A Cowgirl's Secret(19)
“Ouch.” His denim-covered thigh brushed hers. She wore shorts. His memory told him the inside of her creamy thighs felt like satin to his work-roughened palms. Needing to stay focused on the topic at hand, he asked, “How ’bout taking a stab at deciphering his behavior? I mean, I’m all for giving him time to adjust, but you have to know—he has to know—I fully intend on being a big part of his life.”
“I understand.” It didn’t escape him that though she could’ve scooted a good six inches to the swing’s opposite end, she didn’t. “I’ll talk with him tonight.”
“Good. Because it’s not just me wanting to meet him, but my family. Trust me, my mom’s not going to be held off much longer.”
“I know.” She stared off to the south pasture where two calves bucked and played in the blazing sun. “We’ll plan something soon. I just feel buried. I need to start a practice. Get a place of our own. These things take time. And I suppose if Kolt never really adjusts, there’s always the possibility of us returning to San Francisco.”
“You didn’t burn bridges?” Like you did with me?
He was attracted to her like moth to flame, but wary.
His heart knew better than to get too close. Every once in a while in his horse-whispering profession, he came across a mount that refused to be tamed. Daisy had always been a lot like that. Just when he’d thought he had her all figured out, she’d run off. Worse yet, as wild horses were prone to do, she’d emotionally bit him, kicked him, stomped him to the ground. Mustangs were a dangerous breed. He wasn’t stupid. He knew it was the danger in them, the thrill of the conquest that kept him coming back. But in Daisy’s case, he’d long since learned to appreciate her from afar.
What he didn’t want was to be in the same situation with his son. They both deserved better. Daisy may have had her issues, but Kolt didn’t deserve to inherit them, and Luke wasn’t about to suffer through them by default.
“No, no burned bridges,” she said with a dreamy, faraway look, snapping his attention back to the present. “Too much at stake for that.”
“Like what?” Surely there wasn’t that much involved in hanging out her legal shingle in a two-bit town like Weed Gulch?
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
She sighed. “I don’t mean to be rude, but—” She stood, then covered her face with her hands. “I can’t do this. Not now. Could you please go?”
“Daisy…” Also on his feet, Luke wanted to pull her into his arms for a comforting hug but he held back. As it was, the exchange had brought on an uneasy sense of déjà vu. The woman had destroyed him once, and he sure as hell didn’t plan on letting her do it again. After a catchall nod in her direction, he slapped his hat on his head and walked away.
“I’M SORRY,” DAISY SAID to the real estate agent with a light shake of her head. “Would you mind repeating that last bit?” Though it’d been twenty-four hours since her run-in with Luke, Daisy hadn’t been able to think straight since.
“Fifteen hundred square feet with a reception area, restroom and two private offices. Rent is six hundred per month, plus utilities and a thirty-dollar-per-month interior greenscape fee for common areas. Margot, down at Fun Flowers in Hawthorne, does a beautiful job decorating for all major holidays.”
“I’ll take it,” Daisy said.
“I have four others to show you,” the agent noted, fanning herself with a stack of listing files. “One is in the new Villa Italiana shopping center alongside Reasor’s grocery. Très chic.”
“Thank you, but I’ve always liked this building.” It was the sole survivor of the 1928 tornado that’d taken out the rest of downtown. The three-story, square brick building had long since been remodeled to combine historic flavor with modern convenience. That said, original pressed-tin ceilings and all of the hand-carved woodwork in the world wouldn’t have been charming enough to make Daisy occupy the offices if they hadn’t also featured nice cold central air.
“Great,” the agent said. “I’ll draw up papers and have you in by this afternoon.”
“Perfect.”
Three hours later, Daisy directed the moving company that had held the contents of her San Francisco loft to cram most of the boxes into the suite’s spare office for her to sort through later. She’d decided to store everything in her office until she found a house for herself and Kolt.