Page 26 of Heart Like a Cowboy

Hell. Even after everything had gone down the way it did when Jack died, Jack would have wanted Egan to be there for this. Jack would have expected it, and while Egan never wanted a life celebration or anything dedicated to him, if their positions were reversed, he would have wanted Jack to attend.

“This has to be about Jack,” he muttered.

“Yes,” Effie agreed, as if she were well aware of what was going through his head. However, Egan couldn’t say the same for her when Effie blurted out, “You should go with Alana to the celebration.”

He frowned and gave Effie a flat look. “You think Alana should have a date to her late husband’s memorial service?”

She huffed, gave his arm an admonishing poke. “Not a date. Just some friendly support.”

A couple of days ago, Egan had suspected matchmaking. And sort of dismissed it. He wasn’t dismissing it now. There was, indeed, some matchmaking going on with both Effie and Maybell. Maybe his dad, too. That could have been why he’d told Egan to find someone to love and pull him out of the darkness.

“Alana’s sad,” Effie went on, taking the flyer back from Egan when he handed it to her, “you’re sad so you might as well—”

“Be sad together?” he finished for her.

“I was going to say cheer each other up.” She leaned in, lowered her voice to a whisper. “Loralee is so worried about Alana because she hasn’t been with a man since Jack died.”

No way did he want to know that.

No way.

But there it was. In his head. Spurring on other parts of him that should in no way be spurred.

Egan nearly blurted out Alana was doing that virtual dating but, of course, that wouldn’t necessarily lead to actual sex. And that was something else he didn’t want about Alana in his head.

Thankfully, he got help pushing that aside because Audrey came out of his dad’s room, and she held the door open for Dr. Abrams, who was maneuvering Derek out in a wheelchair. Audrey hurried away, muttering something about pulling her rental car around to the door, while the rest of them made their way toward the exit.

Derek glanced at the flyer that Effie still had clutched in her hand. “Reckon I’ll be in shape enough to go to that?” he asked Dr. Abrams.

Egan silently groaned because instead of dealing with a punch of lust for Alana, he got another jab of guilt. If his dad wanted to go, then he should be there, too.

The doctor looked at the flyer, probably focusing on the date that was three weeks away. Ironically, on the last day of what would be Egan’s month of leave. “Maybe. Let’s see how you do at home, and we can talk about it at your next appointment. I do want you out and about, some, but an outdoor event might be too hot. And too soon.”

While they continued to discuss it and wait for Audrey, Egan heard the dinging of a phone, but it wasn’t his. It was Effie’s, and she pulled out her cheaters to read it.

“It’s from Reba,” she relayed, looking at Egan. “She was taking out the trash in the office and saw a letter torn in half.”

Egan groaned and would have dropped an f-bomb had his grandmother and dad not been right there. Hell’s bells. What was it about that blasted letter that kept it from the garbage heap?

“Reba wants to know if you’re sure about tearing it in half and tossing it?” Effie asked. “She means because it’s from Colleen to you, and it doesn’t look like it’s been read.”

Suddenly, Egan had the attention of Effie, the doctor, his dad and two nurses who’d just happened to have heard that comment when walking by. Egan decided what he was about to say was for everyone’s ears, especially Colleen’s since it might get back to her.

“Yes, I’m sure I want the letter torn up and trashed,” he spelled out. “If I never see her or hear from her again, that’s fine with me.”

Egan decided to go ahead and tick another box off his “let’s get something straight” list. He took out his phone and bit the bullet. Not with an actual call but with a text that he sent to Tilly.

I’ll be at Jack’s life celebration, he messaged, hoping like the devil that he didn’t regret it. Even if he did, though, the regret would be a drop in the bucket compared to what he’d feel if he didn’t go.

CHAPTER EIGHT

“ASAGENERALRULE, I want you to try to avoid foods labeled with words likesurpriseandbetter than sex,” Alana spelled out to Derek. “Ones with visible globs of fat on them, too, like that cheese ball with pork rinds for dipping and the twelve-layer lasagna.”

She pointed to the lasagna and the cheese concoction that according to its maker had the unfortunate name of Yummy Tummy Ball. It sat on the kitchen counter with the other dozen or so casseroles, “heat and serve” dishes that mostly brimmed with gravy, cream sauces and cheese. They were side by side with decadent “better than sex” desserts that’d been brought over by well-meaning people.

And this was just today’s haul.

Since Derek had come home from the hospital two days ago, there’d been a steady stream of folks dropping by the ranch with all sorts of things from Yummy Tummy Balls to potpies that would serve a dozen or more people, to desserts that would qualify as rare or occasional indulgences. Some had tried to stay in the healthy zone with salads and fruit trays, but those folks were clearly in the minority.

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