Page 19 of My Cowboy Salvation
I realize after a moment that she’s wearing an outfit I haven’t seen her wear before, starting with a light-gray sweater that complements the same color in her eyes. Its thin material showcases the outline of her breasts. Her usual stained and torn jeans have also been replaced with another pair that nearly falls off her slender hips and waist, and with the rolled cuffs, falls just above her ankles, almost like she’s wearing a pair of my jeans—a possibility that’s too dangerously sexy to entertain.
I find my voice. “New clothes?”
She glances down at the outfit with a mix of shy pleasure and embarrassment on her lovely face. “They were Hope’s. She basically forced me to take a couple of bags she claims she doesn’t wear anymore. She’s surprisingly stubborn.”
I struggle not to smile. Beneath her smooth, polite and easy-going manner, Hope McCullough hides a tough, stubborn streak and the heart of a saint. “Hope has a way about her.” I study her another long moment, before realizing I’m getting sidetracked. “Sorry I didn’t give you a heads up about getting home early. Maybe my surprise will make up for it. Now, before you get too excited, it’s just a rental, but I think you’ll enjoy it all the same.” I step aside so she can see it.
She gasps, immediately recognizing what it is, probably from the shape of the case that could only hold one thing. She rushes forward, lifting the lid, and pauses reverently to stare at it. Tears well in her eyes as she stares at the instrument before gingerly running her fingers along the strings and then almost caresses the smoothness of the polished front of the cello.
Dylan looks up, her gray-blue eyes warm. “Thank you, Logan.”
My throat closes with my own emotion, finding it humbling that such a modest token could deserve such gratitude, and I kick myself for not finding one sooner for her. “It’s probably nothing to what you usually play on, but it should do the job.”
“Where did you get it?”
“Went to a music store over in Kalispell at lunch. It seemed the most practical and fastest way of getting one in your hands. I know how much you must miss playing.”
“You have no idea. These past few weeks, not being able to play has felt almost like I lost an arm or a leg, like some huge part of me that’s missing. Lost. Making me feel lost, too.” The tears she’s been holding back slide down her cheeks, and she hastily wipes them away before more spring to her eyes.
“Do you want to give it a try?” I ask.
She shakes her head and meets my gaze again. “Later.”
In an instant, she throws her arms around me and tucks her head against the crook of my neck. I’m surrounded by her soft, feminine scent. “I can’t tell you how much this means to me.
Without hesitating, I wrap my arms around her and pull her tighter against me, inhaling the distinctively Dylan-scent that rises from the top of her head. She’s pressed so close I can hear her heart beating erratically in her chest, maybe as erratically as mine.
I want nothing more than to lift her up in my arms, carry her to my bed, and make slow, incredible love to her, but somewhere in the back of my mind is that voice asking me what the hell would I say to my son if I did? It’s enough to keep my urges under control as she raises her gaze to mine, her mouth drawing close, just like it had last night when I comforted her.
Before her lips can find mine, I loosen my hold on her and step back, hating the disappointment and hurt that registers on the delicate face. “Dylan. I’m sorry, but we can’t.”
“Why not?”
“The list is long, but at the top is probably the fact I’m far too old for you, followed by the fact that you’re Parker’s high school girlfriend. If he knew what I was thinking of doing with you, it would crush him.”
Her face scrunches in confusion. “Parker and I have been over for four years, Logan. We’re just friends now. He even has a girlfriend.”
I’m not going to tell her my suspicions about my son’s emotions where she’s concerned, so I skip past it. “It still doesn’t change the fact that you two were once together, and you’re nearly half my age. And it wouldn’t be right for me to take advantage of you when you’re in such a vulnerable state. I’m supposed to protect you, not…”
“Not fuck me?” she spits out, her eyes darkening into a thunderous dark-gray as her hands tighten into fists. “Logan. I don’t care about the difference in our age. You may have noticed, my life hasn’t been typical. I’ve lost everyone I’ve ever loved. My parents when I was nine, then my grandma. Suffering that kind of loss changed me at my core. Made me grow up faster than most kids my age. As for your age? What I see in you is someone like me. Someone who’s seen a lot of death, a lot of trauma, and who has had to work at not letting that trauma change who you are. So you wouldn’t be taking advantage of anyone or anything—other than this perfect moment in time, this opportunity to finally have what you deserve. What we both deserve. Someone who can understand you more than you might understand yourself.”
Her words are so heavy and momentous and entirely true, and it surprises me at how well she has seen the true me. Seen my damage, the same damage within herself.
And God, how much I want to draw her in my arms, to tell her we now have each other, but I can’t do that. I can’t do that to her or Parker.
“I’m sorry, Dylan. It wouldn’t be right.” I sound lame to my own ears, but since I’m not nearly as articulate or as thoughtful as her, it’s all I’ve got.
She turns away from me and stares down at the shiny instrument, running her hand along its curves.
“Hey…” I place my hand over hers. “That doesn’t mean I don’t care a hell of a lot for you, Dylan. In fact, I owe you an apology.”
She doesn’t look up, but she also doesn’t walk away, telling me she’s listening.
“Since you first arrived in town, I’ve been fighting an internal battle with my emotions where you’re concerned, emotions I didn’t want to burden you with. It’s that reason alone that I’ve been camping out at my office, trying to avoid spending time with you. Getting up before you’re up, getting home late when I know you’re bound to be in bed. That was intentional. I knew if I didn’t, what happened between us last night would have happened sooner. But leaving you alone like that to deal with everything wasn’t fair to you. Now that we’ve acknowledged there’s a certain... energy between us, I—we—can be careful not to repeat it.”
She’s still not saying anything.
“I want us to be friends, Dylan. I don’t want any awkwardness between us. I want you to feel comfortable with me.” It’s time I turn this heavy, uncomfortable discussion to something light, something we can get our legs back under us and walk away from this without losing anything. “And as friends, I have an important question for you.”
