Page 57 of Overdue for a Cowboy

But he wasn’t Dodge.

“Dodge is a good man. But he has trouble seeing the good in himself and believing anyone else does either,” Duke had toldher when he’d dropped her back off at the library at the end of the day. “I think he’ll come around. Just give him some time.”

“That’s the trouble, Duke,” she said with a sigh. “I’ve already waited over a decade. How much more time do I give?”

She waved as she spotted Pete at a table on the patio. He stood as she walked over and leaned in to kiss the side of her cheek. But there was no buzz of electricity, no flash of heat that made her heart race when his lips brushed her skin.

She studied him as he pulled her chair out and held it while she sat. He really was a handsome guy, and he smelledamazing. His cologne was obviously expensive and so was his dress shirt, which looked like it had been professionally pressed and starched. He wore jeans and nice cowboy boots, clearly putting in an effort but still recognizing that they were meeting at a barbeque joint, not a fancy steakhouse. He had classic good looks—thick dark hair, square jaw, gorgeous brown eyes and stood well over six feet. He was polite and well-spoken too.

Dodge was right. He was a great guy.

They ordered house margaritas and an appetizer of rib tips and fried mushrooms. For their entrees, Pete got the beef brisket and baked potato, and she chose a western burger and fries, realizing too late that a messy cheeseburger might not be the best choice to eat with only one hand.

They talked easily all through the meal, chatting about the kids, the shared people they knew from high school—he was a few years older than her—and several of the current issues facing the town like the dreaded potholes by the feed store and if they were going to have enough cars to have a demolition derby at the fair this year.

She asked him if he’d read anything good lately, hesitant to bring up any of the books she and Dodge had just read. Was Pete the kind of guy who would indulge her in a two-person secret book club? She didn’t think so, considering the last thing he said he’d read was theColorado Weekly Cattle Auction Summaryand latestFarmers Reporton the price of beef.

“I hate saying this to a librarian, and I’m awful glad my kids love it, but I just don’t have time to read,” he told her.

She shrugged. “Neither do I. But I make time.” She hoped her comment didn’t come out sounding snarky, although she’d half-meant it that way. But Pete hadn’t seemed to notice.

“So, are you hoping to have kids of your own someday?” he asked.

She almost spit her drink out. “Oh, um, yes, I mean, probably. Why do you ask?”

He shrugged and finished the last of his margarita. “Just curious, I guess.”

She was pleased to see that he switched to water after one drink and didn’t pressure her to have another, as several of the dates she’d been on in the past had—most likely in an attempt to get her drunk and improve their chances of getting lucky. She wasn’t much of a drinker, so it had never worked.

But Pete was the picture of politeness. He asked her about her job and how things were going with the repairs on the bookmobile. Which just brought her thoughts back to Dodge.

Not like they hadn’t been there most of the night already.

Dodge had said that Pete had been wanting to ask her out and that he thought she was pretty and smart. The handsome sweet rancher seemed perfect.

So, why couldn’t she just forget about Dodge Lassiter and enjoy being out with a hot guy who was actually interested in pursuing a relationship with her?

Because even though Pete seemed perfect, he wasn’t perfectfor her.

There was only one guy she wanted. Too bad he didn’t feel the same.

What am I doing here?Dodge thought as he stood at the bar of The Tipsy Pig waiting for his takeout order.

He knew what he was doing there, even if he didn’t want to admit it to himself. He’d made plans to hang out with Ford and Elizabeth that night, offering to help his brother change the oil in his truck, in an effort to keep his mind off Maisie and her dang date with Pete.

Then he’d been the one to suggest picking up burgers from The Pig. He wasn’t spying on her. But he’d noticed her the second he’d walked in. She was sitting on the patio with Pete wearing sandals, dark jeans, and a flowy pink top that she’d told him she wore to work because it covered her bruises. Her hair was down, and it cascaded in soft curls around her shoulders, making him think about how soft and silky it felt resting against his skin.

He thrummed his fingers on the countertop, impatient to pick up his food and get out of the restaurant before Maisie spotted him.

Glancing back toward the patio, he caught her laughing at something Pete must have said—probably some clever antidote about his hundreds of head of cattle or his adorable children. She was leaning forward, engaged in their conversation, her eyes sparkling as she told him something, trying to use her hands to talk, but hindered by the splint.

It seemed like she was having a good time. And that she liked him.

Good.

That was exactly what he’d wanted.

Right?

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