Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 28678 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 143(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28678 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 143(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
She sips her iced coffee and twists her straw around, processing what I’ve said. Finally, she looks up at me. “Because you love your country that much?”
The words tumble from me. I don’t even have to think about them. “Because you want your kid to know what freedom feels like. Because you want them to have the opportunity to live in a place where they can be a ballerina or a baseball player or an actor or whatever the hell they dream about. Because you want them to close their eyes at night and know that their dad is standing watch.”
She blinks, her gaze teary and turns to stare out the bakery window.
I take a second to gather myself. I haven’t talked this much in years. I certainly haven’t been this open and honest with anyone in a long time. I don’t care for the feeling of exposure, and I don’t want to probe too deeply into why I was willing to let her see so much of me.
After a long moment, she clears her throat. She looks to me again and her gaze is clear. She gives me a smile that’s pure sunshine. “What’s next on the Courage County tour?”
We spend the rest of the day in town. I show her Taylor Furnishings where Jake Taylor, a nonverbal cowboy, makes his furniture. I also take her to Bloom Anywhere, the flower shop that the Sheriff’s wife owns.
The entire time, she pauses to scribble notes and make sketches. I want to test my cellphone theory so once we’re inside Bloom Anywhere, I say, “You should really take some photos on your phone. They might inspire you later.”
Something flickers across her face, but she waves a hand away. “I accidentally left it behind.”
I nod and don’t push for more. There are usually just two reasons that someone leaves a phone behind. They either don’t want to be contacted or they’re trying to avoid being tracked. But who is it that she’s ducking and why is she so afraid of them? More importantly, how can I get her to trust me enough to tell me what’s really going on?
It’s early evening by the time I’m done showing her around town. There’s really only one business left that she hasn’t been inside yet. I war with bringing her to Liquid Courage, the local bar. She’s underage and I’m not about to ply her with alcohol. But maybe the relaxed environment will help her open up.
Inside, I order two beers and slide into a booth. The place has peanuts crushed up on the floor and a jukebox in the corner. Unlike the one at the diner, this one actually plays the whole song all the way through rather than getting stuck.
I try to take in the place through her eyes when I notice the cowboys over at table seven keep eyeing Sierra. I send them one menacing glare and suddenly, they’re focused on their own conversation again.
Satisfaction goes through me. She’s mine, and I defend what’s mine.
As soon as the thought enters my brain, I push it away. She’s not mine and she can’t ever be. No matter how badly my cock is aching to claim her.
“Ooh, darts,” she says when she spots the game over my shoulder.
“Want to play?” My voice has dropped an octave. Dammit, you’d think I was inviting her to play in my bed, which is not happening.
She nods and follows me to the board. A dreadful song is playing on the jukebox. Something that’s country but it has that new country sound that makes me miss the old stuff. Meanwhile, several cowboys have turned and they’re paying attention to us. I want to bark at them to keep their gazes to themselves.
Instead, I grab the darts and tell her, “We should make a bet. Next round is on the loser.”
We’re just drinking root beers, but she seems to be relaxing in the dim lighting of the bar. In fact, she hasn’t been looking over her shoulder as much today. I hope that’s because she knows I’ll protect her.
She bites her lower lip. “Sure, but will you explain the rules first?”
I quickly cover them before landing three darts on the triple ring. Then I take her hand and show her how to hold the dart.
I try to ignore how soft and smooth her skin is, but I can’t help wondering if she’s that soft and smooth everywhere. I can’t keep thinking like this, so I drop her hand and give her a nod. “Give it a go.”
She lands a perfect bullseye and offers an innocent shrug. “Beginner’s luck.”
Then she keeps landing them square in the bull or the bullseye. I don’t know why it’s so damn hot that she’s good at this game and kicking my ass at it. I don’t even care that she’s doing it in front of the whole town. It’s making her smile, and I realize that it’s the first time I’ve seen her look happy since she arrived.