eyebrows. “You comin’ or not?”
“Not.”
“Fine by me. See ya, toots.” Buddy put the car in gear and took off down the road, Rosalie stuck a hand out the window, waved good-bye.
Leaving me in a strange place, without anything to eat or drink, to walk home all by myself.
Feeling like the country rube I obviously was, I swallowed back the tears pushing into my throat. Dumb. Why did I have to be so dumb? I’d thought Rosalie wanted my company, but she’d just been using me as an excuse to meet up with Buddy Grass away from prying eyes.
I was hungry and thirsty and I’d never felt so alone.
Stop it. No wallowing in self-pity . I squared my shoulders and set my course for Cupid.
The sun beat down, baking my head, and I wished I’d worn a hat. My shoes kept slipping in the pebble-strewn path. I considered taking off my shoes and going barefooted, but the abundance of prickly cacti prevented me from doing that.
I’d walked no more than a quarter of a mile when there came the sounds of horse hooves trotting up behind me. Nervously, I wadded my hands into fists and cast a glance over my shoulder.
The sun was at the rider’s back, casting his face in shadows, but he sat astride a magnificent palomino and I could see that he wore a cowboy hat, cowboy boots, and batwing chaps studded with silver conchos that glinted in the light.
My heart gave an odd little thump.
He reined in the horse a few yards away and swung down from the saddle.
I shaded my eyes with the edge of my hand but I still couldn’t make out the man’s features.
Spurs jangling, he strode toward me with long-legged, purposeful strides. That’s when I spotted the gun holstered on his hips.
I gulped, swiped the sweat from my brow with the back of my hand. Who was he? What did he want with me? What should I do? Run? Hold my ground? I scanned the area—nothing but cactus, yucca, and scrub oak.
Nowhere to hide.
Nothing to do but face this head-on.
My chest tightened. I couldn’t quite catch my breath. I steeled my body and raised my chin. “Hello.”
“What are you doing way out here all by yourself, Millie?” drawled a familiar voice.
Blood that had earlier set my pulse racing was now pumping happy relief through my veins.
The cowboy was none other than John Fant.
Chapter Four
“I WAS OUT for a walk,” I answered, not wanting to get Rosalie in trouble, although I wasn’t sure why I was skirting the truth for her. She had abandoned me to my own devices to go off joyriding with a rumrunner. “I wanted to see the Cupid Caverns.”
“All by yourself?”
Not wanting to tell a bald-faced lie, I didn’t answer.
“And did you?” he asked, coming closer, a quirky smile on his lips. “See the caverns?”
“I did.”
Up close, he was more handsome than ever in those cowboy clothes. I’d never seen him in a Stetson, boots, chaps, spurs, and gun. I couldn’t forget the gun. I was fascinated by his transformation from business-suited executive to rangy cowpoke. Now I understood the calluses on his palms.
“Would you like a ride home?” he asked.
Ride on a horse behind John Fant? My entire body tingled at the thought.
“Where have you been on a Sunday?” I asked.
“Checking the herd.”
“How often do you do that?”
“Every Sunday. I have a foreman that runs the spread, but I like getting my hands dirty.”
“You work on Sunday?”
“Livestock has to eat seven days a week. Besides, I believe working is the best way to commune with God,” he said. “What’s more pious than an honest day’s labor working with your hands?”
It was a different way of looking at things, a way that intrigued me. “Don’t you ever take a day off?”
“Work settles my mind.”
That I understood. “Where do you keep your horse in town?” I asked.
“There’s a livery in Cupid. I board her there.”
“What’s her name?”
“Goldie.”
“She’s a pretty filly.”
His gaze was fixed on my face. “That she
“Not.”
“Fine by me. See ya, toots.” Buddy put the car in gear and took off down the road, Rosalie stuck a hand out the window, waved good-bye.
Leaving me in a strange place, without anything to eat or drink, to walk home all by myself.
Feeling like the country rube I obviously was, I swallowed back the tears pushing into my throat. Dumb. Why did I have to be so dumb? I’d thought Rosalie wanted my company, but she’d just been using me as an excuse to meet up with Buddy Grass away from prying eyes.
I was hungry and thirsty and I’d never felt so alone.
Stop it. No wallowing in self-pity . I squared my shoulders and set my course for Cupid.
The sun beat down, baking my head, and I wished I’d worn a hat. My shoes kept slipping in the pebble-strewn path. I considered taking off my shoes and going barefooted, but the abundance of prickly cacti prevented me from doing that.
I’d walked no more than a quarter of a mile when there came the sounds of horse hooves trotting up behind me. Nervously, I wadded my hands into fists and cast a glance over my shoulder.
The sun was at the rider’s back, casting his face in shadows, but he sat astride a magnificent palomino and I could see that he wore a cowboy hat, cowboy boots, and batwing chaps studded with silver conchos that glinted in the light.
My heart gave an odd little thump.
He reined in the horse a few yards away and swung down from the saddle.
I shaded my eyes with the edge of my hand but I still couldn’t make out the man’s features.
Spurs jangling, he strode toward me with long-legged, purposeful strides. That’s when I spotted the gun holstered on his hips.
I gulped, swiped the sweat from my brow with the back of my hand. Who was he? What did he want with me? What should I do? Run? Hold my ground? I scanned the area—nothing but cactus, yucca, and scrub oak.
Nowhere to hide.
Nothing to do but face this head-on.
My chest tightened. I couldn’t quite catch my breath. I steeled my body and raised my chin. “Hello.”
“What are you doing way out here all by yourself, Millie?” drawled a familiar voice.
Blood that had earlier set my pulse racing was now pumping happy relief through my veins.
The cowboy was none other than John Fant.
Chapter Four
“I WAS OUT for a walk,” I answered, not wanting to get Rosalie in trouble, although I wasn’t sure why I was skirting the truth for her. She had abandoned me to my own devices to go off joyriding with a rumrunner. “I wanted to see the Cupid Caverns.”
“All by yourself?”
Not wanting to tell a bald-faced lie, I didn’t answer.
“And did you?” he asked, coming closer, a quirky smile on his lips. “See the caverns?”
“I did.”
Up close, he was more handsome than ever in those cowboy clothes. I’d never seen him in a Stetson, boots, chaps, spurs, and gun. I couldn’t forget the gun. I was fascinated by his transformation from business-suited executive to rangy cowpoke. Now I understood the calluses on his palms.
“Would you like a ride home?” he asked.
Ride on a horse behind John Fant? My entire body tingled at the thought.
“Where have you been on a Sunday?” I asked.
“Checking the herd.”
“How often do you do that?”
“Every Sunday. I have a foreman that runs the spread, but I like getting my hands dirty.”
“You work on Sunday?”
“Livestock has to eat seven days a week. Besides, I believe working is the best way to commune with God,” he said. “What’s more pious than an honest day’s labor working with your hands?”
It was a different way of looking at things, a way that intrigued me. “Don’t you ever take a day off?”
“Work settles my mind.”
That I understood. “Where do you keep your horse in town?” I asked.
“There’s a livery in Cupid. I board her there.”
“What’s her name?”
“Goldie.”
“She’s a pretty filly.”
His gaze was fixed on my face. “That she
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