Page 57 of Seaside Cowboy's Second Chance

Skylar twisted the pencil in her fingers. “I don’t guarantee the results.”

“No expectations, Little Miss.” Her grandmother patted her hand. “But even when I had expectations for you, you always exceeded them.”

Skylar’s eyes glistened again. “Thanks, Grandma.”

Dallas’s throat felt as parched as if he’d worked in the sun the entire day. He drained his glass of ice-cold water. He just hoped Skylar wouldn’t change her mind.

She placed the pencil on the table and gave due to her chicken fajitas. If before she’d just poked into her food, now her appetite seemed to return, and she was putting a dent in her food fast. “Would you mind describing again how the man looked?”

Mrs. Rafferty chewed on her enchiladas thoughtfully, then helped herself to guacamole. “Let me think. Tall, though not as tall as Dallas here. White hair slightly thinning and a white beard. I’d guess he was in his seventies. He was stooping a little.”

Skylar pushed her nearly empty plate away and slid a paper place mat closer. “Any tattoos? Maybe scars?”

“Sorry, missy. Only a few liver spots on his hands. He didn’t have a wedding band, either.” Skylar’s grandmother’s cheeks pinked. “Not that I’d look at him that way. I’m dedicated to Earl, you know.”

Present tense. Dallas and Skylar exchanged glances, and his heart contracted. Mrs. Rafferty still believed that Earl was okay and would be back someday, or at the very least, that they’d find him.

Dallas would hate to see her heart broken. He sent up a prayer. For his part, he’d do everything to find her fiancé, not only for Skylar but also for Mrs. Rafferty who’d always treated him as if he were her grandson.

“Of course, we know.” Skylar cleared her throat while her hand with the pencil glided fast over the place mat. “His hair... was it short? Or did it reach his collar? What about his beard? Was it shortly trimmed? Longish?”

“Hold on.” Her grandmother touched her forehead, then took a sip of her iced tea with a lemon wedge hanging on the side of the glass for dear life. “Shortly trimmed hair. Combed. Um, hair missing a little on the top. His beard and mustache were short, too. Well taken care of. Something about him seemed familiar, but I don’t know what. Oh, also he had a birthmark on his right cheek.”

“Good job. Shape of eyes? Were they close to each other?”

Skylar went over those questions, then the forehead, nose, and chin, and soon, those features, the clothes, and everything else appeared while her pencil flew over the paper, her movements unsure at first but more and more confident with each line until she scooted back. “Does this in any way resemble the person you’ve seen?”

Her grandmother gasped. “Yes! That’s him!”

He leaned toward Skylar, his chest swelling. “You’re still amazing, and you always will be.”

She waved him off. “Oh please. It was no biggie.” But her eyes sparkled again. Almost like they used to.

He sent up another heartfelt prayer, this time for Skylar. He didn’t just want her to find herself again, to do what she loved because it might bring her backto him. That ship had sailed, and just the thought soured the fajitas in his stomach.

Rather, he simply wanted her to be happy. After all, wasn’t that what love was about? For the person you love to be happy, whether with you or not?

Wait a minute.Had he fallen in love with her again? His eyes widened, and he hid his confusion by scooping up the rest of his guacamole with nachos.

No, he couldn’t. It would mean so much heartache when she left.

Skylar drained her water glass and placed it on the table with a resolute gesture. “I’m ready unless someone wants dessert.”

“I’m full. No dessert for me.” Mrs. Rafferty tapped her gnarled fingers on the table.

He gestured to the waitress for the bill and found his voice again. “We should show the drawing to the police. And I can email it to Barrett to see if he can get this person identified. And if by any chance it can be Terrence.” He fished out his phone from his jeans pocket and took photos, then sent them to his brother.

“Thanks, and yes.” Skylar also snapped photos with her phone. “Absolutely, let’s give a copy to the police. And maybe someone at the local hotels or the inns will recognize this person? At least, we’ll know when he was here and if he had an alibi.” Her expression changed, and fire lit her eyes again, igniting a new flare of longing through him.

After the visit to the police station, Skylar dropped off her grandmother at the sea cottage to rest.

Two hours and three visits to the hotels later, they had an answer to one of their questions, and it wasn’t something he’d expected.

Mrs. Rafferty’s mysterious guest hadn’t left yet. He was still at a local motel.

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