Page 98 of For Cowgirls and Kings

His eyes widen. “Of course sir, what pieces are you wanting?”

I point at the case, the squash blossom resting there. “Do you have a full set to match that piece?”

“Of course.”

I nod. “Let’s start there.”

THIRTY-SIX

ADALENE

March 7th, 2025

I feellike Pretty Woman right now; completely out of my element but loving every second of it. It’s like I’m in a fairy tale, and even though I’m very aware it’ll eventually end, I can’t be bothered to worry about it right now—Mateo’s undivided attention is like a drug and I’m hooked.

We walk over the brick cobbled streets, the air thick with the smell of dirt and cattle and truck exhaust—the scent wholly unique to Downtown Fort Worth. We just narrowly escaped the daily mob of people gathering to watch the cattle drive down the street, their claps and wonky cowboy hats enough to make me roll my eyes.

Mateo’s hand gently squeezes around mine, and I look at him confused.

“We can go back if you want—” Mateo starts, before I cut him off with a shake of my head.

“No, I promise I’m okay. And honestly, I’m curious where you’re taking me next. I’ve already spent a fortune and my feet are starting to ache.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have worn those boots,” he huffs, and a spark of annoyance spirals through me.

“What the hell’s wrong with my boots?”

“You look like you should be dancing on the Coyote Ugly bar somewhere.”

“Maybe that’s my plan this evening after we get back. My date should be there by eight to pick me up.”

He growls at that, tugging on my hand, and I stumble forward, crashing into his chest.

“The only date you have tonight is me.”

I raise an eyebrow, my eyes clashing with his dark glittering ones. Something about today feels different—the air is charged with desire, and I’m desperate to see how far Mateo will go. He’s been so careful, so aware of my space the last couple weeks. But this man, the one vibrating beneath my touch with barely restrained anger? He’s different, andI love it. I’ve forgotten how much I enjoy riling him up—seeing him unravel.

Before I can respond, he turns back around, pulling me inside the grand hotel at the end of the road. It’s an enormous estate, a garden sprawling in front of the cream bricks and terracotta roof tiles. The neon cowboy shimmers in the sunshine, his light not yet turned on for the evening.

I know of this hotel;everyone in Texas does.

“Mateo, what’re we doing here?”

Instead of responding, he strides confidently to the check-in counter, me in tow behind him like a dazed child. I take in the grandiose interior—enormous bull skulls hanging on barn wood trimmed walls, cowhides and expensive rugs covering the floors, plush leather chairs big enough to swallow me, and painting after painting of incredible, Texas inspired views.

“Hello sir, what can I do for you?” My eyes snap to the woman behind the counter, her perfectly styled auburn ponytail swishing as she smiles a littletoo warmlyat Mateo. Does she not see me standing here, holding his handfor fuck’s sake?

“Checking in,” he says, his hand never wavering within myown as he pulls his wallet out of his back pocket, flipping it open to pull out a credit card and ID. He doesn’t even look at her, and some dark part of me revels in the way her smile sharpens, just a fraction at the dismissal.

I step toward him, leaning into the angry beast bubbling in my chest as I wrap my free hand around his bicep. He stills, his breathing halting, and a feline grin spreads across my face.

“Dearest, what a surprise. I feel so spoiled—first showered in gifts and now this.” My voice is sickly sweet, my eyes never wavering from the woman’s face. Mateo snorts, the sound so quiet I barely hear it, before he extends both cards out to her.

She takes them, her eyes dropping to the screen, and for a second I wonder if I read the situation wrong. Was she hitting on him, or am I being irrationally jealous?And what the hell does that mean if I am?“We have a room with two queen beds overlooking the pool, or a king that overlooks the stockyards.” She waits, and I silently start to panic.

One, I didn’t even know we were staying the night, much less in a place like this. Two, either way, the prospect of staying in a room with him feels like throwing myself into the flames once more—if he chooses two beds, I’ll be no closer to knowing what he wants from me, if he chooses one bed…I’ll have to figure out what I want from him.

Both options feel like teetering on some unknown cliff.