The Maisey Yates Collection : Cowboy Heroes. Maisey Yates

see that. Except you’re in your pajamas at seven o’clock.”

      “I’m preparing for an evening in,” she said, planting her hand on her hip. “So pajamas are logical.”

      “Okay.”

      She frowned. “I’m fine.”

      “Can I come in?”

      She was frozen for a moment, not quite sure what to say. If she let him come in...well, she didn’t feel entirely comfortable with the idea of letting him in. But if she didn’t let him in, then she would be admitting that she was uncomfortable letting him in. Which would betray the fact that she actually wasn’t really all that okay. She didn’t want to do that, either.

      No wonder she had avoided sexual contact for so long. It introduced all manner of things that she really didn’t want to deal with.

      “Sure,” she said finally, stepping to the side and allowing him entry.

      He just stood there, filling up the entry. She had never really noticed that before. How large he was in the small space of her home. Because he was Chase, and his presence here shouldn’t really be remarkable. It was now.

      Because things had changed. She had changed them. She had kissed him the other day, and then...well, she had changed things.

      “There. You are in,” she said, moving away from him and heading back into the living room. She took a seat on the couch, picking up the remote control and muting the TV.

      “Movie night?”

      “Every night is movie night with enough popcorn and a can-do attitude.”

      “I admire your dedication. What’s on?”

      “Oklahoma!”

      He raised his brows. “You haven’t seen that enough times?”

      “There is no such thing as seeing a musical too many times, Chase. Multiple viewings only enhance the experience.”

      “Do they?”

      “Sing-alongs, of course.”

      “I should have known.”

      She smiled, putting a blanket back over her lap, thinking of it as a sort of flannel shield. “You should know these things about me. Really, you should know everything about me.”

      He cleared his throat, and the sudden awkwardness made her think of all the things he didn’t know about her. And the things that he did know. It hit her then—of course, right then, as he was standing in front of her—just how revealing what had happened earlier was.

      Giving a guy pleasure like that...well, a woman didn’t do that unless she wanted him. It said a lot about how she felt. About how she had felt for an awfully long time. No matter that she had tried to quash it, the fact remained that she did feel attraction for him. Which he was obviously now completely aware of.

      Silence fell like a boulder between them. Crushing, deadly.

      “Anyway,” she said, the transition as subtle as a landslide. “Why exactly are you here?”

      “I told you.”

      “Right. Checking on me. I’m just not really sure why.”

      “You know why,” he said, his tone muted.

      “You check on every woman you have...encounters with?”

      “You know I don’t. But you’re not every woman I have encounters with.”

      “Still. I’m an adult woman. I’m neither shocked nor injured.”

      She was probably both. Yes, she was definitely perilously close to being both.

      He shifted, clearly uncomfortable. Which she hated, because they weren’t uncomfortable with each other. Ever. Or they hadn’t been before. “It would be rude of me not to make sure we aren’t...okay.”

      She patted herself down. “Yes. Okay. Okay?”

      “No,” he said.

      “No? What the hell, man? I said I’m fine. Do we have to stand around talking about it?”

      “I think we might. Because I don’t think you’re fine.”

      “That’s bullshit, McCormack,” she said, rising from the couch and clutching her blanket to her chest. “Straight-up bullshit. Like you stepped in a big-ass pile somewhere out there and now you went and dragged it into my house.”

      “If you were fine, you wouldn’t be acting like this.”

      “I’m sorry, how did you want me to act?”

      “Like an adult, maybe?” he said, his dark brows locking together.

      “Um, I am acting like an adult, Chase. I’m pretending that a really embarrassing mistake didn’t happen, while I crush my regret and uncertainty beneath the weight of my caloric intake for the evening. What part of that isn’t acting like an adult?”

      “We’re friends. This wasn’t some random, forgettable hookup.”

      “It is so forgettable,” she said, her voice taking on that brash, loud quality that hurt her own ears. That she was starting to despise. “I’ve already forgotten it.”

      “How?”

      “It’s a penis, Chase, not the Sistine Chapel. My life was hardly going to be changed by the sight of it.”

      He reached forward, grabbing hold of her arm and drawing her toward him. “Stop,” he bit out, his words hard, his expression focused.

      “What are you doing?” she asked, some of her bravado slipping.

      “Calling you on your bullshit, Anna.” He lowered his voice, his tone no less deadly. She’d never seen Chase like this. He didn’t get like this. Chase was fun, and light. Well, except for last night when he’d kissed her. But even then, he hadn’t been quite this serious. “I’ve known you for fifteen years. I know when your smile is hiding tears, little girl. I know when you’re a whole mess of feelings behind that brick wall you put up to keep yourself separate from the world. And I sure as hell know when you aren’t fine. So don’t stand there and tell me that it didn’t change anything, that it didn’t mean anything. Even if you gave out BJs every day with lunch—and I know you don’t—that would have still mattered because it’s us. And we don’t do that. It changed something, Anna, and don’t you dare pretend it didn’t.”

      No. No. Her brain was screaming again, but this time she knew for sure what it was saying. It was all denial. She didn’t want him to look at her as if he was searching for something, didn’t want him to touch her as if it was only the beginning of something more. Didn’t want him to see her. To see how scared she was. To see how unnerved and affected she was. To see how very, very not brave she was beneath the shield she held up to keep the world out.

      He already knows it’s a shield. And you’re already screwed ten ways, because you can’t hide from him and you never could.

      He’d let her believe she could. And now he’d changed his mind. For some reason it was all over now. Well, she knew why. It had started with a dress and high heels and ended with an orgasm in her shop. He was right. It had changed things.

      And she had a terrible, horrible feeling more was going to change before they could go back to normal.

      If they ever could.

      “Well,” she said, hearing her voice falter. Pretending she didn’t. “I don’t think anything needs to change.”

      “Enough,” he said, his tone fierce.

      Then, before she knew what was happening, he’d claimed her lips again in a kiss that ground every other kiss that had come before it into dust, before letting them blow away on the wind.

      This