A muscle twitched along his jaw. “All right,” he said. “Count us in.”
“What?” Sassy felt all the blood drain to her toes.
“Are you not up for this?” he asked her.
It sounded like a challenge. The gleam in his eye told her it was a challenge.What are you up to, Nicholas?she wondered. “Sure,” she shot back. “Why not? Let’s double date.” It felt strange coming out of her mouth.
So wonderfully strange.The possibilities careened around her head. Her and Nick. Nick and her. Dancing the night away at the Bootleg before going back to her place and…
Her face heated fast. Riot let out a startled, muffled bark when she pushed her chair back from the table abruptly. “Don’t mind me,” she said when both Nick and Soledad looked up. She rose, grabbing her purse. “I’m going to see a man about a horse.” With that, she retreated to the ladies’…hopefully before either of them noticed that she was blushing furiously.
* * *
Nick felt underdressed next to Sassy. Damn, but she knew how to dress for the occasion. He’d nearly swallowed his tongue when she’d emerged from her room in the tasseled suede off-the-shoulder dress that displayed the smooth line of her shoulders and clavicle to perfection. She’d completed the look with vintage brown boots.
He quelled the need to run his thumb in a circle over the sweet round knob of her knee. To wrap his fingers around it and tickle the sensitive skin of the crease.
He chanced a glance at her now as he drove to the Bootleg. Her gaze was tuned to the passenger window, watching the lights of Dark Canyon pass. Her hair tumbled down from her brown felt hat. He had trouble distinguishing her profile from its shadow. He knew, however, that her lips were painted fire-engine red. She’d curled her hair so it tumbled over her shoulders in waves.
Shifting in the driver’s seat, he hoped to direct the flow of blood away from his groin. His jeans felt tight. What had he been thinking, daring Sassy to go on a double date with him? He’d never known her to shy away from a challenge. She usually went all out like she had tonight. Now Nick was in a heap of trouble. He cleared his throat. “What did Sal say about the Bronco?”
She fiddled with the strap of her purse, her chin low. “It’s not good, Nick. I don’t think she’s going to make it.”
“Why do you say that?”
“She needs a complete engine rebuild,” Sassy told him. “Since I bought her off him in high school, Sal has replaced nearly every individual part under her hood at some point or another. Not to mention that parts are harder and harder to come by because she’s an older model. I just don’t know how much more money I can spend on her. Not with the way things are going right now.” Before he could ask, she raised her hand to stop him. “Financially, I’m stable. The gallery’s doing well and my artists are thriving. But with the house note and the renovations…” She sighed. “I don’t know. If this keeps up, I won’t be able to keep the Bronco in belts and lug nuts, much less valves, crankshafts and manifolds. I guess I have to face the fact that she’s older, she isn’t environmentally efficient, her gas mileage is a nightmare and she’s always going to have issues.”
He considered the situation, sensing that she needed to mull it over. “Are you going to sell? Busted engine or not, she’s worth something. You don’t have any payments on her. If you sell, it’s all profit and you could use the money to buy something more economical.”
“That route does make the most sense.” A small smile flirted with the edges of her mouth. It was thin, but the light in her eyes shined through, hitting him somewhere near the solar plexus. “But it’s hard giving up on something so special.”
Sassy wasn’t in the business of giving up on things. Neither was he. Riot. His mother. His life in Dark Canyon even when his dreams of traveling the world and professional hiking hadn’t panned out. Sassy. What they had together. Like a compass, she had always drawn him back to Dark Canyon.
“I get that,” he whispered.
“I knew you would,” she said, the smile wavering.
At the neon sign for the Bootleg, he used one hand to turn the wheel, steering the truck into the packed parking lot of the red barn turned honky-tonk. He found a space and squeezed his Dodge cheek to jowl between a banged-up Chevy and a Jeep Grand Cherokee. As he stepped down to the ground, careful not to ding his door on the rusted Chevy’s passenger mirror, he scanned the lot, trying to clock the vehicles that matched the description of the F-150 that had tried to take Sassy’s life. He reached into his pocket and found the bar rod she’d given him. It felt cool to his touch.
Was there a chance this metalsmith Soledad was dating may have been the one who’d dropped it? If so, did he drop it outside the gallery door on a visit to his girlfriend? Or could he have dropped it at another time—at night, perhaps, when he was trying to avoid the cameras? The gallery housed several pieces that were worth upward of five grand or more. With the auction closing in, Zephyr’s storeroom would be stocked with exclusive pieces that would fetch a pretty penny for someone who knew what they were looking for.
That storeroom was right inside the back door, the one Nick suspected had been breached not once but twice.
Who better to know what was inside than someone close to either Sassy or Soledad? Since Nick knew the bulk of Sassy’s close friends and every member of her family, he figured Soledad’s associates were the best place to start.
She’d mentioned her boyfriend was new to Dark Canyon. How did the timing of his arrival align with the first alleged break-in?
Sassy met Nick at the front bumper of his truck, hitching the strap of her purse over her shoulder. “Ready?”
He gazed at her. She made boho Western chic look good. Once they were through the door of the Bootleg, every head would unerringly turn in her direction. Men would line up out the door to buy Haseya Colton a drink or ask her to dance. A few would try to cop a feel and she’d handle them like a boss.
Nick would bet that none of them would see the sheen of sadness lurking beneath the dazzling smile. He clutched her arm through the tassels of her dress and tugged. “Come here.”
She fell into his embrace like she was starving for it. When he felt her arms link across his spine, he pulled her hat away, dropped his cheek to the top of her head and tightened his hold. She responded by burying her face in the fabric of the denim shirt he’d struggled to button so she wouldn’t have to dress him like a kid again.
He felt her fisting his shirt between her hands above his beltline and swayed her gently from side to side. “I’m sorry,” he breathed into her hair.
“I’mnotgoing to cry,” she said through gritted teeth.
