Page 93 of Dirty Cowboy

“It’s either Suzy or the bikes,” I rasp, still tasting her on my tongue.

"I like Suzy. She has character." She grins, tugging on the brim of my cowboy hat. “And I love the hat.”

I close the small space between us, capturing her lips again, and deepening the kiss. She melts against me, and for a second, I think about skipping the festival altogether.

"Maybe we should stay home?" My hand slides to her backside, gripping tightly.

She laughs, shaking her head. "We promised to help, and everyone’s gonna be there."

"Admit it. You just want to defend your bull-riding championship tonight," I tease as we walk to the car.

She shrugs. "Maybe."

I open the passenger door for her, stealing one more kiss before she slides inside. God, I could kiss her forever.

Ten minutes later, I park Suzy near the bakery. We stroll hand in hand down the dusty road, weaving through the growing crowd. The energy hums with anticipation, a mix of last-minute setups and familiar town chatter.

At the Rusty Lantern Pub, we veer off, cutting through the back field toward the Big Barn. Annabelle strings lights overhead while Derek secures the pie booth. Emma points toward the stage.

“Grandpa’s waving us over.”

"Go ahead. I need to talk to Annabelle for a sec," I tell her.

She nods, disappearing into the crowd. Once she’s out of sight, I turn to my sister.

Annabelle stands with her arms crossed, watching me like she already knows exactly what I’m about to say.

"Are you going back to that asshole landlord?" I ask.

"It’s where I live. I can’t break the lease."

"Sure you can. Just leave."

"I can’t just leave, and you know it." Her voice is firm, but there’s something else in her eyes. "Besides, I don’t want to be anywhere near Huntz."

“He won’t be a problem much longer,” I say.

She tilts her head. “What do you mean?”

“He’ll be leaving town for good.”

Annabelle sets the string of lights on a table and steps closer. “You sound sure.”

“The man is old and reeks of whiskey. His liver won’t hold much longer.”

She folds her arms. “So you’re counting on a man to just drop dead?”

"No. I’m counting down the days until he’s out of our lives." My voice is tight, controlled. "Grandpa’s transferring his assets next week. Once the money’s in my hands, I’ll get rid of Huntz for good."

I grab a stack of pie boxes, focusing on folding the edges. Annabelle doesn’t let up.

"Eric!" Her voice lowers to a horrified whisper. "You can’t keep paying him off."

"I’m just gonna pay him enough to leave town," I mutter.

She rolls her eyes. “That’s the stupidest plan I’ve ever heard. He’ll spend it all on booze.”

"Exactly. And if we’re lucky, he’ll drink himself into an early grave."

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