“Thanks guys,” Rawley said to the men.
“We saw them walk out behind you,” Liam said to Skylar.
“I’m glad you did,” Skylar said.
Rawley looked at her. “You doubted me?”
She laughed. “Not really, but I was afraid they’d all jump you.”
“We’ll see you later,” Logan said, then after touching the brims of their hats, they walked back into the bar.
“He threatened you and you came out here alone?”
“Yeah.”
His jaw tightened. “Not the safest choice.”
She stole a glance down the empty block. “I’m beginning to realize that.”
“Then why were you alone in the bar?”
“Truth?” she challenged, head tilting.
“Always,” he said.
Skylar drew in a breath. “I was hoping you’d show, Rawley.”
Rawley’s brows lifted. “How do you know my name?”
She bit her lips, her cheeks warming. “I asked the bartender last night.”
He laughed and she loved the sound of it. Up close, he was even more striking; a few silver strands in his sideburns, and even from under his hat, his dark eyes were mesmerizing.
“So, now you’ve caught me at a disadvantage. What’s your name?”
“Skylar McCoy.” She held out her hand. His was warm, strong, and she felt the spark of something electric climb her arm.
His lips lifted into a grin. “You leaving already?”
She glanced at the bar’s neon sign blinking in the distance. “I thought you weren’t coming.”
“I’m here now.” He spread his arms. “I live about thirty minutes out.”
“I see. Well, maybe another time.”
His brow furrowed. “You’re really just going to leave me here?”
She shrugged, a playful tilt to her mouth. “It’s been a disappointing day and I’m tired.”
“Why disappointing?” he prodded, concern flickering in his eyes.
Skylar let out a rueful laugh. “I went to ride horses today at my friend’s place, but all the horses were out in the pasture. My stereo won’t pair with my phone in my SUV. I came here hoping to see you, and then…” She shook her head.
“Well, as I said, I’m here now.”
She exhaled, the tension in her shoulders easing. He reached into his back pocket, removed his wallet and produced a crisp business card, the edges shimmering black in the lamplight. “All my numbers are there. Call me anytime. If I don’t answer, then text, I’m often out. I’m a—”
“Livestock agent,” she finished, accepting the card and tracing her finger over his name; Livestock Agent Rawley J. Bowman.
