Page 8 of Lost and Found Cowboy

His breath tickled her ear as he leaned down to talk to her, making her laugh as he told her how Miss Bernie, an elderly local woman who Leni and Chevy had befriended the year before when they’d returned her lost cow, Babydoll, had walked over to the wedding so she could bring that same cow with her to attend the nuptials and then asked for a stall to keep her in, as if the wedding provided a bovine valet service.

She knew that the night wasn’t real, that in the morning she’d go back to her yoga pants, and never-ending piles of laundry, and dirty diapers, and pans of dried macaroni and cheese, but tonight was for pretending she was still beautiful and desirable to a hot cowboy with hard abs and a rakish grin.

Not that her life was all bad.

She loved being a mom and found joy in playing games with and reading stories to Max and singing endless rounds of silly songs to make Izzy giggle, but sometimes she got so tired and missed the feeling of simply being a woman.

And spinning around the dance floor in Mack Lassiter’s arms had her feeling not onlylikea woman but had her woman parts tingling and feeling sensations she hadn’t experienced in a long time. Since about nine months ago, around the same time she’d first met him.

They’d really had fun together then, and at times, had flirted shamelessly with each other. Then he left and essentially ghosted her. Although tonight she had felt like he was flirting again and there was no way she was imagining those looks he kept casting her way.

He must have caught her frown, because he pulled her closer and spoke into the ear. “What’s up? Your face just flipped through fifteen expressions in five seconds, like it was a Viewmaster on crack.”

A grin tugged at the corners of her lips. “Leni has always accused me of wearing my heart on my sleeves. She says she can always tell what I’m thinking.”

“Well, I don’t have that benefit, so you’re gonna have to tell me. What’s going on? You looked happy then sad then kind of mad.”

She peered up at him, loving that she could wear heels and still have him taller than her, and studied his face.

Did he really want her to answer honestly? Most men preferred to hear what they wanted to hear. But, even in the short time she’d known him, Mack had proved to be different than most men.

“I was just thinking about why you stopped texting me while you were gone. It felt like you were ghosting me.”

His brow furrowed. “I’m sorry for that. Life on a ranch is tough. Especially when you’re short-handed. I was working long, hard hours from sun-up to sun-down and most nights, I barely got my boots off before falling into bed. That’s if I had a bed to fall into. We spent plenty of nights in the pasture sleeping with the herd. I’m not making excuses, just offering an explanation. And honestly, I wasn’t sure you wanted me to keep texting you.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Because when I was here before, it seemed like you were into me, then a few nights before I left, the night we had that big barbeque at the ranch, you told me you just wanted to be friends.”

Lorna tried to think back to that night. “I remember that barbeque and sitting out on the deck feeling utterly exhausted by the end of the meal. Izzy had been fussy and wouldn’t let anyone else hold her, and Max had missed his nap that day and dumped an entire bowl of barbeque sauce into his lap. And I’d been trying to get inventory done for the coffee shop that week, so I wasfeeling mad and sad and cranky that I had to do everything by myself.”

“I didn’t know any of that. So, did I make things worse by coming over to sit with you?”

She shook her head. “No, not at all. I actually remember you sitting down next to me and offering to take Izzy.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “I can almost feel that sweaty warm spot on my chest where she’d been laying most of the night and the relief I’d felt as you took her, and she let you cuddle her on your shoulder. I don’t recall exactly what you said, but it was something flirty, and all I could think about was what a hot mess I was, going through a divorce, near tears, barely holding it together, and I think I responded with something like what I really needed was a friend.”

It was his turn to study her. “So, maybe I took your comment out of context?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. Or maybe it was exactly what you were thinking. I know that Ididneed a friend then. And I still do.”

“I didn’t realize you were going through all that. But it sounds like I wasn’t a very good friend when you needed it.” He raised a questioning eyebrow. “Would you give me another chance to be a better one?”

She smiled, liking and respecting that he wasn’t making excuses or gaslighting her into thinking his ghosting her was all her fault.

“I’m still a hot mess,” she told him. “I get cranky and still cry for what feels like no reason but is usually triggered by someone vomiting or a poop blowout or too many freaking piles of laundry and never enough time to vacuum. But if you’re up for all that, I can always use another friend.”

He offered her one of those rakish grins she’d remembered so well. “Count me in. Hot messes are my favorite kind.”

He was smiling when he said it, but the look he was giving her was a panty-melting smolder. And she couldn’t tear her gaze from his.

Leaning closer, he lowered his voice as he spoke next to her ear. “Although I don’t know if I agree so much with the mess, but I’ll definitely go along with thehotpart.”

She let out a laugh—she had to. It was either that or rip her dress off and yell ‘take me now’. His voice was like how she imagined warm whiskey mixed with honey would feel sliding down her throat—something sweet and sexy that she could get drunk on.

She let him pull her closer.

Words failed her, but she felt like she had to say something.

“I like that you make me laugh,” she told him.

---