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“Why not? A lie seems more interesting than small talk.”
Never had breakfast for dinner. Never been around horses. Both were problems I wanted to solve.
I hated small talk. I really hated small talk about the weather.
He was so cavalier. So carefree. So ridiculously attractive it made me irrationally angry. Why did he have to be so hot?
A smarter man would probably give up. Move on. Every encounter with Sasha was brutal for my ego.
Except I couldn’t get her out of my head. I liked her snarky comments. That mocking curtsy had been cute. There was no reason her frosty stare should be attractive, but damn if it didn’t turn me on.
It was infuriating and annoying and . . . gorgeous. There was no reason for a woman that irritated by my presence to be so hot.
If it wasn’t so damn cold, I might have liked the snow. It was clean and crisp.
God, I was tired of that smirk. It was condescending and arrogant and fucking hot.
This wasn’t okay. I wasn’t okay. I hadn’t been okay for a long, long time. But I’d fake it. I’d keep faking it.
But apparently a spiffed-up cowboy was my new weakness. My knees wobbled.
“Hey, you.”
It was the hat. It had been that cowboy hat. He’d looked so sexy wearing it all night, and then I’d gotten this ridiculous thrill that I was the woman who’d been with him when he’d taken it off.
“Stupid. Freaking. Cowboy hat.” “Don’t blame the hat.”
“You do look like hell. And you’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
My Josephine. Two words and he made it real. He made it special. He made it so I wasn’t doing this alone.
Josephine. He kept saying her name. He kept making it real.
He was the handsomest man I’d ever seen in my life. Rugged and masculine and hypnotic.
But I wasn’t going to hide the truth from her. I didn’t want bullshit between us. She’d get honesty, always, even if it sucked.
“You didn’t need to make me dinner.” “I wanted to, babe.”
“Sorry, that dinner conversation got heavy.” “Broad shoulders, darlin’. Lay it on me.”
Lucky girl. My girl. We weren’t alone. I wasn’t alone. And we lived in Montana.
Babe. Baby. Honey. Beautiful. Sweetheart. Jax didn’t use a single endearment. He used them all. He seemed to tailor them to his mood. Babe, for the normal moments when we were just talking. Honey, when he wanted to be sweet. Baby, when we were in his bed.
“Hate to break it to you, babe. But everyone already knows that we’re something.”
We were good together. So fucking good. She felt that, right? She knew we had something special here that wasn’t just because of the baby? I’d want her whether she was pregnant or not.
“You said this was temporary.” “It’s never been temporary, baby. I only said that to get you under this roof. But make no mistake, you’re not going anywhere.”
“Tell me a lie.” “I hate Montana.” A grin tugged at my mouth. “Mission accomplished.”
“You got me, right?” “I got you.” She leaned into my side. “Then I’m okay.”
Not an accident. Not a mistake. Our miracle.
