Page 23 of My Cowboy Salvation
I turn my gaze back to Dylan, not trying to hide the admiration in my eyes. “You look beautiful.” It sounds almost like a line, but it’s one hundred percent true. Without thinking, I reach out and touch a strand of her wavy hair, feeling its silky softness between my fingers, almost expecting it to be as warm and hot as it looks. “I like the red.”
Her cheeks flush pink, but she doesn’t move from my touch. “Thank you. I didn’t know if I was going to get all that brown out, but Deanne over at the salon worked her magic.”
Suddenly aware that I’m still holding her hair as we’re standing in the middle of the walkway with people passing us by, and I reluctantly drop the strand. It falls back to brush the side of her face. “We probably should get that food before I have to be back on stage to announce the final contest winners.”
She walks in step with me, her head craning side to side as she takes in the activities going on with interest.
“I’ve got to say, you were pretty impressive taking out those milk bottles. It takes a lot of power, not to mention a good aim.”
“You’d be surprised how much endurance and strength you can develop playing the cello. Although I’ve lost some of that over the past couple of months.”
“I’m sure it will come back now that you’re playing again.”
“Maybe,” she says a little vaguely.
I tilt a brow. “You’re young, Dylan. You’ll easily get it back with practice.” She still doesn’t say anything, instead biting her bottom lip. “What’s wrong? Is the cello not working out? Sorry, I didn't know anything about what to ask for, but if you tell me, I’m sure I can find one that meets your requirements.”
“No, it’s not that. It’s only… well, when I lost my parents, I used my music to fill the void their loss left me. It became almost an obsession, and I’ve devoted my entire life to it to the detriment of any other thing—or person—in my life. Not to say it also hasn’t helped me through the hard times, especially those last few months with Simon. But I’ve come to see maybe I was using it to hide from the world. So as much as I love playing, I’m going to make sure it doesn’t become everything to me. Which is a long way of saying that eight-hour practice sessions are behind me. It’s time I prioritize other things in my life.”
“You don’t want to play professionally anymore?” I ask.
“I don’t know. I mean, I love playing and performing, and hopefully I’ll find a way of doing that still, but in a more balanced way. Actually, I’ve always kind of toyed with the idea of becoming a music teacher when my professional days ended. Maybe it’s something I’m ready to explore.” She glances up, almost embarrassed. “Do you not think I would be a good teacher?”
“I think you’d make a hell of a teacher, Dylan. I’m just worried that you might be making this monumental decision when you’re coming from a place of fear. Are you sure this has nothing to do with Simon? Because you’re afraid to perform in public again and risk drawing his attention to you?”
“Maybe. But I’m happy to have this time to figure things out. Explore all my options.”
I couldn’t deny the fact that if she decided not to return to San Francisco to continue studying for her Masters degree or that she didn’t need to play in some big, fancy orchestra in some big city inevitably far from here, there might be a chance she would stick around. Which is incredibly selfish of me, but there it is.
“Whatever you decide, I’m sure you’ll do what’s right for you,” I say, not wanting to influence her either way. I mean, it’s not like there’s anything between us anyway, or any reason she has to stay here. Simon will eventually show his hand. I’ll be there to expose him for the son of a bitch he is before arresting his ass, and Dylan will be able to return to her life in California.
At the counter, we order our food—brisket, biscuits, and a side of coleslaw—then find an open spot at a picnic table close to where they’re already setting up for dancing. It’s easy to fall into lighter topics now, as she relays to me her first riding lesson, and I relay how many iterations of peach, rhubarb, and huckleberry pie I’ve tasted today as she laughs along.
All too soon, it’s time for me to return to the stage for the final awards, which I do even more reluctantly once I see the eager, lingering eyes of a few younger guys who were probably biding their time for my departure to descend. The only thing that stops me from sticking to her side is the sight of Hope and her mom, Mel, making their way over. They’ll watch out for her, that I know, making sure no one steps over the line or makes her uncomfortable.
But the truth is, it’s the guys who don’t make her uncomfortable, the young bucks with the bright, eager smiles and the stamina that comes with just being on the other side of twenty, who have me just as worried.
It would be a real shame if I had to shoot them before they’ve reached their prime.
Chapter 12
Dylan
Before tonight,I’ve never attempted, let alone actually danced a line dance, a two-step, or a country waltz, but I can attest I’ve managed to do all three and loved every minute. Okay, maybe not the first few minutes when I was so self-conscious and clueless I was ready to park my butt on the bench and not leave again. But with the patience of my dancing partners and encouragement from Hope and her parents, I stuck it out.
I’ve never really had any chance to appreciate country western music, usually sticking to Beethoven, Bach, Mozart, and even a little Gershwin in my practice and performances. But right now, as my dance partner twirls me around the floor as we attempt another two-step, I can’t help but laugh at the pure freedom I’m feeling thanks to the fun, easy-going music. Not to mention smug satisfaction at seeing Logan stewing from the sidelines.
The song comes to an end, and I’m ready to return to our table when a slow song starts playing and Mitch, my partner, insists on having one more dance. Hope and her partner are already dancing just behind us, and I don’t see any reason not to. I don’t know what they put in the water this far north, but it certainly makes these boys not just cute, physically fit, and surprisingly agile on the dance floor. I smile easily at Mitch, who pulls me closer.
Not ten seconds pass before someone stands behind me, stopping Mitch in his tracks as he assesses the newcomer. “You wouldn’t mind if I interrupt, would you, son?”
I don’t even have to turn to see who it is. Mitch looks like he wants to say no, but in the length of a breath, he realizes that debating with the town’s chief of police would be a foolhardy move. “No, sir, Chief.” He looks at me and nods. “Dylan. Maybe you can save me a dance later on?”
“Not likely,” I think I hear under Logan’s breath as he steps in, dismissing Mitch, who has no choice but to retreat.
“Maybe you should try asking me if I would like to dance before you chase away my partner,” I say with some attitude, although I’m thrilled at his sudden move.
“Dylan, will you do me the honor?” he asks patiently and holds out his hand.
