She inhales a breath through her nose, her eyes finding mine. “I’m sorry.”
Arching a brow, I wait for her to elaborate, but she doesn’t. She just watches me, waiting for me to respond.
Unfuckingbelievable.
That’s what she is.
Shaking my head, I turn toward the door, pushing it open and jumping out. Ignoring her, I make my way toward the back of the truck and grab an armful of lumber, carrying it over to my Gator and start to load it up.
Chapter Six
STEPHANIE
Ford doesn’t respond to my apology. In fact, he completely ignores my words and climbs out of the truck, slamming the door behind him. He actually goes about his business like I’m not even here, the asshole.
Narrowing my eyes at him, I pull the handle of the door and push it open before I slide down, careful not to fall on my ass in my high-heeled booties. I’d forgotten what it was really like here, that sky-high heels are more of a hazard than fashionable.
“Excuse me,” I call out as I march toward him with as much sass as I can muster without falling flat on my ass.
Ford doesn’t stop what he’s doing as he breezes past me to grab another load of wood and carry it over to his ATV thing.
“I’m talking to you,” I snap.
He drops his load of wood, looking over his shoulder at me, his lips thinning into a line as he presses them together.
“Everyone always drops what they’re doing when you talk to them these days?” he asks.
Growling, I stomp my foot like a little kid. “There was a time when you did, that’s for certain,” I point out.
He snorts, straightening as he turns toward me, placing his hand on his hip. My eyes travel down to those lean hips, the way his jeans hug his thick thighs. I can’t stop myself from licking my lips at the sight. Tree trunks, that’s what they look like, I can’t deny that I wonder what kind of power they hold, what kind of power his entire muscular body holds.
“Keep looking at me like that, Stevie, and I’ll do a lot more to you then that fuck did in those pictures that are everywhere.”
My eyes fly up to meet his, my lips part and I let out a gasp. “You didn’t just say that to me. How did you see those?” I whisper.
Shaking his head, he smirks. “You think we don’t have internet out here? WiFi?” he asks.
“I just. God, did everyone see?” I moan, thinking of the party yesterday and wondering if they all saw my breasts in clear focus.
Ford chuckles, though it lacks actual humor and sounds more bitter. “Yeah, Stevie. Beau’s the one who told me to look it up. Must say, the new hardware is fuckin’ beautiful, honey.”
The goosebumps that appear on my flesh, the wave of desire that shimmies up and down my spine shouldn’t be there. His words are almost vulgar, they’re definitely not nice, and totally ungentlemanly.
“You’re not the gentleman you once were, Ford Matthews,” I hiss.
Ford lets out a loud guffaw. “I’m not. You ain’t the sweet girl you once were either, Stevie. Seems we’ve both changed. You ready to tell me what the fuck you want to talk to me about, so I can get my work done for the day?”
Licking my lips, I press them together before I roll them, trying to think about exactly how I want to word what I want to say to him. I’ve thought about this moment for years, and I never imagined it would be like this, or that it would be this hard.
“God, you’re an asshole,” I point out. He smirks but doesn’t reply. “I’m sorry.”
“So you said.”
“Oh, you heard me and you just chose to ignore me?” I ask.
He shrugs a shoulder and I watch as he lifts his hand, grabbing a hold of the bill of his hat and readjusting it on his head, the move far sexier than it should be, especially as his bicep flexes. God, why does he have to be the sexiest thing I’ve seen on two legs in years?
My ex-fiancé was handsome, but he was pretty. So pretty that he had a longer morning and evening regime than I did. Plus, his bills to the spa tripled mine. He also couldn’t keep his dick to himself, and it wouldn’t surprise me if he took those pictures with a hidden camera and sold them just for publicity.
There is no way paparazzi had cameras that could be that clear from as far away as they had to be. Those pictures were taken in his house. In his bedroom, with the curtains closed.
“Yeah, I did. Not sure what you’re sorry for,” he says with a shrug.
Grinding my jaw together, I shake my head. “Are you being serious right now? You’re going to make me tell you, in detail?”
Ford crosses his arms over his broad chest, his muscles stretching and bulging under his shirt, and the Texas heat gets at least twenty degrees hotter just with that one damn move.
“I am. Because, Stevie, I believe I deserve at least that much.”
“It was seventeen years ago, Ford,” I whisper.
He shakes his head once, his eyes lowering to the ground, and I watch as he spits into the dirt before he lifts his gaze up to meet my own.
“Yeah? Seems like it was fuckin’ yesterday I stood not too far from here and watched you turn tail and fucking sprint from me. You were my best friend. The only girl I ever kissed, the only girl I ever loved, and you fucking ran. Then, you refused to see me again, to explain why. So, yeah, I think I deserve a fucking hell of a lot more than a piss poor sorry.”
Without another word, he turns his back to me, and I watch his booted feet stomp into the barn. Closing my eyes, I’m unable to stop the few tears that fall down my cheeks.
He’s right.
Every single word he’s said to me is one hundred percent correct, and I feel like the biggest bitch on the planet. How could I have done that to him? How? I was eighteen, but that’s no excuse for my selfish behavior. I wasn’t raised to be like that, how could I have been so damn selfish?
“You wanna talk to me while I’m muckin’ out these stalls, or are you gonna stand there and get sunburned?” he calls out.
My feet immediately move forward, without even thinking about it, I make my way into the barn. Memories by the thousands assault me as soon as the scent of hay, wood, and leather hit my senses.
I think about the thousands of times I stepped into this exact barn, saddled up one of the horses, or climbed up behind Ford on his and we would ride.
I loved it.
I loved every second of being on this ranch, of being with him here, in his element, in the place that I knew he loved more than anything else on earth. I couldn’t make him leave this ranch, his home. I couldn’t make him give up any of this for me and my dreams. I just couldn’t bear it.
FORD
Sorry.
I fucking hate that pitiful excuse of an apology. I deserve more than that, our relationship deserves more than that.
We weren’t just acquaintances.
Stevie was my everything.
She was the woman I had planned on spending the rest of my life with, the woman that was supposed to carry my children and spend her entire goddamn life with me, by my side.
I’m sorry.
Fuck that shit.
“I don’t know what to say,” she whispers from the entrance of the barn.