Page 62 of My UnTrue Love
Three faces watched the cy’ote there,
Knowing why he’d come,
His selfish desires all laid bare,
So now she’d have some fun.
Lyrics from the folk song “Crossroads Coyote”
While she waited for Bill to take the stage, Clem glanced around the interior of the Lone Prairie. It was about half-filled with a rowdy crowd. She only hoped they didn’t disrupt Bill’s performance, because she wanted him to have a drama-free show. It would help build his confidence going forward.
And hewasgoing forward. With her.
Clementine and Bill, for all of ever-after.
She raised a hand to her lips, still feeling the phantom taste of his mouth against hers. She had never been kissed like that before. Maybe it really was the spell reacting to Bill’s off-the-charts artistic brilliance. Maybe it was a sign their partnership was going to be epic, with no doors between them.
Or maybe the man was just a really great kisser.
Was it wrong that she kind of hoped for that last possibility?
She wanted Luke to be right. She wanted Bill to want her. She wanted him to kiss her, because he was swept away with desire. She wanted him to fall in love with her and propose. She wanted to have incredible honeymoon sex somewherescandalous, because he simply couldn’t wait to have his beautiful hands all over her.
Her nose wrinkled. Maybe she should entice him into a date, before they got to all that. Kind of get him used to the idea of their inevitable couplehood. That seemed like a good way to ease him into the rest of their happy future.
Clem stood by the bar, nursing her lemonade and plotting how to chase her cowboy. She would’ve preferred a margarita, but she knew better than to order one where Bill would find out about it. He took her doctor’s warnings about salt interfering with her medicine super-seriously. At least no one was smoking. Although it was more because the management worried about the ratty building catching fire, rather than any health concerns, Bill would still be pleased.
The show was on a break between acts, which meant the houselights were brighter. It gave her a clear view of the figure by the door.
Holy moly!
Her mind raced for a beat and then she leaned across the rickety bar so far that her feet left the floor. “Harry! Psst! Harry!”
He finished serving a hard-drinking cowboy and headed over to her, ignoring the other patrons trying to get his attention. “Problem, doll?”
Harry was a sasquatch with a real eye for hair design. He only worked as a bartender to pay his way through beauty school. His fur was styled into a dazzling array of purple spikes. Clementine had told him how wonderfully artistic he looked and now they were like old friends. She’d known him for about anhour and she’d already seen pictures of his gorgeous boyfriend and the precious one-eared cat they were planning to adopt.
“Can you do me a favor?” She asked him in a stage whisper.
He leaned closer to hear her over the din. “You know it.”
“Hijack whatever food is ready and put it on my tab. Then, casually bring the plate to my table and say ‘On the house’.”
He arched a bushy brow in confusion.
Her eyes pointedly traveled towards the too-skinny kid, who was standing as far out of the way as he could get, with his back to the wall and arms crossed tight against his chest.
Harry followed her gaze. “Are you starting a collection of coyotes?”
“I’ve only got two and they’re both very talented. That one,” she tilted her head in Luke’s direction, “is a down-on-his-luck teenager. Help me get some food into him, okay?”
Harry sighed in reluctant agreement.
She mouthed “thank you” and headed for Luke. A muse’s work was never done. “Hey, neighbor.” She called, as if she’d been waiting for him to show up.
He stiffened. Maybe he hadn’t expected her to notice his presence. Joke’s on him, because he was hard to miss. He was extremely tall, had that arresting silvery hair, and he was the youngest person in the saloon. The yellow wristband on his hand designated him as underage.
“Come sit with me.” She told Luke. “I could use a friendly face to keep me company.”
