Page 86 of My UnTrue Love
He shot her an aggrieved look.
She raised both eyebrows at him, not backing down.
His head tilted to one side, arguing his points.
She shrugged, refusing to budge.
He sighed, knowing he couldn’t win this debate. “How about you come with me to Camp Town Racetrack, this afternoon? You can wait while I do the interview, and then we’ll look for new saloons where I can play guitar. Together.”
He’d invited her along! That was just what she’d wanted. His idea about the racetrack was nonsense, but she could humor him until he saw she was right about his musical career. “Okay.”
“Just please don’t befriend any of the shady gamblers.” Bill implored. “No matter how pitiful and musical they look. It’ll surely lead to some kind of altercation and your brother’s just hankering for a reason to arrest me.”
“You’re the one who keeps getting into altercations, not me.” She was ninety-nine percent sure he’d be up to some kind of mischief with Desert Pete. Hopefully, he got the money they were owed, while he was at it.
“I wonder how I wind up in so many strange predicaments?” Bill leaned his hip against the counter. “It’s an all-abiding mystery.”
“Well, you’re a mysterious man.” She reminded him.
“Uh-huh.” He sipped his coffee, a playful glint in his eyes. “You sure are winsome this morning, Miss Clementine. Have I told you that?”
She resisted the urge to check how her backside looked in the skirt. “You think I seem professional enough?”
“I’d sure hire you. In fact, Idid.Is it professional of me to say that you’re the prettiest manager in town?”
She flushed a bit. “Probably not, but I’ll take it. Thank you. You… um… look good, too.”
Shoot.
That was a really weak compliment, considering this was a golden opportunity to flirt. She needed to be less subtle in her pursuit of Bill. With a few more gentle nudges, he might realize that Clem was a desirable woman. And that he was madly in love with her. And maybe then ask her on a date.
And propose.
Really, now that she’d decided to marry the man, she was getting impatient with his foot-dragging. It had beenhours. Perhaps it was time to nudge him in a less gentle way.
“Sometimes artists are inspired by passion.” Clementine announced, out of the blue.
Bill blinked.“Huh?”
Clem stifled a sigh at how oblivious her groom could be. It was because he existed in his own internal world. She’d provide more romantic scaffolding, so he could climb out of his head and into reality.
“Artists are passionate people.” She reiterated. “They crave passionate experiences and passionate connections. Sometimes I feel like you repress that part of yourself.”
“Huh.” Now the sound was thoughtful instead of baffled.
“That could be why you’re stifling your emotions.”
“I’mnotstifling my emotions.”
“I’m just saying: It wouldn’t hurt you to broaden your social life.” She focused on the cereal box on the counter, pretending the smiling knight on the package was fascinating. “For the good of your music.”
“Well, Ihavehad my eye on a woman, now that you mention it.”
“You have?” Her lips pressed together in annoyance. “Well, on second thought, toomuchpassion is very detrimental to inspiration. You don’t want to waste any of your creative energy.”
“I don’t wanna be repressing myself, either.”
“You’re not! But you can’t risk your whole career over some girl.”
