Or perhaps she was not.
By midsummer, he began avoiding rooms when she was alone inside them.
She noticed.
Of course she noticed.
One evening she cornered him outside the barn.
“Did I do something?”
“No.”
“Then why do you keep disappearing?”
“I work here.”
“You have always worked here.”
He adjusted a rope.
She crossed her arms.
“You used to drink coffee after supper.”
“I still drink coffee.”
“In the bunkhouse.”
“It’s coffee there too.”
She stared.
The cowboy refused to meet her eyes.
The ranch woman stepped closer.
He moved back.
Her expression changed.
“Are you afraid of me?”
That made him look.
“No.”
“Then why did you just retreat from a woman half your size?”
His jaw tightened.
“Exactly.”
“What?”
He turned away.
“Nothing.”
She followed.
“Not nothing.”
“Leave it.”
“No.”
He stopped.
The ranch woman nearly walked into him.
He turned.
They stood too close.
Her head barely reached his shoulder.
The cowboy looked down.
She looked up.
Something heated the air.
He spoke quietly.
“You should stop standing this close.”
“Why?”
“You know why.”
“I’d like to hear you say it.”
He exhaled slowly.
“That’s a bad idea.”
“For who?”
“Both of us.”
She smiled.
“Coward.”
His eyes darkened.
The smile disappeared from her face.
He stepped slightly closer.
Not touching.
But near enough that she felt the heat from his body.
“You think that’s what this is?”
Her pulse accelerated.
“I think you’ve been avoiding me for two weeks.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
His voice dropped.
“Because I know exactly what I want to do when you stand this close.”
Neither moved.
The ranch woman swallowed.
“What?”
He stared at her mouth.
Then looked away.
“No.”
“What?”
He stepped around her.
She caught his sleeve.
The cowboy froze.
Her fingers looked tiny around his wrist.
“Tell me.”
He looked down at her hand.
Then at her eyes.
“I want to kiss you.”
The honesty struck harder than flirtation would have.
The ranch woman’s lips parted.
The cowboy continued.
“And that’s the smallest part of the problem.”
She let go.
Not from fear.
From surprise.
He walked away.
She remained beside the barn.
Her heartbeat refused to slow.
That night, she read the same page eleven times.
The next morning, the cowboy behaved as though nothing had happened.
This infuriated her.
He discussed cattle weights.
Weather.
A broken fence.
He asked whether she wanted more ink from town.
No mention of the barn.
No mention of kissing.
No mention of the “larger problem.”
The ranch woman endured until lunch.
Then she put down her fork.
“Are you serious?”
The cowboy looked up.
“About?”
She stared.