A Cowboy for Keeps by Laura Drake

Author:Laura Drake
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2020-07-27T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

Lorelei

Hey, Lorelei, I saw you dancing in front of the stage last night. You can flat shake some booty, girl.” Lacey Stephens, a high school senior, holds out her coffee mug for a refill.

Her mother jumps in before I can. “Everyone knows Lorelei is a fantastic dancer. She was going to be on America’s Ballroom Challenge, don’t you remember?”

Lacey gives a teen eye roll. “Ma, I was like nine.”

Ouch. Fine, give me your worst, people. I deserve it, for being so easily taken in. I step to the next booth.

“I heard you were the highlight of the night, hon.” Mrs. Belkins puts her liver-spotted hand over mine. “Don’t you let anyone tell you different.”

Seeing how she wasn’t even there tells me I’m again center stage in the white-hot spotlight of Unforgiven gossip. My stomach flips, because this time I put myself in it. I return the carafe to the coffee maker and head to my office. To hide.

What seemed like such a good idea last night looks very different in the harsh light of morning. Of course, I didn’t know then that I was a placeholder. A fill-in-the-blank. A plug and play. It’s too embarrassing. My phone buzzes in my pocket.

R: I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am. When I heard the words out loud, I realized what they sounded like. I’m a bumbling idiot, Lorelei. I always say the wrong thing with you. And I hate it, because the words I say to you matter most. But I swear, I didn’t—

There’s more, but I’m too heartsick to read on. I turn off my phone and toss it onto the desk. It topples a pile of receipts onto the floor. “This office is disgusting.” It’s needed to be shoveled out for the past decade. Today I’m in the mood to tackle it. I need to stay busy, or I’m going to end up banging my head against the wall.

I roll up my sleeves and get to work.

My crazy dreams are shoved back in the closet, and I’ve locked the door. I knew better. But that dance—heck, that whole day up to that point was so perfect, I ignored what I knew for what I wanted. I’m glad last night on the porch happened. Better to know where I stand than to bumble along, oblivious. Like last time.

More than an hour later, I slam the drawer on the last of the filing, when I hear voices.

“Damned if I know. I think she’s trying to gut the building, but there’s too much crap flying around for me to get close.” Nevada never has known how to whisper.

“Well, I’m gonna sure find out.” I’ve heard that tone from Carly before. Usually right before she pitched a fit.

“Don’t call me if there’s an avalanche. I am not a Saint Bernard,” Nevada grouses.

“Noted.”

I roll the file cabinet out and set it down by the back door.

Carly’s hands are on her hips, her toe tapping. “What in Hel-sinki is going on here?”

“I’ve put off cleaning out this pit for years.

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