Waiting on a Cowboy - Jennifer Ryan Page 0,22

make up excuses for my ex, too. Don’t let him get away with treating you that way.”

“Oh I won’t.” Liz raked her fingers through her hair. “I just wanted someone to date. Someone to have fun with. Someone who set off fireworks inside me when he kissed me.”

“We all want that, Liz. But it doesn’t have to be with that guy. Dating sucks. You’ve got to kiss a lot of frogs to find a prince. Toss that fish back. Something inside him is rotten.”

“You’re mixing your metaphors.”

“You get my point.”

Liz nodded. “Thanks again for stepping in. I’ve had one too many arguments today and I just didn’t have it in me for one more with him.”

“People use words to argue, not their hands.”

Ava stepped in to hug her, hit Liz’s sore shoulder and winced for Liz. “Sorry. Arguments don’t leave marks. Arguments should turn into compromises.” She smiled. “And makeup sex.”

Liz nodded. “Thanks for the rescue and the advice.”

“Want me to stay awhile? Just in case.”

“I appreciate it, but I really just want some peace and quiet and time to think.”

Ava put her hand on the doorknob. “I’m just across the landing if you need me.” Their doors faced each other. No doubt, if Clint came back, Ava would hear him.

“Thank you. I’ll be okay.”

Ava unlocked the door, opened it, and turned back. “Keep this locked all the time.” With that, she stepped out and closed the door.

Liz locked up right away, went into the kitchen, opened the fridge, pulled out a beer, unscrewed the cap, and took a deep swallow just as her phone beeped with a text.

Her hands shook as she went to grab her purse where she’d dropped it on the floor just inside the door. She checked her phone, dreading a text from Clint, but it was Tate, and her relief eased away the trembling in her body.

TATE: You ok

TATE: I’m sorry things didn’t end well again

TATE: I still need to talk to you

TATE: Call me PLEASE

Tears cascaded down her cheeks. Overwhelmed from her talk earlier with Tate, and from Clint’s . . . she didn’t know what to make of Clint right now. It seemed like nothing went right with the men in her life today. Neither of them were acting like she expected.

Uneasy, feeling a little lost, she called Tate, needing to simply hear his voice.

“Hey, Lizard. How’s my girl?” His deep voice washed through her easing her heart. He’d never called her his girl before, but the nickname brought a slight smile to her lips even as she wiped the tears away.

“I’m a little out of it right now. My best friend and I aren’t syncing anymore. The guy I’ve been seeing is . . .”

“What?”

She shook her head, unwilling to get into it. Tate would overreact. Maybe she was blowing this out of proportion, too. “Never mind.”

“Liz, if something’s wrong, you can talk to me. Even if it’s about him.”

“He has every right to be angry that—”

“You love me, not him.”

She sighed and hung her head. “That’s not fair.”

“It’s true. Right?” He sounded unsure.

“We had this talk at your place. Nothing has changed.”

“Maybe it has for me.” His voice softened with those words.

All too familiar hope sprang up inside her, but she squashed it down because she couldn’t be disappointed again or feel the fool for thinking he might actually—finally—return her feelings.

“After how we left our talk and what happened tonight—”

“What happened?” Urgency filled his voice.

She hesitated too long to answer because she didn’t want him to know that Clint scared her.

“What. Happened?” The force he put into that question hit her in the chest and made her heart beat faster.

“Never mind.”

“Liz, seriously, you’ve never had a problem speaking your mind with me. Just tell me.”

“Let’s stick to us.”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you, I think we should try us.”

“Don’t you get it, Tate, I’ve hoped so many times that you would look at me differently. That you’d feel the way I do. And now you give me maybe something has changed for you and you want to try. Do you have any idea how crushingly disappointing it is to hope you mean it but know it’s probably not true. It’s not real.”

“How do you know when I don’t?”

She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead where a headache started to pound. “I can’t do this right now. Not after . . . everything that’s happened today. I need time to think. I’m going to take my beer into

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