Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

DEAN

At the grocery store, looking over the steaks, Dean caught something yellow out of the corner of his eye. An older woman carried a bouquet of sunflowers. He smiled. Gemma liked sunflowers.

“Excuse me, Ma’am.”

She turned. “Yes?”

“Where did you get those?”

She grinned. “About a block down the road. There’s a stand.”

He nodded. “Thanks.”

Gemma

Gemma had two more days before the fair. It’d been a week since she’d last heard from Dean. He’d paid her invoice promptly and hadn’t spoken to her since. Which was a good thing. If he had come around, she might not have been able to be as productive.

She got her brand-new extractor, Xavier, and after a few late nights, she had all the honey she needed. So, really, fucking a nectar covered Dean had been the best thing. She got it out of her system.

Except, it didn’t feel that way.

As she poured the warmed liquid into the tube for lip balm, she sighed. She’d be lying if she didn’t admit to being disappointed Dean hadn’t fought for her. He’d cowered in a ball and let Parker beat the shit out of him. Then he left, tail between his legs, never to be heard from again.

That wasn’t a cowboy fantasy. That was a coward. She’d built him up in her head over the years. Maybe she never really knew him. Parker was right. He was a fuck boy.

Oh well.

Turning, she patted the side of her new honey extractor. At least she got Xavier out of it.

“Special delivery,” Dean drawled from behind her.

Startled, Gemma twirled to face him. The lip balm fluid dripped on her leg.

“Shit!” She jumped to her feet and slapped at her thigh while placing the container on the table.

Dean rushed to her side. “Are you okay?”

She sighed. “Yeah. It cools quickly. I just have wax stuck to my leggings now.”

Doing her best to smile, she switched her focus to him and cocked her head to the side as she noticed he carried a bouquet of sunflowers in one hand, and a small brown bag in the other.

“What’s that?” she pointed.

His cheeks turned a slight shade of pink. “An apology.”

“For?”

“The other day was a mess. I didn’t handle it well.”

“I don’t think anyone did.”

He offered her the flowers. “So, I figured I could grill you some steaks and we could have a nice dinner to talk.”

Her stomach fluttered. This was her childhood dream, but something didn’t sit right. It had been a week, after all. This gesture would’ve been a lot sweeter a few days ago.

“Did things not work out with Daphne?”

“Huh?” He blinked several times, as though confused.

“Parker told me he saw you out on a date.”

“He doesn’t know what he saw.” Dean lowered the flowers.

Oh really? She lifted her brows. “So, my brother is a liar?”

“I didn’t say that.” Dean sounded exasperated. “Daphne’s brother is a saddle bronc rider too. She offered to introduce me to her uncle so he could train me to get back out on the circuit.”

The sincerity in his voice made it hard to doubt him, and she wanted to believe him. He had no reason to lie to her, but something about that nagged at her. “Does that mean you’re going back out on the road?”

He sighed and strolled deeper into her shed. Once he put the flowers and the grocery bag down, he ran his hand along the back of his neck.

Did he wince? Concern flourished in her chest at the thought he may have gotten injured when Parker beat him up.

“I don’t know.”

Well, that wasn’t a promising answer. “Why are you here?”

He closed the distance between them and took her hands. “Because you’re not just some random hookup. You’re Gemma Clayton, and I’d like an opportunity to have a relationship with you.”

“But you’re going back to the rodeo?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

She pulled her hands from his and stepped away. “If you go out there, what would that mean?”

He lifted a shoulder. “I dunno. You could come with me.”

“But what about my bees?”

He furrowed his brows. “They’re bees. Don’t they just do their thing?”

“No,” she balked. “I have to actually take care of them. I have a business here.” She gestured to the crates of honey, candles, and lip balm.

He scanned the shelves of her products. “Hot Mess Honey,” he read the labels and snickered. “Cute name.”

She knew it was. That was why she picked it, but that wasn’t the point. “I can’t just leave it all behind to follow you around the country.”

Dean rubbed the back of his neck again. “Well, I might be injured beyond repair.”

Her heart ached at his admission, but there was something more.

“So, it’s possible I can’t go out again.”

“Does that make me Plan B? If you can’t get bucked off a horse, you might as well ride me? I’m second place?”

“No!”

“Well, that’s what it sounds like.” Irrational anger flared in her chest.

First Billy didn’t find her good enough, and now Dean. If she alone wasn’t enough for him to stay in Marshall, then he could take his sunflowers and steaks and shove them up his ass. She snatched the things he brought off the table and thrust them into his chest.

“I already have plans for dinner,” she lied. “Maybe Daphne would like to travel with you.”

“Gemma,” he pleaded.

“You gotta go. I need to get ready for my date.”

Awkwardly, he took hold of the bag, but dropped the sunflowers on the table. “These are for you. Sunflowers will always be for you.” He turned and left.

Gemma wrapped her arms around herself and fought back tears. She was no one’s second choice—Not even Dean Welker’s.