Page 102 of His Tenth Dance

“Tonight’ll be a freezer meal,” he grumbled as his phone vibrated in his hand. He lifted it to see who’d messaged, his pathetic heart sending a zing through him that it could be Kristie.

It wasn’t, but Lennie.

We found her. She’s at Stag Hollow Lodge, cabin 712.

His heart stopped. Just right there in his chest, stopped beating.

Good luck, Mission.

His pulse raced forward again, as did his thoughts. He needed to look up where the Stag Hollow Lodge was immediately. He had to get there. But he couldn’t show up empty-handed.

His mind spun then, with everything he could take to show Kristie how all-in he was with her. Good days. Bad. Accusations. Anything at all.

Of course he didn’t believe Carl. Who would?

And could Kristie really blame him for stepping in and defending her? He hadn’t thought he’d done anything wrong. In fact, he’d do exactly the same thing again if he had to. The only thing he regretted about the confrontation at the arena was that he hadn’t gotten Kristie away from Carl before he’d said such terrible things.

He stood stock still on the edge of his kitchen, where he’d paused when he’d looked at Lennie’s text. She’d given him no direction for what to do, and Mission suddenly felt like the rest of his life hinged on this moment.

He searched for Stag Hollow Lodge and found it on the northeast side of the city, out near the airport. It would take him ninety minutes to get there, and by the looks of the aerial shot, Mission most definitely couldn’t show up with just him in a leather jacket and his cowboy hat.

“But you absolutely have to go,” he told himself. He picked up his keys as someone knocked on his door. He was heading that way anyway, and he snagged his jacket from inside the closet on the way.

Whoever stood on his doorstep would simply have to go away; Mission had so much to do, a plan formulating in his head as he pulled open the door to find Deacon standing there.

“Deac,” he said, surprised. The man hardly ever dropped by unannounced, and since Mission met with him often, Deacon rarely surprised him.

“Evening, Mission.” He reached up and touched the brim of his cowboy hat. “Do you have a minute?” He glanced down to where Mission clutched his keys and his jacket.

“I was just leaving, actually,” Mission said.

“I thought you and Kris had….”

Mission’s eyebrows went up. “We’d what? Broken up?”

“There have been rumors,” Deacon said evenly. His dark eyes blazed. “I was actually hoping you could help me know what to do with Judy.”

Mission stalled completely for the second time that night. “Judy?” He asked like he didn’t know who Judy Foster was, but he did. “What about her?”

“She’s…well, I helped her out a bit a couple of months ago, and now….” He sighed and looked away, out into the deepening night. “Now, she won’t leave me alone. The calls and texts are incessant, and I don’t want to be that cowboy, but?—”

“You’re not interested in her.”

Deacon’s jaw tightened as he swung his gaze back to Mission’s. He gave his head a quick shake. “I’m really bad at this type of thing.”

“And you came to me, because I’m good at it?” Mission rocked back on his heels and settled his weight on his back leg. “At blowing women off? Breaking up with them? Because?—”

“None of that,” Deacon said, cutting him off. “That’s not what I meant, Mission.” He exhaled and rolled his neck. “I came to you, Mish, because you’re so level-headed. You’re great with letting people down in a way that makes them feel like you still care about them.”

“I—no one has ever—that’s not true.”

Deacon offered him a small smile. “It’s absolutely true,” he said. “Everyone respects you around here, even when you’re after them for being late or for missing the entire corner of a field when they’re mowing.”

Mission could only blink at him.

“I’ve tried to tell her I’m not interested,” Deacon said. “She doesn’t seem to get it.”

“To her face or through a text?” Mission asked, because messages were never conveyed quite the same via technology.

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