trained horses, there was a point where the horse stopped fearing you and started to trust you. He’d learned to feel the subtle shift in energy as the change took place and the animal opened up its heart.
He felt that now.
When the music stopped, they stood still in the moment. Somehow, in the course of one song, everything had changed.
***
Sarah let Lane lead her through the crowd on the dance floor. They followed a serpentine path through the scattered chairs and tables, most of which were empty since the band had struck up a Chris LeDoux song that flooded the dance floor with swirling girls and stomping cowboys. When they stepped out of the bar, the lights of the rides and concession stands were out, leaving the rodeo grounds in shadow. The reflection of the moon floating in a silvery pillow of cloud was duplicated over and over in the empty windshields of parked cars.
Sarah jumped as a ghostly white blob shot out from the shadows.
“Willie.” Lane bent and picked up a dog, white and woolly. Someone had tied the hair up over its eyes with a pink bow.
“That’s your dog?” She stifled a laugh.
“Yeah.” He looked as sheepish as a too-tall cowboy with a sissy dog could possibly look. “One of the wives must’ve got hold of him. I don’t do bows.”
“No, I didn’t think you did.”
“Mind if we take him back to the trailer?”
The music from the beer tent, the muffled voices rising from the flap, the hum and thump of various engines and compressors around the rodeo grounds—all the sounds of the night seemed to pound in a steady rhythm that matched the beat of her heart. Lub-dub, lub-dub . It sounded faintly ominous, like the music from Jaws . She could take it as a warning, or she could see it as a challenge.
She’d always loved a challenge.
“Sure,” she said. “Why not?”
He hoisted Willie under his good arm and they strolled in silence back to the trailer. Unlocking the door, he set the dog inside and held out a hand to Sarah. She glanced up at the moon and felt suddenly adventurous, like her old self. Taking his hand, she climbed in after him.
She glanced around the snug, shipshape interior. There was a tiny breakfast nook with leather-padded benches on each side, but Lane had set his gear bag on one and Willie claimed the other, turning in tight circles before lying down.
“He parties all night with the ladies, then comes back here to sleep,” Lane said.
“Wonder where he learned that routine.” Sarah sat down on a foldout bed that doubled as a sofa. She felt surprisingly comfortable, considering she was in a very small space with a very large man. Maybe it was the dog. “He doesn’t seem like a cowboy kind of dog.”
“He’s not.” Lane shot the dog a scowl. “He turned up in the back lot at Fort Worth. I figured I’d pawn him off on some buckle bunny or something. Named him Willie as a joke. But nobody ever wanted him and now he won’t answer to anything else. Guess I’m paying for my sins.”
Lane lowered himself onto the bed beside her, which was understandable since he couldn’t stand fully upright in the small space. The moon cast a cool, soft light through a skylight, silvering his face to the tones of an old tintype and accentuating the timeless masculinity of his features. He looked like he’d just come in from playing cards with Wild Bill or chasing after Butch Cassidy. His eyes met hers and she realized she’d been staring.
“What?” he asked.
“I was wondering…”
“Wondering what?”
“Would you kiss me again?”
He reached for her and pulled her close—but not close enough. Leaning backward, she pulled him down on top of her and slid her lips over his jaw to whisper in his ear.
“When you kiss me, I remember who I really am.”
Chapter 11
Sarah flexed her hips, pushing her pelvis against Lane’s. That was probably his belt buckle she was feeling.
Or maybe it was him. She sure as hell hoped so.
Because cutting loose from her uptight
He felt that now.
When the music stopped, they stood still in the moment. Somehow, in the course of one song, everything had changed.
***
Sarah let Lane lead her through the crowd on the dance floor. They followed a serpentine path through the scattered chairs and tables, most of which were empty since the band had struck up a Chris LeDoux song that flooded the dance floor with swirling girls and stomping cowboys. When they stepped out of the bar, the lights of the rides and concession stands were out, leaving the rodeo grounds in shadow. The reflection of the moon floating in a silvery pillow of cloud was duplicated over and over in the empty windshields of parked cars.
Sarah jumped as a ghostly white blob shot out from the shadows.
“Willie.” Lane bent and picked up a dog, white and woolly. Someone had tied the hair up over its eyes with a pink bow.
“That’s your dog?” She stifled a laugh.
“Yeah.” He looked as sheepish as a too-tall cowboy with a sissy dog could possibly look. “One of the wives must’ve got hold of him. I don’t do bows.”
“No, I didn’t think you did.”
“Mind if we take him back to the trailer?”
The music from the beer tent, the muffled voices rising from the flap, the hum and thump of various engines and compressors around the rodeo grounds—all the sounds of the night seemed to pound in a steady rhythm that matched the beat of her heart. Lub-dub, lub-dub . It sounded faintly ominous, like the music from Jaws . She could take it as a warning, or she could see it as a challenge.
She’d always loved a challenge.
“Sure,” she said. “Why not?”
He hoisted Willie under his good arm and they strolled in silence back to the trailer. Unlocking the door, he set the dog inside and held out a hand to Sarah. She glanced up at the moon and felt suddenly adventurous, like her old self. Taking his hand, she climbed in after him.
She glanced around the snug, shipshape interior. There was a tiny breakfast nook with leather-padded benches on each side, but Lane had set his gear bag on one and Willie claimed the other, turning in tight circles before lying down.
“He parties all night with the ladies, then comes back here to sleep,” Lane said.
“Wonder where he learned that routine.” Sarah sat down on a foldout bed that doubled as a sofa. She felt surprisingly comfortable, considering she was in a very small space with a very large man. Maybe it was the dog. “He doesn’t seem like a cowboy kind of dog.”
“He’s not.” Lane shot the dog a scowl. “He turned up in the back lot at Fort Worth. I figured I’d pawn him off on some buckle bunny or something. Named him Willie as a joke. But nobody ever wanted him and now he won’t answer to anything else. Guess I’m paying for my sins.”
Lane lowered himself onto the bed beside her, which was understandable since he couldn’t stand fully upright in the small space. The moon cast a cool, soft light through a skylight, silvering his face to the tones of an old tintype and accentuating the timeless masculinity of his features. He looked like he’d just come in from playing cards with Wild Bill or chasing after Butch Cassidy. His eyes met hers and she realized she’d been staring.
“What?” he asked.
“I was wondering…”
“Wondering what?”
“Would you kiss me again?”
He reached for her and pulled her close—but not close enough. Leaning backward, she pulled him down on top of her and slid her lips over his jaw to whisper in his ear.
“When you kiss me, I remember who I really am.”
Chapter 11
Sarah flexed her hips, pushing her pelvis against Lane’s. That was probably his belt buckle she was feeling.
Or maybe it was him. She sure as hell hoped so.
Because cutting loose from her uptight
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