There’s a lot more to love than chemistry.
Annie stifled a grin as she watched Dylan read the letter from someone signed Brokenhearted. The temperature had cooled as the sun sank behind the mountains, and now a slight breeze made her shiver. Nevertheless, after last week’s dance she wasn’t about to step foot inside his house, not even if a snowstorm rolled through.
She’d had a full week to review those moments, and review them she had. At first she’d felt guilty. It didn’t help that Dylan had managed to stir more with mere words than John had been able to rouse with lengthy kisses.
But after thinking it through, she put her guilty feelings aside. It was just Sawyer’s song. It got to her every time. And maybe a little pheromones mixed in. All she had to do was keep her distance from Dylan, stay upwind, and all would be fine.
Dylan looked up from the letter with a smirk. “Cute, Annie.”
She widened her eyes and shrugged. “What?”
He squinted at the paper. “Let’s see . . . in love with a Casanova cowboy . . . promises me forever even while he dates others . . . string of broken hearts . . . can’t resist his smooth-talking ways . . . Should I go on?”
So she’d handpicked the letter. “Does that sound familiar or something?”
“It’s the way you see me—not the way I actually am.”
She laughed. “Okay . . . let’s go with that.”
He handed her the letter and settled into the swing, still smiling congenially. “That’s not me, Annie.”
“You haven’t left a string of broken hearts?”
“I don’t lead anyone on. They know right from the get-go I’m not looking to settle down.”
She thought of the way he’d looked at her during their dance. The way his eyes had said so much. “Promises aren’t always verbal, Dylan. They can be a look or a touch. People’s feelings are fragile. You should take more care.”
She pressed her lips together. She’d said too much. She could tell by the way his eyes narrowed, by the way his easy smile fell away.
“Is that what’s bothering you? What I said the other night when—”
“Of course not—”
“—we were dancing?”
“No.”
“That’s just the bare truth, Annie. Since you’re all hung up on total honesty, you should appreciate that.”
Her face burned against the cool night air. It had been stupid to choose that letter, but she’d wanted to put him in his place. Had she really thought she could best him in a game of verbal sparring?
Dylan watched a flush bloom on Annie’s cheeks. Tough if she didn’t want to hear the truth. It had taken courage to admit his feelings, and her response had been humbling.
He’d been uneasy about having her over tonight. She’d dashed in and out of church on Sunday, and he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of her all week, even though one of his hands said she’d been working with Braveheart in the afternoons.
Truth was, he liked her. She challenged him with her smart comebacks and sassy attitude.
Good thing she already had a boyfriend.
Annie cleared her throat. “The point is, Casanova Cowboy hasn’t been honest with Brokenhearted. Can we agree she needs to keep her distance?”
He set the swing in motion, thinking. The rhythmic creaking was the only sound breaking the silence.
“He leads her on,” she said. “She’s looking to settle down and he’s not. It seems obvious she should look elsewhere, right?”
“That’ll be hard since they work together.”
“Well, maybe she should quit. There’s a lot at stake here.” Annie squirmed in the chair.
There was a lot at stake. Not for Brokenhearted but for him; he wasn’t oblivious to the undertones of this conversation. Last thing he wanted was Annie running for the hills when Braveheart still needed her.
Besides, Dylan enjoyed her company. Got a kick out of getting her riled, seeing those blue eyes freeze over. And he hadn’t minded the way she’d felt in his arms either. All those sparks had triggered some pleasant daydreams in the saddle this week.
Back to the letter, Taylor. He hooked his thumb around the cool metal of the chain. “Okay . . . since he’s been lying to her, I agree she should look for greener pastures. And if she can’t move on while working together, she should probably find another job.”
Annie’s brows shot up. “So we agree.”
“Stranger things have happened.”
“If you say so.” Annie made some notes. Her hands were small, as was the rest of her. Sometimes it amazed him that she worked with horses that weighed hundreds of pounds. He admired her skill and competence. Even with all the responsibilities riding on her slight shoulders, she’d managed to find her passion.
“I heard your sister got a job at the Tin Roof.” Travis McCoy had seen her waiting tables the day before.
“Just for tourist season, but I’m grateful. It’s good of Mabel and Roy to give her a chance. Sierra doesn’t have the best track record.”
“She’ll go back to school in the fall?”
Annie nodded. “Last semester. We’re almost there.”
“What’s her major?”
“Journalism. She’s got this great creative streak. You should see what she writes. I’m hoping she can take over this column when she graduates. Or write something else for Montana Living. At least we have a foot in the door, and in this economy, that’s critical.”
Ahh, that was why the column meant so much to her. “She’ll get there.”
“I won’t rest easy till she does.” The corner of her lip tucked in. “She has a way of turning all your expectations upside down. Like, she used to be so passionate about God, and now she never talks about Him, and she’s practically dropped out of church. I feel like I’m failing her most of the time.”
“You’re like a second mother.”
Annie shrugged. “That’s a big sister for you.”
“I wouldn’t know. It was just me and Luke. Well, and Wade. We were close as brothers.”
“That’s right. You rodeoed with him in Texas.”
“Wade rodeoed. I was just along for the ride.”
“I’ve seen you in a trophy buckle or two.”
“Wade was in a league all his own.”
“Now he’s up to his eyeballs in dirty diapers.” Annie smiled. “He must be missing his rodeo days about now.”
He’d never seen her prettier than right now, with the porch light casting a golden glow on her porcelain skin.
“Actually, I’ve never seen him happier.”
“True love will do that, I suppose.”
It had made him happy once upon a time. Just before it smashed his heart to smithereens.
“I guess his first marriage wasn’t so happy.”
He shook his head. Wade’s wife, Abigail, had written an article about it in Viewpoint Magazine just before they’d married. “After his first wife had Maddy, she wasn’t the same. Depression, I guess. You probably know she took her own life.”
Annie nodded. “So sad.”
“But God brought Abigail into their lives, gave them the Codemeister, and now they’re a family. If anyone deserves a slice of happiness, it’s Wade.”
Annie began gathering her things.
He frowned. “Where you going? Don’t you have another letter?”
“Not this week. My answer to Brokenhearted will be on the long side.”
He’d just bet she had plenty to say about Casanova Cowboy. He was suddenly loath to see her go. “Stay for supper.”
“No, thank you.”
He thought about what kind of food he could tempt her with and came up empty. Bologna sandwiches wouldn’t do it. “Come check on Braveheart again before you go?”
“I have to pick up Ryder from the sitter’s.”
He’d never had so much trouble getting a woman to stick around. Next time he’d have a plan in place. Maybe he’d offer to show her the cabin her grandfather was raised in. It was on his property, set way back in the hills. Not tonight though, with darkness closing in fast.
She stood, placing her bag on her shoulder. “Thanks for your help. I’ll be by as much as I can next week to work with Braveheart.”
“Appreciate that.”
“Good night.”
“Night.” He watched her slide into her cab and turn the truck around. He recalled seeing her and Oakley on Sunday, in the third pew, her hair brushing his shoulder when she turned. He bet Oakley didn’t have to work so hard to get a few minutes of her time, and he doubted the man had any idea how lucky he was.
As the red taillights of her truck disappeared into the darkness, an unwelcome feeling swept over him. He turned around and headed into his big, empty house.