Page 44 of My Cowboy Temptation

She smiles. “If I have a nickel for every man who wanders in here to try and get a date with you, I’ll be a millionaire by the end of the year. I wouldn’t overthink it. He could have called and spoken to you on the phone earlier.”

That is possible, since I do usually mention my name when I answer the phone.

“Are you feeling okay?” she asks, turning her attention back to me. “You look pale.”

“I’m a little tired, but I’m fine.”

“Just don’t overdo it.” Of course Natasha figured out on her own that I was pregnant four days into working here, probably thanks in part to my frequent bathroom trips. She studies me, a curious gleam in her eyes. “Actually, I was going to wait until tomorrow to talk to you about this, but maybe you could use a pick me up. I looked at the photos you sent me…”

I freeze, feeling like a deer in headlights as I wait to hear what she has to say about the series of paintings I spent the previous months of my life immersed in, sketching and painting while I was in London.

“You really outdid yourself, Callie. They’re magnificent, and I would love to feature them here at the gallery as part of the Emerging Artist Exhibit I’m hosting next month. What do you think?”

“What do I think?” Whatever angst I was feeling a moment ago is gone as excitement grips me, and I find the restraint to stop from jumping up and down. I smile instead. “I think it sounds pretty freaking great.”

She chuckles. “I thought so. And by all means, feel free to send me anything else you’ve been working on, and I’ll see if I can find some space for it. You have talent, Callie. And even though I might be shooting myself in the foot by giving you this chance, since you’re hands-down the best assistant I’ve had, I can’t imagine not letting people see what you can do.”

My heart is fluttering from her praise, and I feel like I might just take flight and float around the room. But I manage to stay landed, two feet on the ground, as she pats my arm and heads over to a couple who have motioned to her from the other side of the room.

I look around for the creepy cowboy, but I don’t see him, and I can’t deny feeling relief.

When I walk home an hour later, I still feel like my feet are barely touching the sidewalk as I imagine what it will feel like to have my art on display in Natasha’s gallery. I’ve admired each and every artist who has their work hanging in there and am awed by their talent. It humbles me to know that Natasha thinks my work is good enough to be up on those same walls.

I’m so buoyed with excitement, and it takes me to the second block on my walk home to feel the goose bumps prickling along the back of my neck. It’s hard to shake the sense that I’m being watched.

Trying to act nonchalant, I slow my pace and casually glance over my shoulder to scan the sidewalk. But I don’t see anything that raises any suspicion, unless the couple holding hands or the family of five eating ice cream cones are masters of disguise.

Maybe that guy back in the gallery shook me more than I thought.

That assurance doesn’t change the unease I’m feeling as I round the corner a few minutes later and reach the entrance of my apartment building. With a last glance over my shoulder, I push my key into the lock and go in. The door shuts behind me, and I feel a sense of relief as I stand in the lobby and peer out.

When I finally turn around, I barely have a second to stifle the scream that tries to rip from my throat as I see the guy waiting for me.

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