Free Runaway Cowboy by T. J. Kline Page B

rock from the ground, bouncing it in his hand, checking the shape and weight like a pro.
    She eyed him with distrust. “What’s the prize?”
    â€œWhat do you want?” His voice was husky, laced with innuendo, and she felt his gaze as it traveled over her.
    Every limb in her body went weak as heat coursed through her, pooling in places only he seemed to awaken. Her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath, the heat of his gaze drawing her closer to him, making her want to run her hands over him, to feel the valleys of hard muscle while his lips and hands banished their history in the wake of desire.
    Realization dawned. As much as she wanted to believe it was just lust she felt for Clay, it wasn’t true. She still loved him and needed him as much as she ever had. It didn’t matter how badly he’d hurt her. She wanted to forgive him, still wanted to be his wife, and that insight was too dangerous to ever admit out loud.
    â€œIf I win, you leave and never come back.”
    It physically hurt to say the words, but she tried to hide it by bending over, pretending to search for the perfect stone. In reality, she was trying to still the agony twisting and curling in her chest, squeezing her lungs and burning in the back of her eyes. She blinked back tears. She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t see that her wager meant nothing to him either way.
    Clay took a long inhale and picked up two more stones as he considered her terms. “Best of three wins.” He dug a stone from the soft dirt on the bank. “But if I win, you have to have dinner with me.”
    Her gaze snapped up to meet his. She stood, her shoulders ramrod stiff, before taking a step backward. “Dinner? That’s it?” She looked at him with skepticism.
    He shrugged. “Okay, dinner and you give me a kiss.”
    Under normal circumstances, this bet would be a no-brainer. She’d been skipping rocks since she could walk and won every time her brothers challenged her. But she’d just seen what he did on a cold throw. It might be dumb luck, but Clay wasn’t the type to make a bet on a whim. He was cautious, calculating. It also made her wonder why he chose something as simple as a kiss for his reward. By the look in his eyes, he was teasing her. She was nothing more than a game to him. A way to pass the time. She was a fool to think he might care. Win or lose, neither bet mattered to him in the end. He was still leaving at the end of the week.
    She thrust out her hand defiantly. “Deal.”
    His gaze fell to her mouth, and he gave her a cocky grin, ignoring her still extended hand. “Your throw.”
    Jennifer bounced the flat stone in her hand, turned sideways and cocked her arm back. With a flick of her wrist, she sent the stone sailing, skimming the surface of the water.
    â€œHa! Five!” She did a little victory dance on the spot.
    Clay chuckled at her antics. “Don’t celebrate just yet.” He tossed his stone, matching hers skip for skip. “That was five. Now what?”
    She repeated her movements, garnering only four this time, tying up their score. Clay smiled down at her. “Do you want to go, or do you want to have the last to throw?”
    â€œGo right ahead.” She didn’t want to admit she was nervous. He must have been practicing. There was a very real chance she might lose this bet. “I wouldn’t want you to claim it wasn’t a fair match.”
    Even if the thought of being kissed by him again made her feel like molten lava inside, she wasn’t going to let him see it.
    â€œTrust me, it wasn’t.” Clay let his last stone fly, and she watched in shock as it skipped five, six, seven times. On her best day, with a perfect stone, she had never made one skip that many times. Dread curled in her belly, winding around her lungs and gripping her heart. How was she going to be in his arms and not react to his touch, to not let