Slow Hand (Hot Cowboy Nights, #1)(60)

“If you stay here, you won’t get anything else done,” he argued. “There’s no Internet connection and the cellular signal is iffy at best.”

“Then I’ll sort through everything I find over the next day or two and bring it all back with me to your office.”

“You don’t have a car,” he argued.

“What about my father’s truck? I have my license now. Can’t I have use of it?”

“Yeah. You can use it. The truck is fully insured.” Wade retrieved a set of keys and wallet from his pocket and dropped them in her hand.

“Thank you, Wade.”

“Please, Nikki. Come back to the ranch with me tonight and I’ll help you with all of this tomorrow.”

“With Allie there?” She snorted. “Yeah, right.”

“I told you there’s nothing—”

“I believe you, but it would still be awkward as hell.”

“Then I’ll stay here with you.”

“No,” she said softly. “I have a lot to do and so do you. I’ve already monopolized far too much of your time. Besides, I need to be alone to think about everything.”

“Are you telling me to leave? If that’s what you really want, say the word.”

She didn’t answer straight away. “It’s probably for the best.”

“I’m not comfortable with you staying here by yourself, Nikki. It’s too remote.”

She bristled at that. “Since when did you become my keeper?”

“I’d say about the minute I laid eyes on you, sweetheart.”

“Really?” She spun on him, hands on hips. “I’ve been taking care of myself just fine for the past decade—thank you very much.”

“Do you really like it that way?”

“Yes,” she spat. He held her gaze and probed deeply. “Well, not always,” she finally confessed.

“Then why are you doing this?” he asked.

“Doing what?”

“Pushing me away when I only want to help you. I get the feeling you’ve been trying to sabotage this thing between us from the start, and I’ll be damned if I can figure out why.”

Was it true? Was she subconsciously trying to sabotage herself just to prove she was right and he was wrong? At a loss for reply, she opened her mouth, and then closed it again.

Wade walked out shaking his head and cursing under his breath, the door slamming behind him. Nikki shut her eyes to that vision, his expression of pain and frustration.

She stood with her back to the door, fighting the well of tears, listening for the car engine and the crunch of gravel beneath his wheels. Minutes later, she was surprised instead by the crash of splintering wood.

What the heck?

She cracked the blinds to find Wade standing beside a wood pile, shirtsleeves rolled up and ax in hand. Any other man she’d ever been involved with would have torn out of the drive in a cloud of burning rubber after such an argument, gotten drunk, and then looked for someone new to screw.

Wade wasn’t any other man.

She tried to tear herself away, but her feet were nailed to the floor, and eyes glued to the window. After a few more stokes of the ax, he slammed it into the block to pull off his shirt. He threw it down and then yanked the ax head back out of the block. This was a side of him she’d not yet seen—the angry outdoorsman. Watching the play of his flexing muscles, Nikki’s mouth went dry. God, he was one gorgeous man. Wade was everything she thought she could never have. What kind of fool was she to be inside feeling sorry for herself when he was still here and still hers…for three more days.

*

Wade had to leave the cabin before he exploded. The last thing he needed was to act like an *, make a big scene, and give her a legitimate reason to mistrust him. He’d then have about a snowball’s chance in hell of getting her to stay. By the way she was pushing him away he knew he was already on shaky ground. It seemed all he’d done was piss her off by pushing her.

Why the hell was this happening? He’d just bared his damn soul to her. He’d never done that before, yet she seemed all too prepared to walk right out of his life. Now he felt like a real jackass, but he was desperate to buy more time with her. The thought of her leaving in three days nearly had him in a tailspin.

In retrospect, maybe he should have given her some time to sort out her feelings about her father before springing anything else one her. He should have waited instead of pressuring her for decisions she wasn’t yet prepared to make. She didn’t need the added stress of his emotions right now. He took in a ragged breath and exhaled on a curse. “Fucked that up good, didn’t you, cowboy?”

He was frustrated as hell and even more pissed off at himself. Hell, what he really wanted was a stiff drink—a mighty dangerous thought after two-and-a-half agonizing years of sobriety.

He needed to blow off steam something fierce, but couldn’t leave her here alone. Desperate for something, anything to occupy his mind and body, Wade paced the yard until spotting an ax lying against the wood shed. It’d been a helluva long time since he’d split a log, but under present circumstances, it seemed the ideal therapy.

Discarding his jacket, he rolled up his sleeves, and picked up the ax. His actions were thoughtless and methodical. Standing the log on end, he raised the ax, and then slammed it down with splintering force. Mechanically, he stacked the two pieces, then grabbed the next log. It was mindless work, but he threw himself into it with a vengeance, relishing each blow of the ax, until his muscles screamed and his lungs burned. He’d no doubt regret this like hell in the morning, but it felt damned good right now.