Chapter Five #2
“I am.” Skylar picked up her keys, her smile bright.
Rawley held out his hand. She placed the keys in his palm, then stepped onto the porch.
He closed the door gently, flipped the deadbolt, then returned her keys.
She dropped them into her purse with a soft tinkle.
Holding her hand, he led her back down the flagstones.
At the truck he swung open the door and waited until she was seated, then closed it.
He moved around to the driver’s side and slid behind the wheel.
“How was your day?” Skylar asked, buckling in.
“It was busy. Yours?”
“I tried to write.” She shook her head.
“Your character’s still not talking?”
“Oh, that one did, but the new one is stubborn.”
Rawley chuckled, eyes on the curved country road. “So, then what?”
Skylar leaned back, adjusting the hem of her dress. “I dive into another manuscript. Sometimes one I started months ago but abandoned. It clears my mind.”
“Well, if you say so.”
“I love it, though.”
Rawley nodded. “It’s good to have a job you love.”
“I agree.”
They drove the last mile in companionable silence, the sun still shining. Rawley turned off onto the restaurant’s lot, its neon sign humming above a row of parked cars.
“It’s packed,” Skylar murmured.
“It always is.” Rawley scanned the lot until one car pulled out. He slid into the space, and Skylar reached for her door.
He lightly touched her arm. “I’ll get it.”
She nodded. He stepped out and strode around the truck.
At her door he opened it wide and held out his hand.
She placed hers in his and stepped onto the asphalt.
He closed the door, pressed the lock on the fob, then took her hand in his and led her through the lot to the restaurant’s glass entrance.
Inside, warm light and soft classical music greeted them. They approached the hostess stand, polished cherry wood, where a woman in a crisp white blouse and black skirt smiled.
“Welcome to The Hartland. Do you have a reservation?”
“Yes, ma’am. Under Bowman.”
The hostess glanced at her screen, then returned a bright smile and picked up two menus.
She beckoned for them to follow and led them to a cozy corner booth upholstered in burgundy leather.
Once Skylar sat, Rawley removed his hat, slid in across from her, then placed his hat on the seat.
The hostess smiled, she told them their server would be right with them and asked what drinks they wanted.
“Skylar?” Rawley looked at her.
“Water is fine, thank you.”
Rawley nodded. “I’ll have the same.”
“I’ll be right back with those. Your server will be along shortly.”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”
“This is a beautiful restaurant,” Skylar said as she looked around.
“The food is great. I’m glad we got in.”
“I could have made dinner.” She smiled.
“Now you tell me.”
Skylar laughed. “Sorry, but I could do that one evening.”
“I’d like that.”
Skylar picked up the leatherbound menu and glanced over it while Rawley couldn’t keep his eyes off her. The soft restaurant lighting caught the highlights in her hair. She glanced up, did a doubletake, then tilted her head, her eyes narrowing slightly.
“Why are you staring at me?” A small smile lifted her lips.
“Why aren’t you married?” The words tumbled out before he could stop them.
Skylar set the menu down with a soft thud against the polished wooden table. “I was. He couldn’t keep it in his pants.” Her voice carried no bitterness, just matter-of-fact acceptance.
“I see. How long have you been divorced?” Rawley leaned forward.
“Four years now. We were married almost nine years.” She traced the condensation on her water glass with a manicured finger. “Why aren’t you married?”
“Never found the right woman... yet.” His deep voice lingered on the last word.
“So, you’re still looking?” She cocked an eyebrow, the dim overhead light casting shadows across her cheekbones.
“Let’s just say, I’m not really looking. I’m waiting. I don’t believe you can go out and find love. I think it hits you when you least expect it. If you look for it, you’re never going to find it.”
“Explain that.” She folded her arms, the silver bracelet on her wrist catching the light.
Rawley sat back in the booth, the leather creaking beneath him. “If you spend all your time looking, you just might miss it. Let it find you. Wait for it. Don’t settle.”
“I agree.” She nodded. “I think I settled for Lawson. We were young, in love, and couldn’t wait to get married, but things changed and I wasn’t happy. It seemed to happen fast.” She shrugged. “Maybe it was my fault.”
“Your fault? That he cheated?” Rawley’s voice deepened with disbelief.
“I was busy all the time with my books...” She shook her head, her earrings reflecting the lights.
“I don’t believe that.” He shook his head. “Just because he wasn’t getting the attention he wanted, he looked for it somewhere else, when he should have just talked to you about it.”
