Page 18 of Roped in Rawhide

“Must be someone special to deserve a smile like that.”

The gravel in Chance’s timbre yanks me out of my bliss bubble. “Sure is.”

“Next guy on your dating roster?” His sharp jaw is especially chiseled at the moment.

I roll my eyes as he jumps to conclusions. “It’s none of your business.”

“Depending on who he is, I think it’s in your best interest to tell me. Wyatt was a horrific error in judgment that could’ve easily been prevented. I’ll step in so you can avoid that type of suffering ever again.”

“How considerate of you.” My voice couldn’t be more sarcastic if my summer bonus depended on it.

“Glad you’re seeing it my way.” He juts his chin at my phone. “So?”

There’s not a chance I’m caving on this. “Are you jealous of a text message from an unknown sender?”

“Extremely,” he admits without hesitation. “I watched from right over there while you ignored my messages. Zero reaction. You didn’t even scoff or flip off the screen. The meadow memories don’t even get a response. Whoever just text you got a very positive reaction. You’re practically glowing at whatever they sent. Damn straight I’m envious.”

Only a small portion of his man-trum piques my interest. “Meadow memories?”

There goes that blush again. I’ve only known Chance to be outgoing and confident—to an obvious fault. Bashful isn’t a quality I’d ever pin on him.

“Those are what I call the texts I’ve been sending every morning and most nights. I’m trying to remind you of the good times we’ve shared.”

My belly swoops and I inwardly curse. “There’s no denying those are thoughtful. I can tell you’re trying, but my memories of you are tainted. Anything worth remembering was replaced by your more recent… dalliances.”

His brows leap to the exposed beams above us. “Dalliances?”

My palm swats at the air as if bugs are suddenly swarming. “Do you have a better term for suddenly deciding to screw every woman who glances in your direction?”

“That’s not true,” he mutters.

“The evidence is glaring at me.” I nod at one of the girls still hoping for a second of Chance’s attention.

It’s only then I remember what he told me earlier. I snatch my phone to question my sister about her meddling.

Me: First of all, Wren is the cutest. Not sure how she’s the product of you and Brody, but I appreciate the evidence that my niece is conquering all odds. That’s not related to my second point. Did you give Chance tips on how to grovel?

Paisley: Yes? It was mostly Bianca’s idea.

Me: I’d love to hear more about this while eating a very expensive five-course meal and you pick up the tab.

Paisley: I’m sorry in advance for whatever he does.

Me: Too late. Word is already spreading. You’ll hear the news shortly.

“Hey,” Chance says softly. “I’m sorry for fucking this up. Again. Give me an example of a good grovel strategy.”

I rub my temples. “It’s not a strategy. Groveling should be genuine and considerate. Don’t overthink it or use cliches.”

“But chasing off assholes doesn’t count?”

“Not if that involves falsely implying that I have a STD.” It’s going to take months for me to live that down.

The cringe screwing up his features agrees. “How about ‘Strawberry Wine’?”

“That was decent, but still put a huge spotlight on us. I don’t want people to assume we’re together.”

Chance’s shoulders droop, but he recovers quickly. “Okay, I’ll keep that in mind.”