Page 122 of Cowboy Heat
“But looking for what?”
We go the back way to Blue Lolita, right off the parish road and head toward Low Low. I can already see the field in the distance is half submerged from the rain.
“I don’t know,” Alice says. “But now I’m not sure who we can trust. Guidry and the sheriff shot me and my husband-my husband-” She stops herself.
I don’t finish the thought for her.
Jon was trying to use me and Micah against Guidry to—what?—take overLa Lumiere? How would that even be possible? Was Jon going to try to get Guidry to sign over all of the deeds to the houses and land?
How the heck does Ryan King’s and Dan Cleary’s deaths factor in?
Micah pulls me out of the new rabbit hole of old questions I’m making. He drops my hand and points out of the windshield as Low Low comes into view.
“It’s Beau!”
He’s not wrong.
My stomach flutters as what I see matches up with the memory of the night before. A kiss from Beau sure sticks, even though he’s standing out in the road and no longer close enough to touch in bed.
It’s a feeling I could swim in if given the time.
Right now?
Right now, Beau’s not lounging between my legs or the sheets.
He’s standing tall.
Next to Everett Guidry.
And Sheriff Roland.
I’m alarmed and confused.
Alice Dean is angry. So angry, in fact, that she does something else unexpected.
Instead of using caution, she uses speed and wild abandon.
Her foot becomes a brick on the gas pedal and her aim is at Beau. It’s a change I don’t expect. The same goes double for the aggression on her next words.
“He’s the reason this all happened,” she snarls.
“Alice,” I yell out.
The men alert to us, but there’s no time for them to scatter that fast.
So I do what I did the first day I met Beau Montgomery.
I swerve. This time, I take two more along for the ride.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-EIGHT
Beau
Sometimes,I know when my leg is going to work. Other times, I’m not sure until the tough get going. Just as I register the truck and the driver and the speed at which all are coming at us, it’s one of those times that I know my leg isn’t going to do what I need it to do.
Not only do I know I’m not going to be able to get out of the way before it comes at me, my mind decides to skip the fear and panic and fast forward me to something more pleasant in my last moments.
A memory of my brothers pops up. It’s not fancy or extra special. We’re in the parking lot of a mom and pop restaurant, all looking out toward the state line between Alabama and Florida. Macy’s just aged out of care, and we’ve all come to do what we always do when that happens – cross the state line together. Macy isn’t a sentimental man. Not like the rest of us. He definitely wasn’t then at all so when he cleared his throat while we were all standing with our gazes on the distance, I expected him to crack a joke.