“I tried to get him to go to counseling, but he refused.” She sighed. “I knew it was over. I was relieved more than hurt.”
“I can see that.” He tilted his head. “Is McCoy your married name?”
“No. I took my maiden name back. How about serious relationships? How many of those have you had, Rawley?” She took a sip of water, leaving a faint lipstick mark on the glass.
“Serious relationships,” he said as he rubbed his stubbled chin thoughtfully. “The first time I fell in love was in the fifth grade.” He grinned. “She was my girlfriend for two years until her family moved away.”
“Fifth and sixth grade.” Skylar shook her head, her glossy hair catching the light.
“As much love as a young boy can feel at that age. I wanted to marry her.” He grinned.
“Young love is tough. Any other time?” She leaned forward, her perfume drifting across the table.
“Sure. I’m forty-two years old.” He ran a hand through his hair. “There have been a few times I was sure I was falling but didn’t, so I’m still waiting.” He stared at her, his gaze intense and unwavering.
****
Skylar couldn’t keep her eyes off the man. His chiseled jawline caught the light from the pendant lamps overhead, and the way his dark eyes lingered on her face sent a flush of heat across her skin. He knew exactly what he was doing with that half-smile.
“I’d like to find love again,” she said softly, tracing the rim of her glass with one manicured fingertip.
Rawley nodded, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled at the approaching server.
“Hello, I’m Marco. Have you decided on what you want?”
Skylar laughed. “No. I’m sorry. We got busy talking.”
“No problem. I’ll check back. Take your time.” The server glided away between the crowded tables.
Rawley picked up his leather-bound menu, the restaurant’s light catching the light. “I guess we’d better decide.”
“What’s good?” Skylar asked, scanning the elegant script of the menu descriptions.
“Everything,” he said with a confidence that suggested he’d dined here many times before.
“The pork chop sounds wonderful.”
“It is. In fact, I think I’ll get that.” He set his menu on the table.
“Me too.” Skylar watched Rawley glance around the restaurant’s warm, brick-walled interior, then caught Marco’s eye with a discreet wave.
“Ready, sir?” Marco poised his pen over a small notepad.
“Yes.” Rawley ordered for both of them, his deep voice carrying just enough authority to be attractive without seeming controlling, then lifted his glass and took a sip.
When their steaming plates arrived, artfully arranged with colorful vegetables, they talked about everything from childhood memories to future dreams. Rawley showed genuine interest when he asked about her romance novels, leaning forward to catch every word.
She loved talking about her heroines but didn’t want to monopolize the evening, so she shifted the conversation to him with a question about his job.
“So,” she asked, “you said your grandfather was a livestock agent?”
Rawley picked up his knife and fork then cut into the pork chop. The knife slid through the meat with a soft hiss. “Great-grandfather, actually. His father was one, so he did it too. My grandfather decided it wasn’t his calling and built the ranch instead.”
She leaned back, studying him under the restaurant’s amber light. “You must be so busy. How do you manage everything?”
He shrugged, spearing a succulent bite. “I’ve got good men running things at the ranch. I’ll work the ranch on weekends, unless I get called in for something urgent.”
Skylar’s eyes flicked toward the darkened corridor near the booth. “It’s dangerous, isn’t it?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“So, you deal with some bad people?”
He paused, the fork halfway to his mouth, then nodded. “Every day.”
“How do you handle that?”
Rawley set down his utensils with a gentle clink against the plate and shrugged. “Part of the job. Keeps the blood pumping. Honestly, I love it.”
“It certainly sounds that way.” She smiled. “Do you have any siblings?”
“I’ve got a younger sister. She just got married in May to a great guy.” He carved another piece of pork, the crust crackling under his blade.
“I’m an only child,” she said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Ryan’s the sister I never had. Where do your parents live?”
“Clifton,” he replied easily. “They’ve got a place just outside of town.”
“Do they still work?”
“My dad does. Mom’s retired, she was a sixth-grade schoolteacher.”
Skylar shook her head in admiration. “That must be rewarding.”
Rawley grinned. “She loved it. My father is a District Court judge.”
“A federal judge? Ever had to stand before him in court?”
He grinned. “Yes. I’ve also testified a few times on other cases, as a witness.” He glanced down the hallway where a waiter stood glancing around the restaurant, then back at her. “Funny thing is, we work in the same building. Just the other day I ran into him in the elevator.”
Skylar chuckled. “Small world.”