This Love (Cowboys & Angels 6)

I knew why I had run. The sight of Kylie, the girl who Cord had been fuck buddies with, had shaken me core. It had brought out a fear I had buried deep inside yet pretended didn’t exist. Thinking back on it now, it didn’t make any sense. Cord had sounded so sick when I talked to him. Melanie and Amelia said he had been so weak he couldn’t even go to the doctor. How in the world could he have had the energy or desire to have sex? I’d let her nasty words fill me head and stir up that doubt. It was her crawling into his bed that had thrown me for a loop.

I’d felt this way since I woke up from a dream. Cord was begging me to listen to him, let him explain and I wouldn’t. I kept running and he kept following me. Everywhere I went, he would show up. The look of sheer panic in his eyes when I would say we were over was what woke me up, gasping for breath.

Deep down I knew I had been insecure about me relationship with Cord. He was handsome, built like a god, charming, and had a history of being a ladies’ man. Women hit on him every night at the bar and for years he had acted on those advances. Was I really that naïve to think he could stop and be committed to one woman?

I closed me eyes and thought about the last time we were together. I knew with every ounce of me being Cord loved me. The way he looked at me when he made love to me was etched into me memory. More tears fell as I realized Cord would never hurt me. He had told me he loved me. He had chosen me to be with. He had been in me bed nearly every night pulling me body next to his. No other woman but me.

I had read into things and that was what Kylie was hoping for. But why had he not called? Paxton had said Cord was still sick when she called yesterday. It was then I started to doubt what had really happened. I had told her everything and assumed she would have confronted Cord by now. If Paxton could call me, Cord could, as well. Unless something had happened to him. My mind was now a mixture of even more emotions. What if things turned for the worse and Cord had gotten sicker? Surely Melanie or one of the girls would have called me. Wouldn’t they? Maybe they were upset that I’d run without giving Cord a chance to tell his side of things.

Shite. Why had I acted like such a foolish child?

Gasping at the thought that something bad might have happened, I turned the horse around and gave him a swift kick in the side. We were soon racing toward the stables.

The need to get back to America and to Cord was overwhelming. I had run away like a scared little girl and that wasn’t who I was. I’d find out the truth for meself and if Cord had cheated, I’d kick his ass. If he hadn’t, I’d beg for him to forgive me for not trusting him and giving him a chance to explain.

By the time I got back to the stables, I was sweating. It was cold out, but me adrenaline was off the charts and just squeezing me legs on Forest, my father’s prized paint horse, had worked up a sweat. Rushing back toward the house, I heard me da’s voice calling out for me.

“Maebh! Maebh! Where’s the fire?”

Sliding to a halt, I rushed over. “I have to go back to him.”

His eyes widened in surprise while he stood before me. He was dressed in work boots, jeans, and a T-shirt that read Sona, the company he had worked so hard at building and making into one of the best whiskeys in Ireland and the world.

“What are you talking about?” he finally asked.

“I have to go back to America. I need to know for sure if what I saw really was what I thought it was.”

A slow curve lifted his lips and relief washed over his face. Like I was finally getting something he had gotten long before.

“What?” I asked, my brows furrowed as his slow grin grew to a wide smile.

“I think you’d be making a mistake to go to America, lass.”

“Why?” I asked. Wasn’t it my father who had been telling me to call Cord the last few days? To get his side of the story? Now he was telling me not to go.

“Before you go throwing punches at me, let’s get inside for some tea.”

“Da, I really need—”

He held up his hand to stop me from talking. “Give me ten minutes, Maebh O’Sullivan, before you go tearing out of here and firing up the plane again. Cool that temper and relax the desire to solve the problem this instant. Ten minutes, that’s all I want.”