Page 13 of My Cowboy Salvation
Until Simon.
He hated all my friends from the conservatory and hated when I spent any time with those friends, wanting all my time to be centered on him. The only exception he made to my time was my cello practice, and that had more to do with the fact he enjoyed parading me around his friends, bragging about my accomplishments, including a guest stint last Christmas for the San Francisco Orchestra. My accomplishments merely added to his status.
At first I had balked at his insistence on canceling my plans with my friends, but when the bruises appeared and the question arose, it became a relief to let them go. I couldn’t tell them what was happening. I was too ashamed for allowing it to happen. And afraid.
But right now? Free of Simon’s control, it’s strange and exhilarating to be in the presence of someone like Hope, a woman who I feel a natural connection with, and who I know in time could be a close friend. Time, however, I don’t know I’ll have, no matter what Logan promises.
“Now that that’s settled, why don’t we start with meeting the horses?” Hope asks.
I pin on a bright smile, trying to channel the old pre-Simon Dylan, a more hopeful Dylan who used to believe that almost anything was possible, and follow her out.
Chapter 7
Logan
“Thanks, Mel,”I say to Melody McCullough as she hands me and her husband a lemonade. “Tastes great.”
She nods, pleased. “I’m in the middle of making dinner, but you just holler if you need anything,” she says and, catching her husband’s eyes for a moment, smiles and returns inside the house, leaving me and Horace out on the porch.
There’s a definite chill in the air today, reminding me of the cold winter that’s just biding its time before sweeping in. Horace and I chat about some police business, including the DEA’s raid the department was involved in last month. In the two years since I moved to Castle Falls, we’ve become what I like to consider as friends, even if the man is twenty years my senior. We have a shared interest in the town and the well-being of the people in it, not to mention the well-being of his stepson, my Army buddy, that has bonded us together.
After we’ve exhausted the town talk, he glances over with shrewd blue eyes. “So what did you really come all the way out here for, Chief? Does it have anything to do with that young lady you escorted over to Hope’s earlier?”
I finish my lemonade and set the glass down on the small table between us. “It does. But it’s not something I’m at liberty to share. I was wondering if you’ve heard from Conner recently?”
“Oh, you know Conner. He gets pretty busy with some big case, and everything drops away for a while. Last we spoke was probably, say, two months ago? He called to wish his mom a happy birthday.
Conner left the Rangers a year after I did, but rather than go into public law enforcement, he opted for private security, which has kept him pretty busy. I would guess it’s been more than a year since we spoke, and close to four years since we actually got together, back when we attended the funeral of an old buddy of ours. All of that to say I don’t have an updated phone number for the guy, and the email I sent him a few days ago has remained unanswered.
I meant what I told Dylan about protecting her. I won’t let that piece of shit get within ten feet of her. But I also recognize my limits. A quick check in to the guy’s background showed he was squeaky clean. Almost too clean. I know the kind of deep intel I need wouldn’t come from any law enforcement database, but rather from a person—or group—who has alternative ways of obtaining info. A group much like what Conner works with.
About a year after Conner started working with the group, he reached out to see if I was interested in joining, but as I told him, I couldn’t go deep into assignments anymore. I knew what the group did was important work, and not necessarily always for the money. Conner wasn’t like that, nor were any of the other guys in it.
“I was kind of hoping Conner might help me with something, so if you or Mel hear from him, I’d be obliged if you mentioned that.”
Horace nodded, not trying to push for information, as I knew he wouldn’t. We sit in silence for a bit before I come to my feet. “Well, I have a few more errands to run today. Thank Mel for the lemonade.”
“Sure will. Maybe we’ll see you at the Harvest Festival next Saturday. Mel is entering a couple of pies and her huckleberry jam. Hoping to win that first place ribbon again.”
I chuckle, since as we both know that as chief, I’m one of the judges who gets to sample and rate the entries and hand out the awards at the end. “If her food is as good as it was last year, I’m sure she won’t have anything to worry about.”
“I’m sure she won’t. Take care, Chief.” Getting into my truck, I’m tempted to drive over to the stables again to check in on Dylan, but I tell myself she’s in good hands with Hope McCullough and doesn’t need me breathing down her back. In fact, I think she and Hope will get along just fine. They’re both the same age, both seem years older than they are, and both have had some shit to deal with in their lives.
Who knows, maybe finding a good friend here in Castle Falls will be one more reason for Dylan to stick around. She could make a good life for herself here, if she wanted.
Not that that life could include me in any way more than a friend, of course. Not when she’s Parker’s ex-girlfriend, and he still has strong feelings for her. For the life of me, I can’t explain this need to have her close. To be able to see her face, look into those haunted slate-colored eyes while I pretend not to notice the graceful curves of her body, even if it might prove torturous to me and my peace of mind.
It’s a pain I might be willing to endure.
* * *
Dylan
“Whatever that is,it sure smells amazing,” Logan says to me the next evening when he comes inside to wash his hands, having spent most of his day working outside.
At one point, the loud roar of what turned out to be a chainsaw drew my attention to the window, and I spent a good twenty minutes watching him cut through logs and stack them against the side of the house.
Instead of gawking at him all day, I decided to make myself useful by picking up some things for dinner, a task that required his truck. It was a semi-terrifying endeavor initially, but one that became easier. By the time I reached the store, I was far more confident, even if it took me three tries to get it centered into a parking spot.
