Page 13 of Forbidden Cowboy
I had thought I was still in shape, especially with the athletic nature of my job, but the strength and muscle groups required for hauling sacks was a completely different class. I clambered into the front seat of the truck, and tried desperately to make it look like I wasn’t struggling for breath.
“Nice bit of hard work to start the day, huh?” Wyatt asked as he slid into the driver’s side.
“Yeah, super excited that I left behind the hospital to lift, what, six-hundred-pound bags? Felt like it, at least.”
“You did well,” Wyatt said with some genuine admiration. “I half expected you to not be able to lift like you did—I guess you haven’t totally forgotten what it’s like to live in Gunnison.”
I haven’t forgotten anything, I wanted to say.Not one minute, even if I wanted to. Even if I convinced myself to.
“Are you ready?” Wyatt asked, a small smile curling up one side of his face.
“Ready for what?” I asked, confused.
I remembered he had hinted at some kind of surprise, and my heart dropped. I wasn’t joking when I said I hated surprises.
“Don’t worry, it’s a good thing,” he said ominously.
Chapter Six
Wyatt
There was suspicion written in her eyes, but Sierra didn’t demand that I take her home, and she just sat back in her seat and waited to see what I had in store for her.
What I had was a very short drive, less than ten minutes up the road, until the truck was parked again, and the two of us were standing in front of a little boutique with three mannequins in the window.
“What’re we doing here?” Sierra asked, confused, and I glanced down at her from where she stood beside me.
“You need more clothes,” I said simply. “So, we’re here for more clothes.”
“I can’t affordtheseclothes!” She cried, gesturing to the shop in front of us.
“You don’t need to afford them,” I replied. “I’m buying them.”
Her jaw dropped open, and Sierra’s eyes, filled with conflicting emotions, met mine.
“No,” she said, mouth set in a hard line. “I won’t let you, not like this.”
“What do you mean?”
I had thought I was doing something nice for her, something that could help make her stay in Gunnison a little more comfortable. Was I wrong?
“Whatever you think you’re atoning for,” Sierra said firmly. “What happened when we were teens or something else, you don’t need to do this. I will pick up new clothes somewhere, or keep wearing Beau’s, or find a laundromat. You don’t need to spend what would end up being a lot of money just to assuage your conscience.”
I stepped in front of her line of vision again, blocking her view of the butter-yellow clapboard boutique.
“Sierra Carter, can’t I just do something nice for someone I once considered a friend? Someone I hoped I could call one again someday?”
“I don’t need charity, either, Wyatt,” she said, her eyes not meeting mine.
There was a blush on her cheeks that I hadn’t been able to differentiate from the red face she’d had from hard work earlier. It suited her, the rosiness. Without thinking, I reached up, and with my thumb, tilted that proud chin so she was meeting my eyes.
My bold movement had us both frozen in place momentarily, and I felt time slow to a standstill between us.
“It’s not charity,” I rumbled. “Let me do this.”
The blush on those cheeks deepened slightly, and Sierra just nodded, her mouth seeming unable to produce words.
I stepped away from her, realizing I was probably intruding on her personal space and making things awkward for her.