Page 44 of A Jilted Bride for the Cowboy

Like there was no tomorrow.

Desperation clawed up his throat as the duo turned in at their own lodging. Had that kiss been a goodbye of sorts? He’d looked at is as a beginning, not an end. He replayed her words. Had he misunderstood?

The women’s door clicked shut, and an interior light turned a curtain-covered window into a glowing rectangle.

There was a metaphor there, it seemed. There was light, but sight was occluded. That summed up his relationship with Cadence to a tee. Just enough light for a glimmer of hope. Not enough to see clearly.

She showed just the glimpses she wanted to show via social media. Yeah, he kept an eye on the Sweet River accounts, trying to learn more about her.

Graham was a simple man. He was clever with numbers and obtuse with people. Always had been.

A bat swooped through the beam of the streetlight. A loon called from the lake. Something rustled in the bushes across the lane. His surroundings were nothing like Chicago. He’d never have dared sit outside absorbing the night air there. Maybe if he had a penthouse with a rooftop patio like Tate’s, but Graham had never been outdoorsy.

Montana was growing on him. Sort of.

Footsteps sounded on the lane, and he turned to see which staff member was returning now. Weston. Great. Graham should have gone inside already.

“Hey there. Nice night.”

“Hi, Weston.”

The cowboy paused in about the same spot the women had, which meant Weston’s face was as shadowed as Cadence’s had been. “It’s nice the mosquitoes seem to have died off.”

“Yes.” Graham hadn’t even thought of that. In June, he’d been too busy smacking bugs to stay out like this.

“You doing okay?”

Graham blinked. Since when was Weston concerned about anyone other than himself? “I’ve been better.”

“I bet. That Paul dude is your cousin, huh?”

“Do I have to own up to it? He’s a jerk.”

The cowboy snorted. “We don’t get to pick our relatives, just our friends.”

“True.” Weston’s words had been heavy with meaning. Maybe it was time Graham extended an olive branch. “Paul is my least favorite cousin of all time.”

“Worse than me and Jude? That’s saying something.”

“It’s not like what happened between my grandfather and your grandmother was your fault any more than it was mine.”

“Yeah. We had a bit more warning than you guys did about what was coming down, though. We’ve known all our lives we must have more family out there somewhere.”

“While we had no clue.”

“Bit of a shock, huh?”

“No kidding.”

“I’d like to say sorry, but…” Weston’s voice drifted off as his hands spread to the sides.

“But it’s not your fault.” The guy had been plenty rude, but had Graham and the other cousins been any better? “I’m sorry for not being nicer.”

“Yeah. No prob.”

Graham still wasn’t sure he wanted to be best friends, though. He pulled to his feet. “It’s been a long day, and tomorrow doesn’t look like it will be any shorter.”

“Want some free advice?”

---