Page 95 of Dirty Cowboy

“Seems that way, doesn’t it?”

Her jaw tightens. “What would Grandpa say?”

“He wouldn’t be happy,” I admit. “But I’m gonna make things right next week. I promise.”

We’ll go back to New York. I’ll ask for Emma’s hand, and we’ll live happily ever after. At least, that’s the plan in my head.

“Listen, I’ve got a quick errand to run. Keep an eye on Emma?”

Annabelle folds her arms. “Will do,brother.”

I nod and slip out the side door, my boots crunching against gravel as I head behind the general store.

Huntz leans against the weathered brick wall, cheap whiskey practically radiating off him. The stench alone pulls me back to that damn cellar. My chest tightens as the air around me shifts. It’s suffocating.

He clutches a brown paper bag, his bloodshot eyes narrowing as I approach.

"You're late." His words slur, his mouth curling into a sneer.

I don’t bother with small talk. I yank the wad of cash from my jacket, my fingers steady despite the rage simmering in my veins. "This is it. The last payment. I’ve already stopped the bank transfers. After tomorrow, you disappear."

He snatches the money, flipping through the bills with nicotine-stained fingers. "Maybe I don't wanna leave. Maybe Ilikeit here, watching you squirm."

His voice is poison, seeping into every crack I’ve spent years sealing shut. My fists clench at my sides, as the need to hit him, to make him feel even a fraction of the fear he put us through, overwhelms me.

“We had a deal,” I growl, stepping closer, my pulse a deafening roar in my ears.

"Deals change." He shoves the cash into his pocket, his mouth twisting into something that barely resembles a grin. "Especially when there's a pretty newfiancéeinvolved."

White-hot rage explodes inside me. Two strides, and I’ve got him pinned against the wall, my forearm digging into his throat. The paper bag drops, whiskey soaking into the dirt. The smell makes my stomach churn.

I lean in, my voice low and lethal. "Listen carefully.If you so much aslookat Emma, if you evenbreathein her direction—” My voice catches as old memories claw their way to the surface. Rope burns. Musty hay. The sickly-sweet stench of whiskey.

My grip tightens. “I’ll make you wish you’d died in that cellar.”

Huntz chokes, his hands clawing at my arm, but the same cowardice that made him prey on children is still there, just beneath the surface.

"You remember, don’t you?" My voice drops to a whisper, pressing in like a blade. "How many nights did you make us listen to your drunken confessions? How many secrets do youthinkI still remember?"

His face purples, and I let go, watching with cold satisfaction as he crumples, gasping.

"Get out of my town," I spit, stepping back. "Or next time, I won’t let go."

He scrambles away, his stride unsteady. I brace my hands against the brick wall, sucking in deep breaths, forcing my mind to shove the cellar’s darkness back into its permanent corner. Emma deserves better than the scared kid I used to be.

When I return to the barn, Emma’s arranging a display with Annabelle, her hands fluttering as she laughs at something my sister says. Without thinking, I grab her hand and pull her outside and around the back of the barn.

The setting sun spills amber light over us, the scent of hay thick in the air.

"Eric?" she whispers as I guide her between the hay bales. "What’s wrong?"

I don’t answer. Instead, I press her against the wooden wall, my mouth crashing against hers. She gasps, but her hands tangle in my hair, knocking my hat aside. I kiss her like I need her, like I can drown out the past with the taste of her. Her body molds against mine, soft and warm, and it’s the only thing anchoring me to the present.

When we finally break apart, her fingers trace my cheek.

"You're trembling," she murmurs.

I catch her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm.

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