Suddenly he had no idea why he’d been in such a rush to get down here. What could he say? I’m not actually engaged anymore, so let’s resume our plans to fuck and forget each other.
What a pointless waste. And he was running out of energy for it all. It was the first time he’d ever thought about getting high in her presence. That hollow ache, that familiar acidic, internal corrosion that reminded him he’d never be good enough and would only taint someone as pure and beautiful as Stella Jo Chandler, began to consume him.
He had no clue what the hell he’d ever been thinking. This woman deserved a fairytale, a Prince Charming who’d ride in on one of these fucking four-legged creatures and sweep her off into a happily ever after. That wasn’t him. Could never he him.
He released an imprisoned breath. In a way, letting the fantasy of her go was a relief. He never could’ve lived up to what she’d expect or deserve. Well…maybe when it came to making her scream as he gave her orgasm after orgasm, he could have. Other than that, no fucking way.
But as she turned to the side and gifted him a glance at her profile, he couldn’t help but see how sad she looked. He noticed how the rounded swells of her breasts peeked at him from above the deep neckline of her white tank top also, but surprisingly, that wasn’t what caught his attention. Not entirely, anyways. It was the way her mouth was drawn downward, the way she chewed her bottom lip, almost like she was worried. And when she finally turned to face him, that light in her eyes—the one he usually credited himself for—was gone.
“I’m pretty much done for the night,” she said softly, avoiding his direct gaze. “I don’t really need you.”
The fuck she didn’t. Maybe she didn’t need him to help take inventory of supplies and shit, but this woman needed him. He wasn’t even sure in what way exactly. When her searching stare finally landed directly on him, he didn’t care if all she ever needed from him was raging orgasms. He’d give them to her—gladly. For as long as she’d let him.
“Stella Jo, listen, I—”
Her hand up stopped him mid-sentence. “I’m kind of tired, Van. It’s been an exhausting day. Thanks for coming down, but as you can see, everything’s already taken care of. Excuse me.”
Bullshit. She hadn’t been taken care of. Watching her force her shoulders back and her chin up, he suspected she’d never really been taken care of. By anyone. Likely she was the type that always took care of herself.
He’d never taken care of anyone before. He’d always been more the selfish type that remained oblivious to what other people needed. Look out for number one and all that. Because with the exception of Val, most everyone else seemed to be out for themselves. But he damn sure wanted to take care of this woman. In every way imaginable.
Remembering how she usually backed off when Shadowdancer got riled up—and the near disaster from the one time she hadn’t—Van decided to give her some space. Like that day with the nurse, she’d jumped to a conclusion that had pissed her off. Granted, Vanessa had probably shouted her lies from the fucking rooftop, so it was a natural conclusion to jump to. And while he hated hurting her, in a warped sort of way, it made his dick brutally hard that she was jealous. It also provoked a strange tightness in his chest, but he was ignoring that for the most part.
“What about you, Stella Jo? Are you taken care of?”
She raised an eyebrow as she passed him but exited the barn without a word.
Following her out of the stables, he kept a step behind as he walked her to her door. Like the overly obsessed creeper he was quickly becoming.
“Hey,” he said as she opened her door. “For the record, I’m not engaged.” He shrugged when she said nothing, and just stared at him impassively as if she couldn’t give two shits if he was engaged or not.
“Your personal life is none of my business.”
His hand struck out and caught the edge of her door before she could close it. “Okay. But I’m not and I haven’t been for a long time. I wanted you to know—whether you actually give a damn or not is up to you.”
“Okay,” she said quietly. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Stella Jo.”
He let go of the door and she closed it in his face with a gentle click.
She was mad. Or hurt. Or both. And quite possibly, she was done with him and their little flirtation altogether.
But her words from a few nights ago haunted him.
“But now, after…after that… If we don’t, if you never so much as touch me again, I’m afraid I’ll lose my mind.”
Then that would make two of them.
Chapter Seventeen
Stella Jo was functioning on autopilot.
It was her fourth twelve-hour shift in a row, and she was running out of steam. After tossing and turning all night, picturing Van Ransom and Rock Star Barbie together, she’d barely gotten a few hours of sleep. And even then, he’d invaded her dreams.
For the past few hours, she’d preserved the miniscule amount of energy she possessed by performing her job-related tasks without talking or smiling or maintaining her usual forced demeanor. She was communicating like a cavewoman, primarily with head nods.
She took another stack of files from Dr. McLendon and handed over the ones she’d completed transcribing.
“Feeling okay, Miss Chandler?” the blonde asked before Stella walked away.
“Stella, please.” Irritated that she’d let her Van Ransom-induced exhaustion show, she painted on the widest smile she could. “Oh, yes. Just a little preoccupied is all. Lots to do before the weekend.”
The therapist sighed. “Tell me about it.” She offered Stella a sympathetic smile, and Stella noticed that the woman looked a little sad. Maybe that smile was more empathetic than sympathetic.
“You okay, Miranda?”
Quickly brightening in a way Stella suspected was forced, she nodded. “Yeah, it’s just… You know. When you live where you work, sometimes it’s like you’re always carrying it around. The stress, the pressure, the never-ending to-do list.”
Stella agreed wholeheartedly. “You live on-site also? I’m in the Homestead cabin, near the stables. I help out with the horses.”
It was the most words she’d spoken all day. The woman had the kind of eyes that made Stella feel comfortable sharing. Which wasn’t really something she did with anyone. Well anyone without four legs and a tail.
“I’m in the Wild Catter, whatever the hell that is.”
Both women chuckled. But as soon as he entered the room, Stella felt her muscles tighten, felt the tension pulling her hard enough to cause physical pain.
“Be right with you, Mr. Walker,” the doctor called over her shoulder.
“I should let you get back to work. Nice chatting with you.” Stella pushed the constricting lump down her throat and nodded her goodbye.
“Hey, you want to grab a drink sometime in the near future? Away from this place?” Miranda inquired too low for anyone else to hear.
Stella nodded. “Yeah, that sounds great actually.”
“Thank God. I don’t know how many more bottles of Merlot I can polish off alone before I have to check myself in.”
Surprisingly, Stella grinned for real this time. She had a feeling she and Miranda McLendon had a lot in common. She’d seen the attractive woman sitting alone at lunch and wondered what her story was. Looked like she was going to find out. And make a friend. Though the last friend she’d had ended up in bed with her ex-boyfriend.
She did her best to keep her eyes off of Van’s face as she moved toward him on her way out of the office.
Apparently he didn’t approve of being ignored. A warm hand encircled her wrist as she passed.
“You have dark circles under you eyes, cowgirl.” His observation was quiet but his voice was laced with inexplicable anger. “I can’t help but think they have something to do with me.”