Page 69 of A Cameo for a Cowgirl

“I used to dream about being Annie Oakley,” she said with a shy-looking smile.

He laughed. “Of course you did.”

“Whereas I bet you dream about getting Golden Globes, huh?”

They might not have known each other too long, but she knew him so well. “Maybe.”

He beckoned her inside, but she shook her head. Then he realized what it would look like if she was inside his room should Maxine or someone else come along. Wise woman. “So what was it you wanted to ask?”

“Didn’t you need to get ready or something?”

“This sounds more important.” His heart swelled. “You are more important.”

Her lips flickered, like she wasn’t sure whether to believe him. “Well, that’s the thing. Could we—you and me—can we do this?”

“Act together? Or…?” He arched a brow.

She blushed.

Aw, who would’ve thought the cowgirl knew how to blush. He liked it. A lot. And he liked the fact she was affected by him. Surely that meant there was hope.

“Act together.”

“Well of course we can.”

“But without it getting weird.”

“Like I said earlier, weird is part of my DNA, so I can’t promise no weirdness.”

“No, I mean you and me, and, um…”

He leaned against the doorframe. Maybe it was mean to be loving the awkwardness she was displaying, but the fact she couldn’t articulate the attraction that throbbed between them had to mean she felt something, right? “And um…?”

She exhaled. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Maybe a little bit.”

“Fine. Okay, I’ll spell it out in one syllable words. Do you still like me?”

“Darn straight.”

“I mean as, um, more than a friend?”

His heart picked up speed. “One hundred percent.”

“Will you make it weird if we have to be together and um, touch, and so on if I was to take the role?”

He avoided pointing out that “together” was three syllables, his amusement dying at the pleading look she gave him. He desperately wanted to hold her hand, but knew this wasn’t the time. He’d let her take the lead and make the decisions on anything like that. “If you take the role I promise you that I will be a perfect gentleman. I won’t get into your space, I won’t have any expectations. I care about you, Cassie. I really care about you.”

Her breath hitched. “But why?”

His heart panged, her question revealing some of her own insecurities. Who had dared hurt this woman to make her question her self-worth? “You are unlike any woman I’ve met. You’re so strong and that makes me want to be a better man. Yet you also have this sweet softness, and godly values that reminds me of my grandma, and she was the best woman I’ve ever known.”

Her expression that had owned skepticism at being compared to his grandmother melded into surprise then a tentative smile.

Phew. Note to self: do not tell the woman you’re hoping to impress that she’s like your grandmother.

“Anyway,” he continued, “I like you, but God is teaching me to be patient, not to want my own way. I have to admit that’s really hard because I have been pretty selfish for the past thirty years.”

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