Page 6 of Protective Cowboy

Then Autumn Snowberry attracted his gaze like a moth drawn to a bright light.

She sat at the back of the pavilion, next to Mayor Jorge Gomez, Fire Chief Don Stinson, and other local dignitaries. A ray of sunlight illuminated Autumn’s auburn hair, making it glow like embers. Her sleeveless dress’ plunging V-neck showed off a tempting triangle of creamy skin.

As Matt watched, the handsome young CEO of the Livingston Vintage Railroad leaned over and said something to her.

She laughed in reply, her eyes sparkling.

Matt scowled at the tech-bro with his expensive sunglasses and perfectly groomed stubble.

Once, Autumn had smiled at him like that. Now, Matt was just another anonymous face in the crowd.

Never mind that he’d spent the past nine months trying to ignore her return to Snowberry Springs.

“Eyes front, deputy.” Someone’s elbow nudged him sharply.

Matt turned his scowl on his younger brother, who was also the newest officer in the town’s tiny force.

Gabe just grinned back at him. “Geez, just ask her out already. Before she starts dating someone else.”

“Not interested,” Matt growled. “She had her chance and dumped me for that prick.”

He still couldn’t understand what she’d seen in Phillip Garthe. The guy was at least twenty years older than she was.

Gabe rolled his eyes. “Whatever, dude. Just keep staring at her like a stalker, then.”

In the pavilion, an elegant silver-haired woman in a cornflower-blue chiffon dress stepped up to the microphone. It was the festival’s chief sponsor, Mrs. Abigail Snowberry. The audience fell silent as she cleared her throat and tapped the microphone.

“Baa!” The bleat definitely sounded closer this time.

Matt looked around again, but still couldn’t spot anything out of the ordinary.

“Thank you all for coming to Snowberry Springs’first annual Vintage Railroad Days Festival!” Mrs. Snowberry began. “We’re here today to celebrate the resumption of train service to Gardiner and the North Entrance of Yellowstone after a break of nearly seventy-five years.”

Applause and scattered whoops interrupted her momentarily.

She smiled benignly over the rows of seated people, then continued. “Snowberry Springs has come a long way in the past year, and so many people have helped us on that journey. I’d like to start by thanking The Renovation Channel and HomeRenoTV for putting us in the spotlight with Reviving Snowberry Springs.”

More applause. Mrs. Snowberry waited until it died down before resuming. “And of course, special thanks go to Alex Montgomery for reopening the old Livingston-to-Gardiner rail line. His beautiful historic rail cars have been bringing tourists through Paradise Valley and to our town since the Fourth of July.”

As the crowd clapped and cheered, the rich bastard sitting next to Autumn smiled and nodded and waved like a politician.

Matt scowled at Montgomery, then caught himself. Even if Montgomery was flirting with Autumn, why should Matt care?

“Next, I want to express my deepest gratitude to my granddaughter, Autumn Snowberry, who not only started our town’s Tourism Board but also worked countless hours this summer organizing this festival!”

“That’s my girl!” shouted Bob Snowberry. He and the rest of Autumn’s family were sitting in the front row of the audience.

They whistled and whooped up a storm, and everyone quickly joined in.

Matt saw Autumn’s blush all the way from his place behind the last row of seats.

Since her return to town last Thanksgiving, Autumn had made herself very popular. She’d used her marketing and social media skills to help various local businesses cash in on the popularity of Reviving Snowberry Springs.

“Not only that, but Autumn provided jobs to dozens of local teens at this festival,” Mrs. Snowberry added. “And she’s recruited an army of social media-savvy young volunteers to provide continuing content for the Tourism Board’s social media feeds and website. Now, let me say a few words about the new Yellowstone rail service…”

As Mrs. Snowberry’s speech droned on, Matt’s gaze—and thoughts—returned to Autumn.

He remembered the way her curves pressed against him at their high school dances. The taste of her mouth. The sweet weight of her breasts filling his hands as they made out in his old pickup truck.

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