Page 55 of Heart Like a Cowboy

“You wanted to talk to Jack because of Colleen walking out on you?” his dad asked.

“Maybe. In part, anyway. I figured Alana had told him about Colleen, but I’d decided if Jack didn’t bring it up, I wasn’t going to say anything. I just wanted to see him.”

Hindsight, being the greedy bitch that she was, meant that Egan now knew the selfishness of that. Jack was dead because he’d wanted to see him.

“I’m figuring you’ve told Alana about why Jack was where he was,” his dad went on. “Did Colleen know?”

Surprised by the question, Egan shook his head. “Colleen had already left by then.”

“Yeah, but I wondered if this had to do with Jack.” His dad lifted one of the photo albums, and Egan saw the torn up letter from Colleen beneath it. The one Colleen had given Alana to deliver to him. “Or maybe she’s stewing in guilt, too. She could believe her leaving caused you to call Jack and start that whole ball rolling.”

“It’s possible,” Egan admitted in a mutter.

“You want to read the letter to find out?” his dad asked.

Egan didn’t even have to think about this. “No.”

If Colleen were truly doing any guilt-stewing, then she was on her own. Or she could turn to her significant other. Egan was tapped out in the “healing old wounds” department, and if he’d had any healing attempts to spare, he would have aimed them at Tilly. Or Alana.

At the thought of Alana, Egan’s phone dinged with a text, and he saw her name on the screen. He also felt that trickle of heat that should in no way be there, considering their current situation. Since he thought this might be connected to that current situation—Tilly—he immediately read it.

But it wasn’t.

Oh, man. It wasn’t.

If you’ve spoken to Cal, then you know what I said to him.I meant it, and it wasn’t the anger talking. Well, maybe it was a little anger, but I still meant it. So, are you up for taking a big next step and having a fling with me?

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

ALANAHEARDTHElittle swoosh to indicate her message had been sent to Egan. And then she panicked. Oh, mercy, she panicked big-time, complete with hyperventilating breath, racing heart and unblinking staring at her phone screen.

What the heck had she just done?

Except the “heck” was replaced by much stronger profanity when that question went flying through her head. She’d typed out that text during the middle of a fresh fuming, and now she was going through the “what the heck?” stage.

Even though it’d been well over five hours since Tilly’s outburst and the slappings, Alana’s brain seemed to be a hamster wheel where she was reliving it every minute or so. It’d been in one of those reliving moments when she’d composed the text and sent it before common sense returned and she realized what a huge mistake it was.

Well, common sense was back with a vengeance.

At this very second, Egan was perhaps reading the text and going through his own “what the heck?” He’d be shocked. Perhaps would even be doing his own version of panicking.

But she rethought that.

Egan wasn’t the panicking type, but he might be wondering if she’d lost her mind. He could possibly be trying to figure out how to respond. She seriously doubted he’d fire back an “I’m onboard for sex” message unless he’d given it some thought. And even then it might not happen if his own common sense held steady.

Egan was attracted to her. Alana had no doubts about that. Ditto for no doubts about her attraction to him. But there was also a big reason why he was holding back, and that reason was Jack. Jack and the fallout gossip that would happen if Jack’s best friend ended up hooking up with his widow.

While she tried to calm down her breathing, and the rest of her, she stared at her phone, waiting for a response. And waited. And waited. None came which, of course, could be interpreted as a response on its own. But Egan wouldn’t do that, either. He wasn’t the kind of man who’d ghost her.

When the seconds dragged into minutes, Alana decided to go with the “out of sight, out of mind” theory. She slid her phone into the pocket of her dress and tried to get back to work on the dietary plan for a new client who wanted to lose fifty pounds before her high school reunion in two months. A reunion where the client would see her old boyfriend and the lying, cheating “tramp” he married after dumping her.

Barring sudden extreme illness, that kind of weight loss was unrealistic, but Alana was mapping out a proposal that would potentially lead to not only dropping fifteen to twenty pounds but also include suggestions for healthier eating in the client’s post-reunion world. If followed, the client would perhaps lose those unwanted pounds by the holidays.

Alana made a few notes, checked her phone just in case she’d missed a text reply sound that she wouldn’t have possibly missed. Still no reply. So she kept jotting down notes. And kept thinking about Egan and how he might be reacting over what she’d sent him.

So, are you up for taking a big next step and having a fling with me?

There weren’t a lot of nonsexual ways to interpret that, and the wordflinghad been around long enough that he’d get the meaning. The word also implied something carefree and casual. A happy launch into something that would...well, possibly screw things up six ways to Sunday.

---