The Cowboy's Texas Rose (The Dixons of Legacy Ranch 1)

She stepped back again, scanning the great room quickly to see that her students were all engaged in the film and not witnessing Howie’s behavior. Secretly hoping Toby would emerge from his office, where he seemed to be holed up again.

“But you were then. When it mattered.”

“I was immature. I blew it. It was all that old political theory I was reading about. Why are you being so stubborn?”

Shewas stubborn? He was the one who couldn’t seem to let it go. “Those memories will always be there. I’ve moved on. And you need to, also. One look at Toby and you’ve acted like you have some right to counsel me, as if he’s stealing something from you that you never really had.”

Howard scoffed. “That’s rich, Rose—”

“And another thing.” She set down her plate, ready to duel, and softened her voice further. He’d fired her up, and he’d best buckle up for the ride now. “You think the rules only apply to you? That you can see whoever you want, when you want? You don’t get to tell me what to do, and you don’t get to offer me unsolicited advice.”

“You’re telling me that I’ve wasted three years trying to prove I deserve another chance? That you get to strut around with some guy in front of me and you don’t think it will bother the shit out of me? Is that what you’re doing? Trying to make me jealous so I’ll fall at your feet and beg forgiveness? Why won’t you give me another chance?”

She was so shocked, it was hard to find words. Kelsey and a few others looked back at them, as if sensing a disagreement. Rose smiled at them, then walked behind the wall as Howie followed to block their view. But her teeth ached, she was clenching them so hard. Anger kicked her gut. She whirled around to face him.

“I’m only going to say this one more time. Back. Off. Me. Or I’ll see you removed from this project and reported for harassment.”

“Is that a threat, Rosalinda?”

God, she was going to sound like a stupid movie script again.

“It’s a promise, Howard. We are over. You either remain professional and keep your focus on this project, or you’re done at the panther shaman site and I will personally see to it the dean is made aware of this.”

Howard’s face contorted spitefully. “So it’s like that? I try to tell you how I feel, and you spit on it?”

“Yes, it’s like that.” She folded her arms. No sense in trying to soften the blow.

He scoffed at her, his voice lowering and his words darkening. “You don’t hold as much sway as you think—”

“This conversation is over.”

Howard backed up a step, a smug smile tugging his lips upward, then his eyes flicked toward the TV. “I wish I didn’t have to watch this stupid shit.”

“Then don’t. Go back to the campsite. No one’s forcing you to be here.”

He gave her a two-fingered salute, the smugness never leaving his face, and pivoted to go into the great room where he plopped down onto an unoccupied corner of the couch. Great. He would stay just to suffocate her with his presence.

Rose took a deep breath, trying to stanch the trembling that had overcome her. Anger. Pure, unadulterated anger. And frustration. How was she going to join the others and pretend nothing was wrong? When the way Howie had been acting was causing the hairs on her arms to stand on end, alert? He hadn’t threatened her. Not exactly. She couldn’t prove he’d done anything to unsettle her.

But if she lodged a complaint, would the dean think she was overreacting? Would he take her seriously? Would he rescind his willingness to recommend her because he thought she was involved with Toby during university time? The dean had already told her once, “Say the word, and I’ll send a letter of recommendation. You do fine work, Rose. Your research is original. You’re talented. Any institution would be lucky to have you as a professor. You deserve to go places, and I’m happy to help how I can.”

He’d meant it. At least, he’d said he did.

Stunned, she walked woodenly back to her plate. Her appetite had fled, and she stared at the beans and rice and chicken and peppers blandly as if they were stacks of administrative filing that had to be completed by end-of-business. But the way Howie’s face had darkened, the way he’d smirked, as if he had an ace up his sleeve, rankled.

“The food not good?” Toby said from behind her, a teasing edge to his low voice.

She turned around, so lost in thought that she hadn’t been aware of anyone approaching. He wore a mesh-back baseball cap, turned backward, so that his scruffy hair stuck out cutely. His face, alight and ready to joke, instantly furrowed, and he took her elbow, his tone growing serious.

“What’s wrong?”

She shook her head. “Nothing.” She forced a smile. “I’m fine.”

“Bullshit. What’s wrong?” Did Toby really know her so well already? “You’re pale as a sheet. You’ve been staring at the food spread for thirty seconds at least.”

She shook her head again, her eyes flitting to Howard, who was glancing her way impassively, his mere presence enough to silence her. She’d sleep on it, and hopefully in the morning, when she had perspective, she’d be able to decide a rational course of action.

“Just an incident with a crewmate. I’m thinking about what to do, that’s all.” She forced one more smile, picked up her plate, and stuffed another bite in her mouth, even though it tasted no better than sawdust now. “It’s good. My compliments to the chef.”