“No, Dan, because it’s ancient history that—and I know this will be hard for you to accept—has nothing to do with you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go to the bathroom.”
He didn’t say anything, the hard weight of guilt and self-disgust lodging itself tight in his chest.
Georgia hurried up to the booth, sliding the plates onto the table in her harried manner. For the first time since he’d been here, not one ounce of that burger looked or smelled appetizing.
Hell, maybe he’d found his diet after all. All he’d needed was a little bad behavior and a few dashes of self-loathing.
Chapter 9
They ate lunch in silence. No matter how weird things were, no matter how irritated she got with him, or vice versa, they’d never sat in silence for this long. Dan always broke and said some stupid joke or something.
Anything.
But he ate his burger in silence, leaving half of it on his plate as he got up to pay the bill.
Mel had no idea what she’d done wrong. She didn’t spill her sad Tyler history and wasn’t going to. No reason for him to be bent out of shape.
But…
Damn buts.
She could have been more forthcoming. She probably should have been. Not because she owed him exactly, but because seeing Tyler should not have been a big deal. Talking about Tyler should not mean anything, or be something she avoided.
It was ancient history. The ancient-est. She should have explained he was an ex, and there were no hard feelings, and this was nothing. Certainly nothing for her and Dan to be fighting over, or whatever it was they were doing.
But it hurt. Tyler being nice hurt. Wanting to catch up.
She wished she could blame him for everything that had happened, but in the long line of people who’d turned their backs on her, Tyler was the most justified.
“Ready?”
She glanced up at Dan, standing next to the table in almost the exact same spot Tyler had stood. Back in town. Possibly not for a short while. Meaning she’d likely run into him a billion and one times.
Have to deal with that low-level guilt, that insidious line of thought that told her something was wrong with her for not making it work, not giving a little when he’d wanted something so simple, so fundamental.
You don’t…you don’t love me? You’ll marry me, but you don’t love me?
She shoved out of the booth and forced herself out of the diner, trying to leave that uncomfortable memory behind. The look of shock and horror on Tyler’s face when he’d faced her with that impossible question. She’d been too stressed and worried and sick with everything going on with Dad to lie, to pretend she wasn’t unworthy of all that devotion.
She didn’t love him. Had never really loved him. He’d just been a perfectly serviceable choice. Reliable. Wouldn’t leave. Was good with letting her take the reins. Never pushed.
Never gave you an orgasm.
That thought was all Dan’s fault, because she had a really bad feeling he’d be quite the expert on that front.
Good Lord.
She climbed into her truck, and they drove the entire way back to Dan’s ranch in silence. More silence. She pulled her truck up Dan’s drive, around the house, and up to the llama enclosure. He hopped out without a word.
Fine. That was great. Maybe that could last the whole day. By the time she forced herself out of the truck, Dan already had the back opened and was collecting an armful of posts.
She swallowed at the lump in her throat, irritated that emotion was clogged there. Words were clogged there, and they wanted to escape.
He walked over to the enclosure. Stomped, more like. Pissed, like he’d been when he had talked to his agent on the phone outside the restaurant in Bozeman.
Yeah, when you promised yourself you wouldn’t let him get to you anymore.
He was making her really bad at keeping promises to herself, because the words were pushing out her throat. The explanations—she couldn’t keep them in. “We were engaged.”
He stopped mid-stride, a hitch in his step before he dumped the pieces of wood in an unceremonious pile next to where they’d decided to expand. Slowly, he turned, eyebrows drawn together as he studied her. “You were engaged to that guy?”
“Yes.” Why was she telling him this? He had no right to know her personal life, and yet he made her feel like a jerk for keeping it to herself.
Or you’re that desperate to talk to someone about it. Which was beyond pathetic. Everything with Tyler had blown up years ago. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d thought of it. She’d moved on, or at the least buried it. There had been more important things on her plate to deal with. Dad. Caleb. And now Dan. Dan’s ranch, anyway.
Yeah, like Dan isn’t on your plate too.
She whirled back to the lumber. They needed to focus on work. She’d explained and—
“So what happened? He broke your heart and deserves a punch in the face? Because I’d happily offer my services in that department.”