Page 28 of Untaming the Cowboy
Once everyone had washed up, Dahlia began setting out the meat loaf, mashed potatoes with brown gravy, and sweet peas bright against the white bowls, and a basket of homemade rolls steaming in the center. This was the kind of meal that made a place feel like home, even if it wasn’t hers.
On her way back with their pitcher of sweet tea, she caught Luc’s gaze following her. He didn’t leer; he observed, intent, as if cataloguing something precious without meaning to. She tried to play it cool, laughing at Beau’s story about the downed fence, but his focus pressed in making it impossible.
Ever since that almost-kiss in the stable, the air between them had burned low and constant, waiting for a spark. It had been living in her mind rent-free all day. She still remembered how close they’d been, his stormy gaze when he’d leaned in.He’d smelled of earth, leather, cedar, and something deeper—something that reminded her of home. Not her daddy’s cologne, not the spice of aftershave, but a scent that carried safety and want all muddled together. It made her knees weak then, and even now, sitting so close at this table and inhaling him all over again, the memory nearly undid her.
She couldn’t explain why she’d wanted to press her nose to his neck, breathe him in, and memorize every breath he gave her. She didn’t want to explain it. Let it be what it was.
Luc was fighting it, though. That ol’ junkyard dog was softening around her, and it made her grin without warning. For all his rough edges, he had the makings of a golden retriever—if golden retrievers glared, growled, and had forearms that could probably bench-press her, Teylor and her cousins for that matter.
She laughed quietly to herself, shaking her head.
“What’s funny?” Luc asked, his voice rough enough to pull her eyes up.
Her hand froze midair. “Huh?”
“I said, what’s funny?”
Her mind scrambled for anything that didn’t sound likeyou. Before she could speak, a loud, piercing, beeping noise split the air. Dahlia jumped, her fork clattering against the plate.
Luc turned toward the sound, calm as ever. “It’s all right. It’s just the alarm—power’s back.”
Beau threw his arms up, letting out a whoop. “Took a full damn week, but happy we finally got it!”
Luc leaned back slightly, relief flickering across his face while he reached for his phone. Around the table, others did the same. Dahlia checked hers and noticed the empty signal bars in the corner of the screen. No service. Judging by everyone else’s expressions, they were in the same boat.
“Looks like towers are still down,” Luc said, placing the device face down next to his silverware. “At least we got the roads cleared this afternoon. Means we can make a run into town tomorrow. Need to see how far this storm wreaked havoc across the Dakotas.”
He hesitated and then looked right at her. “You should probably head on up to the hotel, make sure your things are all right.”
The words hit soft, but a slow heaviness crept through her chest.He’s ready for me to go.
But before the thought rooted, he added, “Until they get those cell towers up, you can stay here.”
She blinked slowly, letting it sink in. “Okay … thank you. So, will you or Beau take me?”
Luc looked at his foreman. Some unspoken message passed between them, both men nodded and then Luc said, “Since I have a lot of business to handle, Beau will take care of you.”
Dahlia kept her expression easy, and ensured her tone remained even. “All right. Sounds like a plan.”
Inside, though, something small tugged tight. She would’ve liked it better if Luc had been the one to take her, but she wasn’t about to let that show.
Luc reached for the basket of rolls, tearing one in half before passing it to her. “You cook like somebody’s grandma,” he said, a grin ghosting across his face.
She laughed, grateful for the shift. “I’ll take that as a compliment since Granny taught me how to move around a kitchen.”
“It is,” he said, that huskiness threading his voice. “Means you know how to feed folks right.”
Smiling, Dahlia joined everyone in enjoying dinner. The rest of the meal continued with conversation, teasing, Luc and Beau going for seconds. Outside, the last of the sunset bled orangeacross the horizon, and for a fleeting moment, Dahlia let herself imagine this as ordinary: supper on a ranch, laughter around the table, and the man at the head of it watching her like he too was thinking the same.
By late morning the next day, Beau’s truck rumbled down the gravel road toward town. The fields rolled wide and gold under a blue sky filled with white clouds. Dahlia leaned against the window, half watching fences slide by, half thinking of the man who hadn’t come.
Luc had offered to pay for her hotel stay, admitting it was his fault for the fender bender that brought her here. That kind of gesture told her more than his brooding silence ever had.
At the hotel, she packed her things and checked out. Beau helped load the bags, and they made a few stops before heading back—shops reopening, folks sweeping porches and restringing lights. The town was shaking itself awake.
When she spottedThe Hen Housesign lit again, she grinned. “Oh, they’re open tonight!”
Beau laughed. “You sound like you’ve been waitin’ on it.” He slowed in front of the honky tonk bar.
