Page 22 of My Cowboy Salvation
“I’m sorry to cut you off, Rainey,” I say quickly, finding my window for escape narrowing by the second, “but I’m afraid I had a little too much cider and need to use the restroom.”
She smiles and nods in understanding, and without hesitating, I rush to the restroom. It’s empty and quiet as I step inside, breathing a sigh of relief. The women’s fawning has always been flattering to a guy who spent far too many years overseas with no such female attention, but in the past couple of weeks, there’s really only one woman’s attention I want, no matter how wrong it is for me to feel that way.
Still, I’d be lying if I haven’t spent the past few hours studying every face, every willowy, female form to see if Dylan’s arrived. I can’t help it. Just being around her makes me feel better. Even if also tortured at the same time.
I congratulate myself on the fact I haven’t stuck my tongue or anything else in that woman’s sweet mouth since the other night. Instead, I’ve been a real gentleman, taking her to dinner or watching movies on the couch, laughing and joking with her like we’re simply old friends—and not like I’m the dirty old man who just wants to thrust his dick inside her while she moans my name in ecstasy.
I finish my business and head to the sink to wash my hands, taking an extra minute to throw some water on my face to wash away some of the sweetness from the sticky desserts I’ve been sampling all day. Curious, I pull my phone from my pocket and check to see if I’ve missed anything from Dylan.
She texted me a couple of hours ago to say she and Hope were in town running some errands but that, despite her earlier reservations about coming to the festival, she would meet me here around six.
That’s in ten minutes.
The prospect of seeing her has me more excited and hopeful than I have any right to be under the rules of our current relationship. I shake my head at myself as I stare into the mirror.
She’s not yours to touch, kiss, or do anything else with, you son of a bitch.
But I can still look, and maybe even keep myself together for a dance or two.
I pocket my phone, resisting the temptation to text her and see if she’s still planning on coming. Instead, after checking the perimeter outside the restroom, I head out and walk between some of the booths, taking my time to smile and nod at the people who greet me. The evening sun offers a warm, autumnal glow over the festivities that, when combined with the scent of spices from the fresh apple fritters and cider, gives me one more reason to be glad I live in this beautiful place.
There’s a bit of a logjam ahead as people crowd around a booth that, according to the banner above it, should be the Milk Bottle Knockdown. Curious, I come around the side, trying to figure out the draw.
There’s a blur of movement as someone throws the softball, and it hits the milk bottles before the top two bottles fly off, earning a shout of applause from the crowd. A moment later, another softball sails through the air and hits the bottom row, taking out all but one.
I take another step forward so I can see who’s throwing the balls, and nearly fall over in shock. I blink a couple of times, assuring myself of what I’m seeing.
The lovely young woman who I last saw climbing out of my truck this morning in jeans, a flannel jacket, and heavy work boots, her dark brown hair pulled into two short pig-tails is gone. Standing ahead of me is a woman with fiery, wavy red hair that still stops just above her thin shoulders. Her full red lips are the color of the deepest wine, beckoning me to taste. Her shining eyes stare with laser-like focus at the last ball on the table. If that wasn’t enough to have my heart hammering hard in my chest, her floral dress flutters around her knees as a gust of wind picks it up, revealing shapely legs and the soft curves I remember holding against me the other night. A dark denim jacket with a white shearling collar is the final touch, giving her warmth from the cool October air, but also branding her a Montana girl, through and through.
Not just a Montana girl.MyMontana girl.
Then, before I can guess what she’s about to do, she winds her arm back and sends the ball flying forward. It strikes the last bottle, which flies up and lands on the ground. The people watching the display holler their approval, and the guy tending the booth steps forward to hand her a massive pink plush monkey that’s nearly the same size as her. She’s laughing with both joy and embarrassment as she presents her prize to Hope and the rest of the crowd. I notice two of my youngest officers, Bragdon and Peters, say something to the women, smiling at the return laughter.
What the hell?
Before I can make my way over there, I see her hand the plush animal to a little girl of around eight, who squeals gleefully and hugs it tight to her, then runs to show her parents standing a few feet away. The crowd slowly disburses, and I make my way over to them, ready to throw Bragdon into the air, who is shamelessly flirting with Dylan. But I restrain myself.
“Evening, everyone.” They all turn to me, Dylan’s grin softening when our eyes meet. “Aren’t you two supposed to be here in an official capacity?” I ask my men, not trying to hide my irritation at seeing them fall all over the women. All over Dylan.
“Yes, sir. Chief,” Bragdon says first. “We only wanted to—I mean we just stopped to say—”
“Sorry, Chief,” Peters says, finally interjecting as he elbows Bragdon. “We’ll be on our way.” He turns to Dylan and Hope. “We’re off at seven. If you two are still around, you’ll save us a dance or two?”
Hope glances to Dylan and back at the officers and smiles. “Maybe.”
“They seem nice,” Dylan muses as the men slip away.
Sure, if you like children. “They’re okay. A bit green still.”
“Good evening, Chief,” Hope says as her blue eyes light on me, a knowing grin on her lips. “You seem to be holding up well from the day’s events. Mom’s in seventh heaven with her first place ribbon.”
“Rightly deserved.” I turn my gaze to Dylan, who has been suspiciously quiet as she studies me. “Glad you came out tonight, after all. How long have you two been here?”
“Long enough to work up an appetite. Dylan was just saying she wanted to try some of Lou’s brisket, seeing as how we only grabbed a sandwich at Carol’s hours ago. Maybe you can take her over? I have to meet my mom over at the holiday booths for some early Christmas shopping,” Hope says, already taking a few steps back.
“Happy to oblige.”
“All right. I’ll catch up with you two later than.” Hope disappears around the corner.
