Page 19 of Rogue Cowboy (Montana’s Rodeo Cowboys #3)

The question dogged her as they walked back along the sidewalk, dodging tourists, neighbors and rodeo competitors.

The excited buzz felt electric. The band for tonight was a true country western, and in the early part of the evening, they’d encourage the families to join in the dancing by calling out the steps to some popular country and line dances.

The band was doing a sound check, and as volunteers finished setting up the folding tables and chairs, the crews for the barbecues were setting up their grills, and merchants with specialty drinks, food and crafts were setting up their tents.

Soon the fragrance of cooking meat—burgers, chicken and wurst—would fill the air. Riley’s stomach growled in anticipation. It had been a long time since she’d felt a true appetite.

Nothing like a sexy man to stimulate my appetite.

Her thought shocked her. She didn’t want to start something she couldn’t finish.

So finish it.

That thought made her mouth dry. But she was tired of hiding. Time to take a step back into her life.

*

Cole stood outside one of the Wilders’ tricked-out horse trailers, trying not to think about Riley slicking on some lotion that would sparkle.

He liked Riley’s natural look but couldn’t help wondering where she’d be applying the sparkly lotion.

Would it have a scent? Did she ever try the lotion that changed color with body heat?

He preferred her natural scent—warm skin, a touch of citrus combined with sweet—like honeysuckle, but he was man enough to be curious.

In LA she’d also smelled like the ocean. He was trying not to pin too much hope on the fact that she had enlisted the help of her glamorous friend for tonight.

Taking it slow had become his mantra, but damn, the glimpses of the girl he’d fallen so hard for years ago teased and tempted.

And then Riley opened the trailer door. She paused on the top step and looked at him, a little uncertain, but as he tried to remember how to breathe, she smiled.

“You clean up good, Cole,” she said. “But you always look good. Better than good.”

“Look who’s talking.” His words were utterly inadequate.

“Scoot, you two.” Tucker poked her head out the door, curling iron in hand. “It takes some of us longer.”

“Ha,” Riley said and hopped off the step, nearly into Cole’s arms.

He kissed her cheek and slid an arm around her waist.

“Let’s get out into the last of the sun. I want to see this glitter.”

Riley looked at him shyly, then she stepped into the sun, spread her arms and struck a pose. “Too much?”

“You look sensational,” he told her. “I love this.” With a finger he traced the gauzy, off-the-shoulder blouse.

“Me too. I saw it today, but thought it was a bit too…too…you know, like false advertising, but so pretty.”

“You’re safe with me, Riley. Wear what you want.”

“Tucker said the same. I waffled about the blouse, but it suited my mood.”

They talked and walked toward downtown. The swish of the ruffled skirt and her toned legs and the black ankle boots seemed saucy, and his heart soared with hope even as he tried to tamp it down. Riley still needed to be honest with herself and her family.

They crossed though the small meadow and through the trees lining the Marietta River, and Riley stopped in the middle of the bridge.

She took a deep breath and held both his hands in hers—looking left then right to make sure they had a moment of privacy.

“Thank you for coming to the rodeo, Cole,” she said. “It was time. Long past time, and that’s my fault for being a coward.”

That admission stunned him.

“You’re not a coward, Riley.” He was certain about that. After she hadn’t wanted him to visit, he hadn’t tried again until he’d mustered out.

“I’m happy you’re here. Tonight’s our first official date.”

It was more than he’d hoped for.

“To honor that,” he said feeling awkward and formal, “I picked up something today that reminded me of you.” He wasn’t much for using words. But Riley deserved them.

“When I was far away, I thought of you often. You were…and still are…my light, and when I knew I’d be home in time to come to Marietta to see you at the rodeo, I reached out to a Montana artist who sells her jewelry at the boutique in the Graff Hotel and asked her to make something special.”

Riley’s cheeks pinked. “Really?” She looked both intrigued and nervous.

He pulled the silky pouch out of the pocket of his denim jacket and handed it to her.

“Thank you, for thinking of me,” Riley said before she opened it, “but I don’t have anything for you.” She looked so worried, he nearly kissed her and said she was enough, always had been and would be more than he’d dreamed of.

“Next time.” He wanted to keep the mood light.

“Challenged accepted,” Riley said and opened the pouch. “Oh. Cole. Wow,” she breathed and pulled out a delicate silver chain with the oval abalone pendant and smaller charms resting on top of it. “Wow,” she breathed again and studied the charms.

She’d understand. He knew she would. And it felt like he was handing her his heart and declaring his devotion in a way the vows in Vegas hadn’t.

“Abalone as the background for California where we met. And the silver fish for the ocean, the glittering star for the night at the observatory.” She touched each charm.

“The blingy musical note for the concert you watched, the pink boot for cowgirl roots, the gold horse galloping for my now career, the copper mountain and a Montana sapphire for my Montana roots. Is the black enamel cowboy hat you, Texas?” She smiled.

“I love it. Cole. So much. So clever and sweet.”

“There’s one more charm,” he reminded her. The artist had created a clever twist clasp so more charms could be added.

Riley fingered the metal. “A circle,” she said, and a frown skittered across her face. “This better not be real, Cole. It will scare me to death that I’ll lose it.”

She hadn’t wanted a ring when they’d married, and he’d understood.

She’d been scared. Hurt. Lost. He’d been something to hold on to.

But he had his mom’s platinum engagement ring that had been her mother’s and her mother’s before.

He’d sent a picture of the filigree setting and asked to have an eternity band to match and had purchased the small diamonds to be set into it.

“You won’t,” he said confidently. Eternity was forever.

Riley smiled and slipped the necklace over her head. She struck a pose against the background of the footbridge, the river, the trees, Copper Mountain looming behind.

“How does it look?”

“Perfection.”

Riley laughed. “Those are impossible boots to fill, Cole,” she said and then she walked to the end of the bridge and into the dappled light of Crawford Park.

The sun’s rays lit up her hair and her silky skin, and he saw the sparkle in the lotion light her up.

“No one’s perfect, Cole,” she told him, looking back at him over her shoulder, and her eyes glittered with emotion, and her hair and skin shone like a solar flare.

“You are.”

Do you ever get down time? I hate picturing you always in danger.

Cole had been pleased to receive the text.

He’d been debating if he should reach out or give it a rest, but the rest had been months now—so long he was starting to see the end of this part of his life and contemplating what would be his next career and where.

He’d always imagined he’d live in Last Stand after the military, but his family was large. No one needed him.

Did Riley need him? Would she welcome Texas? Last Stand was small, but it was only an hour drive to San Antonio and ninety minutes to Austin. But Riley, even though he’d met her in LA, seemed deeply small-town rooted.

Lot of nothing. Too much time to think.

Do you write your thoughts down? I always do. Still. Have since I was little and got my first song journal.

I make notes. Since I met you.

A happy heart face was his answer.