Page 96 of Falling for the Cowgirl
Dylan McQuaid rubbed a hand across his eyes and then blinked them open to daylight and a cracked ceiling overhead. At the throbbing in his temples, he let out a low moan, which could hardly escape past the dryness of his mouth. He was hungover.
At a caress across his chest, he sat up abruptly, finding himself in a strange bed with a strange woman.
“You’re awake, finally.” The woman ran her fingers up his bare back.
“Where am I?” He glanced around the tiny room with a dingy set of drawers with chipped blue paint, a scuffed wooden chair where he’d tossed his clothes, a lone window without any curtains, and a rusty metal bedframe.
“Remember, we’re at my sister’s place.” The womanwrapped both hands around his bicep and tugged at him, trying to draw him back down to the mattress beside her. “When I told her we were engaged, she said we could stay.”
Engaged? What in the blazes had he said to this woman last night? No doubt he’d gone and made her promises about marriage and love and a future together. And no doubt she’d gone and believed every blasted word he’d uttered.
Shucks.
Dylan shoved off the covers and stood. In the same motion, he swiped up his clothes and began to don them, heedless of the fact that the woman on the bed behind him was watching him.
“Where you going?” Her voice contained a note of worry.
He hopped into one pant leg, then the other, trying to get the wheels inside his brain rolling, even if sluggishly. That slow motion was all it took for shame to well up and nearly strangle him. He’d done it again. After he’d promised himself he wouldn’t, he’d somehow ended up with another woman. “I’ve got to get to work this mornin’, darlin’.”
“It’s Sunday, the Lord’s Day.”
As he slid a suspender over his shoulder, he paused. The Lord’s Day? He released a scoffing breath. The Lord wouldn’t want anything to do with the sorry likes of him. Not after the complete mess he’d made of his life.
“Stay with me for a little while, Dylan.” The woman’s beckon was low and sultry.
He slapped his other suspender up. She knew his name, but he didn’t remember hers. In fact, he didn’t remember much of anything about the previous evening, and now all he wanted to do was hightail it out of wherever he was and try to forget about the night and this woman.
That made him the worst kind of lowlife scum. He wouldn’t deny it. And he wouldn’t deny how much he loathed himself either.
“Wish Chicago criminals took Sundays off.” He snatched up his gun belt. “But seems they have a hankerin’ for getting into trouble every day of the week. Course now, somebody’s got to go out—even on the Lord’s Day—and make sure pretty ladies like yourself are kept safe.”
“That’s true.”
At the resignation in her tone, he released a notch of tension in his back. He hated when the parting with a woman got ugly. It was one of the reasons why he’d tried to do better since Bliss left last autumn and went back to Colorado with the intention of marrying Ivy.
Dylan could admit he wasn’t real happy Bliss had betrayed his word not to view Ivy as anything but a sister. He didn’t care that he’d forced the promise from Bliss when they’d both been tenderfoots. He didn’t care that Bliss had obliged him for years even though he’d been sweet on Ivy since the day he met her. He didn’t care that Bliss was a grown man and Ivy a grown woman and the two were perfectly capable of making up their own minds. Dylan didn’t like the union one bit.
While he tried to tell himself it was because Bliss had shared affections with Ivy, Dylan knew he wasn’t fooling anybody, not even himself. The simple fact was, Dylan hadn’t wanted his friend to leave him behind. Stuck in Chicago. Stuck in a life he’d never planned. Stuck in the downward spiral of destruction and deprivation.
“Can I see you after you’re done with work tonight?” the woman asked, her tone hopeful.
Dylan buckled on his revolvers, refusing to turn and seethe expectation sure to be radiating from her eyes. Had he been out with her before? Or had last night been the first time? And where in the blazes had he met this woman?
Yep. He was a lowlife piece of scum twice over.
“You could come by the store again.”
The store. His mind began to clear, and memories sauntered back. This was Katherine, the young woman from Olson’s Grocery Store. Mostly so far he’d indulged in harmless flirting and stolen kisses. How had the sorry likes of him gotten carried away with a good girl like her when he barely knew her?
Katherine. But her sister had called her Kit.
“I’ve told Papa all about you,” Kit said. “He wants to meet you. Now that we’re engaged, I can introduce you to him and Mama and the rest of the family.”
Distant shouting filtered from somewhere in the building along with the echo of pedestrians already about on the summer morning. He glanced out the window, noting familiar businesses and signs. Kit’s tenement—or her sister’s—wasn’t far from the boardinghouse he’d lived in since he’d moved out of Bliss’s dad’s home. And it wasn’t far from the police station where he worked.
He buttoned up his shirt, his fingers moving faster. He needed to get out of the tenement before Kit wrangled another promise from him. Even though he had the day off, he’d head over to the station like he did most days.
As he shoved his arms into his oversized sack coat, she chattered about how her family wanted to meet him, how she’d told them about him, and how they already liked him.
