good-looking cowboys did so damned well, and yes, yes, I did care. If only for tonight, even if it meant I really had gone irretrievably off the deep end, I cared.
But if he didn’t notice or care or approve, it still wouldn’t break my heart. I looked fine. If Dustin or anyone else had a problem with how I looked, so be it. I wasn’t concerned with my image or anyone else’s tonight. I just wanted to go out, have a couple of drinks and maybe even dance a little, and just once in my life, I wanted it to be okay not to care what anyone else thought.
Though it wouldn’t hurt if Dustin looked twice, so I undid my blouse’s top button.
Through the thin white fabric, I could see the dark V of the leather string hanging around my neck. The ring itself wasn’t visible, but I swore I could feel the cold metal against my skin, and every time my nerves registered its presence, I heard Sam asking me again if this was what I was really wearing, if I was really leaving that button open, if I really thought I should do this tonight.
Screw it. I reached under my blouse and took out the leather string that held my ring.
“I’m sorry, Sam,” I whispered as I pulled the necklace over my head. “I need to be okay tonight.”
I set the ring and necklace on the dresser, gave myself one last look in the mirror, took a deep breath and then went outside to meet Dustin.
Chapter Eight
Dustin
I was just closing my front door when Amy stepped outside.
Our eyes met from across the porch as the storm door banged shut behind her.
My God, she looked good. Her dark hair fell over her shoulders just right to screw up my blood pressure, and there were few things in this world I loved more than a woman who wore a blouse like that with jeans. And then there was that top button she’d left open. The V of skin didn’t plunge far enough downward to expose more than the faintest shadow of cleavage, but showed enough of her collarbones to drive me insane. They didn’t stick out like she was emaciated or anything, but protruded just enough to draw my attention and make me wonder what it would be like to kiss—
“Dustin?” Amy tilted her head. “Something wrong?”
Not with you, I wanted to say. On the other hand, my ability to speak, or think, or move…
“No, of course not.” I smiled. “You ready to go?”
She returned the smile, but her expression wasn’t without some uncertainty or apprehension. Nor was her voice when she quietly said, “Ready when you are.”
“Great. Let’s roll.”
Amy looked around. “Aren’t your parents coming?”
“They already left,” I said. “They’re picking up some friends on their way into town, so we’ll be going separately.” I paused. “Is that okay?”
“Sure. Fine by me.”
Together but a somewhat comfortable arm’s length apart, we walked down the steps, our boots thunking in near unison on the wooden slats. She climbed into the passenger side of my truck, and I got in on the driver’s side. I started the engine, pretending that the whole time I’d been showering and getting ready to go, my stomach hadn’t really been wound up in knots. Forty-five minutes. In the truck. With Amy. Alone. Wouldn’t this be an exercise in not making an ass of myself. Or in being able to steal a glance without running off the goddamned road.
And what the hell was wrong with me?
I pulled out of the parking area, and the truck bumped and bounced in the potholes in my dusty driveway. As I turned onto the road, gravel crunched beneath the tires. Miles of winding country road stretched out in front of us, and I gripped the wheel a little tighter.
Seriously, what was wrong with me?
It wasn’t like I’d never been around an attractive woman, for heaven’s sake. I’d been around plenty of them. My ex-wife was stunning, and when I met her, I’d been able to untie my tongue long enough to keep from saying or doing something stupid. Of course, when I met her, I didn’t have that guilt hanging
But if he didn’t notice or care or approve, it still wouldn’t break my heart. I looked fine. If Dustin or anyone else had a problem with how I looked, so be it. I wasn’t concerned with my image or anyone else’s tonight. I just wanted to go out, have a couple of drinks and maybe even dance a little, and just once in my life, I wanted it to be okay not to care what anyone else thought.
Though it wouldn’t hurt if Dustin looked twice, so I undid my blouse’s top button.
Through the thin white fabric, I could see the dark V of the leather string hanging around my neck. The ring itself wasn’t visible, but I swore I could feel the cold metal against my skin, and every time my nerves registered its presence, I heard Sam asking me again if this was what I was really wearing, if I was really leaving that button open, if I really thought I should do this tonight.
Screw it. I reached under my blouse and took out the leather string that held my ring.
“I’m sorry, Sam,” I whispered as I pulled the necklace over my head. “I need to be okay tonight.”
I set the ring and necklace on the dresser, gave myself one last look in the mirror, took a deep breath and then went outside to meet Dustin.
Chapter Eight
Dustin
I was just closing my front door when Amy stepped outside.
Our eyes met from across the porch as the storm door banged shut behind her.
My God, she looked good. Her dark hair fell over her shoulders just right to screw up my blood pressure, and there were few things in this world I loved more than a woman who wore a blouse like that with jeans. And then there was that top button she’d left open. The V of skin didn’t plunge far enough downward to expose more than the faintest shadow of cleavage, but showed enough of her collarbones to drive me insane. They didn’t stick out like she was emaciated or anything, but protruded just enough to draw my attention and make me wonder what it would be like to kiss—
“Dustin?” Amy tilted her head. “Something wrong?”
Not with you, I wanted to say. On the other hand, my ability to speak, or think, or move…
“No, of course not.” I smiled. “You ready to go?”
She returned the smile, but her expression wasn’t without some uncertainty or apprehension. Nor was her voice when she quietly said, “Ready when you are.”
“Great. Let’s roll.”
Amy looked around. “Aren’t your parents coming?”
“They already left,” I said. “They’re picking up some friends on their way into town, so we’ll be going separately.” I paused. “Is that okay?”
“Sure. Fine by me.”
Together but a somewhat comfortable arm’s length apart, we walked down the steps, our boots thunking in near unison on the wooden slats. She climbed into the passenger side of my truck, and I got in on the driver’s side. I started the engine, pretending that the whole time I’d been showering and getting ready to go, my stomach hadn’t really been wound up in knots. Forty-five minutes. In the truck. With Amy. Alone. Wouldn’t this be an exercise in not making an ass of myself. Or in being able to steal a glance without running off the goddamned road.
And what the hell was wrong with me?
I pulled out of the parking area, and the truck bumped and bounced in the potholes in my dusty driveway. As I turned onto the road, gravel crunched beneath the tires. Miles of winding country road stretched out in front of us, and I gripped the wheel a little tighter.
Seriously, what was wrong with me?
It wasn’t like I’d never been around an attractive woman, for heaven’s sake. I’d been around plenty of them. My ex-wife was stunning, and when I met her, I’d been able to untie my tongue long enough to keep from saying or doing something stupid. Of course, when I met her, I didn’t have that guilt hanging
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