”
That blush was back on her cheeks, burning across them like a wildfire in the brush. “Cowboys. Like you. Like the men who work for my father—ones he tries to keep me away from because he thinks it’s inappropriate for a young woman to spend time with rough characters.” She sighed. “I feel like I’m ten years old again every time I come home.”
“I suppose his concern is just as much about making sure you’re well cared for as it is for Rocking D.”
“I think he’s more concerned for the ranch, to be honest.” She crossed her arms over her chest, shivering. “Could we go sit in the truck?”
“Oh, of course!” Westin slipped his arm around her shoulders. “I’m sorry! I’m so used to being out in the weather that I forgot you aren’t.”
“I spend plenty of time in the outdoors, but that wind is biting right through me!”
Westin helped her up into the truck, lifting her around the waist when her foot fumbled on the running board. She twisted, a smile touching her sweet mouth, her fingers brushing carefully over the curve of his jaw. He had to fight the urge to pull away, forcing a smile when her eyes registered knowledge of the tension that quickly and completely swelled inside of him.
She dropped her hand quickly, clutching her fingers in her lap. “Have I offended you in some way?”
“No. Why?”
She tilted her head slightly, but then her natural shyness took over and she just settled back against the seat, not responding, her cheeks burning with more than the cold, more than the sweet emotions that had inspired that blush before. Westin backed away, carefully closing the door before moving around the truck to climb behind the wheel. He turned over the engine and twisted the knob on the heater to put it on full blast. It blew nothing but cold air on them for a moment or two, but then filled the cab of the truck with superheated air that he had to turn down after four or five awkward moments.
“Why don’t I drive you home?”
Rena nodded, her hands still clutched in her lap. Westin reached over and squeezed her wrist lightly, but pulled away before she could fully grasp his hand, pretending he needed both hands to navigate the way onto the road and back toward Rocking D Ranch. He turned on the radio, an old Tracy Byrd song filling the cab of the truck, that tune about how the stars all aligned to bring a man and a woman together.
Rena chewed on her bottom lip, her eyes drifting out the window, seeming to find intense interest in everything they passed beside the road rather than him.
“Looks like it might snow tomorrow,” he commented.
She made a small sound, but it was all the response he got.
“Hope it holds off until after the chuck wagon.”
She glanced at him. “You’re doing the chuck wagon at Golden Sphinx?”
“Yep. We have some tourists in for our ‘Cowboy Experience’ thing this weekend. I’m doing it tomorrow night and probably Tuesday, too.”
“I bet that’s a lot of fun.”
“Can be. Depends on the tourists. How interested they are in my little history lecture.”
“I’m sure it’s quite fascinating.”
Westin grunted. “Not always. Don’t get me wrong. I like the history of it all, but my delivery isn’t always fantastic, especially if I see people staring at their phones while I’m giving my little speech. Annoys the crap out of me.”
“I think you were born in the wrong era, Westin,” she said, laughter returning to her tone. “You should have been born back when chuck wagons were a real thing.”
“My mother used to say that, too. Told me I had an old soul.”
“Your mother? You don’t talk about her much.”
Shit! Westin glanced at her, saw the instant rush of curiosity in her eyes. He wanted to take the words back, wondering what had made him utter them in the first place. He couldn’t allow her to go home angry with him, but this was a swing too far in the other direction.