“I know!” I throw my hands out. “I can’t make heads or tails of it, but he disappeared before I could utter a word or get an explanation. He just dropped a bomb and then scrammed. I’m looking for him now.”
“I just saw him heading out the gates at the opposite end from the parking lot. Figured he was running from the cops like he was back in high school.”
I grab her arm and pull her with me. “Well, come on then. I need to talk to him.” Understatement of the century. When Dallas made his proclamation, I was dumbfounded. And then, with Frankie and company storming through and smoke billowing around us, I lost sight of him.
I hit redial on the phone clutched in my hand as we hustle toward the back gate. All I hear is a steady beep.
“He’s not picking up, and now I’m pissed I didn’t think ahead and add his phone to my Find My app.” Not that it would make much difference right now. This many people crammed into one spot with only one measly cell tower means crappy service.
Josie Mae keeps pace beside me, our boots kicking up dust as we double-time it. “Oh, so you had foreknowledge he was gonna burn down a tent, declare his undying love, and take off running, did you?”
“Well, when you put it like that…I just don’t understand why he’d take off. That’s not a good sign, is it?” If he was being serious, why in the hell would he drop a love bomb and not hang around to hear a response? Honestly, it’s like ordering a pizza, paying for it, and then leaving it on the takeout counter. Who does that?
“Well, if you’re hoping he meant it, I’d say no. Is that what you’re hoping?” She gets ahead of me and turns to get a clearlook at my face. The woman is gonna fall flat on her ass if she keeps walking backward like that.
“I don’t know!” I huff in frustration. “It’s all so confusing. I mean, we’ve been sleeping together, but for Dallas, sex is just sex. Same for whoever it is I am since he kissed me on the dance floor of Knockin’ Boots that night.”
She points a knowing finger in my face. “I told you that kiss knocked something loose.” Then she almost trips over a denim-clad cowboy before facing the right way again.
“It appears thesomethingwas any sense of chastity or self-preservation,” I reply in the driest tone I’ve got.
“Are you saying you’re in love with him?”
“I don’t know, Jo!” My hands flap in the air. “What’s the number one rule we always repeat every time we see him with a new woman?”
“Have fun, girl, but don’t get attached,” we recite in unison.
“He’s a good-time guy—the same kind my momma warned me about,” I add.
“But what if he’s not anymore?”
“Come on now, Jo. This isn’t one of my romance novels.”
“Yeah, he’s never really had much in common with our studs from Bridgerton, has he? Although it might be fun seeing him in a top hat and a waistcoat.”
“Please, if it’s not cotton or denim, I’m pretty sure his immune system would shut down.”
We pass by Billie from Stuffin’ the Muffin on our way through the gate, and Josie Mae stops her. “Hey, Billie. Have you seen Dallas?”
She snaps her gum and nods. “Yeah. Not ten minutes ago. Looked to be headin’ for Main Street.”
What in Sam Hill is he doing in downtown Hornville?
Around here, we refer to Hornville as “the city,” but the term is relative. Hornville is a city in the sense that it has both aWalmartanda Jiffy Lube, as well as a handful of fast-food joints. Not to be confused with “the big city,” Oklahoma City, however. They’ve got more big box stores than you can shake a stick at.
We hoof it two blocks until we finally turn the corner onto Main Street, looking like a couple of meerkats as we scan the sidewalks for any sign of a flustered cowboy. No luck.
“Maybe he went for a beer,” Jo suggests. “I’d probably need a drink after lighting shit on fire. Let’s check out the Hornville Tavern.”
We forge ahead, passing a vape shop and a realty office before walking by a jeweler with a sparkling display window. We’re almost even with the hair salon next door when something catches my eye.
I stop in my tracks and back up like I’m a cartoon character getting yanked offstage by one of those giant hooks.
And then I stare. And stare some more.
“Is he in there?” Josie Mae asks, scrambling to my side and placing a hand above her eyes to look through the jeweler’s window.
Since I can’t find any intelligible words, I point frantically instead.
