Page 27 of Hawt Cowboy
“Oh! You need to check out the download link I sent. I guess you’ve been busy. By the way, you sound different.”
I glance at Cash, who’s leaning against the truck, hat low, smile lazy and content. “I am a little different.”
“Oh?” she asks, suspiciously cheerful. “And how’s that?”
I smile, sliding into the passenger seat, sunlight spilling across my lap.
“Well, Marlene…” I say, fastening my seat belt. “I followed your instructions as close as I could … and I fell in love with a very hawt cowboy.”
Chapter 19
Cash
Savannah’s phone call with Marlene plays out soft beside me — her voice steady, warm, more sure of herself than I’ve ever heard it. I don’t mean to listen in, but every word slides straight under my skin. Besides, she’s not hiding this womanly conversation from me.
“Well, Marlene,” she says, a smile in her voice, “I followed your instructions and ended up falling in love with a hawt cowboy.”
There’s a pause on the other end — Marlene probably speechless for the first time in her life — then Savannah laughs, light and unguarded. That sound hits me square in the chest.
When I first met her, she was all clipped words and stiff shoulders, wound tighter than barbed wire. Now she’s leaning against the window, sunlight in her hair, humming along with the radio. Her boots are up on the dash, her hat tipped low, and she keeps absently brushing her thumb over that silver-and-turquoise bracelet. Every time she does it, I remember the look on her face when I fastened it around her wrist.
She hangs up and sets the phone in her lap, still smiling to herself.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing,” she says, turning her head toward me. “Just thinking how strange it feels to be this happy.”
I reach across the console and take her hand. “Get used to it.”
She squeezes back, and for a while we just drive like that — two people who finally stopped fighting what was meant to happen. The Texas border sign flashes by, big and blue against the sky. Another rodeo, another crowd, another chance to prove myself.
Only now, it isn’t the bull rides or the spotlight that matter. It’s her.
I glance at her again, and she’s still fiddling with that bracelet, tracing the inlay like it’s a promise. Before this next rodeo’s over, I’m giving her something that shines brighter than turquoise.
A ring.
Because now that I’ve found her, there’s not a damn thing in this world that’s taking her away from me.
♥♥♥
