Looking for a Cowboy by Tamie Dearen

Author:Tamie Dearen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tamie Dearen

16

Matt

“Watch me, Dad!”

“I’m watching.” I dab my face dry with a beach towel and toss it on a nearby lawn chair, keeping one eye on Milo as he runs and swings on the long thick knotted rope that hangs from a high tree branch.

“Nice job, Milo!” A few yards away, Joy stands with her back to me, ignoring me, as she has since she arrived a few minutes ago with the latest group.

Joy hates me.

Not that I don’t deserve it. I can’t believe I lost control like that. If Milo hadn’t called out when he did, I would have kissed her until she was as senseless as I was. And I would’ve enjoyed it. Which scares the pants off me.

I can’t even complain about Joy hating me, since her hate is sweeter than most people’s like. As always, she’s been loving toward Milo, but this past week she’s been slowly torturing me to death with kindness. Since the night of our ill-fated, almost-kiss, she’s been nothing but nice to me. She’s polite and thoughtful, always inquiring about my day and how the filming is going. Not once has she acted the least bit perturbed, though I know for a fact she left that night with tears in her eyes.

But one thing is missing in every kind gesture and sweet smile she bestows—her sunshine is gone.

It hasn’t vanished completely, but it only comes out when she’s talking to Milo or Clover or Sharon or anyone else at the camp. With me, her eyes are always clouded with an emotion that I can only describe as fear.

Yes, she’s afraid of me. I set out to protect her from John and ended up hurting her myself, so her fear is justified. I miss her sunshine all the more, knowing I’m the one who chased it away.

What have I learned from enduring a week of her murderous sweetness? One thing.

I have no idea what to do.

My world would’ve turned upside down if I’d kissed those enticing lips. Yet it’s hard to imagine it could be any worse than what I’m experiencing now. Besides, that almost-kiss haunts me every moment, even in my dreams. I was about to taste those soft lips that have enticed me since the day we met. And she wanted it as much as I did—I saw it in her half-lidded eyes, felt it in her trembling body.

A kiss wasn’t part of the plan. But then again, neither was baring my soul and crying in front of her. As excruciating as it was to expose that old gaping wound and let myself feel the pain I’d locked away, Joy did something magical that night. She felt my agony along with me, every step of the way. And by sharing it, she stitched me back together. She healed me. I still have my scars, but the once-paralyzing pain seems more like a dull ache in the background.

Now, mended-me wonders if my heart really could learn to love again, but I can’t let that happen.

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