Why did I feel like his words were also a redirect of his own? I narrowed my eyes at him.
He arched a brow at me.
“I like to be prepared.” I swallowed. What could I say that wasn’t a lie? That would show him the real me? I wanted to offer that right now. I had the urge to give him something I never gave out—not even when I wasn’t undercover. “I grew up in foster care,” I admitted.
He went still, even his breathing slowed.
“I was sort of… scared a lot growing up.”
A rumble came from his chest.
“Nothing terrible,” I added quickly when his face suddenly turned stormy. “Just not safe.”
This man had the protector vibe in spades.
I sighed, rolled onto my back and stared up at the way the sunlight cut a triangular shape across the ceiling. “I had a rotating stream of foster siblings from terrible backgrounds and… other stuff. The family I was with last, they earned money from the state off of us kids. Anyway, one of the first things I learned to do when I left was shoot a gun. I needed to know I could look after myself.” I turned my head, looked at him. “You know?”
“What about your great uncle? Shefield wouldn’t take you in?”
I froze. Oh God! What had I said? I wasn’t Willow Johnson, the orphan. I was supposed to be Natalie Shefield. I had to think fast. “It was just a few years,” I said quickly. “While my mom was going through some stuff. She didn’t want the rest of the family to know I’d been taken away from her.”
Oh. My. God. I really fucked up.
I guess it showed how much this man had gotten under my skin. How much I wanted to show him the real me.
Rob seemed to absorb the information without any doubt, which made me feel even worse about deceiving him.
He blinked at me. “Have you had to use the gun?”
“No.” I let out a forced laugh. The lie tasted like ash in my mouth. “But I keep it close. You know, for when strangers barge in on me masturbating.”
That distraction worked. His eyes crinkled and lips curved up. He studied my face like he wanted to memorize it. “I’m sorry about your childhood.”
I was unprepared for the sharp blast of emotion that followed his words.
I never allowed myself pity, but it seemed some of it had been bottled up all these years because tears suddenly popped into my eyes. I instantly rolled away from him to hide them, but he caught my arm and turned me back.
“It’s okay,” he said softly. “We all have wounds.”
“Yeah?” My voice wobbled. “How about you, cowboy? What are your wounds?”
I didn’t expect him to answer. He’d been nothing but cocky and self-assured with me. No hint of vulnerability for miles. But he stared into my eyes. “I took over running the ranch and raising my brothers when I was sixteen. It wasn’t so bad—we made it through. But I never got to choose my life. My future got decided for me the day my parents died in a car crash.”
I reached out to run my clipped fingernails over the soft curls of his chest hair. “Your future’s still in front of you,” I reminded him softly.
His gaze traced my face. He reached out and ran the backs of his fingers across my cheek. “Yeah. It is.”
A shiver ran down my spine although I couldn’t identify its source. It wasn’t a warning—although I got that kind of prickle sometimes. It wasn’t sexual. It was more like… recognition. It scared the hell out of me. I pulled away, and he let his hand drop, as I pushed up to sit.
“Well,” he said lightly, climbing out of the bed, “if you want to target practice, we have a makeshift range on my property.” He picked his boxer briefs up from the floor and pulled them on, which was a shame. Rob, naked, was a sight.
I was here on a job not to date the cowboy next door. But target practice was part of the job, wasn’t it? So was finding out what Rob knew about Markle although that excuse was flimsy, and I knew it. From what he’d made clear the night before, Rob held no positive feelings for the guy long before I arrived. That meant they had some kind of beef between them. I doubted Rob knew his neighbor was a drug runner. Knowing how black and white Rob was, he’d have turned him into the law. He knew something about Markle, and I wanted to know what it was.
“I’d love that.” I climbed off the other side of the bed and went hunting for my clothes.
“Great.” He zipped up his jeans then grabbed his shirt off the floor. “Tomorrow? One o’clock?”