The Cowboy's Bride Bet - Holly Rayner Page 0,4

them doing mic checks for the bands that were setting up.

The sounds of laughter danced on the breeze, and I could hear the cows and horses being unloaded. This did seem like a lovely little town—even the people in the laundromat were polite as we passed each other in the narrow aisles between the machines.

I longed to have even a few hours of something resembling a normal life. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, slipping out into a crowded place for a while.

After all, it would be the last thing Moretti would expect, I rationalized. And it’s not like he can gun me down in front of a couple of thousand people, or however many locals attend the Greenwater rodeo.

The smell of fresh funnel cake and corndogs wafted in as I debated with myself whether or not it was a risk worth taking. It would be a shame to make it this far, only to have the man in the brown trench coat catch up to me now. On the other hand, I could hardly call what I’d been doing the last few weeks living. It barely even counted as surviving.

I sighed, looking out the window. God, I wished my grandma was here. I was convinced that she was the bravest, most badass old lady that had ever lived. If she were here, she’d know exactly what to say to give me courage.

Closing my eyes, I could almost hear her voice saying, “Honey, if you have to endure hell, you should at least make an adventure out of it.”

Chapter 2

Connor

“This round’s on me!” Jake passed me a beer, clinking his bottle against mine. “Happy birthday, dude. What are you, forty?”

“Very funny.” I rolled my eyes, taking a swig of my beer. “I’m thirty-three, thank you very much.”

“Thirty-three and the only one from our whole high school that can’t lock down a wife!” Andy cackled, his cheeks red from the four beers he’d had.

“Ha-ha.” I gestured to my buddies around the room. “Laugh it up all you want, because the fact of the matter is that I’m the only one here without a curfew.”

Andy and the guys all exchanged awkward looks.

“That’s right.” I continued, standing tall and taking another drink. “I’ll be chatting up some pretty blonde at the rodeo while y’all are passed out under a pile of toddlers. Maybe someday one of you knuckleheads will learn how to use protection.”

“Hey.” Kevin scowled, holding up a defensive index finger. “All my kids were planned.”

“Kev, I love your kids, but we both know that Steven was most certainly not planned,” Jake said, arching an eyebrow.

“Yeah…” Kevin let out a long sigh, punctuated with a sad belch. “Steven snuck up on us.”

“Hey, I’m not dissin’ you boys for settling down.” I grinned, raising my beer in a toast. “If it makes you happy, then I say go for it. But you know what makes me happy?”

“One-night stands with girls you barely know?” Andy hiccuped.

“Freedom.” I made a wide gesture. “The freedom to do what I want, when I want, with whoever I want. That’s not to say that I wouldn’t be willing to settle down if I met the right woman. But I’m not gonna tie myself down to the first chick that says she wants to have my baby.”

“I highly doubt any woman in her right mind would ask to have your baby,” Jake scoffed. “Every woman in Douglas County worth her salt learned her lesson about going home with sweet-talkin’ boys who wear boots like that.” He gestured to my expensive black leather cowboy boots.

“Bah.” I made a dismissive gesture. “You’re just jealous that I’ve still got it, and Francine is bored out of her mind with you.”

“Shut your mouth, Connor.” Francine came up behind Jake and kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll never get bored of you, baby. Even if you do make me want to pull my hair out sometimes.”

“You see that?” Jake winked, slapping Francine on the behind as she walked away. “That’s love, brother. And for all the slick games that you play, it’s the one thing that will always be just a little bit beyond your reach.”

“Hey, I told you.” I leaned on the bar. “This is a lifestyle choice.”

“Connor’s right.” Leonard moseyed over from the pool table and put his arm around my shoulder, the smell of stale cigarettes and sour beer wafting over me as he spoke. “There’s nothin’ wrong with not getting married. I’m almost seventy. I ain’t married, and I’ve got