Page 30 of The Cowboy Who Looked Again

He brought her closer somehow, and Misty allowed the sense of safety Lincoln Glover had always given her flow over her, through her, around her, inside her.

It sure felt good, and she couldn’t wait until the weekend. Then, she’d find out what Link had planned for their second first date.

Remember when we got a five-gallon container of mint chocolate chip ice cream and ate it on the tailgate of my truck?

Misty stared at Link’s text, her blank memory of such an experience sending her stomach to the soles of her shoes. She’d just put a bite of her favorite salad from Jurassic Produce in her mouth, and she set down her plastic fork and looked across the table to Janie.

They’d been back at work for a couple of days now, and the weekend hadn’t arrived yet. They hadn’t been able to get back into their apartment yet, but someone—a police officer or a fireman or maybe a structural engineer—had gone into their place and packed up everything that could be taken out.

She had her own clothes now, but they’d lost everything in their kitchen, all the blankets in their living room, and any electronics that had been plugged in. Therefore, they didn’t have computers, and their phone chargers had to be replaced.

“What?” Janie asked. “Link’s texting.”

“I don’t—we never got a five-gallon container of ice cream and ate it with our legs dangling over his tailgate.”

“Then what’s he talking about?” Janie twirled the phone and read the next text that had come in. “Remember when we packed a weekend bag, got in the truck, and just drove until we found something interesting to see?”

Misty suddenly got the inside joke, and she grinned as she reached for her phone. Janie said, “You never did that. An overnight trip with Lincoln Glover? It actually sounds scandalous.”

“It’s a game of ours.” Misty left her salad behind and took her phone with her. She stepped out the back door of City Hall as she tapped to call Link.

His phone only rang once before he said, “Yep.” He never answered her calls with a hello, the way a normal person would. It was always, “Yep.”

“Remember that time you let me bring you dinner, and we packed it into a saddlebag and rode out to the edge of the ranch on Copper and Morning Sky?”

He laughed, and Misty joined him. “Yeah,” he said around his chuckles. “That was a great evening.”

She sighed as she sank onto the top step, glad this side of City Hall hadn’t been baked quite yet. The sun would come over the roof soon enough, though, and she’d lose her shade. “Five gallons of ice cream? Do you know how much ice cream that is?”

“Enough for a summertime family bonfire,” he said.

Misty tilted her head, trying to hear the words he hadn’t said. “Are you in town?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Do you have said ice cream right now?”

“I think you know the answer to that.”

Misty got to her feet, sudden excitement shooting through her. “Talk to me about the weekend bag and driving until we see something interesting.”

He laughed again, and it sure made her heart happy to hear him so upbeat again. She could admit that she too felt different this week than she had last week, and that the increase in her mood had everything to do with the cowboy on the line.

“That was me reminding you of how we used to talk,” he said. “Because I thought you might not get it.”

“I got it,” she said, the small fib sitting wrong in her throat. “When you sent the text about taking a weekend trip together.”

“Thus, why I sent it.” He paused for a second, and Misty listened to someone honk on his end of the line. “Shoot. I did not see that guy. Sorry!”

She smiled at how he talked to a driver who surely couldn’t hear him. “Now, listen,” he said. “I don’t want you thinkin’ you’re special or anything, but I got you something to go with your lunch. Can you run out and grab it? I don’t dare leave the groceries in the car without the AC blasting directly on them.”

“Oh, come on,” she teased as she wove down the hall and toward the big open rotunda where she, Janie, and Ralf had been working for the past year. “Your momma sent you to town with those insulated bags. Admit it.”

“I actually own some of those insulated bags myself,” he said.

“Stop bragging,” she said, and they both laughed again. “I’m almost to the front doors.”

“I’m at the stoplight.”

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