Chapter Four
Skylar sank into the sofa, her laptop balanced precariously on her knees, the harsh glow of a blank document reflecting in her eyes. Her thoughts kept drifting to Rawley.
“Come on! You have to start talking or I’m going back into the last book and kill you off,” she muttered through clenched teeth, drumming her fingers against the keyboard. “I haven’t sent it to the publisher yet.”
The sudden buzz of her phone against the coffee table made her jolt, sending the laptop sliding. Her heart skipped when Rawley’s name flashed across the screen. She pressed Answer with a trembling finger.
“Hello?” Her voice came out higher than she had intended.
“Hi, Skylar. How’s your day so far?” His deep voice rumbled through the speaker, warm and rich like honey and she really tried not to think about him whispering in her ear.
“Could be better. How about yours?” She twirled a strand of hair around her finger.
“Good. I was wondering if you’d like to meet at the diner for lunch?”
Skylar squeezed her eyes closed, her fist shooting into the air in triumph as she mouthed a silent, emphatic yes! Her cheeks flushed hot with excitement.
“I’d love that,” she managed, trying to sound casual.
“Great. How about we meet there around one? We might miss the lunch crowd that way.”
“Alright. I’ll see you there.” She bit her lower lip to keep from squealing.
“Looking forward to it.” The line went dead with a soft click.
“Not as much as I am, I promise you that, Rawley Bowman.” She hugged a throw pillow to her chest, inhaling the faint scent of her lavender fabric softener.
She glanced at the antique wall clock, its brass pendulum swinging hypnotically beneath the roman numerals that read only eleven.
Two hours would feel like an eternity. With a resigned sigh, she set her laptop aside, the screen still glowing with her blank document, and walked across the sun-dappled hardwood floor to her bedroom.
Standing before her cedar closet, she fingered through hangers of possibilities.
Jeans were non-negotiable, but what to pair them with? A blouse or a T-shirt?
After splashing cool water on her flushed cheeks, she slipped into her favorite faded jeans that hugged her curves just right, and a blue sleeveless blouse.
Her white sandals clicked against the floor as she returned to the living room, where she sat for precisely thirty seconds before jumping up again to pace the room.
“He’s just a man,” she whispered to the empty room, her voice betraying her racing pulse.
No man had ever tied her stomach in such elaborate knots.
Handsome men were a dime a dozen, but Rawley was different, his chiseled jawline and dark eyes were just the beginning.
It was the easy confidence in his broad shoulders, the way he held himself.
He also had manners. Her mother would love him, she thought with a smile.
Her phone buzzed against the coffee table, screen illuminating with Ryan’s name and a thumbnail photo of her best friend.
Hey. How’s your Monday going?
It’s wonderful. I’m meeting Rawley for lunch at the diner. Her fingers trembled slightly as she typed.
Today?
Yes. At one. I can’t wait. I’m ready to go now. She added a blushing emoji that captured her schoolgirl’s excitement.
I’m sure you are. I just wanted to tell you that I loved the book. It was great, as usual.
That is something all authors want to hear. Trust me, I can never hear it enough. She smiled, grateful for the momentary distraction.
You know I’d tell you the truth.
I know you would, and I appreciate it.
I see another bestseller!
Skylar laughed, the sound echoing in her quiet house. I’m hoping!
I’ll let you go. Please let me know how lunch goes.
I will. Love you! She added a heart emoji.
Love you back. Have fun!
Skylar pointed the remote at her flat-screen TV, flipping through channels until settling on a home renovation show where a couple argued about kitchen backsplashes.
The fifteen-minute drive into town meant she still had an agonizing wait ahead.
She could practically taste the anticipation, sweet and sharp like the lemonade the diner was famous for.
“Yeah, now watch him turn out to be a jerk,” she muttered to her reflection on the TV screen, trying to temper her expectations even as butterflies performed an elaborate ballet in her stomach.
God, she hoped not. He had seemed like a nice guy Saturday night, but she had to admit, she didn’t know anything about him other than he was a livestock agent and incredibly handsome.
At twelve-thirty, she walked out to her vehicle, where the scent of cut grass lingered in the stuffy air.
She slid into her SUV, pressed the ‘start’ button, and the engine purred to life.
She put it in reverse and backed out of the driveway and glanced into the rearview mirror to check her makeup, then drove toward town.
Her stomach twisted into a pretzel at the thought of seeing him.
When she arrived in town, she drove down Main Street, past the faded brick storefronts with their colorful awnings fluttering in the breeze, then pulled into the diner parking lot.
