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“Bekkah’s great,” I observed, shivering involuntarily.
“Are you cold?”
“I’m fine.” I hugged my knees tighter, unwilling to end this conversation and potentially have him drop me off at a local hotel. I couldn’t think about my broken-down SUV and my broken-down life right now.
I needed a break from reporters looking to get a story on me, and digging into my past. Scotty hadn’t told Damien that the Nebraska Backstabber nickname came more from me dating the man my sister later married—an incident that had been widely gossiped about in my small hometown before I left. Tabloid media had latched on to that nickname with both hands, spinning it into a bigger story after my unlikely win.
Little did they know that Rick had only used me to get close to my family, close to my sister, who’d always been “the pretty one.” His defection had hurt when he’d started dating Nina, but I’d gotten over it when I realized he was a bit of a sociopath—a charming liar whose brooding intensity covered a mass of insecurities more widespread than mine. Not that I could convince Nina of that at the time. She’d had to figure it out on her own. The fact that he was trying to connect with me so soon after his divorce did not bode well, but I could be anonymous here.
“Look, Miranda, I’m not going to kick you out if you need a place to stay.” Getting to his feet, Damien offered me a hand. “You were great back there, helping out without being asked.”
I stared at his hand for a moment. Touching him, even in such an innocuous way, seemed like something that would be...significant.
“I didn’t mind.” Carefully, I laid my fingers along his palm, waiting for the pleasure of it to subside into something more tame and appropriate, considering we’d only just met. “It reminded me of home. The nice parts of home, that is.”
My voice hit a husky note that I hoped he would attribute to sentimentality instead of raw attraction. But I was drawn to Damien in a way I’d never been drawn to any other man.
For a woman like me, with the kind of dating history I’d had and the flat-out issues I had with sex and romance, this was a daunting realization. It felt encouraging in some ways, since it meant I still had a sensual fire inside me somewhere. Worrisome in other ways, since I couldn’t imagine how I’d ever act on what I felt.
The attraction seemed exciting and scary at the same time.
“Well, I owe you.” He gave my hand a gentle squeeze once I was on my feet, then let go of my fingers. “And I told you, I’ve got some extra rooms for guests who want to visit their horses on site. Why don’t you stay in one of those tonight?”
I fisted my hand, holding the feel of him tight.
“As much as I hate to impose, that would really help me out.” I wasn’t going to dissemble and try to pretend I would be fine on my own.
Pride goes before a fall, right? Or something like that. I could not afford to be proud about this.
“Sure.” He jerked a thumb in the direction of his pickup. “You need a ride back to your vehicle for a bag?”
“That’d be great.” I followed him toward the truck, hope beating fresh in my heart, along with a girlie awareness of Damien that I could not allow to distract me.
I wanted to have a good working relationship with him for the sake of the tearoom I was determined to have. Plus, I liked the idea of being in his world so I could see what new ideas I might have for Shaelynn’s hero. I might not be able to have him, but my fictional heroine could.
After all, it felt as if he’d walked out of my imagination and into my real life, waking a sleeping sensuality and stirring something...deeply appealing. If that wasn’t a sign I was supposed to be here, I didn’t know what was.
But I drew the line at acting on the heat I was feeling for Damien. Because there was no way I would let my issues with men interfere in what could still be the best business decision of my life.
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