Page 87 of Dirty Cowboy

Something tightens in my chest.

"And shoving my fingers inside you when you’re a virgin definitely hurts," he adds. "So…"

I swallow. "So?"

His lips twitch, but his gaze remains locked on mine. "So I want to do things right."

I exhale, my pulse hammering as he reaches across the table and takes my hand. He lifts it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to my palm.

“Emma Silver,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble, “will you go on a date with me?”

My breath catches.

“A date?”

“Yes. Tomorrow morning, before we prep for the fest.”

My mouth opens and closes a few times before I manage a soft, “I’d love to go on a date with you.”

He grins. “Good.”

I lean in, lowering my voice. "I don’t want to burst your bubble, cowboy, but I’ve used a vibrator thicker than two fingers."

His smirk grows. He leans in too, closing the distance between us. “I’ve seen your vibrator, Ems, and I can assure you, it’s not the same.”

I tilt my head. “I know it’s not. I’ve seen your dick.”

His eyes darken, locked onto mine. “But you haven’t felt me inside you.”

A wave of heat crashes through me, my thighs clenching under the table as my breath turns shallow.

“Just say the word, and I’m game, cowboy.”

He brushes his lips against mine. “I’m doing this right, Ems. Date first.”

He’s killing me.

But if my dirty cowboy wants to take the tamed route—for now—I’ll play along.

The next hour dissolves into laughter and easy conversation, years of distance melting away. The stars scatter across the sky, fairy lights casting everything in a warm glow. The scent of burning wood from the chimney wraps around us, grounding me in this moment. Imagining forever here is almost too easy. Maybe because I’ve already spent fifteen years loving this man, or maybe because, finally, it feels possible.

The night eventually gives way to silence, the kind that feels safe and comfortable. When the late hour chills the air, Eric walks me up to my room, his hand resting on the small of my back, warm and steady.

At my door, he pauses. “Good night, Emma.”

I smile. My heart is so full, I can barely contain the glee. “Good night, Eric.”

I fall asleep that night with the scent of him still on my skin, the taste of him lingering on my lips, and a hope I haven’t felt in years.

* * *

The sharp buzzof my phone jolts me awake. Mom’s name flashes across the screen.

I swipe to answer, my voice groggy. “Hey, Mom.”

“Emma, sweetheart. I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No, no,” I lie, sitting up. “How’s Dad?”

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