Page 116 of Ride Me Cowboy

A tear slides down my cheek, but this is not a tear wrenched from me by grief.

It’s love. It’s happiness. And it’s surprise, too. After Christopher, I thought I’d never let someone in, never trust them, never give them my heart, but here I am, staring up at Cole, knowing without a shadow of a doubt that stepping into a life with him is just exactly what I want.

“Now I’m back to wanting to tell you there’s no pressure,” he says, carefully. “I know it’s a lot, what I’m askin’. I’d settle for being able to take you for dinner, to talk about it all some more. To see if there’s any way I can convince you to give me another shot.”

I’m pretty sure we both know there’s no way I’m letting him go back to Coyote Creek Ranch without me, but for some reason, I don’t tell him that, just yet.

“Fine, we’ll have dinner,” I say.

His relief is palpable. “Okay. What time shall I pick you up?”

“No, no, no,” I demur. “That’s not how it’s done here, Cowboy. I’ll pick you up.”

His brows shoot upwards. “I’m not sure I’m okay with that.”

“This isn’t Goodnight, anymore.”

“Apparently not.”

“Text me your hotel. I’ll see you at seven.”

I intentionally brought him to a ribs place, with a country tavern style décor. It’s kind of kitsch and overdone, but there’s something about it that reminds me of The Silver Spur. And seeing as we’re going to spend the night planning a future that sort of kicked off at that place, it seems appropriate.

I can tell he’s a bit unnerved. Probably by the chauffeur driven car I picked him up in, and possibly by the black leather mini skirt I’ve teamed with a silky shirt that shows a fair bit of cleavage. But now that I know how we both feel about each other, it’s kind of fun to torment him, just a little.

He's being a perfect gentleman, of course, because he’s Cole Donovan. Even when I think he’s about to burst a blood vessel every time he looks at me, he’s keeping a respectful distance, not touching me other than putting his hand on the small of my back when we were guided to our table.

It’s loud in here, so rather than sitting across from each other in the booth, I slid in beside him, surprising him again. Our knees brush beneath the table, reminding me of dinners at the ranch. The thought of going back there—of goinghome—makes my whole body fizz with anticipation.

“How was your lunch?” he asks, casually.

“Fine.”

He nods. Uncertain. So unlike Cole, I take pity on him. “I was with Elsie.”

His brows shoot up, his surprise evident, so I fill him in on everything that’s happened there. From the way his jaw is clenched, I can guess what he’s feeling.

“They really thought he’d changed. Wishful thinking, I guess. They’re devastated.”

He nods once, his hand clenched so hard around his beer his knuckles turn white.

I’m amazed by how comfortable it is to just be with him, even when I can see he’s on edge, not knowing how I feel, and what I want from him. By the time we’ve finished eating, he looks around the kitschy saloon.

“How about a dance, Beth? For old time’s sake?”

My heart trips and I nod. “I’d like that.”

I feel his gaze on me as I slide from the booth, and a moment later he joins me, hand extended, palm up, something in his expression that drives home to me how much this moment means to him. I put my own hand in his and let him lead me to the dance floor. A Benson Boone song comes on and he draws me against him. I feel his chest expand as he breathes me in, and I place my head against him there, listening to his heart. Solid, fast, hard.

We move to the song, our bodies in synch, our hearts beating the same tattoo, and then, because I don’t want to wait another moment, I glance up at him, and smile slowly. A smile of trust and knowing, a smile of promise.

“How did you find me, anyway?” I ask, realizing it hadn’t even occurred to me earlier today to wonder how he happened to be in the lobby of my old apartment.

“You described the building,” he says, simply.

I try to recall having done that, and I suppose I did, yes. The night I told him the truth about Christopher. “You remembered?”

“I’m pretty sure I remember everything you’ve ever said,” he says with a lift of his shoulders.