He wasn’t ready to go there. Not with so much at stake.
Declan opened the passenger door the minute he stopped in the pasture. “You think on it too long, it might be too late.” Declan climbed out and slammed the door on the ominous declaration.
The cows made their way across the pasture, the sound of the truck bringing them for the feed Declan started tossing out the bed of the truck.
Tate slammed his hand against the steering wheel. “Shit.”
He needed to talk to Liz. Clear the air. Get their friendship back on track. Figure out where her head was at, and why the hell she’d give that guy the time of day.
Could they still be friends if she was with someone else?
If she left Clint, did Tate want something more with her?
Could he risk what they had for something more?
If he lost her either way, could he live with that?
He didn’t want to think about it.
Either way, he was tired of not knowing what she thought and what she wanted.
He’d always known she’d liked him more than as a friend. He never acknowledged it or threw it in her face. Maybe his avoiding it had grown tiresome for her.
He’d been careful not to hurt her feelings.
Maybe his silence hurt more than if they’d talked about it and put it out there in the open.
They’d had their share of spats in the past—mostly because he’d pissed her off about something—but they’d always worked things out.
Most of this was probably his fault. He accepted that, no problem.
If she had something to say, if she was angry with him for something he’d done, she should have come to him, not shut him out for six long weeks.
And okay, it shouldn’t have taken him that long to figure out they had a problem.
Having a lot going on in his life didn’t excuse him from being blind and deaf when it came to his best friend.
He’d fix this.
He had to, because he didn’t want to think about his life without Liz in it.
Chapter Four
Liz looked up to greet the next customer coming in the door at Zen Out, the day spa she managed, but the only thing she could see of the guy behind the huge bouquet of flowers he carried were his black pants and shoes.
“Hello there,” she called.
“Delivery for Liz Scott.” The delivery guy set the basket on the counter and stepped to the side to see her.
“That’s me.”
He handed over a tablet. “Sign here please.”
She squiggled what would have to pass as her signature with her fingertip and smiled. “I can’t believe they’re for me.”
“Enjoy. Have a good day.” He walked out without her even attempting to give him a tip.
She couldn’t take her eyes off the pretty flowers. Red roses, white carnations, pink lilies, purple asters were mixed in the greenery.
She pulled the card out and read it.
Even these aren’t as pretty as you.
See you tonight. Clint
She woke up this morning with a sense of relief that she’d decided to pump the brakes on her relationship with Clint. If it didn’t feel right, she didn’t want to waste time waiting for it to give her the feelings she thought she should have with someone.
And then Clint went and did this and her heart soared. The unexpected gift made her second-guess how she felt about him. Maybe she’d been too rash to think that one bad night meant they were doomed to a bad relationship.
The bell dinged again. She tore her gaze from the flowers and took in the long, tall cowboy walking toward her without his signature good-natured smile.
Tate stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets. “I’d have gotten you those pony flowers you like.”
“Peony,” she corrected, but had to smile at his folly, though she suspected he knew the name of the flowers she liked and purposefully used pony to make her laugh. It worked. With Tate, it all worked. Except for the one thing she wanted with him: their friendship with sex.
“And these are lovely.”
Tate’s gaze took in the huge bouquet. “That’s a pretty big apology for him acting like a jackass last night.”
“Imagine if we were dating and you had to make up for being a jackass for the last six weeks,” she shot back.
Tate sighed and hung his head.
Damnit, she hated when he looked all adorably apologetic. She usually let him off the hook without a second thought.