The Bull Rider's Plan

“Not really hungry.”

“Yet you bought yourself a burger.”

“I’ll eat it later.”

“When it’s cold?”

“Look who’s talking. That thing you’re about to bite into isn’t exactly steaming.”

“I don’t mind cold burgers. I eat them a lot on the job. I’d buy burgers at night before I headed back to the motel, and pack them for my lunch the next day.”

Em wrinkled her nose, but again did not look at him. He found himself wanting her to look at him—just a quick look so that he could assure himself that he was back in control. That he didn’t really feel anything but brotherly affection for her. It was Em, for Pete’s sake.

“What exactly do you do? I know it has to do with construction, but...what is your job?”

“I travel around the state—well, a lot of states, really—putting up steel-framed buildings.”

“You put them up?”

“I oversee the crew.” And if bull riding didn’t work out, he’d try to get his job back.

“Ah. So you were the boss. You should have been good at that.”

“Why?”

“Think about it, Jess. You’re always trying to boss me around.”

Jess smiled a little and felt himself relax as he took another bite of the cold hamburger. As long as Em kept talking, he had nothing to worry about.

* * *

EMMA HAD TERRIFIC peripheral vision, and she’d watched Jess watch her when he was supposedly trying to go to sleep. More than watching, he’d been studying her. Like the classic bug under a microscope.

What gave there? Especially after he’d said he didn’t want her watching him?

He seemed normal enough now, as he ate cold fries and a cold burger and gave her driving advice, which she really didn’t need, but pretended she did, to keep the peace. She had the strong feeling that he was actively looking for things to advise her on—things that she could probably figure out herself, such as the pothole big enough to swallow the truck. Yes, Jess, I was totally going to drive into that thing and break an axle.

Things felt a little...off.

Great. Here she was trying to get her life back on track and now she had something else to figure out. Although she hadn’t thought about Selma’s MPFEL—Master Plan for Emma’s Life—since she’d started driving. And the stress that seized her up whenever she did think about it wasn’t quite as bone crushing as before. Must be the many miles between them.

As to Darion, well, she didn’t mind thinking about him, because they’d been in deep mutual agreement the last time they’d spoken. Bullet dodged. End of story.

In some ways, she felt closer to Darion now, after they’d done the hard thing and faced up to the fact that their relationship was pleasant, but not much else. Going through life with a friend wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world—unless one wanted some excitement in their life. Emma had missed excitement, and trying not to involve herself in things that bothered Darion hadn’t been easy for a girl that tended to shoot from the hip. He’d always been a good sport, but...yeah.

“Watch—”

“I see it!” Like she could miss the truck parked on the shoulder of the road with orange cones leading up to it. She eased into the passing lane as soon as the car behind her whizzed past, giving the truck a wide berth.

“Just making sure.”

“No. You’re micromanaging and I’ve had enough of that for a while. Okay?” She frowned at him. “And don’t complain about me looking at you when you’ve been doing the same to me.”

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