“Can I ask you something, cowgirl? Off the record, of course.”

She raised her eyebrows at the unexpected turn in topic. “Of course.”

“If I fuck you—or rather, when I fuck you, because, let’s face it, we both know you’re just delaying the inevitable here—are you going to keep calling me that?”

Her gasp was audible, but her speech center apparently shut off because words didn’t reach her lips. They just slammed together in her brain as she stormed past him.

“Hold up, cowgirl. Dammit. I’m sorry. Don’t run off and—”

She whirled on him abruptly as he followed her out of the barn. “Let’s get one thing straight right now, Mr. Ransom. The only thing I’m going to call you is delusional. Because clearly you are.”

She poked him hard in the chest and he grabbed her wrist, pulling her to his dangerously enticing body. Stella’s eyes darted around. Now that they were out of the protective shelter of the barn, anyone could see them. She felt complicit in this forbidden interaction. Neither of them needed the prying eyes of her colleagues witnessing this and reporting it to Dr. Ramirez. She hadn’t forgotten the warnings and reminders about inappropriate relations between employees and clients. It would get her immediately fired and Van kicked out. Why he was willing to risk his entire career for a random woman, she couldn’t figure out. But she sure wasn’t willing to risk hers.

“You seem to bring out something in me too, sweetheart. But I shouldn’t have said that, not when you obviously weren’t ready to hear it. And I’m sorry if I upset you.”

“Y-you. You…” Had he upset her? Flustered—she was definitely flustered. He’d confused her. Pulled the world she knew out from under her and thrust things at her she had no clue how to handle. “You make me…”

“Yeah. I can see that,” he said with a tentative smile. “You make me too, cowgirl.”

She rolled her eyes and stood perfectly still as he retrieved a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the pocket of the shirt of his she was wearing.

“You smoke?” she asked, not making an attempt to hide her disgust. Frowning, she pulled the cigarette from his lips and handed it to him. “Not around me you don’t. Sure you want to help out down at the barn?”

He arched a brow and slid the pack back into his pocket. “Compared to what I was doing a week ago, smoking a cigarette now and then is nothing.”

“Tell that to people in chemo.”

“It really bothers you?” he asked, his face still mere inches from hers.

“It does.” She nodded, maintaining eye contact.

“Then I won’t do it around you. Scout’s honor.”

Stella couldn’t help but smile. “Why do I have the distinct impression that you were never a Boy Scout?”

He grinned in response. “Because I wasn’t. I kicked a few of their asses as a kid though. Does that count?”

She shook her head. “No, it doesn’t.”

Pulling out of his reach, she turned toward her bungalow. Feeling his presence close behind her, she stiffened. “Van,” she whispered without turning back to face him. “Whatever this is… We can’t. You get that, right?”

“Relax, cowgirl. I won’t bite,” he said low in her ear. “Well, that’s not entirely true, but I promise you’ll like it when I do.”

She turned and placed both hands firmly on his chest. “That. That right there. You have to stop that. I’m serious.”

“Because it turns you on and you’re scared you might give in and admit you want me?”

“Because it’s inafreakingproppriate! How do you not see that?”

“Stella Jo, just because I’m me and you’re—”

“No, just stop. Please stop.” She shook her head. “You want me to admit that I’m attracted to you? Fine. I have eyes. I get the appeal. Tattooed bad boy. You certainly have that tortured-soul thing going for you. But I am not one of your damn groupies. Period. I am an employee in a facility that you checked into to get help. Help with a serious problem, not just help getting off. So please. Stop this.”

“Okay,” he said evenly. “Breathe, beautiful. Before you hyperventilate and pass out on me.”

Unable to mask the reaction this interaction was having on her, she did as he said and took a few slow, deep breaths.

“Van,” she said, his name a soft plea on her lips. “This job is important to me. I’m happy here. I feel at home. Wanted. Needed. I never felt that way before. Not in my own home and not with college roommates. I belong here. I want to be here.”

He opened his mouth to speak but she placed a finger against his lips. She tried to ignore the thrill that raced through her at the sensation of touching his lips.

“And you can’t afford to be kicked out for having an indiscretion with an employee. I’m sure there will be women lined up to be with you when you get out of here.”

His smoldering stare almost broke her resolve. But she knew she was right and that they needed to stop this before it went any further. Apparently he knew too because he backed up a step and glanced around.

“But you won’t be in that line, will you?”

Stella closed her eyes briefly to keep him out of her head. “You don’t even know me.”

“Feels like I do,” was all he said.

When she looked up into his face, she was slightly relieved to see that he’d begun surveying the surrounding property. She watched as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and sighed.

“I don’t want to mess this up for you, cowgirl,” he relented, backing up a step. “I’ll behave from now on. Or I’ll try to at least.” With a wink and a small grin, he turned to leave.

“Van,” Stella called out softly, surprising both him and herself. “Um, it’s just…” She waved a hand between them. “You know, there’s a reason they refer to y’all as clients instead of patients here.”

Half turned in her direction, he raised a brow. “I think I’m missing the punch line.”

“You basically pay my salary, Mr. Ransom,” she informed him gently. “What you pay to stay here is pretty much what they use to write my paycheck. So, if anything happened and we…” She couldn’t bring herself to finish. Couldn’t bring herself to voice that not only would she get fired, but that giving in to the pull of her strange curiosity about him would be an awful lot like prostitution. “This isn’t a brothel. Despite what some of the nurses may be willing to do for you.”

There. She’d said it. Laid it out in plain language. Surely he’d understand.

He let out a short humorless laugh and shook his head. “Message received. Have a good night.”

The wounded expression on his face tugged on her emotions. The unfamiliar sensation left her disoriented as he walked away.

For as long as she remembered, she’d kept her feelings at bay. Swallowed the hurt when her mom had treated her like a doll or one of the prized livestock instead of like a person. She’d been numbing herself against the sting of her father’s rejection since she was a child. Had taken her first serious boyfriend’s relief at being done without shedding a single tear. Wished him well when he’d moved on to her roommate without a backward glance.

But for some reason, this near stranger, this man she barely knew, had managed to break through her impenetrable barrier and reach her in a place she kept buried. And worse, she was still wearing his sweatshirt.

Because I’m cold, she told herself.

The stifling realization that this was the reason for more than why she was wearing his shirt kept her up half the night.

Van lay in his bed that night trying for the life of him to figure out what it was about her that had him so intrigued.

He tended to find women like Stella Jo Chandler boring. With their five- and ten- year plans and their refusal to step outside the lines. He liked his women a little edgier. Easier. Liked to watch them crawl to him on all fours and beg. He had a feeling that would never be something he’d get to see the beautiful brunette do, except in his fantasies.