After finding a place to park between a dusty pickup and a gleaming motorcycle, she shut the SUV off, took a deep breath, opened the door and stepped out into the August heat that wrapped around her like a suffocating blanket.
Skylar strode through the parking lot to the sidewalk, opened the glass door and entered the diner. The blast of air conditioning raised goosebumps on her sun-warmed skin as she looked around the checkered-floor space but didn’t see Rawley yet, so she slid into a worn red vinyl booth to wait.
Every time the brass bell above the door jingled, she’d look up from fidgeting with her silver bracelet, hoping to see him enter, but he hadn’t yet.
“Hi, Skylar. What can I get you, hon?” Connie, the owner of the diner with her salt-and-pepper hair piled high in a messy bun, asked as she stood beside the booth and set down a sweating glass of ice water.
“I’m waiting for someone, Connie. I’ll order once he gets here, but I’ll just drink water for now.”
“Okay, hon. You just wave me down when you’re ready.”
“I will. Oh, there he is now.” Her heart skipped as the bell chimed.
Connie looked toward the door then back at Skylar, a knowing smile crinkling the corners of her eyes.
“Rawley?”
“Yes.” Skylar couldn’t help the blush creeping up her neck.
“Good choice. I’ll get another glass of water, then I’ll be right back to take your orders.” Connie winked before bustling away.
“Thanks, Connie.”
Skylar watched as Rawley glanced around, his eyes scanning the room until they locked with hers, and he grinned.
As he made his way through the tables in the center of the diner, his boots clicking on the tile, people kept stopping him to talk with friendly pats on his shoulder, and she noticed that most of the women were looking at him, their gazes lingering on his muscular frame in the tight T-shirt.
When he finally reached the booth, he stood beside it, and that was when she noticed the holstered gun on his right hip and the gold badge hooked on his belt on his left.
He wore a Kevlar vest with ‘Livestock Agent’ stitched on it.
“Would you mind moving to the other side? I don’t like my back to the door.”
“Oh, of course.” She slipped from the booth, moved to the other side, and slid onto the bench.
Damn, he smelled good. She watched him remove his hat, and almost groaned.
If she had to choose which look was best, with or without the hat, she’d never be able to make a choice.
His dark hair was thick and curled on the ends at the nape of his neck.
His eyes were so very, very, dark. She wanted to scrape her fingernails against the scruff on his jaw and neck.
Damn. When he raked his fingers through his hair, she clenched her fists to keep from reaching out and doing it too.
Rawley sat down after she did.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi, yourself. How’s your day going?”
“Busy. You?”
“My character won’t talk.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
Skylar laughed. “I’m an author and my character is refusing to talk.”
“I see. How long have you been doing that?”
“Fifteen years now. How long have you been a livestock agent?”
“Twenty years.”
“That’s a long time. You must enjoy it.”
“I do. My great-grandfather was a livestock agent, and I loved listening to him tell me about his day.” Rawley shrugged. “I’m glad to be making a difference out there.”
“What exactly do you do?”
“I’m in the theft department.”
“Theft? As in… rustling?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Skylar shook her head. “It’s hard to believe that still goes on, but growing up on a horse farm, I get it.”
“As long as there’s livestock, there will be rustlers.”
“I understand that. Some people will do anything.”
“Yes, they will.” He tilted his head.
“How old are you, Rawley?”
“Forty-two.”
She stared at him, then smiled. “I’m thirty-five.”
He chuckled. “I wasn’t going to ask.”
Skyler laughed. “Smart man.”
“My mama didn’t raise no fool.”
Connie appeared beside the table and smiled at Rawley. “Hi, Rawley. How you doing, hon?”
“I’m doing well, Connie. How about you and Owen?”
“We’re fine, hon. Thanks for asking. Are you two ready to order?”
Skylar nodded, then told Connie what she wanted. She smiled when Rawley said his usual and Connie wrote on the pad, then walked to the kitchen.
“It amazes me she can do that.”
“Owen too. She just writes whose usual it is, and he makes it.”
“They’re both so great. She made me feel right at home the first time I met her.”
“That’s how they are.” Rawley sat back against the booth, folded his arms across his chest and stared at her. “How about dinner one night?”
“I’d like that.”
“Have you been to The Hartland?”
“No. Ryan told me about it though.”
“Ryan?”
“Yes, my best friend. We’ve been friends since elementary school.”
“He lives in Clifton now too?”